Copper Lake Confidential - By Marilyn Pappano Page 0,59
big difference.” Though hadn’t Marnie said just tonight that she felt sorry for Macy? Did the difference really matter?
“Maybe.” She rested her head on his shoulder and felt so right. “You were right, though. I don’t hate Copper Lake. I hate Mark. I hate what he did. I hate how he destroyed so many lives.”
Hers, her daughter’s, her unborn child’s, his mother’s, his grandmother’s. The selfish bastard. Gently Stephen stroked her hair from her face. “Your life isn’t destroyed, Macy. Clary’s isn’t. You’ve got to deal with the memories, but she’s a happy, funny, smart, cheerful, ever-hopeful little girl who’s going to have a wonderful life. You’ll make sure of that. You need to make sure of it for yourself, too. Don’t let Mark win by running away from your family and all the people who care about you.”
She looked up again, and in the dim light he could barely make out the emotions on her face. Curiosity. Doubt. Need. “Does that include you?”
For an instant he felt like the inexperienced kid comfortable only with other nerds, who’d known he and girls weren’t a good match. He’d gained some confidence since then, but not enough to keep his voice from going all froggy on him. “Yeah, it does.”
“There’s so much you don’t know about me.”
“There’s plenty of time to learn if you don’t leave town.” Maybe even if she did.
“And what if you don’t like what you learn?”
“Let’s see...are you computer-phobic?” He waited for her to shake her head. “Are you kind to small animals and elderly people?”
“Of course.”
“Do you like chocolate?”
A nod.
“French fries or onion rings?”
“Fries.”
“Coffee?”
“Every morning.”
“Do you run for fun?”
She laughed. “Dear heavens, no.”
“Do you mind the smell of doggy breath in the morning?”
“Not as long as it’s coming from a dog.”
“Okay, that covers all the big stuff.”
She stared at him, her smile slowly fading. “You like things simple, don’t you?”
“Life is simple. You find a job you like and a person you love, you do good when you can, you work hard and play hard, you take care of those you bring into the world and you always remember to be kind to others.” He bent close to her. “No matter what Mark taught you, it doesn’t have to be any harder than that. Trust me.”
And then he kissed her, wondering if his trust me had sounded normal enough or if she’d heard the faint plea underlying it.
* * *
When Macy awakened Sunday morning, before she even opened her eyes, a familiar feeling settled in her chest, right above her cleavage. It was insubstantial, fluttering, the way she imagined a butterfly’s delicate wings might beat.
It was nothing, but it made her lungs constrict, and perspiration popped out across her forehead. Eyes still closed, she groped across the bed until she found Clary and scooted close to her daughter, nuzzling her soft brown hair, letting the scents of baby shampoo and bubble gum bath gel filter through the buzzing in her brain.
She was not having a panic attack. She was taking her medication regularly, and she’d been staying physically active, not just since she got here but since before her release from the hospital. Exercise was a great help in keeping the flutters and trembles and buzzes at bay. One day soon, her doctor said, she could probably come off the medication completely.
But not today.
A small hand touched her face, then fingers pried her eye open. “I know you’re awake, Mama. I see your eyes movin’ in there.”
Macy opened both eyes to find her baby grinning at her, wide-awake and as cheery this morning as she’d been cranky the night before. “Good morning.”
“Mornin.’ What’re we gonna do today? I wanna see Scooter.”
“I think we can arrange that.”
“I don’t wanna do any more packing. It’s bor-ing.”
“Well, maybe AnAnne can do something else with you while Uncle Brent and I pack.”
Then came a hint of last night’s crankiness. “I don’t wanna do it with AnAnne. I wanna do it with you.”
Macy’s heart tugged as she squeezed Clary closer. Her child had spent so much of her time in someone else’s care, and she’d been far too young to understand why. Her visits to the hospital, first with Brent and their parents, later with Anne, too, had been infrequent. The place had scared her, and she’d always cried when she had to leave without Macy.
“All right, sweetie. We’ll find something fun to do.” Brent and Anne, bless their hearts, wouldn’t mind working while she took Clary to the park or out