Page 55 of You'll Find Out
“Lynda seems more efficient than that,” June commented dryly, but the fear in her eyes seemed to have lightened a little and her stiff, fragile shoulders relaxed slightly.
“It doesn’t matter how the mix-up occurred,” Mara answered with a wan smile. “The important thing is that Angie’s safe!”
“You’re right, of course,” June agreed. “Perhaps I over-reacted, a little. It’s just that I love Angie so much.” Mara’s heart began to bleed for the little old woman. “And . . . that Shane Kennedy, he has a way of unnerving me.” June rose with difficulty, reaching for her purse. Mara swallowed, and before June could leave, tried once again to tell the older woman about her relationship with Shane.
“He’s an . . . unsettling man,” Mara observed, bracing herself. June’s entire body tensed, but Mara continued. “I thought so when I first met him . . . nearly five years ago . . .”
“Some people are just like that, aren’t they . . . always putting you on edge,” June commented nervously as she started out of the den toward the back door. “I’ll see you on Monday, if not before,” she said, and then added, “Have a nice time in Atlanta.”
“June, wait!” Mara nearly shouted. “I need to talk to you. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you . . .”
June turned on her heel, her eyes cold as ice as she looked through Mara and donned her mantle of easy, Southern sophistication. “Can’t it wait, dear?” she asked without waiting for a reply. “I’m really very late already, and I have a bridge game scheduled for seven.” She looked pointedly at her watch, and Mara noticed the sharp edge of impatience in her eyes.
“It . . . it can keep,” Mara whispered, and June gave her a smile that reminded Mara of the way a person looks when they pat a dog on the head after it had obeyed an order.
“Good,” June called cheerily . . . too cheerily. “I’ll see you Monday.”
“Sure,” Mara whispered to herself, and mentally kicked herself for her own lack of courage. She watched June walk slowly to the garage and noticed her uneven gait. And with the same well-measured stiff carriage, June got into her car, pressed the throttle so heavily that the Lincoln’s large motor raced in the garage, and turned the wheel of the car until it rolled awkwardly down the drive.
Mara waved as she watched June’s lumbering vehicle roll lazily down the drive. Once the car was out of sight, Mara propelled herself into a whirlwind of action. She raced through the house, throwing whatever she could think of for herself and Angie into a suitcase. She only paused when she came to her daughter’s room and found the tattered blanket and bedraggled Lolly Doll. Clutching both to her chest, she looked around the frilly empty room with its green and white gingham accents, the chest full of forgotten, unused toys, and the large, comfortable bed where Angie slept. Shane couldn’t take the child away from her, Mara thought desperately. He wouldn’t! And yet his promise of just that was what she most feared.
A custody battle that she might have won a few years ago wouldn’t necessarily be in her favor today, not with all of the national attention given to the father’s rights. And the fact that she had lied and had hidden the paternity of her child, whatever the motivation, wouldn’t look good to judge and jury, especially since she, as Angie’s mother, had inherited the bulk of the Wilcox fortune. Of course there were Peter’s relatives, all of them to consider. When they found out what deception she had planned, innocent or not, they would be more than willing to testify against her. Mara clutched the tattered piece of blanket as if it were her child. No matter how innocent her intentions, she would appear guilty by all who judged her!
The other option open to her was to marry Shane as he had suggested. God, if only she could! She would have to tell the truth and get it out—end the speculation and the misery. Soon, no doubt, Dena would make good her threats.
That she wanted to marry Shane, Mara had no doubt. How many years had she wished for just that? The thought of uniting their small family sounded perfect, if only for one, vital flaw. Never in the last few weeks had Shane whispered one word of love to her. She wouldn’t deny the depth of his passion for her, it was never in question. But still she doubted his love.
Her marriage to Peter, by the time that he had fallen ill, had become a sham. Mara had married once for the sake of her child, and she had survived that one loveless marriage vowing never to enter another. Now she was confronted with the same problem. Mara knew that Shane loved Angie, just as much as she loved her child, but she also realized that love for a child wasn’t enough to support a marriage. What about the relationship between husband and wife? Could a marriage with Shane possibly work after all of the battles they had suffered together, after all of the wounds they had inflicted upon one another?
Questions, doubts, and fears kept nagging at her all the while that she fed the cats, locked the house, and threw her baggage in the little yellow Renault. Shane’s address was wadded up tightly in her clenched fist, but she had already committed it to memory.
Knowing that she was in for the most heart-wrenching battle of her life, Mara twisted the key in the ignition, eased off the parking brake, and after expelling a long, uneasy breath, raced down the driveway. The drive to Atlanta would take over three hours. Mara bit her lip and ripped through the gears with renewed determination. Somehow, no matter what, she had to have Angie back . . . forever!
Chapter 11
Despite the dread that threatened to overtake her, Mara tried to remain calm during the tiresome drive south-west toward Atlanta. Although she had left Asheville in broad daylight, as Mara continued toward her destination the sun settled behind the mountains, shadowing the rolling hills of the Piedmont Plateau in a rosy dusk. Central Georgia was just as beautiful as she had remembered it, and the heavy scent of Georgia pine trees filtered in through her open window. Mara tried to keep her mind on her driving and staying within the boundaries of the speed limits. But as the minutes stretched into hours, and evening began to gather, she involuntarily treaded more heavily on the throttle of the racing sports car.
As each road sign along the drive had passed, illuminated milestones of her journey and the towns and cities themselves had come and gone as if they were green flags urging her on toward Atlanta: Flat Rock, Tuxedo, Greenville, Lavonia . . . Mara had read them and forgotten them, knowing only that putting the towns behind her brought her closer to her child . . . and Shane.
Mara’s stomach knotted at the thought of him. He was playing a dangerous game, and Angie was in a precarious position—the rope in a tug of war between mother and father. The anger that had overcome her after the initial shock of Shane’s phone call had slowly given way to dread. How serious was he? How far would he go to claim Angie? And a deeper, more frightening question—how far would she go to stop him from taking her only child from her? If only the marriage could work, if only they could be reunited, if only this battle between them could be resolved. The night closed in on her and the questions and fears flashed through her mind as rapidly as the endless stream of approaching headlights.
Mara was more than nervous when she finally saw the winking lights of Atlanta. She was downright scared! In the past she had always thought of Atlanta fondly, remembering pleasant springs with warm sunshine, the scent of peach blossoms, and the beauty of the pink dogwoods in bloom. But tonight, as her car raced nearer to its destination, she felt only despair and loneliness. How could she ever make her life with Shane? How could it ever possibly work? The nearer she got to the glimmering lights, the more her dread mounted, and she looked upon the city as if it were a devious, well-lit leviathan, waiting for her in the surrounding darkness.
It wasn’t difficult to find the section of town where Shane lived. Located just off of Tuxedo Road, the most prestigious area of Atlanta, Shane’s home was an enormous, red-brick mansion that rose three stories into the night. The grounds around the estate, well-lit with lamp posts near the long drive, were immense and meticulously well-tended. Pine trees, ancient oaks, magnolias, and the ever-present dogwoods flanked the mansion, softening the straight lines of the massive brick structure.
Mara stopped the car and gazed quietly up at the immense mansion that Shane called home. Warm light from eight-foot windows melted into the darkness and was reflected in the large white columns of expansive front porch, Clean, black shutters lined the windows, and glowing sconces near the door seemed to invite her into the house. She hesitated only slightly before stepping into the night and marching proudly up the three brick steps to the massive front door. Narrow paned windows on each side of the white door tempted her to look inside, but she refused, preferring to meet Shane’s gaze squarely.
It took all of her courage to ring the doorbell, but the knowledge that Angie was inside the stately manor encouraged her. After pressing a trembling finger to the bell, she listened, and over the quiet hum of slow traffic she heard the sound of chimes announcing her arrival. The sound of her own heartbeat pounded in her ears, and then another, louder noise interrupted the soft city sounds. It was the reverberating drum of running footsteps. Excited, small feet were hurrying to the door. Mara set down the suitcase and bent down on one knee expectantly. The lump that was forming in her throat began to swell as the door was pulled open, and in the crack of the interior lights, Angie’s expectant black eyes reached out and found her mother’s teary gaze.
“ItisMommy!” Angie called over her shoulder as she burst through the door and, in a scrambling pile of soft arms and legs, crawled into Mara’s waiting arms. “Daddy said you were coming,” Angie volunteered as she clung to her mother’s neck.
“Did he?” Mara whispered thickly.
Angie paused, as if a sudden important thought struck her, and held Mara’s chin in her chubby hands. Her concerned eyes probed Mara’s. “You hurt Mommy?” she asked innocently. “You crying?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” Mara sniffed and managed a trembling, and slightly feeble smile. “I’m . . . just glad to see you, that’s all.”
A frown crossed Angie’s face. “Shane said I could call him Daddy,” Angie said matter-of-factly.
