Take Me Home (22 page)

The next day, he told her he wanted a divorce.

“Damn it!” Claire said, throwing the covers back and hurling herself off the bed. She stomped around, showering and getting dressed in her riding clothes since she planned to spend the morning at Healing Springs Stables.

Her fury evaporated when she went downstairs to find the coffeemaker primed and ready for her to just flip the
On
button, while a half dozen Dunkin’ Donuts and a fresh bouquet of black-eyed Susans in a blue drinking glass stood on the kitchen table.

A new to-do list was propped against the doughnut box. The first three items were the coffee, the doughnuts, and the flowers with checks beside them.

Item number four was,
Persuade Claire to try out
my
bed tonight
.

She sank into a chair and flipped open the lid of the box. All the doughnuts had chocolate icing.

Even sugar and chocolate couldn’t quite melt away her sense of unease. As soon as she got to the stable, she went to Willow’s stall and, after giving her a carrot, clipped a lead line onto the mare’s halter.

“We’re going for a walk, sweet girl. I’ve been neglecting you, and I’m sorry. Life got crazy on me.”

As they passed the paddock, Sharon was working a new colt and raised a hand in greeting. Claire waved back but didn’t stop.

Following a trail between Sharon’s immaculately painted white fences, Claire led the horse up a slight rise and into an open meadow. She kept walking until they reached a spot where she could see the ridges of the mountains undulating away into the distance, their crests kissed by the morning sun. Even Willow seemed to appreciate the view; she lifted her head and flicked
both ears forward. The light made her brown eyes glow like fine sherry.

“You’re starting to look like a Thoroughbred,” Claire said, running her hand over the mare’s shoulder. “Your coat is beginning to shine.”

Willow leaned her head against Claire’s breastbone and blew out a sigh. Claire had to brace herself against the weight of the horse’s head, but she savored the sign of trust. She scratched around the base of Willow’s ears, making the horse sigh again.

“I need to discuss something with you.” Claire kept stroking the horse’s head. “You know your vet? The big guy who gives you shots? Well, I can’t figure him out.”

Willow shifted to sniff at her pocket.

“Oh, fine, here’s a carrot. Anyway, two nights ago, we had a great time together, both in bed and out of it. But last night, something was wrong. He acted like my ex-husband right before he decided to be ex. So what’s going on?

“Here’s my theory: It has something to do with his dead wife. Do you think I might be the first woman he’s slept with since his wife killed herself? Could that be freaking him out?

“Here’s another good question: Why am I getting involved with a man whose wife committed suicide? Doesn’t that strike you as a bad idea?”

Willow rubbed her forehead up and down Claire’s arm. “Easy there, you’re going to knock me over. Wait, was that a nod meaning,
Yes, it’s a bad idea
? How do whisper horses work? Do you actually talk back?”

The mare dropped her head and started grazing on the long grass. Claire plunked down beside her so she could still see one of the horse’s huge liquid eyes.

“But he’s such a nice man, and Lordy, he’s got good hands. Must come from being a vet and having to figure out what’s wrong from just touching his patients.”

She tore off a thick blade of grass and tickled Willow’s ear with it, making the horse shake her head.

“Here’s the thing. I’m only staying in Sanctuary a few more weeks. What harm can it do to enjoy great sex with a hunky guy? I know there’s a time limit to the relationship, and he knows it too. So there will be no expectations and no emotional attachments.”

Willow shook her head again, this time without the provocation of a blade of grass.

“You’re right. I’m kidding myself about the no expectations thing. But it’s been so long since I’ve felt this good with a man. You have to understand, Milo made me feel like crap about myself. So I’m going to override you on this one. I want to see where it takes me.”

Willow lifted her head and bent her long neck around to look behind her. Claire followed her gaze and saw Sharon standing by the gate and waving.

“Session’s over, sweet girl,” Claire said, scrambling to her feet. She rolled her shoulders, feeling how the knots of tension had eased. Flinging her arms around Willow’s neck, she rested her forehead against the horse’s. “I’m so glad Sharon found you for me. Now, can you help me get Holly a whisper horse?”

Sharon talked her into staying for lunch after Claire had returned from a long, fast ride on the big gelding Salty. She seemed to have developed a liking for oversized males.

Claire slurped up the last drops of a Joe’s milk shake and slouched back in the oak armchair in front of Sharon’s desk. “If I continue eating Joe’s, I’m not going to be able to fit into my jodhpurs.”

“Got to keep up your strength,” Sharon said. “I hear you were out on the bike with Paul Taggart yesterday.”

“Oh God! Small towns!” Claire said, rolling her eyes. “He came by the gallery right as I was closing up. It was a beautiful day, and I couldn’t resist the invitation.”

“I hear Dr. Tim gave him a run for his money at foosball on Saturday.”

“Did you also hear that Dr. Tim was finishing the match I started?”

“Yup. So which one is it that’s putting that glow on your face?”

Claire buried her face in her hands to hide whatever telltale glow Sharon saw. “This is why I love New York. No one knows. No one cares.”

“You took Willow out to talk to her, didn’t you?”

“Yes, and it helped, so you can say, ‘I told you so,’ ” Claire said, dropping her hands to give Sharon a wry smile.

“Having a whisper horse is a good start, but here’s the thing: a horse can’t make your decisions. Willow can help you sort your thoughts out, but you have to make the choices.”

“What are you saying?”

“Me? I’m not saying anything,” Sharon said with a grin before sliding her chair back from her desk and walking out the door.

How ironic that Sharon thought she needed to make a choice between Tim and Paul, when her dilemma was so much more complex. Claire gathered up the empty wrappers off the desk, muttering under her breath about gossipy neighbors and nosy friends. As she tossed the last paper cup into the garbage can, her cell phone vibrated in her pocket.

“Hey, Holl—”

“Claire!” Her sister’s voice was edged with panic. “The girls are gone, and I don’t know where they are!”

Claire glanced at her watch, wondering if she’d completely lost track of time. It was only one thirty. “Holly, sweetie, the
girls are at school,” she said gently, thinking her sister’s memory problems were getting worse, not better.

“No, they’re not. The principal just called, wondering why I hadn’t let her know they weren’t coming back to school after lunch.”

“Wait, did you pick them up for lunch?”

“No. The principal claims Frank did.”

F
EAR WALLOPED
C
LAIRE
in the solar plexus as visions of Frank crossing the border into Mexico with Brianna and Kayleigh in tow raced through her mind. She took a deep breath and forced herself to sound calm. “Okay, let’s think about this. Did you try his cell phone?”

“About five times. It went to his voice mail.”

“Has Frank ever taken the girls out of school for lunch before?”

“No, never.” Holly’s voice quavered.

“Okay.” Claire took another deep breath. “Let’s think where he might have taken them after lunch.”

“Their grandpa’s?”

“That’s a good thought. Where does he live?”

“On Randolph Street. I’ll call him.”

“Don’t do anything yet,” Claire said, already halfway to her car. “I’m coming over, and we’ll figure out the best strategy together. Don’t worry, we’ll find Brianna and Kayleigh.”

She sprinted the rest of the way across the gravel and broke every speed limit on her way to Holly’s house. If a cop wanted to give her a ticket, he’d have to catch her first.

Holly was standing on the front porch, and Claire raced up the steps to pull her sister into her arms. Holly exploded into great gulping sobs. “Oh God, Claire! What if Frank’s taken my babies someplace where I’ll never see them again?”

“Hey! No matter where he’s gone, we’ll find them.” Claire unwound herself from the embrace and led her sister back inside. “Holl, we’ve got to think now. I promise you can cry all you want later.”

Holly sat down on the nearest chair and scrubbed her hands over her tear-soaked face.

Claire had been making plans on her mad drive through town. “I’m going to borrow the Defibaughs’ car and drive over to your father-in-law’s house to see if the girls are there. I don’t want anyone to recognize my car and spook Frank.”

“I’ll come with you,” Holly said, starting to stand.

Claire put her hand on her sister’s shoulder. “You have to stay here, sweetie, because we hope Frank will bring them home all by himself. And you need to keep working on possibilities. Write down the name and address of everybody you can come up with who Frank might take the girls to.”

“Oh God, I don’t know if I can think that straight right now.”

“You can because it’s for Brianna and Kayleigh.” Claire squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll find them. I swear.”

Then she was out the door and jogging down the street to the neighbor’s house. She knew Linda Defibaugh well enough to ask for the loan of her white minivan without having to offer too much of an explanation. The car looked like every other mom van in town, so she hoped Frank wouldn’t see her coming until it was too late.

Claire wasn’t optimistic about finding the girls at their grandfather’s. If Frank wanted to scare Holly, he would make it harder. If he had really kidnapped them and taken them far away...Well, that was a possibility Claire tried not to think about just yet.

She parked two houses up the hill from Frank Snedegar Sr.’s house and walked casually down the sidewalk to his front door.
Before she rang the bell, she stood stock-still and listened, checking for the sound of children’s voices from either inside or outside the house. She heard nothing.

Her heart sank, but she rang the doorbell.

“Hang on a minute! I’m coming, but I’m an old man,” she heard a voice calling from inside. The door opened on a stocky elderly man holding a wooden cane. She could see where Frank Jr.’s square-jawed good looks had come from. “Hello. Who are you?”

“I’m Claire Parker, Frank’s sister-in-law. May I come in?”

“I recognize you now. Sure, come right in. It’s always good to have a visitor. You look like you’ve been at the stable. Smell like it too.” He gave her a twinkling look that robbed his statement of insult.

Claire forced a smile as she stepped into the small front hall.

She stood motionless again, holding her breath for several seconds, just to make sure the older man wasn’t covering for his son. Again, there was only silence.

She peeked into the den, where a hastily folded newspaper lay on the seat cushion of an armchair while a half-eaten sandwich sat on a metal TV table. There was no sign of children having been around.