Picture Perfect Page 3

  Erin nodded, keeping her eyes downcast.

  Abby was amazed. There must have been three dozen cookies in that bag. How could two children devour so many? A few, she’d told them. Have a few. She’d never meant for them to eat them all.

  Maybe she’d made a mistake in volunteering to do this. Two short weeks ago she’d been at home in Baltimore. Now she was three thousand miles away, with two kids, trying to grow accustomed to using a phony name. She’d chosen a shortened version of the kid’s last name to make their adjustment easier, but answering to Harris didn’t come naturally to her. On top of that, she was living in a town that didn’t appear on the map and staying in a monstrous old house that didn’t even have a microwave oven.

  She hadn’t expected any of this when she’d returned to Tempe, Arizona, where she’d grown up, seeking her own sanctuary. After seven years on the Baltimore Police Department as a crime-scene photographer, she’d finally burned out. She could no longer handle the brutality she saw every day. She couldn’t photograph the results of one more act of violence.

  Domestic violence affected her the most, probably because it was so senseless. She’d transferred to the department three years ago, and she’d expected to get over her initial shock. But her job had become steadily more difficult, instead of less. She’d never developed an immunity to the brutality she saw. Her coworkers had assured her she’d toughen up, but she never did.

  Then, less than two weeks ago, she’d seen one set of victims too many—a four-year-old girl savagely beaten to death by her father. And the mother so emotionally and physically abused she’d lost the strength to fight for her child.

  Abby’s stomach had revolted at the wounds inflicted on the girl by her father, and instead of taking the photographs, she’d run away. How could a parent do that to a child? Why did people like that have children when others, like Abby, could never have the children they longed for?

  After a week of sick leave, Abby still couldn’t force herself to go back to work. So she’d taken a leave of absence and gone home to Tempe, expecting to find a place to heal and time to reach a decision about the rest of her life.

  Instead, she’d found a new nightmare. Her older sister, Rachel, had recently been released from the hospital, a victim of spousal abuse. And the niece and nephew Abby hardly knew were being terrorized by their violent father.

  For years, Rachel had kept the abuse a secret from everyone. Abby hadn’t been home in more than five years and she’d spoken to Rachel infrequently on the telephone, but she couldn’t shake the feeling she should have recognized Rachel’s symptoms. Having seen so much of it in her career, why hadn’t she been able to sense it in Rachel’s life?

  Rachel’s husband, Vic, had been a hard worker and a handsome, charming man. At first. But within a year of the wedding, Rachel had begun to change and that should have alerted Abby that something was wrong. Rachel’s dwindling self-confidence and her uncharacteristic withdrawal at family get-togethers were clues Abby had ignored.

  Rachel had stayed with Vic—at first because she believed the children needed their father. And after the abuse started to spread to Erin and Michael, fear had kept Rachel immobile. Without her, the children would have been completely at Vic’s mercy, and Rachel knew he would have destroyed them eventually. But when she’d finally realized she couldn’t protect Erin and Michael, Rachel took the children and left him, then filed for divorce.

  After a lengthy custody battle, Vic was granted visitation, but only under supervision. Rather than pay child support for children he refused to see under those conditions, he’d asked the court to terminate his parental rights. And because of his history of abuse, the court had agreed. But even after the case was settled, Vic had continued his attacks and his threats to get the children back. Finally, when she was admitted to the hospital following a vicious beating, Rachel had been driven to hide her children from their father. And Abby had offered to take them.

  Within twenty-four hours of her arrival in Tempe, Abby had contacted Ted Daniels, an old friend on the Baltimore Police Department. He’d talked often about his summers in Washington State, and since nobody in her family had ever been there before, it seemed like the perfect place to hide. Ted’s mother knew Zelda and had given Abby a glowing recommendation, so Abby had been able to rent Zelda’s old house immediately.

  But now Abby was responsible for keeping the children safe, and she didn’t know if she could handle the job. Rachel’s children hardly knew her. And she didn’t think she knew them well enough to convince anyone she was their mother. Using an unfamiliar name kept her constantly on edge, and having worked for the police didn’t qualify her to prevent a kidnapping. She’d let her desire to help Rachel and her children cloud her judgment.

  Michael pulled open the back door and flopped into the car. “I’m hungry.”

  “I know,” Abby replied wearily. “We’re all hungry.”

  “I know what we can do!” Michael said. “Let’s call Mr. Morgan. He’ll know where we can find something to eat.”

  Mr. Morgan. The thought of him hitting his head on the stove made Abby wince. And just as quickly, the memory of Michael calling out her name in terror brought the cold taste of fear to her mouth. They couldn’t afford any more mistakes like that one.

  Besides, Abby didn’t know if she wanted to see Kurt Morgan again. It’d been a long time since she’d met a man who’d attracted her so completely on first sight. And she was much wiser now than she’d been then. Time, her divorce and too much pain had taught her lessons she wouldn’t soon forget. She didn’t need any more complications in her life.

  “I don’t think I ought to call Mr. Morgan,” she said. “We can stand it for another couple of hours, can’t we?”

  Erin leaned back against the seat, looking almost relieved. “I can stand it. I’m okay.”

  Michael wailed, “I’m hungry, Mom!”

  “Please, Michael.”

  “But I’m starving to death!”

  “Don’t, Michael,” Erin said. “Abby’s doing her best.”

  “Mom. And she’s starving me to death.”

  “All right!” Abby gave up. “I’ll find something for you to eat if you’ll just be quiet. Keep your eyes peeled for a gas station or something where we can get a candy bar.”

  “A candy bar? For breakfast?” Michael looked doubtful.

  “It’s all we’re likely to find in the next two hours.”

  “It’s all right, Ab—Mom,” Erin said softly without facing Abby. “About the candy bars, I mean.”

  “It’s really not,” Abby said, watching the girl, “but we’ve got to have something, and I don’t know what else to do. When the grocery store opens, we’ll stock up on some real food.”

  “Okay.”

  Erin’s calm acceptance, her almost obsessive need to make sure nobody took offense at anything she said, worried Abby. While evidence of the strain they’d been living under erupted in more obvious ways in Michael, Erin kept her feelings locked carefully away. She seemed serious—too serious for someone her age—and Abby wondered what it would take to break through her barriers. And whether she was capable of breaking through them.

  Driving slowly along Front Street for the second time, she studied the town. Besides the FoodWay, it boasted a number of small stores, a barbershop, three charter fishing outfits, a bakery with a Closed sign in the window, a small fabric shop, a drugstore and a movie theater.

  Several old houses had been converted into businesses—a law office, a beauty parlor and a bicycle shop. At the end of the block, a large sign rose into the air signaling a gas station.

  “There’s one!” Michael exclaimed, nearly jumping into the front seat with excitement.

  Abby noticed that the station contained a small food mart. Relieved, she pulled into the lot and parked the car. Digging through her wallet, she handed each of the children three dollars. Michael and Erin ran from the car and into the station, and Abby grabbed her purse to follow. Sur
ely they could find something to eat here, even if it wasn’t particularly nourishing.

  Suddenly Abby stopped, recognizing the Jeep Cherokee parked in front of the gas pumps. Kurt Morgan’s—unless someone else in town had one exactly like it. And unless someone else in town stood over six feet tall and had wavy brown hair and dimples.

  “Abby? Good morning!” Kurt lowered a paper bag onto the floor of the backseat and strode toward her.

  He was the last person she wanted to see, but how could she avoid him? “Mr. Morgan,” she said formally.

  “Kurt. How’s the house? Everything all right?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She took a step away, but he followed.

  “Anything else you need this morning?”

  “No. Everything’s very nice.” She scanned the parking lot, hoping to discourage further conversation.

  “Not much fog today,” he continued. “Were you able to look around outside?”

  “The view of the river’s spectacular.”

  “Best in town.” He grinned, revealing straight white teeth and deepening his dimples.

  Until that moment she’d hoped to convince herself that her attraction to him last night had been an aberration. But as the light danced across his hair and the gentle breeze lifted it from his brow, as his eyes narrowed in a squint against the morning sun and his lips curved in a smile, her heart skipped a beat.

  And like a young girl, she couldn’t do anything but smile at him foolishly, although every logical instinct screamed at her to get away from him as quickly as possible. She couldn’t afford any involvement with other people right now, and she really didn’t need the distraction of a good-looking man.

  Kurt stuck his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans. “Actually, I’m glad I ran into you,” he said. “I wondered whether Michael likes to play baseball. We’re just starting our Little League season, and I know Brody would love to have another boy his own age on the team.”

  “Oh, I—” How on earth would she know the answer to that?

  “My brother Jack’s the coach and I’m the assistant this year, so we can get Michael signed up with no trouble.”

  As Michael’s mother, she’d know the answer. “It’s just that I don’t think—”

  “It’ll be good for him. Fresh air and exercise…”

  “I really couldn’t—” Had Rachel ever mentioned anything about Michael and baseball?

  “The games are one of the highlights of summer here,” Kurt continued, oblivious to her discomfort. “Everybody gets involved. It’ll be a great way for all of you to get acquainted with people in town.”

  “Michael doesn’t really—” Frantic to stop babbling and give Kurt an answer, Abby drew in a deep breath and blurted, “You see, Michael isn’t very athletic and it makes him feel funny—different from the other boys. It’s been quite a problem the past few years and it’s something my husband and I try to avoid whenever we can. I just don’t think I should put Michael in that situation.”

  Kurt’s brows knit as he took in her words. “Oh.” The word dropped between them and fell flat. “I’m sorry. But listen, if he wants to learn, there’s no better place than right here. The boys are all in it for fun and most of the parents aren’t terribly competitive. We make sure everybody plays, even the kids who aren’t very good.”

  Abby shook her head and backed away. She couldn’t let him talk her into it. After yesterday evening’s disaster, she didn’t intend to put Michael in a situation where he might inadvertently say the wrong thing.

  Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but from behind them, Abby heard someone shouting.

  “Hey, Mom!” It took her a minute to recognize Michael’s voice and realize he meant her. “Look at this!” He held up two cellophane-wrapped packages of doughnuts and ducked back into the building.

  A moment later Erin appeared carrying a small brown bag, and Michael bounded back outside, followed closely by a slim blond boy about his own age. He’d only been inside a few minutes and he’d already found a friend.

  “Mom! Mom, guess what!” Michael said excitedly. “They have a Little League team here! Isn’t that great?” He turned back toward the other boy who looked uncannily like Kurt. “I was starting pitcher last year on my team. Do you think I could pitch here?”

  Even without looking at him, Abby sensed Kurt’s eyes on her and felt the heat of a flush creep up her face. She couldn’t think of a thing to say that would explain her obvious lie.

  With Michael and the other boy beaming at her, their eyes full of anticipation, and Kurt staring at her like he expected an explanation, she couldn’t make matters worse by refusing to let Michael play. It would raise too many questions.

  “That’s fine, Michael,” she said, forcing a smile.

  Kurt put his hand on the other boy’s shoulder. “Great. Brody and I will pick Michael up for practice late this afternoon if you’d like.”

  “Thank you, but I’ll make sure he’s there if you’ll just let me know where and when.”

  “Sure.” He took a piece of paper from his pocket, scribbled the information on it and handed it to her. “Practice starts at five. We’ll see you then, I guess.”

  Abby tried to muster a weak smile, but Kurt had already turned away. He and Brody settled into the front seat of the Jeep and he drove off without a backward glance.

  Something inside her felt…odd as she watched them go. Disappointment? Embarrassment that she’d been caught in a lie? But why? Nothing mattered except keeping Erin and Michael safe, and if she had to lie to do it, she would.

  So why did this odd feeling curl inside her as Kurt Morgan drove away? And why did she find herself caring very much what he thought of her?

  AT TEN MINUTES to five, Abby pulled into the parking lot at River View Park. The park consisted of nothing more than a few swings, a lopsided teeter-totter, two picnic tables and three dusty baseball diamonds already alive with small children.

  Michael strained eagerly against his seat belt. “I hope they’ll let me pitch.”

  “I haven’t decided whether or not I’m going to allow you to join,” Abby warned. “I’m still not convinced it’s a good idea.”

  “Please?”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Michael’s face fell and he looked close to tears.

  “I didn’t say no, did I?” Abby said, more kindly. “I told you I’ll think about it. Now let’s find out where you’re supposed to be.”

  She’d hoped to fade into the background during the practice, but even before Michael got out of the car, Kurt was making his way through the tangle of children toward them.

  He greeted Michael before looking inside the car. With a smile in Erin’s direction, he turned to Abby. “Come and meet my brother, Jack. He can tell you what equipment Michael needs and you can fill out the registration forms. Then I’ll introduce you to a few people.”

  Abby didn’t want to meet people and she wanted to stay as far away from Kurt Morgan as possible. She wanted their presence in Pine Cove to remain relatively unnoticed. It was the best way to minimize the risk of future slip-ups.

  Erin’s round eyes stared out of her pale face. The girl hadn’t made a sound, but if the prospect of meeting people bothered Abby, she knew it terrified Erin. Abby knew she shouldn’t have let her embarrassment at getting caught in a lie force her to compromise their safety like this. She should grab Michael and leave immediately. And she should get Erin away from the small crowd.

  Turning to call to Michael, she saw the wide smile on his face. She hadn’t seen him smile like that once in five days. He obviously needed interaction with children his own age. How could she deny him that?

  Unfortunately relenting meant staying here, at the ball park. If Vic did manage to track them in spite of all her precautions, he might not approach the children while they were with her, but she didn’t think he’d hesitate to act if he found either of them alone, even with strangers around. She shared Rachel’s fear that Vic would kidna
p the kids, and knowing how often parental kidnappings happened, Abby didn’t dare let them out of her sight.

  But staying here meant being near Kurt. And being near Kurt meant dealing with this attraction, which hadn’t lessened since her first glimpse of him. And that meant trouble.

  Kurt led them through the crowd to a narrow bench. “Have a seat,” he said. “I’ll go find Jack. Michael, grab a glove and start warming up with Brody. He’s over by second base.”

  Without another word, Kurt disappeared, leaving Abby and Erin alone and uncomfortable on the wooden bench. Abby didn’t want to do this. She hated baseball. It had to be the most boring sport ever invented. Steven, her husband, had been an absolute nut about the Orioles, and as their marriage splintered, Abby had grown to hate every minute she spent at the games.

  Dust rose from beneath the running feet of the players, but a breeze from the Columbia River cooled the air and kept the temperature pleasant. The chain-link screen pinged and rattled as a high inside pitch escaped the catcher’s mitt, and excited shouts from children on the field punctuated the silence between Abby and Erin.

  The girl’s rigid back and downcast eyes told Abby more forcefully than words how Erin felt about being here. If Abby let Michael play, she had to expose Erin to crowds and strange people, and Abby had already sensed Erin’s fear of both in the short time they’d been together.

  A few minutes later Kurt reappeared, bringing another man with him. Though he bore a resemblance to Kurt, the features that made Kurt’s appearance so intriguing failed to have that effect with the second man. His face was too lean, his nose too sharp, and the lines stretched over his cheeks too tightly for him to be considered handsome. But he had the same friendly smile and dimples, and Abby liked him immediately.

  “Jack Morgan,” he said, extending his hand. “Why don’t you fill out the registration forms while you’re watching the kids? The Fee schedule is listed on the back of the green sheet. You can make the check out to me or to Jefferson County Recreation. I’ll get it from you after practice.” He leafed through a sheaf of papers and handed her a small packet.