Finders Keepers Part 1

Finders Keepers.

Sharon Sala.

This book is dedicated to my dear, dear friends-women who have come in and out of my life during the years and who have lasted, far beyond the range of normal acquaintances, to become people on whom I can depend.

To Loretta Broyles Sawyer, my first and oldest friend, I love you dearly and you know it. I wish you didn't live so far away.

To Barbara Bullard, who for thirty years was my nearest and dearest neighbor, thank you for everything, including loving my children nearly as much as you do your own.

To Linda Gregory, with whom I've shared many bags of popcorn and hundreds of movies, and who has always been there when I needed her to be. Thank you, dear. Know that you are appreciated and loved.

To Diana Srader and the recipes and vegetables we used to trade from each other's gardens. Our lives have changed, but our friends.h.i.+p has not. Thank you for being my friend.

To Donna Walden, who shared eight years of my job at Prague Schools with me as well as countless laughs. Thanks for always being there.

Remember me when I'm too old to remember you.

Prologue.

Molly Eden remembered screaming, then cradling her belly in a futile effort to protect the baby that was growing within. And then everything began to happen as if in slow motion. Although she and her fiance, Duncan Wilder, were sliding sideways across the highway at a fast rate of speed, it seemed as if they were floating, and that the ice-covered tree silhouetted in their headlights was made of crystal.

Later, it would be the sleet peppering her face, the scream of an ambulance siren, and the blood all over her legs that told her she was still alive. As time would pa.s.s, she was to wish that she had not survived.

The room was warm, yet even in a drug-induced sleep, Molly s.h.i.+vered, reliving, over and over, the sequence of events that had cost her a child. Twice since coming out of surgery, she'd pleaded for someone to tell her of Duncan's fate. And both times, the answer had been circ.u.mvented until Molly was certain that, like her unborn baby, he, too, had perished. And then she heard him calling her name.

"Molly...Molly, can you hear me?"

Hovering on unconsciousness, Molly clung to the sound of his voice. It hurt to think, and it was oh, so difficult to talk, but the touch of his hand drew her closer and closer to awakening, and then finally she focused on the deep lines of concern upon his face.

It would be later before she would understand that something other than their baby's death had put them there.

"Duncan?"

"Molly...thank G.o.d," he whispered.

She focused her entire attention upon the broad shoulders and the familiar features of the man she loved, wondering as she stared if the baby would have looked like him.

"Duncan...the baby...we lost our baby." Tears slipped from beneath her lids, silent tracks of the depth of her despair.

"Tell her!"

A stranger's voice broke her concentration, and for the first time, she saw that Duncan was not alone.

Duncan flushed, and looked away as Molly stared over his shoulder and into eyes filled with hate. The woman was tall, elegantly dressed in cashmere and fur, and obviously fighting the urge to speak for herself, yet Duncan's presence seemed to keep her slightly subdued.

"Duncan?"

Molly reached for the security of his hands, but when he moved out of her reach and stuffed them into the pockets of his slacks instead, panic began to surface.

"Tell her, or I will," the woman hissed.

"Tell me what?" Molly asked. "Who is she, Duncan? What can she possibly have to do with us?"

"She's my wife," Duncan said, unable to watch what he knew would be total, unrestrained shock upon Molly's face.

"No, dear G.o.d, no," Molly moaned, and covered her face with her hands.

"I didn't mean for it to go this far," Duncan said.

"What he means is, he didn't mean to get caught again," the woman snapped. "Or that you'd get yourself pregnant. You should have been more careful. The other love-struck college girls who fell for the handsome professor's line were smarter than you. All they got was an A in the cla.s.s and then dumped. You, on the other hand, take the prize, sweetie."

Duncan spun. "Shut up, Claudia! Just shut the h.e.l.l up! Molly was different!"

Claudia smirked. "Aren't they all?"

"Listen, Molly, I can..."

"Get out," Molly said, and clenched her teeth to keep from screaming. "Just get out of my sight."

"But you don't understand. We can-"

"There is no we,'" Molly whispered. "There's just you...and her. Now get out of my room."

Duncan dropped his head. "I'll pay for everything."

A sob slipped up and out of Molly's throat before she could stop herself. But her eyes never wavered as she stared Duncan Wilder straight in the face.

"That's impossible," she said. "You can't pay for the baby I lost. And there's not enough money on earth to pay me for the fact that I can never have another child."

"Oh my G.o.d," Duncan said, imagining an impending lawsuit and the damage it would do to his reputation on campus. The dean would have a fit if he got wind of this. "I didn't know. Molly, listen, I'll make it worth your while to-"

Molly's gaze slid from Duncan to the woman behind him. "Get him out of my sight," she whispered.

For the first time since coming into the room, Claudia Wilder felt remorse. Once, Claudia had been just like Molly. Only she'd been Duncan's first student affair, and as a result, she was the one he'd married. And as she stayed with the philanderer who was her husband, she was the one who would suffer the longest. It was, however, her choice.

"Come on, Duncan. You've obviously outstayed your welcome."

They started out of the room, and then Duncan paused in the doorway, looked back, and shrugged.

"I'm really, really sorry."

The sheet wadded beneath her grip as she met him look for look.

"Yes, I can see that now," Molly said. The disgust in her voice was impossible to miss.

Only after the door had closed behind them did Molly give in to her grief. Everything, including her innocence, was gone.

One.

"Isth you my momma?"

Molly didn't know what startled her more, the unexpected question or the touch of a child's hand on her bare thigh.

"What in the world?"

She spun. The food on her barbecue and her solitary picnic were forgotten as she stared down in shock at the small boy who waited patiently for an answer to his question. She was startled by the unexpected pain of his innocent question-it had been years since she'd let herself think of being anyone's momma. But the child's expression was just short of panicked, and his hand was warm-so warm-upon her thigh; she couldn't ignore his plight just because of her old ghosts.

"Hey there, fella, where did you come from?" Molly bent down, and when he offered no resistance, she lifted him into her arms.

But he had no answers for Molly, only an increase in the tug of his tongue against the thumb he had stuffed in his mouth. She smiled at his intense expression, and patted his chubby bare legs. Except for a pair of small red shorts, an expression was the only thing he was wearing.

His little brown belly was streaked with dirt, as was the rest of his body. Bits of mud and gra.s.s were caught between his toes, and hair two shades darker than his eyes stood every which way upon his head. The only thing clean about him was probably that thumb he kept stuck in his mouth.

"Where did you come from, sweetheart?"

His chin quivered and then he tugged a little faster upon his thumb.

It was obvious to Molly that the child was not going to be any help in locating missing parents. She turned, searching her s.p.a.cious backyard for something or someone to explain the child's appearance, but nothing was obviously different from the way it had been for the last twenty-two years when her parents first moved in-except the child.

A car honked down the street, and two houses over, she could hear the sounds of kids playing in a backyard pool. However, from the looks of the dirt on this one, she doubted he'd recently been in any water.

"Isth you my momma?"

This time, his voice held a slight tremor as he slid a small, bare arm across the shoulder of her white halter top to secure himself more firmly within her grasp.

"Amazing! So that's how you do it."

Molly's remark was aimed at his ability to talk and suck his thumb at the same time.

"Are you lost, honey? Can't you find your mommy?"

His only response was a limpid look from chocolate-chip eyes that nearly melted her on the spot.

She frowned, patting his sticky back in a comforting but absent way and started toward the house to call the police when shouts from the yard next door made her pause.

"Joey! Joey, where are you? Answer me, son!"

Even through the eight-foot height of the thick yew hedge separating the homes, Molly could hear the man's panic. She looked down at the child in her arms and sighed with relief. If she wasn't mistaken, the missing parents were about to arrive, and from a surprise location. The house on the adjoining lot had been vacant for over a year, and she'd been unaware that anyone had moved next door.

"Hey! You over there...are you missing a small boy?"

"Yes...G.o.d, yes, please tell me you found him."

Molly smiled with relief as she realized her unexpected guest was about to be retrieved. "He's here!" she shouted again. "You can come around the hedge and then through the front door of my house. It's unlocked."

The thras.h.i.+ng sounds in the bushes next door ceased. Molly imagined she could hear his labored breathing as the man tried to regain a sense of stability in a world that had gone awry. But she knew it was not her imagination when she heard a long, slow, string of less-than-silent curses fill the air. Relief had obviously replaced the father's panic.

Molly raised her eyebrows at the man's colorful language, but got no response from the child in her arms. He didn't look too perturbed. But he did remove his thumb from his mouth long enough to remark, "My daddy," before stuffing it back in place.

"Well, really!" Molly said, more in shock for herself than for the child, who had obviously heard it all before.

She turned toward the patio door, expecting the arrival of just an ordinary man, and then found herself gaping at the male who bolted out of her door and onto her patio.

It had been a long time since she'd been struck dumb by a physical attraction, but it was there just the same, as blatant and shocking as it could possibly be. All she could think to do was take a deep breath to regain her equilibrium and then wave a welcome. That in itself took no effort, and it was much safer than the thoughts that came tumbling through her mind.

She saw the man pause on the threshold, as if taking a much-needed breath, and then swipe a shaky hand across his face. He was tall, muscular, and, oddly enough, quite wet. His hair lay black and seal-slick against his head like a short, dark cap, while droplets of water beaded across his shoulders.

He was nearly nude and his only attempt at modesty consisted of brief red jogging shorts that matched the ones the child was wearing. His pause was fleeting as he came toward her, his bare feet leaving a trail of wet footprints on the flagstone path as he ran.

Joseph Rossi had entered the woman's house without noticing its interior decor. All he could remember-all he could feel-was heart-stopping panic when he'd climbed out of his shower and realized his son was missing from his bed. Now, shaking with the sheer relief of knowing he'd been found, he wasn't prepared for the impact of seeing Joey's guardian angel.

Right at the moment, he felt as if he'd been poleaxed. The woman stood haloed in the intense glare of the setting sun behind them, and for a moment he could almost believe he was seeing an angel. She was tall and slim, and stood proudly erect, framed by the sun at her back and the cloud of auburn curls around her face. She smiled gently and seemed to hold out her hand. He blinked and then shuddered, remembering why he was here, and jumped off the patio and ran toward his son.

There was no mistaking the intense love in the man's eyes or the fact that the child went willingly from Molly to his father without looking back. And in that moment, when the child was lifted from her arms, Molly Eden felt oddly bereft and empty, and she winced, knowing that for her it would never be any other way.

"My G.o.d, Joey, you scared Daddy to death. Don't ever leave the house without me again, do you hear me?"

Joey nodded, then buried his face against his father's chest, suddenly shy at being reprimanded in front of a stranger.

Joseph hugged his small son tightly against his still-wet body, turning around and around in a circle until they were both dizzy and laughing.

Molly could only watch. The bond between them was obvious.

"We're making mud."

Joseph smiled at Molly, motioning apologetically to his wet body and Joey's dirty one.

Happy to be on the good side of right, Joey grinned and swiped his hand across his father's broad chest, leaving a tiny imprint of finger smears behind.

Molly s.h.i.+vered and wrapped her arms around herself to keep from joining in the fun. She'd always liked making mud pies-she'd just never considered making mud with a man before. The thought that had come to her was intriguing, and then shocking. What was she thinking? This man was her neighbor, and obviously married. Angry with herself for even considering falling into an old and painful trap, she looked away. It was then she remembered her grill. The wieners were creating a fire of their own.

"My hot dogs!" Molly made a dash for the grill.