What was she supposed to say to him, Yes, I take DD out to that place where Dad died? Pressing her palms together in front of her chest, Sam looked at her brother pleadingly. "Sometimes."
"Dammit, Sam. That was one of the agreements—you wouldn't take DD out there. So, when she was all disheveled, wrinkled, and damp coming home last week?"
Her shoulders sagged. "I took her there. But I took her home, showered her, and cleaned her clothes. We just didn't have time for everything to dry. But she loves it. You should see her. She laughs and plays. It's beautiful."
"I entrusted you with my child. You tell me you'll take good care of her and you take her to the lake which has deep spots and no one around for miles. What the hell were you thinking?"
"I'm thinking she needs some freedom. She's not two years old, Kyle. She has so many skills. She can do a lot for herself. I just wanted to remove the bubble wrap for a while."
He jumped to his feet. "You've got nerve telling me I'm overprotective. I bet you would be too if your child was sick. Oh, that's right you don't have one."
She stood there, feeling the color drain from her face. "She's sick? It's her heart, isn't it? I know kids with Down's syndrome don't tend to have good hearts. What are they doing about it?"
"It's not her heart. It's her kidneys. She had a bad infection last year and we're having trouble getting them to work properly. She isn't drinking as much fluid as she needs to, so that adds to the problem."
"Last year? When you wouldn't let me see her for almost three months, she was really sick? I thought you, well Shelley, was just mad at me. How could you? You kept me from her. You bastard. She's the best thing that has ever happened to me. She needs a kidney? She can have mine."
"No, she can't." He shoved his hand through his hair, tugging on it. "Look we're looking into a kidney for her. We're hoping it doesn't come to that. The waiting list is scary. It's really, really long. And …" He hung his head for a moment before looking up again. "And she's not a good candidate."
"Who the hell said that? If it's because she has a developmental disability, I'll kick someone's ass." She ignored Keegan's chuckle. "She's a teenager and deserves to be treated like any other teenager who has priority for a kidney transplant."
"Mighty Sam to the rescue. The real world doesn't work like that but thanks. We're checking out alternatives." He swiped his hand through his short-cropped black hair. "It's all just a maybe."
"What do you mean alternatives?" She walked up and stood toe to toe with her brother, her head tilted back so she could look him in the eye. "This ain't the time to be pissed off at me. She can have one of my kidneys."
"She can't."
She slammed her hands on her thighs. "Kyle, don't be such an ass. She's my blood. She's my life."
"No, she's not."
"No, she's not what?"
He sank down into the chair, his head coming to rest in the palm of his hands. "Your blood."
She knelt down in front of him, her hands on his legs, peering up into his face.
"She's not my daughter."
Those words slammed into her like a punch to the gut. She was glad she was on her knees; she wasn't sure her legs would have held her up. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes for a moment before she leaned forward and hugged him. She felt the pain of that admission rip through him and settle somewhere near her heart, like a big cavern. She stayed there for a long time, just holding him, although she wasn't sure if it was just for him since she felt as though her world had just caved in.
Finally, Kyle sat up, so she sat back on her heels. "Why didn't you tell me? I don't mean about that but about her being sick. I'd have been here, Kyle. I'd have been with her." She looked at him begging for an answer. She saw it almost immediately. "Shelley." Laying her head down on his knee, she let the tears flow. Gut-wrenching sobs tore through her. She wasn't even sure what she was bawling about. She just knew that her world wasn't working, and now she'd lost the one precious thing, the one right thing in her life. Shelley could cut her out of DD's life and there was nothing she could do about it.
How long she cried for she wasn't sure. She'd lost all sense of time. All sense of feeling. When she finally stopped, she opened her eyes to a darkened room. Drained, she laid there for several minutes until awareness crept back in. Two strong arms were holding her which didn't surprise her. What did was that she was sitting on the couch. Thankful for the comfort, she snuggled closer.
"Are you okay?"
Startled, she jerked back and looked into a pair of tropical blue eyes, full of concern. She'd never had anyone look at her like that before. Not even her family. It was so compelling to just lay her head back down on his broad shoulders and let him worry about life for her. But that wasn't her. She'd never learned to lean. With one last longing look at the comforting haven he'd provided her, she pulled away and stood up. The streetlight shining in the window compelled her to move over to it and peek out. "Yeah. Sorry. Just …"
Keegan's warm hand settled in the middle of her back. It didn't shock her it was there, but it shocked her she hadn't jumped when he touched her. She wanted to twist away from it but found that she couldn't. She needed it.
"Where's Kyle?"
"DD was kicking up a fuss, not feeling good, just cranky, so he went to lie down with her."
"He's a good dad." She blinked several times, surprised that she had any tears left. "H-hmmm. I need to talk to him. We haven't done anything about that guy at the lake. I don't know what to do about him. I know we should call the police …" She pressed her hands to her face. "There's something not right happening. I think if we call the police, nothing will get solved. I think …" Turning, she faced him. "I get very strong … feelings for things. I can sense when bad things will happen. I'm not right all the time but it's helped me many times. It's not foolproof, but I just feel that something … it's a very strong sensation. I don't know if you get what I'm telling you or if it's too woo-woo for you, but I can't ignore it."
He smiled and pressed his palm to her cheek. Her eyes widened. "I have some gut instinct about certain things, and I agree there is something bigger going on. I'm scared things will get buried that shouldn't be buried and that will be the end of it. So, I'm game to play Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. I get to be Holmes—you know, dashing and all, with that charming British accent."
She giggled. "Your accent needs a bit of work, my dear Holmes. See that doesn't work for me, it's supposed to be my dear Watson."
He grinned. "We'll work it out."
"I know I promised a place to stay but we can't stay here."
"No problem. I need to go back to the lake. I'd like to go by my place. I've left some things I'd rather others not get into. And we can check and see if that guy is still tied up on your lawn. If he is, we'll call the cops and if he isn't, we'll run like hell. Deal?"
Sam shook his hand, wondering if they weren't getting in over their heads. "I … yeah, we can't stay here. I just need to say goodbye. Give me a few minutes, okay? Here are the keys if you want to wait in the car." She walked out and headed up the stairs, turning right, she knocked on the door before gently pushing it open. DD was snoring loudly, her mouth open and her body sprawled almost across the bed. Sam's big six-foot brother was curled up in one corner, holding her hand, also sound asleep. Sam walked over and kissed them both. Snooping through DD's bedside stand, she found some paper and markers. She drew a quick picture, told her niece to get better, and filled in all the empty spaces with hearts. Propping it up by her clock radio, Sam tiptoed out, pulling the door closed behind her. Making her way downstairs, she walked into the kitchen, expecting to find Shelley. After looking in the TV room and downstairs, she gave up. She wrote a quick note, thanking her for the meal and the hospitality and set it on the kitchen counter.
After locking the front door, she walked down the sidewalk and climbed in the passenger seat of the car, glad that Keegan wanted to drive. Slumping back, she let her head flop against the headrest, drained—mentally, physically, and emotionally. The streetlight lit up the street with a sickly yellow, but beyond its limited circle everything was black. Sitting up, she snapped on her seatbelt, then turned to look at Keegan, who was watching her.
"Well, Holmes, time for us to get some answers. Home, Holmes."