Finding You Read online

  At the edge of town, a traveling carnival beckoned, with rainbow-colored tents and tinny circus music blasting from overhead speakers. A Tilt-A-Whirl, a mini–roller coaster, and a carousel for toddlers, made up of a circle of grinning dolphins wearing chipped blue paint, were like a siren’s song. Small children tugged impatiently at parents who moved too slowly, older kids raced toward the promise of fun, games, and maybe a little adventure, and teenagers strolled hand in hand, young love on parade.

  Carla grinned and sucked in the smells of the Fourth; burning popcorn, roasting hot dogs, and suntan lotion. Life is good. The sun shone down from a brassy blue sky, and a stiff ocean wind kept the heat from settling long enough to be annoying. Thanks to all of her good Italian blood, her shoulders, bared in her hot pink tank top, weren’t turning red, and her denim shorts showed off her legs and her tan to perfection. Crepe paper was stuck to the bottom of her right sandal, courtesy of the cotton candy she’d stepped in earlier, but hey. Could’ve been worse. She might’ve been barefoot.

  God, she loved the Fourth of July celebrations in Chandler. On this one day of the year, she delighted in living in a Mayberryesque town.

  Neighbors cheered when the tiny parade moved down Main Street and waved to this year’s Queen of Chandler as she rocked unsteadily on her flowerbedecked throne. They took off their hats and solemnly saluted the American flag as it was proudly carried by members of the VFW. They laughed when the 4-H Club’s pig scampered off into the crowd and cheered when the high school band made it through “God Bless America” without hitting one sour note. They shared memories of past parades and came together in a way that citizens of a bigger city would never understand.

  Nearing the edge of town, Carla smiled at the tiny flag jutting up from Abigail’s lacquered hairdo. But when she noticed Rachel carrying a covered dish, Carla gave silent thanks that she wouldn’t be forced to eat whatever ptomaine specialty lurked within. Keeping one hand on Abbey’s collar, she slipped behind Frank Pezzini as he turned his dubious charm on a female tourist who looked desperate to escape.

  “Better you than me,” Carla murmured, and headed past the entrance to the carnival with a reluctant glance. But she knew the rules. Had known them since she was a child. First lunch with the family. Then the carnival.

  * * *

  “I know what it is to lose someone you love,” Mama Candellano was saying. “When Carla’s papa died”—she crossed herself quickly—“God rest his soul, I cried enough to float the house away. But time passes. And the tears don’t come all the time anymore.”

  She meant well, Jackson told himself, and wondered briefly what this nice woman would have to say if she guessed that he wasn’t mourning Diane. That he’d never really even missed her. They’d been too separate. Too distant when she was alive for him to pretend devastation once she was gone.

  That kind of marriage just didn’t exist in Angela Candellano’s universe, and damned if he didn’t envy her that. But then, he thought as he looked around, he envied the Candellanos quite a bit in general.

  Around him, the family, minus Carla, was busily digging into the picnic lunch they’d set up only minutes before. Submarine sandwiches, potato salad, and, of course, pasta salad were spread out in a banquet like he’d never seen before. They laughed at the same jokes, teased one another, and he’d even caught the worried glances being tossed at Nick, who was already on his third beer in less than an hour.

  Jackson had been glad of Mama’s invitation to join them for the Fourth. It was good for Reese to be around them. To feel, even briefly, what it was like to be surrounded by a happy family. That’s a damn lie. Hell, it wasn’t because of Reese he wanted to be here. He wanted to see Carla. He wanted to be near her. Around her. In her.

  Damn it.

  Jackson scraped one hand across his face and focused his attention on the woman still talking to him.

  “So I say,” Mama wound up what must have been a long speech, “you have to get back on the horse.” She paused for a second, then leaned in and looked him in the eye. “By this, I don’t mean get on my daughter, you understand.”

  Jackson choked on a gulp of lemonade and just managed to keep from spitting it out.

  “Jesus, Mama,” Nick blurted, “why don’t you just slap Carla’s picture on eBay and see how much you can get for her?”

  “Now you eavesdrop?” Mama demanded, completely glossing over the question.

  “Hard not to,” Nick pointed out, and took another long pull on the beer bottle. Then he looked at Jackson and said, “My sister’s not up for grabs.”

  “I didn’t say she was.” Hell, he wasn’t sure how any of this had happened.

  “Just so you know.”

  “Nicky, what’s the matter with you?”

  “With me?” he countered.

  “Shut up, Nick,” Tony ordered from across the blanket.

  “Ah, the voice of reason. Yes, sir, Sheriff.” Nick saluted his brother by tipping the neck of the bottle to his forehead.

  Mama snatched the bottle from his hand, then slapped the back of his head with her fingertips.

  “Hey!”

  “Enough, Nick,” she said, and the flash in her eyes was clear even to Jackson. “Before you embarrass me.”

  “Oh, great. Now I’m embarrassing.”

  Paul piped up, “Give it a rest, Nick.”

  “You, too?” He looked at his twin. “Hell, you should be on my side.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  “Not yet,” he said, “but the day is young.”

  “Had enough of the happy family routine?” Carla asked as she strolled up.

  Jackson’s gaze slammed into hers, then slowly drifted down to enjoy the picture she made. Her family and everyone else faded away. All he could see was her. Long dark curls tossed by the wind, her tank top and shorts exposed plenty of sun-kissed skin the color of warm honey. Brown leather sandals were strapped to her slender feet, and that silver toe ring of hers glinted in the sunlight. Her brown eyes shone and damn near sparkled as she looked at him, and he felt the solid punch of hot frenzied need stab into his stomach.

  “Huh?” he said when he could make his voice work again.

  “Smooth talker,” she countered, and smiled at him.

  Damn it, she had weapons and wasn’t afraid to use ’em. The scoop neck of her tank top dipped dangerously low over the tops of her breasts, and as a cool wind shot past them, he noted, with some inner pain, that she wasn’t wearing a bra, either.

  The last few days had been a kind of living torture. Reese had completely adopted herself out to Carla and those puppies. And naturally, where his daughter went, he went. He’d spent every day with Carla, and yet apart. There’d been no more kisses. No more touching. Just the sound of her voice, the music of her laughter, and the constant niggling ache to have more. And he’d spent every night thinking about what that more would be. What he’d like to be doing to her. With her.

  He was really getting sick of midnight Nickelodeon.

  “Carla!” Mama beamed at her as though she’d just flown in from Paris and hadn’t been seen in ten years. But in the next instant, that smile faded. “You’re late.”

  “I know. Wanted to miss the work.”

  Reese, cuddled up on Mama’s lap, grinned brightly, then jumped up, ran around the edge of the blanket, and threw herself at Carla. When those small arms wrapped around her waist and squeezed, Carla felt her heart clench. Amazing what power this child had gained over her. And seeing the little girl sitting on Mama’s lap, being cooed and fussed over, had felt … right. The child had become a part of the Candellano family, and Carla knew that when the Wyatts eventually left, she wouldn’t be the only one to miss them.

  Still, they weren’t leaving today, so she refused to think about the emptiness looming ahead. Smiling, she smoothed her hand over the girl’s head and said, “I’m glad to see you, too, sweetie. You look so pretty today.”

  Reese preened and stepped back from Carla so that
she could fully appreciate the blue-flower-sprigged yellow sundress she wore. She gave a slow twirl and Carla smiled in approval. “Gorgeous.”

  Reese pointed to her shoes.

  Carla checked out the white leather sandals with garish paste gems glued to them. “Wow,” she said admiringly, “princess sandals!”

  Reese grinned again and did a brief two-step, the better to flash those jewels in the sunlight.

  Carla shot a glance at Jackson, and the expression on his face as he watched her and Reese was so tender, she almost felt guilty for noticing him in an unguarded moment.

  “You’re the prettiest girl here,” Carla proclaimed, though her throat felt tight.

  “I told her that, too,” Mama said. “The prettiest six-year-old and Tina is the prettiest two-year-old. Aren’t we lucky?”

  “Yeah,” Carla murmured, stroking the girl’s hair back from her face. “Lucky.” Then inhaling sharply, she said, “Why don’t you give Abbey some water, sweetie?”

  Reese nodded and hooked her fingers through Abbey’s collar to lead the dog around the blanket.

  “Good call on missing the work,” Nick told his sister in the silence that followed. “You missed the auction, too.”

  “Auction?”

  “Yeah, Mama’s taking offers and—”

  Mama slapped the back of his head again.

  Nick sighed and picked up his sandwich.

  Something was going on and Carla wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know what it was. On the other hand … she looked at Jackson. “You’re Switzerland here.”

  “I am?” Those blue eyes of his widened with feigned innocence and one corner of his mouth twitched into a brief half-smile, and damned if Carla’s stomach didn’t do the now-familiar pitch and roll.

  “No family ties or allies,” she pointed out. “So what’s going on?”

  Jackson glanced at Nick, then Mama, before answering, “Switzerland claims neutrality.”

  “Big help.”

  “Smart man,” Tony muttered.

  Conversation rose up around them again and Carla sat down between Nick and Beth. Close enough so that she could see Jackson clearly but not close enough to drive herself insane. She’d expected to find Jackson and Reese here. Of course her mother would invite them. Mama would never stand for anyone being alone when they could be in the middle of the Candellanos.

  It’s all right. She could do this. Hadn’t she and Jackson been getting along perfectly well in the last several days? Reese spent most of her time with Carla and the puppies, who were growing so fast, it was hard to believe just a couple of weeks ago they were nothing more than fur balls. And with Reese at Carla’s house, it was only natural for Jackson to be around, too.

  And it was probably natural that she’d done enough daydreaming about him that her blood seemed to be on continual boil and her shower massage was starting to look better and better.

  “You okay?” Beth whispered.

  “Terrific.”

  “Good.” Beth’s gaze shot to her husband and a slow smile curved her mouth. Carla grabbed another carrot and wished it were a cookie. Wasn’t it bad enough she had to sit here horny and alone? Did she have to watch her sister-in-law’s obvious satisfaction on top of it?

  Ever since she and Tony had straightened out their problems, they’d been downright sickening.

  “Jackson seems nice.”

  Carla stared at her. “Not you, too.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “You’re siding with Mama?” Carla kept her voice low, not wanting him to overhear anything.

  “Hey, he’s better than Frank.”

  “Dead is better than Frank.”

  “Good point.” Beth leaned back, bracing her palms flat behind her.

  “Change of subject,” Carla announced, and reached for half a sandwich. “When do you start work again?”

  Three boys about twelve years old ran up to the blanket and stopped next to Nick. Holding out football cards with his picture on them, they asked for autographs, and thankfully, Nick was sober enough to comply. Carla frowned as she watched her brother smile weakly and wave to the kids as they left, then nod to the adults, who gave him a hearty thumbs-up. For a hometown hero, Nick didn’t look too happy.

  But Beth was talking and Carla turned her head to look at her.

  “Next week,” her sister-in-law said, “I’ll be going into the real estate office three days a week. Not full-time, but a little more than part-time.”

  “Who’ve you got to watch Tina?”

  Beth laughed and tossed her auburn hair back from her face. “Mama volunteered before I could finish asking her.”

  Nothing Mama would like better than baby-sitting her granddaughter. “So everything’s worked out?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Beth said, practically purring. “Things’re great.” Then she took a good long look at Carla and suggested, “So now that we’ve got my life straightened out, what’re we going to do about yours?”

  “We? Who’s we?”

  Beth grinned. “I was talking to Stevie and—”

  “Don’t tell me.” Carla held up one hand. “Use him and discard him.”

  “Use him, at least,” Beth said, glancing at the man in question. “I mean, Carla, look at him.”

  “I have.”

  “So do something.”

  “Okay,” Carla said, dusting her palms together. “Get everybody off the blanket.”

  “Funny.”

  “I try.”

  Thankfully, then, Tina distracted Beth, and Carla was left to her own thoughts. And God knew she had plenty of them. Too many, really. She’d argued with herself so much lately that she was beginning to feel like Sybil.

  There were lots of things she’d like to do. But she’d just be lining up to have her heart stomped into the dust. Would the pain be worth the pleasure?

  * * *

  Two hours later, Carla and Jackson wandered through the carnival area, watching Reese as she stopped every few feet to inspect something new or interesting. They’d played the ring-toss game until Jackson had won Reese a lop-eared stuffed panda. They’d eaten cotton candy and popcorn, had their pictures taken with Zippy the clown, and watched an absolutely disgusting pie-eating contest.

  Jackson was having as much fun as Reese.

  “You act like you’ve never been to a carnival before,” Carla said, taking a bite of her cherry Sno-Cone.

  “I haven’t,” he said, glancing at her long enough to notice the cherry syrup had painted her lips a deep, tempting red. “Never had time, I guess. And Diane wasn’t a carnival kind of person.”

  “I’m guessing the grandparents aren’t, either.”

  “No.” He actually chuckled at the thought of the Barringtons wandering through a sawdust-littered field, eating cotton candy.

  “They seem scary.”

  “They are scary,” he admitted, hating the fact that just the thought of those people was enough to toss a wet blanket on a great day.

  “What do they want?” Carla asked.

  He looked at her. “Reese. They want Reese.”

  Appalled, she glanced at the child feeding Abbey a handful of popcorn. She stiffened in outrage and a swell of gratitude filled him as she said, “Well, they can’t have her.”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

  “Keep saying it.”

  They walked again, with Reese leading the way toward the mini–roller coaster. Jackson shoved his hands into his pockets and realized how good it felt to have someone on his side. To see that he couldn’t possibly turn his daughter over to people as cold and distant as the Barringtons.

  Frustration rose up inside him. Shaking his head, he stared at Reese as he said, “They want to take her from me and put her in a hospital. Fair Haven Clinic. Twenty-four-hour-a-day therapy.”

  “Jesus,” Carla whispered with a shudder. “Seems a little extreme.”

  “They’re not patient people. They say it’s been a year and she should be
talking.”

  “And locking her away is the answer?”

  “No. It’s not.” He shook his head and pulled one hand out of his pocket to wave at his little girl. “Look at her. She’s doing great here. She’s happy. She’s … she’s going to talk soon. I know it.”

  Jackson handed the man in charge a ticket and Reese clambered into a seat on the mini-coaster. As the ride chugged off on its rail, Carla said, “It’s none of my business, I know, but—”

  “But?” He looked down at her as he curled his fingers over the hot bright orange metal railing.

  “Maybe therapy’s not such a bad idea?”

  “We already tried it,” he said, cutting her off. “Three weeks they worked with her and nothing changed.”

  “Three whole weeks, huh?”

  He shot her a glance. No one understood. But three weeks had felt like three years. “Reese hated it. She cried.” He closed his eyes at the memory and saw his child again as she’d been. Withdrawn. Sad. So damn sad. “Big, silent tears rolled down her face every time she had to go.” He opened his eyes again and looked at Carla, whose eyes shone with a sympathy and understanding that warmed him. “I couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t make her go. Couldn’t put her through it.”

  Circus music drifted down around them. People pushed past them, laughing, talking.

  “What happened to cause this?” she asked, and he realized that he’d never really told her. Funny. Most people, when they met Reese, immediately wanted to know what was behind her behavior. Not Carla, though. She just loved. And he was humbled by the gift this woman had given his child. In return, he thought, the least he owed her was an explanation.

  He inhaled sharply, then blew it out in a rush. Best to get this said before the ride was over and Reese rejoined them. “It was a car accident. Reese had a doctor’s appointment. Nothing serious. Just a checkup. Her mother was driving. In the rain. A truck pulled out in front of her and Diane drove right into it.”

  “Oh God, Jackson.”

  She laid her hand atop his and he turned his hand so that he could link his fingers through hers and hold on.

  “Reese was trapped in the wrecked car with her mother’s body for nearly two hours before the firemen could get her out.”