Copper Lake Confidential - By Marilyn Pappano Page 0,56
till death do us part, I meant it.”
“So did I.” Brent leaned over to kiss her, making Clary drop her spoon and clamp her hands over her eyes.
Mark apparently had meant his vows to last until death, as well. Heavens, so had Macy. She wondered if he’d ever imagined that would be only seven years. Had he known he would stop taking other people’s lives by taking his own? Had he worried how it would affect her? Had he cared?
The doctors had said he’d been capable of normal emotions. That he could have loved her and Clary as much as he’d claimed and still have the compulsion to kill. They hadn’t been able to say with as much certainty what had driven him to kill. Surely there was more to it than a memorable way to spend visits with Grandfather. There must have been something wrong in his brain, some damaged area that made murder acceptable for more reasons than the fact that his grandfather had done it.
When the leftover ice cream had melted in their bowls and Clary was running in hyper circles around the room, Macy and Stephen said good-night, and he gave Clary a piggyback ride to the house.
“Let’s go see Scooter,” she suggested as she ducked her head to get through the door.
“It’s too late. Scooter’s in bed asleep. That’s where you’re going to be in fifteen minutes.” Macy’s estimate was hopeful. Sometimes bath and bedtime ran closer to an hour, and she really didn’t want this to be one of those times.
“I’m not tired, Mama. Dr. Stephen, let’s watch TV. Do you like cartoons?”
“I do, but not at bedtime.” He grasped her by the waist and swung her to the floor.
Propping both hands on her hips, she scowled at him. “Quit saying it’s bedtime. I’m not sleepy!”
“Do dogs ever get this cranky when you try to send them to bed?” Macy whispered as she passed him.
“Are you kidding? They happily sleep twenty hours a day if you let them.”
Twenty hours of sleep sounded good to her at the moment. Maybe tonight would be more restful than the past few. “Tell Dr. Stephen good-night, then we have to get you into the bath.”
Clary’s eyes filled with tears, and her lower lip trembled. “I don’t wanna! I want to watch cartoons and play with Scooter! I don’t want a stupid bath and I don’t wanna go to stupid—”
“Clara.” Macy didn’t know if it was the look on her face, her tone or the use of her daughter’s given name, but that one word, said exactly like that, was usually enough to make Clary go silent. “Tell Dr. Stephen good-night.”
She scowled up at him again and automatically repeated, “Good night, Dr. Stephen.”
“Good night, Clary.”
“And tell Scooter good-night since I didn’t get to see him at all today.”
Stephen hid a smile. “I will.”
She started down the hall toward the stairs. “I didn’t get to watch cartoons, either, or go swimming or do anything fun at all, and now I have to go to bed when I’m not even tired.”
“Go in my bathroom and brush your teeth,” Macy called after her. “I’ll be there in just a minute.”
For a little girl, Clary made a remarkable amount of noise on the carpeted stairs. When the sound faded, Macy looked at Stephen, who’d given in to his amusement. “She’s a funny kid.”
It was a simple comment, but it warmed her heart. She’d known a lot of people during her marriage who weren’t as taken with children, neither their own nor anyone else’s. None had carried it to the extreme of Miss Willa, but there’d been definite boundaries—including nannies and boarding schools—to keep kids at a distance.
“I know you’ve had a long day, but...”
When she trailed off, he grinned. “I’m not tired, and I don’t want to watch cartoons or play with Scooter.”
She smiled back. “Can you hang around while I get her bathed and tucked? I’ll do it as quick as I can.”
“Sure. I’ll be—” He glanced around. The family room sofa was still filled with boxes, and the living room was so obviously not comfortable. “Out back. By the fountain. Is that okay?”
The thought of having that privacy with him, with the accompaniment of the bubbling and splashing of the fountain, was lovely. She’d hoped when she’d installed it that it would prove to be an intimate, romantic space to share, but Mark hadn’t cared for it. Still, it was all the way across the yard. Distance and the fountain could