“Come on, Ricky,” she said, a couple of silent seconds after his barb. “Little girls need mothering. Please don’t fight this. We can work together, me and you. I’ll give you whatever access to her you want. You can check up on me every day. Heck, as far as I’m concerned, we can all live together.”
No. Never again. He’d left his mother’s house for the last time when he was seventeen. She’d been passed out, half-naked on the floor, in a pool of her own vomit. He’d vowed then that he was never—ever—going to step inside that woman’s home again.
“If you’re the right one to have the baby, the agency will give her to you. If I am, I’ll get her.”
If Carrie was going to have the hope of a safe and secure future, he had to get her.
“Christy wanted me to have her.”
“Christy didn’t know I existed.”
“You’re mad at me.”
“No, I’m not.” He’d passed mad about fifteen years ago.
“You still haven’t forgiven me. You’re doing this to get back at me, but Carrie’s the one who’s going to be hurt. She needs a mother.”
“Listen, I have to go. I’m running late.” It was the truth.
“Okay. Just think about the three of us being a family, please…?”
Thank God, he was finally immune to her begging.
“I love you, Ricky.”
“I…know.”
Squeezing his phone shut, Rick caught a glimpse of the six-slot picture frame on his desk, filled with random shots of Hannah. And wondered for the first time about the secret he’d kept. Had it been fair to Hannah? Not letting her know that there was more than just him in their family?
And fair to his mother? More importantly, to Christy? If Carrie’s birth had changed his mother, could Hannah’s have made a difference, too? In time to save his little sister?
If he’d told his mother about Hannah, Christy would have known she had an older brother. Right there in town. She would have had another home to run to, instead of hanging out on the streets of downtown San Francisco.
Had keeping his secret cost his baby sister her life?
Not a breath of air moved in his office as he sat there. Voices could be heard, from afar, probably his secretary and the office manager. Their desks were closest to his door.
Hannah had only been six when she’d left him. Still at the age where she thought he was perfect.
The visual flashed again. The playground splayed with metal. A car so twisted it was unrecognizable. And his baby girl, the only victim…
He’d recognized her shoe. Lying there in the grass.
Rick stood, wiped impatiently at tears he’d hoped were dried up and went out to refill his coffee cup.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SUE WAS WAITING for Rick when he left the administrative building Wednesday evening, her van in the slot next to his. She got out as he approached.
He’d called her cell a couple of times that day. Left her a message that he needed to speak with her as soon as possible. He hadn’t heard back from her.
She was in black pants instead of her usual jeans. And sandals instead of bare feet. Her hair was down around her shoulders.
No woman should look so beautiful and seem so unaware of it. It was dangerous just putting that right out there to tempt a guy.
He walked up to her and planted his mouth on hers, finding her tongue, tasting her as he had only once before, that night on the couch.
But as he’d thought about doing ever since.