Father and Child Reunion Part 3

Rio watched her pick up a dark green towel, thinking to tell her there was really no rush. The call could certainly wait until morning. But seeing her wipe her hands as she headed across the room and snatched up the phone hanging above the counter, he wasn’t so sure it would have made any difference. There was a stiffness to her usually graceful movements that spoke of intense preoccupation; an abruptness that made him think she was focusing only on what she was doing at that very moment and nothing more.

“Hi, Hal. It’s Eve,” he heard her say, her tone making him think she was surprised she’d reached him. “I’m sorry to bother you,” she went on, one arm holding her stomach as she faced a dish cabinet. “But Rio wants Mom’s day planner for this year. It’s not in the box you sent over. Do you know where it is?”

It wasn’t too hard for Rio to guess Hal’s reaction. Especially once she’d mentioned his name. Eve’s whole body went stiff as a plank.

“I know the police are working on it,” he heard her say. “But it can’t hurt to have…”

Hal must have interrupted her. Going silent, she closed her eyes, then proceeded to destroy the smooth line of her hair by shoving her fingers through it while she listened to her brother rant.

Wishing he’d stopped her from making the call, Rio started toward her. He was three feet away when she decided she’d had enough.

“Thank you very much, Hal,” she said, her tone clipped, and hung up.

Her back was still to him when she crossed her arms.

“He said he needs it so he can keep her appointments. It has Mom’s agenda for the rest of the year. He also said to tell you that the sheriff’s already seen it.” Turning, she found him standing behind her. Seeming puzzled to find him there, she scooted right back to the sink.

There wasn’t a doubt in Rio’s mind that Hal had said far more than what Eve had repeated. But she reminded him a little too much of an overwound spring at the moment, so he didn’t ask her what she’d left out. He could pretty much guess, anyway.

Eve hands were always busy, especially when she was nervous or uncertain. But she didn’t continue arranging her flowers as he’d thought she might. Or start fiddling with the towel or wiping an imaginary speck off some already pristine surface. She just stood with her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the night-blackened window.

As he watched her, the wide pane of mirrorlike glass reflected the light haloing her short and slightly disheveled hair, the partially filled vase of spiky crimson flowers, and his own guarded features. He would have felt a whole lot better about whatever was going on with her if she’d started fidgeting with something. The way she held herself so tightly made it look as if she feared she might fall apart if she let go.

“What do you want with the day planners?” she asked, meeting his glance in the window. “Is there something specific you’re looking for?”

He heard the hope in her voice, along with the brittle tension he’d seen in her the moment he walked through the door. When they parted after the luncheon, he’d thought then that she looked a little rocky. At the time, he’d figured that was to be expected, considering the emotional energy giving that speech would have required. She hadn’t bounced back as she usually did, though. That wasn’t like her at all.

Ignoring the self-protective voice that told him to stay where he was, he moved toward her. A lesser person would have broken down long before now. But he knew there was a backbone of solid steel beneath all that softness. The problem with that was that steel didn’t bend or bow with its burdens. When the load became too much, it simply snapped.

“I just want to reconstruct her schedule.” She was looking to him to ease some of the anxiety she carried over her mother’s murder. He hated that there was nothing of substance to tell her. “It’s a long shot, but maybe there’s something the sheriff missed. Some name that’s been overlooked.”

She pulled a steadying breath, seeming too numb to be disappointed. “There are some files in the boxes. Was there anything in them that might help?”

“According to the labels on them, they were for newspaper articles, but the files themselves were empty. I’d say either Hal or the police kept them.”

“Was there anything else in there? In the boxes, I mean?”

“You haven’t looked?”

She shook her head, the tips of her fingers turning nearly white as she tightened the grip on her arms.

She hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it. She didn’t have to say a word for Rio to know that encountering another aspect of her mother’s life would do nothing but bring fresh pain.

“Nothing that helps,” he had to tell her. “Pictures, vases, that kind of thing.”

His shadow fell on her as he curved his hand over her shoulder. In the window he saw her head jerk up. Beneath the soft fabric of her shirt, he felt her tension increase. Ignoring it, he turned her around to face him.

The sudden wariness in her eyes made him even more aware of the shadows beneath them. They made her look terribly, frighteningly, fragile.

“Are you all right?”

Eve closed her eyes, drew a breath. The man didn’t play fair. As tenuous a hold as she had on herself, his concern threatened what little composure she could claim.

“I will be.” Come morning, the awful feelings would have passed. It was just a matter of getting through the next nine or ten hours. Then, getting through them again the next time. “I just wish I could be like you,” she told him, slipping sideways to break his hold. “I wish I had your ability to keep things from getting to me.”

She made it about three feet before he snagged her arm. Blocking her retreat with his body, he scanned her face, concern for her etching his lean features. “I don’t know where you got the idea that nothing gets to me,” he informed her, sounding as if he already had an example to the contrary in mind. “But that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“Oh, come on, Rio. You’re always in such…control. You always have been.”

“And you’re not?”

“Not here. Not since any of this started. And not like you. Never like you. I can’t…I feel…”

She shook her head, frustration piling onto everything else when the words seemed to fail her.

“You feel…what?” he encouraged, tugging her closer.

She tugged back. “Don’t, Rio. Please.”

“Just talk to me.” Though he eased his hold, he didn’t let go. “We could always talk. Remember?”

Relaxing her grip on her arms enough to restore the flow of blood to her fingers, Eve gave him a nod.

“Are you upset about what I told you today? That the police checked you out?”

“No. Maybe,” she amended, because denying it didn’t change the fact. “I understand that’s how these things work, but… Yes,” she finally admitted, because rationalizing didn’t help, either. “That’s probably part of it.”

“What about the rest? Is it your brother?”

“Not entirely, but he’s in there.”

“The investigation?”

“That, too.”

“What about having to sell this house?”

She gave him another nod, but he had the feeling there was still more.

He paused, his conscience kicking him squarely in the ribs. “Me?”

“Yes.”

She was looking down. Since the top of her head barely reached the base of his throat, he couldn’t see her face. It was probably just as well. Everything he’d mentioned was ganging up on her, but all he considered was the certainty in her last reply. It was one thing to suspect that he added to her burdens. Hearing it when she seemed so defenseless made him feel like a snake.

“And what does all of that make you feel?” he asked, smoothing her hair. “Impotent? Alone? Scared?”

His hand slipped to her nape. With his fingers resting against her slender neck, he felt her swallow.