“It’s not Nick’s.” She cleared her throat. “It’s like his…but… Grab a bag and help me.” She folded the blanket and tucked it into her bag.
Charity didn’t argue, thank God. Maybe she could sense just how close Felicity was to falling apart. Her sister was more like their father in that department—avoiding uncomfortable conversations and honest, awkward emotional sharing at all costs.
The two worked in companionable silence for the majority of the morning. She put the toys from Jack’s crib into a separate bag, hoping they had special meaning to the baby—enough to help him through the shock of waking up, anyway. Once his closet and drawers were packed up, they loaded his tubs of toys onto the cart and took apart the crib, using tie-downs to keep it together.
“You should have asked Dad to come.” Charity helped her carry the crib down the hallway to the front door.
“If Dad had come, Mom would have come. And that would have made this unbearable.”
“Do the kids know yet?” Charity’s blue eyes met hers. “That Jack will be a part of your family until things get sorted out?”
She shook her head. “Sorted out” made things sound simple—easy—the opposite of the situation. But then, her sister knew nothing about Matt’s request. If she told Charity, it would be out there, real and scary. Besides, saying it out loud was tempting fate, so sharing wasn’t an option. Not yet. Not until she had no choice.
Hopefully, Rob-with-the-white-teeth would locate some of Amber’s family. She hoped they’d be wonderful, big-hearted people who’d eagerly welcome Jack into their family, not just because that would make their lives infinitely less complicated but because that’s what the little boy deserved.
“You don’t think they’ll figure it out? With this?” Charity patted the crib. “Or the mountain of baby crap we’ll be toting into the house. Or the fricking awesome convertible that will be in your garage, which you are going to let me drive home tonight, since all of this won’t fit in your car?”
Felicity didn’t have it in her to argue. “I’m taking it minute by minute here, okay?” She pointed at a panda bear sitting in the corner. “Can you grab that?”
Charity lifted it. “Oh my God, do you know what this is?”
“A panda bear?”
“Smart-ass,” Charity shook her head, turning the toy over. “It’s one of those nanny-cam things.” She opened the Velcro down the back. “It’s got one of those SD cards in it. Right…here.” She pulled the small computer card from the back of the toy. “Guess they didn’t like their babysitter?”
“Or they wanted to see what they were missing while they were at work? Hopefully the answers we need will be in the box you found. If not, you can do your sleuthing and see what’s on the nanny cam. It would be nice to hear from someone who knows the little guy.” She stared at the panda, wondering what he’d seen and heard in this room—and why he was here to begin with.
…
“Dr. Murphy.” Adelaide Keanon held the door wide in invitation. “I wanted to speak with you about Diana’s progress.”
Graham and Diana’s counselor had very different ideas about what “progress” meant. But Adelaide was his only glimpse into his daughter’s life, so Graham kept his opinions mostly to himself.
“She’s under quite a bit of pressure.” Adelaide sat in her overstuffed wicker rocking chair, leaving Graham the floral-covered loveseat.
“How so?” It was summertime. The only thing he’d asked of his daughter was a part-time job. And that was only to get her out of the house and away from the kids she’d been hanging around with. “We agreed leaving her unsupervised for long periods of time was a bad idea.”
“I think it’s gone beyond that point, Dr. Murphy.” She opened the drawer of the small cabinet beside her chair. “Between the cutting, the anorexia, and the depression, I think it’s time to readdress sending her to Serenity Heights for a short stay.” She held out the full-color brochure covered in smiling, well-adjusted-looking kids. Their absolute normalness was a slap to the face.
“I’m not sending her away for six weeks.” He stared at the woman.
She stared right back. “You need to go through her room again before you make that decision.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, the roar of blood in his ears making it hard to think.
“She mentioned your prescription sleeping pills.” She paused until he was looking at her again. “Her depression has ahold of her right now. The boy, from the party? Apparently, he broke up with her.”
“You’re telling me she’s going to try to kill herself?” He didn’t say again. He didn’t have to.
Adelaide had come into their lives after Julia died. Diana’s hunger strike had put her in the hospital hooked up to a feeding tube—under psychological observation. Graham had been beside himself, completely out of his element. He’d lost his wife. He couldn’t lose his daughter, even if she wanted nothing to do with him. Dr. Adelaide Keanon was the only person Diana would talk to.
“I’m saying she’s in crisis.” Adelaide studied him. “How are you?”
He shook his head, studying his hands to keep his frustration in check. There was nothing worse than being completely and utterly helpless. This was his daughter, his baby, the person he loved above all else they were talking about. How was he? Was she fucking serious? “I don’t have an answer for you at the moment.”
Silence filled the office. What if he was wrong? What if Serenity Heights could help? If Diana needed this place… No. He couldn’t do it. If he deserted her there, she would never forgive him. He knew it.
“I need another option.” He cleared his throat. “Something. Anything. Give me something else?”