The Forgetful Fiancée

Chapter Six

After fleeing from her confrontation with Kevin, Tara took comfort in the refuge of her son's warm, cuddly body nestled in her arms. This was love, as pure as it came. Grown-up love, though, that was a lot more complicated. She loved Kevin. She couldn't stop loving him, no matter what he'd done.

She realized that, in his mind, Kevin could somehow justify the deceit he'd perpetrated. He sure hadn't pretended they were engaged out of a desire to be with his son. Maybe Debra had pressured him into "doing the right thing." Or perhaps he'd lied to her from some misguided notion that he knew what was best for Tara.

And maybe he did know, she thought glumly as she settled into a rocking chair with her sleeping child. These past couple of weeks had been some of the happiest of her life. As she'd settled into the rhythm of country living, she'd hardly given a thought to her business. Things at her design firm were probably in a shambles. And what about her bills, her bank accounts, all the pieces of her life she'd walked out on? She'd intended to be back home a week ago. Had Kevin even thought about that?

She heard the phone ring, then stop. Kevin had answered. She hoped it wasn't for her. She wasn't up to talking to anyone.

A few moments later, Kevin tapped on the nursery door.

"What?" she snapped.

He stuck his head through the door. "I have to go. The guy who mugged you was caught in the next county, trying to sell your rental car. We'll talk when I get back."

She refused to even look at him. With a sigh, he closed the door.

Tara knew what she had to do. She had to go home. If she gave Kevin the chance, he might convince her to stay – not because it was the right thing to do, but because, despite everything, she still wanted to be with him. But she had to think about Andrew. No child of hers would grow up under the same roof as a reluctant, bitter father.

She made flight reservations from the airport at Colorado Springs for later that evening. It didn't take her long to pack up her things. She'd only bought a few items of clothing to replace what was stolen. Andrew took longer – she couldn't believe all the paraphernalia babies required.

While she packed, she thought about her mugger. She'd never even seen his face, as he'd attacked her from behind. She was glad they'd caught the guy, but she hoped she wouldn't be required to testify in court. She didn't want to come back here for any reason. She never should have come in the first place.

When she was ready she called a cab. The fare to Colorado Springs would be exorbitant but she still had a credit card, which had been tucked into her pocket and overlooked by the mugger.

As the cab driver put her things in the trunk, she took one last look at the house. Kevin's house, nestled among the trees. She'd come to love it in so short a time. She purposely summoned thoughts of Chicago, where she'd lived for years, and which she'd missed so desperately the first few days in Colorado. Now, all she could remember was how noisy it was, how cramped her condo was, and how stressed out her hectic job made her feel.

"We'll get used to it again," she said aloud to Andrew. Fighting tears, she climbed into the cab, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder. Kevin would be surprised when he got home to find her gone. She hadn't even left a note. She figured that after what he'd done, he didn't deserve an explanation.

Anyway, he would probably be relieved.

It was after ten o'clock by the time Kevin returned home. The paperwork had been hell, but he'd managed to convince the sheriff in the neighboring county that the suspect should be prosecuted in Colby County, where the more serious crime had been committed.

The house was dark. Tara was probably already asleep. Before she'd become a mother, she was a real night owl, hanging out with friends at late-night coffee houses or going to midnight movies at the local art-house theatre. Now sleep was a precious commodity.

He wouldn't wake her up, he decided. Tomorrow would be soon enough for them to talk.

He moved as quietly as possible through the house. His stomach rumbled at the chili he'd missed out on. Were there leftovers, he wondered? To his dismay, the half cooked pot of chili still sat on the stove, stone cold. Tara hadn't finished it. He hoped she hadn't gone to bed hungry. He helped himself to a couple of cookies from the jar, then went to the nursery to check on Andrew.

The baby wasn't in his crib. Uneasiness crept up on Kevin. Surely the baby was just with Tara in the big bed. She had, on occasion, taken him to bed with her when he was fretful. Kevin had been worried he would roll over in the night and squash the child, so he'd made Tara keep Andrew on the other side of the bed. She'd probably thought that was another indication that he resented his son, he thought ruefully. A lot of his actions could be misinterpreted that way.

When he found the master bedroom empty and Tara's clothes gone, he was forced to admit he'd been abandoned.

He sank onto the bed, his gut churning, his head spinning. He'd known that lying to Tara was wrong. He'd have told her the truth in a few more days. His plan had been working – Tara had gradually been discovering the joys of country living. She might have been convinced to stay on her own and go through with the marriage. But her memory had returned too soon, and she'd made her decision.

And taken away his son.

Sure, he could petition the courts for visitation rights. But if Tara was against his having contact with Andrew, he couldn't see himself fighting with her over his parental rights. A child didn't need to grow up with his parents arguing over him. Besides, what had he done to indicate he ought to be given any rights where Andrew was concerned? He'd been a disgraceful father.

Something caught his eye – a pad of paper with some writing on it next to the phone. He immediately recognized the numbers and letters as flight information. Below the flight was a local phone number, one he didn't recognize. Seized with an idea, he dialed the number.

"Speedy Cab Service."

"Sorry, wrong number." He hung up. So, Tara had taken a cab to the airport in Colorado Springs. And her flight didn't leave for another two hours. She might not be that far ahead of him. A plan began to form. Not a very good plan, he admitted, but at least he would be taking some sort of action, rather than letting the woman and child he loved vanish from his life forever.

He headed for the door, grabbing his jacket on the way. Thank God he was still driving his police cruiser. He jumped in, cranked up the engine, and headed for the highway that led to Colorado Springs. Once on the open road, he pushed the speedometer to eighty, knowing no one would stop him.

He spotted a Speedy Cab ahead of him, about ten miles from the airport. Could be anybody in that taxi, he thought. Then he noticed the cab had a broken taillight. Good enough. He turned on the flashing lights.