Vanished

16

As she came to, there was a terrible hum of noise, and blurred lights overhead, a feeling of something cold and damp on her forehead. She opened her eyes, and after a few moments, Marielle realized she had been carried into the judge's chambers. His secretary was standing over her with a damp cloth, and a doctor had been called, but she insisted that she was all right. She tried to sit up, but she felt weak, and then she saw that both attorneys were there, and her husband. Someone was pressing something cool against the in-sides of her wrists, and someone else handed her a glass of water. It was Bea Ritter. She had pressed right through the crush of photographers and literally climbed over them to get to Marielle, and it was Bea who had called for help as she knelt next to her on the floor, not Malcolm. He only looked annoyed and embarrassed, and not one whit sympathetic.

“Mrs. Patterson?” the judge asked quietly. “Would you like someone to take you home?” Her head throbbed angrily as he asked her.

The truth was she would have liked to have gone home, but she thought it cowardly not to stay till the end. She felt she owed it to Charles, or to Malcolm, or to someone. She wasn't sure whom, but she thought she was supposed to be there. Maybe just to prove to the world that she wasn't a weakling. But everyone was looking so sorry for her now that she hated to be there.

“I'm all right. If you don't mind…perhaps I can stay here for a few minutes.” At least long enough to regain her composure.

“Had you finished your closing statement, Mr. Palmer?” The judge looked across his office and inquired, and Bill Palmer nodded. He hadn't expected the additional drama to punctuate his statement, but it hadn't done any harm either. Actually, he rather liked it.

“Yes, I had, Your Honor. Just.”

“Then why don't we recess for lunch? Mr. Armour can close after the noon recess. Is that all right with you, Counsellor?” It was already eleven-thirty, and he wouldn't have wanted to break into his closing statement anyway, so it was fine with him, and he agreed with a concerned look at Marielle. She was white as a sheet, and she looked really awful. But the judge had seen it too. “I think Mrs. Patterson should go home and rest for a little while, during the recess,” he suggested to the room at large.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” she whispered as Tom's heart went out to her, and Bea patted her hand in sympathy.

Malcolm made a show of assisting her to the car, but when they got to the house, he left her to her own devices. She lay down in her room, in the dark, with a cold cloth on her head, and tried to drink a little tea. But it was too late. She already had a crushing migraine. But she knew that no matter how rotten she felt, or how blinded by pain, she had to be back at the courtroom by one-thirty. But suddenly she could hardly force herself to go. It was as though she had expected something that only that morning she had finally come to understand wasn't going to happen. In some odd way, she'd thought it was all like a terrible game…and if they won… in the end, she'd get her child back. Someone would admit what they had done with him, or say they were sorry. There was going to be a reasonable end to it all, a prize for all the pain, some reasonable closure, only now she realized that there wasn't. There was nothing. There were only words and people and actors…and liars…and in the end, someone would say either innocent or guilty, and they would either execute Charles or set him free, but no one was ever going to bring Teddy back. Never. That had never been part of the bargain. And she felt as though she were in a haze of confusion as she lay there.

“Are you coming?” Malcolm walked into her darkened bedroom at one-fifteen, and looked with scorn at her lying on the bed. She felt too ill to move. And she couldn't even imagine getting to the courtroom.

“I don't think I can,” she said weakly. She couldn't even open her eyes, or sit up now.

“That's nonsense,” he snapped at her. “You have to. Do you want them to think that you're afraid to be there?” He said it as if it were a cardinal sin. Was fear so terrible then? The second deadly sin. Fear. The first one was weakness. And what about love? Was that a sin too? Had she sinned because she'd loved Charles…and Andre…and their baby girl… or even Teddy? Where was “love” in Malcolm's vocabulary, or did it even exist? Were there only responsibility and obligation and duty? Her head was spinning. Or was love something he'd saved only for Brigitte.

“If you don't go, Marielle, they'll think you were in league with Delauney and you can't bear to watch him convicted. Is that what you want? Is that what you want smeared all over the press? Well, I don't. Get up for God's sake, and face it.” He was shouting at her in the darkness, and she could feel her whole body tremble. But from somewhere, she drew on a strength she didn't know she had, and she sat up quietly and took the cloth off her head as she winced and looked at her husband. “I've been facing things all my life, Malcolm, things you couldn't begin to face, even now. So don't tell me what to get up and face.” She spat the words at him in a way she hadn't dared speak to him since she'd known him. But he'd been vicious to her ever since Teddy's kidnapping, and she'd finally had it. It wasn't her fault, or his, or probably even Charles's. It had probably been done by some totally insane crazed stranger. And whoever had done it, they had, and it was over. Why did he continue to blame her?

“You look dreadful,” he said, as he watched her comb her hair and pull it back in a bun in her dressing room. She went to wash her face and put on some lipstick, but she looked very severe, as she put on dark glasses and followed him to the car, thinking how long it had been since she'd seen John Taylor.

She sat quietly in the car next to Malcolm, with their guards and their policemen, and as usual they made their way through the crowds to the courtroom, dodging hands and people who wanted to touch them and ask questions, trying to avoid the press, and shield their faces from photographers. And with her headache, it seemed particularly awful. But they finally made it to their seats, and she took off her dark glasses.

For the first time during the trial, the judge was ten minutes late, and Tom was poring over his notes, while Charles sat with his eyes closed, looking grim. He had almost no hope left, in spite of Tom's skill. He was certain that without the informant's testimony about the pajamas and the bear, he would be found guilty.

The-judge had just invited Tom to begin his closing argument, and he had just stood up, when John Taylor walked into the courtroom. He stopped for a moment and looked at the judge, who knew him well, and both prosecution and defense looked at him with profound expectation. And everyone in the courtroom wondered why the usually pristine FBI agent was so disheveled and filthy. He was wearing work pants and a rough sweater, and he was absolutely covered with oil and dirt, and it seemed a very odd appearance in court, but he went straight to Marielle, as everyone watched, and with an apologetic glance at the judge, John whispered to her to come with him. She followed him out of court silently, without even saying a word to Malcolm. Everyone watched them go, with turned heads and whispers, and the judge finally rapped his gavel again to get everyone's attention.

“May I remind you, ladies and gentlemen,” he boomed, “that Mr. Armour is making his closing statement.” Tom turned himself to what he was doing then, and attempted to concentrate and not think about why John Taylor had taken Marielle out of the courtroom. He had the terrible feeling that they had found Teddy's body and he wanted to tell her first. But wouldn't he have taken Malcolm with him too, or was it kinder not to? Tom forced himself to focus on the man with one leg…and the ex-nun…and the young black musician…and tell them what a fine man Charles was, how he had been unfairly accused, and the prosecution had not proven beyond a reasonable doubt that he was guilty. That if they examined their conscience there was no way they could send this man to the electric chair for things he had said, and never meant, in the heat of a drunken moment. Even to his own ears, he droned on, as he continued to wonder why Marielle had left the courtroom. It was all he or anyone else could think of. Only Malcolm looked calm as he continued to watch the proceedings.

And as she walked to a car with John, she looked at him in terror. “What's happening?” she asked anxiously. “What's going on?”

“I want you to trust me. I have to take you somewhere. Are you all right?” He looked at her worriedly. She had swayed for a moment, and no one had told him she'd fainted that morning.

“I'm fine. I just have a very bad headache.” She winced again, but she followed him into the car without hesitation.

“I'm sorry to do this to you. It won't be as bad as you think, and I'll make it as easy as I can for you…but I need to take you with me.” He started the car, and they drove off toward the West Side, and she looked frightened.

“Are you arresting me?” Was that possible? Was he crazy? Did he think she'd been in collusion with Charles after all? Had Malcolm told him that? His final revenge on her? As they drove west, she looked really frightened.

“Of course not.' He patted her hand gently, and then raised an eyebrow, trying to make light of the moment. “Should I be?”

“I don't know,” she said nervously.- “I don't know where we're going. Should Malcolm be here too?” Like Tom, she was suddenly afraid they were going to ask her to identify Teddy's body, and she knew she couldn't stand it, and maybe John thought he was being kind to her by taking her there alone, but he shook his head in answer to her question.

“No, he shouldn't. You'll be fine with me, Marielle. Trust me. You'll be all right. This won't be as difficult as you think.” He looked at her gently, wanting to kiss her. But right now, they had serious business to take care of.

“Can't you tell me what this is about?” She was almost in tears. All he had said to her in court was “Mrs. Patterson, I have to ask you to come with me.” And Malcolm had looked as startled as she did.

“I can't tell you, Marielle, I'm sorry. Right now, this is official business.” But he patted her hand, and left a smudge of soil on her fingers.

She nodded, trying to be brave as she rode along, but the headache was so bad now she could hardly stand it. He chatted with her on the brief drive, but it was obvious that he was preoccupied, and she couldn't help noticing that he was absolutely filthy, and she wondered why. And he was so distracted he didn't even notice her silence.

A few minutes later they reached the port, and he drove right onto the docks, where half a dozen FBI cars were waiting. And everyone scrutinized her intently as she got out of the car and he helped her.

“I hate to touch you, I'm so dirty.” He smiled and the gentleness of his eyes seemed to help her.

He took her on board the ship then, it was a small German ship, and it wasn't particularly attractive or particularly clean, and there was a terrible smell of cabbage which did nothing to help her headache. It was a freighter which took passengers on too, and the captain was waiting for her in the small dining room, with a serious expression. Taylor introduced her, and half a dozen FBI men were standing by, and she was not sure if they were guarding her, or the captain, or John Taylor. But the captain came forward to her quickly.

“Mrs. Patterson. I am so very sorry. This will be a terrible sadness for my country,” he said solemnly with an awkward bow and an attempt to kiss her hand, but as he said the words to her, the room began reeling. She knew from what he said, that they must have found Teddy's body. She turned suddenly to John Taylor in desperation, almost clawing at him, begging him with her eyes to help her. He pulled a chair up next to her and helped her into it, and signaled to one of his men to bring her a glass of water. And when it came he held it to her lips and let her lean against him, while he almost crooned to her like a mother with a sick child, begging her to be strong and let him help her. But all she could do was shake her head and close her eyes, and want to die again. She knew she just couldn't go through it.

“You're all right, Marielle…you're going to be fine…” She could hear his voice as she closed her eyes, and then opened them. “Jusmore minutes. I want you to look at some people for me…that's all. I just want you to look at them and tell me if you know them.”

“Are they dead?” She was whimpering like a child and he gently stroked her hair with one hand as he touched her shoulder with the other.

“No, they're alive. You're all right. You just have to look at them and tell me, yes or no, if you know them.”

“All right.” She was having trouble breathing she was so afraid, and she was grateful for the chair because she knew she could never have stood up, as everyone watched her. And a moment later, a man was led into the room, escorted by two FBI men. He was tall and blond and very thin, and he had a hard, angry face, and he tried to avert his face from Marielle, but the FBI men gave him a hard shove until he faced her. He stood some five feet away from her and she shrank back toward John, but his agents held him fast, and he didn't try to escape them.

“Do you know this man, Marielle? Have you ever seen him anywhere? Look at him carefully.” She shook her head and said that she hadn't, and she had no idea why she was there, and now she was afraid to ask him. She knew it had something terrible to do with her child, but if they had killed him, she didn't want to know it.

They took the first man away, and then brought the second man in five minutes later. This one was dark and swarthy and he had an ugly scar that ran straight across his face and back down toward his chin, and he looked at Marielle as though he would have liked to kill her. He said something to her in German, in an angry, guttural tone, and she shrank toward John and he was quick to reassure her.

“No one's going to hurt you, Marielle. I won't let them.” She nodded, childlike again, and still so desperately afraid to know what they'd done. And then a woman was brought in. She was blond and heavyset, about thirty. She was speaking frantically in German to the captain of the ship as they brought her in, and he finally shouted at her to be silent, and she looked imploringly at Marielle, as though she expected her to help her.

“What is she saying?” Marielle asked.

“She is saying that she has hurt no one,” the captain explained. She said a lot more then, and the captain finally told her again to be quiet.

“Who are these people?” she finally asked John. “ “That's what I wanted to know from you first. You don't know any of them, Marielle? You're sure?”

“Not a one. I've never seen them before.”

“They've never worked for you, even briefly…or for Malcolm.”

“I don't know. I've never seen them,” she said again. She was certain. John nodded expressionlessly at his men, and signaled for the three Germans to be removed. And when they were gone, he nodded at his men again, and then bent to say something to Marielle in earnest.

“I want you to be very strong… I want you to be strong, Marielle…hold my hand…we're going to show you someone…and I want you to tell me if you know him.” But she was afraid the moment he said the words. She didn't have the courage to look at her dead baby. She had seen Andre when he was drowned, held him in her arms, clutched him to her heart, and she couldn't do it again…she knew it…she couldn't. She began to cry and turned, struggling to be free, as John held her.

“I can't…” she cried, and buried her face against him. “I can't do it…please…don't make me…”

“It may not be him…you have to help us…please…please, Marielle…” He was almost in tears himself, and he hated to hurt her. But the child they had found appeared to be a deaf mute, and did not seem to understand them. They weren't sure if he was drugged, or too frightened to speak to them, or simply didn't speak the language, and the captain didn't recall seeing him before, although the group had been aboard for days. The child looked different than the Patterson boy, but there was something about the eyes that had caught John's attention. The hair color was wrong, and he was much thinner than the photographs he'd seen of him, and older, but still… he knew he had to ask her. He couldn't let the ship sail without asking her to look at him. And some sixth sense had told him that there was something very wrong about these people. But she was clinging to him, and she refused to look at him. And then John's eyes met hers as he held her.

“You have to do this, Marielle… for Teddy's sake…” He held her hand, and slowly her head turned, and she stared at the child they brought in, and everything stopped for an endless moment. She got up and she stood staring at him, as though unable to believe what she was seeing. His hair had been cut, and he had short dark brown hair, but it was faintly blond at the roots, and if you looked carefully, you could see that they had dyed it.

And as she stared at him, he looked up at her, unable to believe that she had finally come to save him. She let out a heartrending scream and in two long strides she was clinging to him and holding him tightly against her. And slowly, like a forgotten sound, the child began to cry. He began to whimper at first, and suddenly there were great wounding cries, as he clung to the mother he thought he had lost forever. The captain began to cry, and there were tears streaming down John Taylor's cheeks as he watched them.

She looked at no one for an endless time. All she saw, all she knew, all she felt, was the child in her arms, the child she thought she had lost forever.

“My darling… oh my love…” She held him as though she would never let him go, and finally the captain assisted them off the ship, and the three Germans were taken away in handcuffs and leg irons by the FBI men. He apologized profusely again, and John informed him that the ship would have to be held in port, pending further investigation. Two-dozen men were left to guard the ship, and John helped Marielle and Teddy into the car. He had to get her back to court and tell the judge what had happened. But he had also called for additional men. He knew he was going to need an army of guards for them at the courthouse.

He looked long and hard at the child sitting on his mother's lap. The boy hadn't smiled, but he clung to her as though he was afraid to lose her. And John touched the small fingers holding hers ever so gently.

“Hello, little man…we've been looking for you for a long time.” Teddy stared at him, not sure whether or not to trust him.

“They said you were dead,” he whispered softly as he looked up at his mother…”and then they put me in a box…with holes in it…and they fed me crackers.”

“Nice folks, these krauts,” John said tautly, “I've always loved them.” They were going to do a lot of talking. They had insisted from the moment they'd been detained that they had been hired by the boy's father to take him to Germany, to “safety,” but they would not disclose the boy's father's name. They said only that the boy's parents were German. But one of them had been carrying a card with Malcolm's name on it and a phone number John recognized as Brigitte Sanders's apartment. But John had said none of this to Marielle. It was going to be interesting what else the Germans had to say once they all started talking.

“I don't know what to say,” Marielle whispered softly to John as she clung to Teddy on her lap and they drove swiftly toward the courthouse. “I never thought we'd find him…and I was so afraid…I thought you had taken me there to…” She couldn't even begin to say the words, and suddenly she realized her headache was gone. All she could think of was Teddy, held tightly in her arms, in the speeding car, beside the man who had found him.

“I know what you thought,” he said quietly. “I wouldn't have done that to you… if that was the case, I'd have taken Malcolm. But I wanted you to see them first. They said they'd been hired by the child's parents.”

“Malcolm's going to be so glad,” she smiled. She was glad for him. He didn't deserve to lose his son. But John Taylor said nothing.

Twenty FBI men were waiting for them outside the courthouse when they arrived, and John had them surround Marielle and the child almost like a living cage, and the boy looked very frightened. All Marielle did was cling tightly to him in her arms, and promise him that everything was going to be all right. They were going to see Daddy in a minute.

And as John Taylor walked into the courtroom, surrounded by his men, everyone paused, as though they sensed that something important was about to happen. The judge stared up at them. And Tom Armour stopped in midsentence. The odd group made its way down the room, and it was only when they reached the judge that the men slowly peeled away at Taylor's direction and what they saw suddenly in their midst, completely hidden there, was Marielle holding a small dirty little boy with dark hair, and the judge rose to his feet with a look of amazement.

“Is this?…” He looked at Marielle, smiling through her tears as she looked up at him, and then at Taylor, and then in confusion across the courtroom as suddenly a woman screamed as she understood, and the spectators and the press tried to stampede, but the police held them back. They had been warned as Marielle and Teddy entered the courtroom. “My God…it's the boy!” someone shouted. “He's alive. It's Teddy!” The judge sat down again and began frantically rapping his gavel, and ordering the police to clear the courtroom. But it was Malcolm's reaction which fascinated John. When he first saw the boy, he didn't do what Marielle had done. He stood, and then he sat down, and then he looked around him as though for someone else, and only then did he suddenly leap forward. But it was almost an afterthought by then. His first reaction had not been to run to hold his baby. And there was none of the rush of emotion Taylor had seen in Marielle, that terrible terror that he was dead, and the gut-searing scream when she realized it was her baby. It was Charles who stood crying as he looked at him, and he smiled at Marielle over the boy's head as they both cried. He remembered another time, another day, and he was glad that this time had been different.

“Thank God he's alive,” he whispered to Tom Armour, who nodded, fighting back his own emotions, as he smiled at his client through tears. He also knew what it was to lose a child, and he too was grateful that that hadn't happened. Charles wasn't even thinking of himself just then, he was just glad for Marielle that they had found Teddy.

Malcolm looked extremely sobered as he came forward to Marielle and John and Teddy. “Thank God you found the boy,” he intoned, almost piously, but his eyes were dry, and Taylor could see that he was angry. He tried to take the boy from Marielle, but the boy wouldn't let go of his mother.

“They said Mommy was dead,” he said, still looking terrified.

“They must have been terrible people,” Malcolm said with an odd expression. And at that moment, John Taylor asked Malcolm to join him in the judge's chambers.

The court had been cleared by then, and only the two attorneys, the defendant, Marielle, the child, the jury, and the countless FBI men remained in the courtroom. The judge had gone with Malcolm and John Taylor to his chambers. Marielle had no idea what was going on between them, but she sat talking quietly to Charles and Tom, and there was a feeling of peace and well-being in the room that she had never sensed in her entire lifetime. Two of the FBI men had gone out to get Teddy an ice-cream cone, and he was eating it happily while holding tightly to his mother. And she sat there holding him, feeling as though he had never left her. The last months shrank into the mists of the nightmare from whence they had come, never to return again. Teddy was home, safe and sound. After four months, and by the grace of God, and John Taylor, and maybe even Louie the Lover, Teddy was back with his mother.

It was a long time before Malcolm and the judge and John emerged, and when they did, Malcolm's mouth was set in a thin line. John had had two interesting calls from his office. There was still a great deal they didn't know, but what they did know was that the kidnappers, or at least the three people holding him on the ship, had been hired by Malcolm. There was no doubt of it now. They were even carrying papers to prove it and they had a false passport for the child that had allegedly been provided by Malcolm. It said the boy's name was Theodore Sanders.

“That's absurd,” he had said instantly, moments after the call came. “They're trying to implicate me in something I have nothing to do with.” He looked outraged, and reminded Taylor instantly of his connections.

“They used your name, Mr. Patterson,” John said quietly. “And no one else's. You'll have every opportunity to identify them, and to defend yourself. We'll have to talk about this. But we're going to do it in my office. A lot of money has changed hands, a lot of people have committed crimes here while on your payroll. And if nothing else, I think you're looking at charges of conspiracy and extortion. Not to mention whatever civil matter may arise on the part of Mr. Delauney.” Taylor did not look amused, nor did Malcolm.

The judge looked shocked. It was impossible to believe the man had kidnapped his own son, or hired criminals to do it. Why would he ever do it? But that was up to the FBI to find out. He had a jury to send home, and an innocent man to release. At least it appeared that way. It didn't seem as though Delauney was the kidnapper after all, and the child was back unharmed. It was certainly a step in the right direction.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the judge spoke solemnly to the very confused members of the jury. “It would appear that we have a miscarriage of justice here. Or we would have had, if we had gone any further. It would appear, at this time, that Charles Delauney is innocent of the crime he has been accused of. Pending further investigation, I am going to release him at this time, and I am going to send you home to your families. We are going to ask Mr. Delauney not to leave the city, and we will notify you if this case is indeed dismissed, which I believe it will be. We thank you for everything you have done here, for your good faith and your time.” He nodded and they stood up, looking as though they were going to run from the courtroom. But they all managed to smile at Marielle, and a few wished Charles good luck. One of the women stopped to kiss Teddy.

“I am releasing you, Mr. Delauney, without bail, with the understanding that you will not leave the city of New York until this matter is settled. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Charles looked as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

“And I'll wait to hear from you, Mr. Taylor,” the judge said to John as his agents led Malcolm away without handcuffs. Malcolm said not a single word to Marielle as he left, and he had barely spoken to Teddy. John stayed behind to take Marielle and Teddy home, and Tom was smiling at his client.

“You're a free man. Would you like a lift home?”

“I'd like that a lot,” he said to his lawyer. “I'm glad he's back,” he said softly to Marielle… “I couldn't stand your losing him too. You don't deserve that.” He kissed her gently on the cheek then and they looked at each other for a long moment. “I'll always love you,” he said, as Teddy stared at him, and Marielle nodded. She would always love him too, but she had nothing left to give to him. She had given it all a long time ago, and now all she had left was for Teddy.

“Come on, I'll take you home,” John said quietly, as he put an arm around her shoulders, and slowly they walked out of the courtroom, as Charles watched them go. Tom took him home a few minutes after that, and Bea Ritter was waiting for them outside on the steps of the courthouse. When she had seen Marielle walk in, flanked by FBI men, she had known that something incredible had happened. She had sat on the steps, crying as she waited.

“I owe you a hell of a lot,” Charles said to her, almost shyly. “You and Tom were the only ones who believed in me. And for a while there it was pretty rough going.” She nodded gratefully, and he gave her a warm hug, and then he drove home with Tom, who dropped him off at the Delauney mansion. The old butler who had worked there for forty years almost fainted when he saw him. The papers were filled that night with the tales of Teddy being found on a German ship, by FBI agents allegedly carrying machine guns.

And by the next morning, Charles Delauney was a free man. At eight o'clock that morning, Judge Morrison had officially dismissed the case of the U.S. against Charles Delauney. With the evidence gathered the night before, Tom Armour had called the judge at home to ask him to sign the order. And by then, John Taylor had enough evidence to bury Malcolm. It was a complicated tale, and his supporters would find it difficult to believe, but he had hired the cream of the underworld to kidnap his own son and paid them a fortune to do it. Over a million dollars had changed hands to keep the boy hidden until the pressure had eased up, and he could be gotten out of the country. And finally, a German team had been brought in, handpicked and carefully trained, to spirit him back to the country where Malcolm was planning to make his home with Brigitte.

He had planned it for a long time, almost as soon as the child was born. By then he already knew he had made a mistake marrying Marielle and not Brigitte. Marielle was distinguished, dignified, decent, and kind, and in many ways, she was the perfect wife. But it was Brigitte he longed for, Brigitte who excited him, Brigitte he wanted to make his life with, except for the fact that she couldn't have children.

The idea had come slowly at first, then they had only talked of a divorce. Marielle was too gentle for him, too frightened, too marked by her past. He had liked the fact that she had no other ties, when he married her, but in time, he felt her dependency on him as a burden. And in contrast to her, Brigitte was everything she was not, she was sharper, harder, more demanding, and totally independent. She made demands on Malcolm which terrified him, particularly when she threatened to leave him. But he had dragged his feet about the divorce, because he didn't want to leave Teddy. He had thought of suing for custody, but that was so involved, and unsure. And finally, Brigitte had suggested they just move to Germany, and take the boy with them. It was then that Malcolm had taken the plan several steps further. If the boy was presumed dead, eventually everyone would stop looking for him, including his mother.

And if, eventually, he married his secretary, and adopted her child in Germany, who would know? Who would question it? It would seem perfectly natural that he would try to ease the pain of his loss. And who would even suspect it was really Teddy? After a year or two of keeping him well hidden in Germany, he would seem like a German child. It was an ingenious plan, and it would certainly have gotten rid of Marielle forever. But it had used countless people in the process, Charles, Marielle, the child, the people who had kidnapped the boy, those who had hidden him. A lot of people had suffered, and would suffer now, because of Malcolm. It almost made the judge sick when he heard it. And John Taylor wanted to kill him.

The plan was beautifully thought out. And Malcolm had already begun moving large blocks of his assets to Europe. No one seemed to have noticed it, because he had so many investments there. But he was planning to move to Germany within the year, with Brigitte.

Brigitte had been well paid too, for her complicity, to the tune of half a million U.S. dollars, which had been deposited for her in Berlin. And his other minions had been paid well too. It was a plan that had cost him a fortune. But to Malcolm it was a fortune well spent. What he wanted was to get rid of Marielle, have the boy to himself, and bring him up German. He had had it with America, he said. It was Hitler who was going to rule the world, Hitler, the only man who knew how to run a country. All his efforts and interests and passion, and even money, were devoted to Adolf Hitler. And in his eyes, the greatest gift he could give his child was to bring him up German.

It was an incredibly evil tale, and John Taylor, like the others involved, could scarcely believe it. And oddly enough, no one had squeaked except “Louie the Lover,” but as the house of cards began tumbling down, the people he had hired began talking, to save their hides. They had no intention of going down the tubes for Malcolm. And in a matter of days, John Taylor had more testimony than he knew what to do with. They still couldn't charge Malcolm with kidnapping, because Teddy was his son. But they had charged those who had actually taken him. And Malcolm was charged with conspiracy, collusion, obstruction of justice, and consorting with known criminals, which was the best they could do against him.

The odd thing was that Charles Delauney had been an afterthought, a bit of serendipity that had come along at the perfect time for Malcolm. He was the perfect scapegoat to take the blame, after what Patrick had reported to Malcolm when Marielle had first seen him at Saint Patrick's. The timing couldn't have been better for him. And it only took another fifty thousand dollars to plant the pajamas and teddy bear at the Delauney home, to seal Charles's fate and confirm that he was guilty. Malcolm had easy access to the pajamas anyway, since he had the boy well hidden in New Jersey. He had kept him there for four months, waiting for the ports to open up again. And in May, he and Brigitte would sail after him on the Europa, after blaming Marielle for putting the boy at risk and causing him to be kidnapped. Malcolm was going to tell the world he was the injured party, and continue to find consolation in the arms of the devoted Miss Sanders. It was all so perfectly planned, and it would have gone off without a hitch if John Taylor hadn't ruined everything by finding Teddy at the last moment on the little German freighter. Two days later it would have sailed. The thought made everyone shudder. And somehow in Malcolm's mind, it was all a respectable plan, since the boy was his own son, and all he had really wanted was to get Marielle out of the picture, and allow the boy to become a German. For Malcolm it meant spending the rest of his life in Germany, but Malcolm loved it there anyway. He loved it better than his own country.

But for the moment he wasn't going anywhere. He was out on bail, pending trial in late July, and he and Brigitte were hiding out in upstate New York.

She had been charged with conspiracy too, and there was some talk of deportation.

And all Marielle wanted was to get out of town and spend some quiet time with Teddy. She didn't want to see Malcolm or Brigitte, and she was dreading the next trial, but she knew she had to be there, as a witness for the prosecution. In the meantime, she was thinking of going to Vermont for three months, but there were a number of things she had to do first, like see an attorney about divorcing Malcolm.

She was explaining some of it to John, when he came to talk to her before she made any firm decision to take Teddy away on vacation. He had been busy for days, but he still tried to drop by almost daily. His agents were gone from her home by then, and the police, and most of the servants were gone too. And she and Teddy were looking for an apartment.

“I thought we were going to talk before you made any serious moves.' He'd been in the press constantly since the trial, as the hero who found the Patterson baby. And other than that, he'd had his hands full with the case against Malcolm and Brigitte, and all their minions. There was a total of twenty-two people involved, all charged with various offenses. “And what's this about Vermont?” He looked worried and hurt. He hated the thought of her leaving, even for a few months. He wanted to keep her near him.

“I thought we could use some country air.” Particularly before she went through another month of trial. But this time she was prepared, and John would be with her. But she looked at him cautiously as she said it. She had a lot to say to him. But the right time hadn't come yet.

“Are you really moving?” He eyed her hopefully. In some ways, things had worked out better than he'd planned. She had the boy back, and she was free of Malcolm. The question was, what was he going to do? His eyes met hers now as he asked her if she was really moving out of the Patterson mansion. And she nodded slowly. She wouldn't be sorry to leave this house. The only happy memories she had there were of Teddy, and he was coming with her. “The house is Malcolm's.” Their eyes met and there were a thousand questions he wanted to ask her. “All we need is a small apartment,” she said softly.

“And what else? What do you want from me now?” He knew he had to ask her. He knew what he wanted, but he was afraid he couldn't have it. He wanted her. Forever.

“Your friendship”…your love…your life. But she knew that she had no right to say that.

“Is that all?” His eyes were sad as he asked her. For weeks now he'd been putting off this conversation because he was afraid of what she'd say if he told her just how much he loved her. They had promised each other they'd wait until after the trial, before they let themselves think of what they wanted from each other. And now the time was here, and she had made her decision. She didn't want to be responsible for destroying his marriage. “What do you want from me, Marielle?” he repeated to her. “What will you let me give you?”

“The gift of time. The time to heal, and enjoy my son. But I owe you more than that, John… I owe you everything…” She smiled at him. She owed him still more, and they both knew it, or at least she did. “I owe you not to take anything away from you, not to destroy what you have… to steal you from your home, your wife, your children. What would you really have if you left them?” Her eyes were big and deep and sad as she asked. And he knew she was wiser than he was.

“I'd have you and Teddy…” he said softly.

“And guilt, and regret…and maybe one day you'd hate me for it.”

“I could never hate you.”

Malcolm had hated her eventually, and Charles for a time. She knew what it was like. And she valued John Taylor too much to lose him. She'd loved him more than he knew, more than she was ever going to tell him.

“You're not going to let me run away with you, are you?” He looked at her sadly, touching her hand, and wanting to kiss her. It was part of why she wanted to go away, to get away from him and how much she loved him, but she didn't tell him. She knew she loved him too much to be near him and not to get involved with him, and she cared too much about him to interfere with his marriage, or his children.

She whispered to him gently as he took her in his arms. “You need them. And they need you.” But so did she, and other than Teddy, she had no one.

“I need you too,” he said urgently. He had never known anyone like her, and for a mad moment he had told himself that he could make her go away with him. He could force her to if he had to, but as he looked at her, he knew he wouldn't.

She had a right to what she wanted. A time of solitude and peace and healing. And maybe she was even right about Debbie. “I don't want to lose you, Marielle,” or what they had had, the promise of so much more to come, and now that promise was over.

“You won't lose me. I'll always be here.” Her eyes tortured him with their tenderness and their wisdom.

“And when you're not there anymore? When you belong to someone else?” he said sadly, because he knew that day would come, better than she did. Because she deserved it, more than anyone, and much more than he did.

“We'll still be friends. I told you…you won't ever lose me.” And then she smiled again, “Unless you want to.” She kissed him gently on the lips then and he held her close, and they talked for a long time, and finally, hating to go, he left her and went home, wondering if she was very wise or very foolish. It would be years before they'd know. And yet he had always known that their worlds were just too different. It was something she had never acknowledged, but he knew he had to.

He felt lonely without her for days, and it amused him at times to take it out on suspects in the Patterson interrogations. But she felt lonely without him too. It wasn't as though she couldn't call. She knew she could. But for his sake, she was trying not to. And she was busy getting ready for the move to Vermont with Teddy. They had finally rented a house, sight unseen, and there were supposedly cows and chickens and a sheepdog. And Teddy looked more like himself again at last. He had gained weight, and he looked healthy and happy and clean, and most of the brown dye had come out of his hair, except in a few spots, but he still got anxious at night, and he had terrible nightmares. He was sleeping in Marielle's bed, and she took care of him herself. Haverford was the only one left and he was leaving them for good in a few days, and he was enjoying helping her with Teddy.

In fact, he was helping Teddy to a bowl of ice cream when Charles came to say good-bye to her and Teddy. He was going back to Europe in the morning.

“Spain again?” she asked as he followed her into the kitchen.

“Not now.” He was thinking of going to England to enlist, but after all that had happened, he knew he wasn't ready and he wanted to go back to Paris before he went to war again. “We're going to the South of France first, just for the summer.” He blushed, as though embarrassed by the indulgence, but they both knew that he had earned it. But something he had said amused Marielle, and she couldn't resist teasing him, as Teddy offered him part of the huge bowl of chocolate ice cream as they stood in the Patterson kitchen. He and the boy were almost friends, although Teddy was still confused about how he knew his mother.

“We?” she asked. “Are you taking a friend?” But she already suspected. She had seen them out walking together more than once, and Marielle was pleased. Perhaps more than anyone, they deserved it.

“All right, all right,” he laughed. He knew that she had already guessed. He knew how wise she was, and the odd thing was, he still loved her.

“Anyone I know?” After so many years apart, it was odd to be so friendly again, except she knew now that they would never really be apart again. Suddenly, it was all so different.

“I'm taking Bea to Paris with me.”

“You should. You owe her at least that,” Marielle teased, and he laughed.

“She was awfully good to me during the trial.” And even better to him since then. He stayed for a little while, and Marielle kissed him when he left, but he caused her no pain and she wished him well. She was free of him now. But she still loved him.

The one she didn't love was Malcolm. She feared what would happen after his trial. Somehow, she knew that, because of his connections, if he was hurt at all,- it wouldn't be for long, and she wanted to be as far away from him as she could be. She didn't want him anywhere near Teddy. But John Taylor had promised her unlimited protection. But she knew that she couldn't run away forever either. At some point, she would have to stand and face him. But the FBI had sworn that Malcolm would never again take Teddy. He had pushed her for so long, had been so cruel, and had been so coldhearted in the terrible things he had done that he would even be denied visitation.

Sometimes she wondered if she would ever love and trust anyone again, except Teddy. He was everything that mattered. He was the joy and the life and the spirit that she lived for.

The day before they left for Vermont, she packed the rest of her things. She could hardly wait to leave Malcolm's home. They were taking all of their things with them. She had told Malcolm the house would be vacant when he got back with Brigitte. And Marielle was more than willing to stay at a hotel with Teddy. For her, the house was now haunted and she didn't want to be there.

It had been difficult explaining it to Teddy. He still didn't know that it was his father who had had him kidnapped. And instinctively, he had sensed something was wrong, and he had heard whispers here and there, but he was still so young, he didn't really understand it. Marielle had told him that Malcolm was away for a long, long time, and it was unlikely they would see him. Teddy was surprised, but not sad, and he seemed happy just being with his mother.

The doorbell rang the night before they left, and Haverford came to tell her it was Tom Armour. She was surprised he had come to see her. Charles was gone by then, and she hadn't seen Tom since the trial, but he had heard from John Taylor that she was leaving.

She walked slowly down the stairs to meet him. And he looked very handsome and young, and a little ill at ease as he stood there. Marielle was friendly and warm, as she greeted him, acting as though his visit had been expected.

“I heard in court today that you're leaving,” he said awkwardly, as she shook his hand, and Haverford disappeared to make coffee. He had been meaning to come and see her for a while, but he'd been putting it off, till he could get up his courage. He'd wanted to come and say good-bye to her himself. He had wanted to say something to her ever since the end of the trial, and with everything that had happened, he had never had the chance to. “You're going to Vermont?” That was all that Taylor had told him, but his eyes told their own tale, and for an instant, Tom had wondered what had happened.

She nodded with a smile, as they sat down in the library, where, in recent months, so much had happened. She wondered why he had come by. But she was happy to see him. He had done a good job for Charles, and she had always liked him. He had been decent to her when she was on the stand, and she had always sensed his strength and innate kindness.

“Teddy and I need to get away,” she explained, as Haverford appeared with the coffee, and then disappeared just as quickly.

“How is he now?” He inquired about the boy, as he looked around. It was a magnificent home, and he couldn't help wondering if she was sorry to leave it. But she smiled as she watched his face. She knew what he was thinking, and she had no regrets. She couldn't wait to leave now.

“He's fine. He still has nightmares sometimes, and he doesn't like to talk about what happened.”

“Understandably.” They both knew it was going to mark him forever. And he still had no idea that the kidnapping had been masterminded by his father. Marielle was hoping she wouldn't have to tell him for years, which Tom thought was incredibly decent of her, but from what he'd seen of her during the trial, it didn't surprise him.

She seemed peaceful now, very calm and subdued, and her eyes were serious, but in a quiet way, she looked happy.

“And you?” he asked gently, as he looked at her. “You're all right? No more headaches?”

She smiled in answer. She hadn't had one since the trial. For the first time in years, she felt totally healthy. It was as though she had survived some terrible test, and having come through it the ghosts had finally been laid to rest, and she was much stronger. “I'm fine.” She wanted to thank him for his kindness during the trial, but she wasn't quite sure how to do it, and she tried not to notice how handsome he looked in white slacks, a blazer, and red tie, but he was a good-looking man, and she blushed as she turned away to straighten a book on the table.

“Marielle…” He knew it would have to come from him. But he didn't want her to leave town before he had spoken to her. “I…I'd like to call you when you're in Vermont…” She looked at him with wide eyes, surprised by what he had said, and suddenly wondering if he was representing Malcolm. But he saw the look in her eyes and he gently touched her hand to reassure her. “I'm not sure I'm making myself clear…I'm making a terrible botch of this.” He suddenly looked embarrassed and boyish, and they both felt like two children. “It's been a long time since I've done anything like this.” It had been a long time since he'd met anyone even remotely like her. She reminded him so much of his late wife. And yet, she was also very different. Marielle had more integrity than any woman he'd ever known, more strength, more fortitude, possibly more kindness. And she hadn't been very lucky in the last ten years. When she came back from Vermont, he was hoping to change that. “Will you have a phone in Vermont?” He was still stumbling around, trying to talk to her about the future, and suddenly Marielle laughed. She thought she understood, but it was difficult to believe it. He had always been so businesslike, so cool, and yet beneath the serious air ran powerful emotions.

“I think we'll have a party line.”

“Good. Then well give your neighbors a thrill,” he laughed. “I'll try to think up some really juicy news to tell you when I call you.” But there had already been enough of that, they both knew, for the past several months. She was hoping that life would be ordinary now, and she looked at him with interest as they chatted about her new life in the country. She was only going to be there for a few months, until Malcolm's trial. And then she would have to come back and find an apartment for herself and Teddy. Haverford was leaving them the next day, when they left for their adventure in Vermont. And when they came back, life was going to be very different, but she didn't regret it.

“Would it be too soon if…” He ventured on, feeling more awkward than a schoolboy, “… if when you got back, I…we…” He almost groaned as he looked at her, he couldn't believe this was as difficult as it was. He had been thinking of her for weeks, in ways he hadn't thought of anyone in years, and he had never thought anything would ever come of it, and now he was finding it impossible to tell her. He finally took a deep breath, took her hand in his own with an earnest expression. “Marielle…you're an extraordinary woman. I'd like very much to get to know you.” There. He had finally said it, and he felt relief sweep over him. Even if she told him she never wanted to see him again, at least she knew to some small extent how much he liked her. “I've admired you since the first moment I saw you.”

She blushed again, feeling oddly vulnerable and very young, and when she looked at him, he saw something in her eyes that almost made him feel that he was melting.

“It's amazing to think that from so much pain…from such a terrible thing… so many good things have happened.” She was very gentle as she spoke, and very grateful for the blessings she had received. And as she looked at Tom, wanting to say so many things, there was a sound at the door of the library, and her greatest blessing appeared in blue pajamas.

“What are you doing here?” she said as she grinned, and Teddy bounded into the room with a look of mischief.

“I couldn't sleep without you.” He climbed up on her lap, and looked at Tom with interest.

“Yes, you could. You were snoring when I left.”

“No, I wasn't,” he denied it, and Marielle introduced Tom to Teddy, without explaining how she knew him. “I was faking,” he announced. But he yawned happily as he said it, and leaned possessively against his mother.

“I hear you're going to Vermont,” Tom said easily. He loved children, and after all they'd been through over him, more particularly this one.

“Yeah,” Teddy said proudly, “and we're going to have cows and horses and chickens. And Mommy says I'm going to ride a pony.”

“I used to spend my summers in Vermont when I was your age.” Tom smiled at him, and then over his head at his mother. He had said enough. No matter how awkwardly put, she had clearly understood his intentions, and she liked them. A private look passed between them over the boy's head that brought them suddenly closer.

“Did you have a pony?” Teddy inquired, suddenly intrigued by him. He hadn't seen his Daddy in a long time, and sometimes he still missed him. And Mommy said he'd gone on a long, long trip. He was probably in Africa somewhere, or on a ship, and they couldn't even call him.

“I did have a pony. And I had a cow I had to milk all by myself. If I come to Vermont, I'll show you how.”

“Are you coming to Vermont?” Teddy looked seriously interested, and in point of fact, so did his mother.

“I hadn't thought of it,” he had planned on waiting till she got back, “but actually that's not a bad idea.” He glanced at Marielle inquiringly and they exchanged another smile. He was happy he had been brave enough to come over and see her before she left. Otherwise, he might have tortured himself for months, and perhaps now he wouldn't have to. “Maybe I could come up for a weekend.” He knew a lovely hotel near where they were going, and the idea suddenly held enormous appeal, as he watched the boy with his mother.

“Can you still ride a horse?” Teddy asked him seriously.

“I think so,” Tom laughed.

“If you can't,” Teddy offered generously, 'I'll teach you.” The three of them laughed, as they wandered to the kitchen to find Teddy a cookie. Haverford had gone to his room. He had to pack the last of his own things, and Marielle knew he was sorry to leave them. But he hadn't wanted to continue in Malcolm's employ, and Marielle could no longer afford him. She had accepted a small settlement from Malcolm and that was all she wanted. Teddy would inherit the rest from Malcolm when he was older.

Tom poured him a glass of milk, and Marielle found the last of the chocolate chip cookies, and in the end, the three of them sat talking and laughing and eating cookies until long, long after Teddy's bedtime. It was almost eleven when Tom finally left. He helped her put Teddy to bed, and then they both came downstairs so she could let Tom out, and he stood at the front door, looking at her for a long, hungry moment.

“Thank you for letting me spend some time with you tonight,” he said, wanting to touch her hair, and her cheek, and her neck, but it was too soon and he knew it.

“I'm glad you came by.” She hadn't expected ever to see him again, and she had regretted it. Now his visit had opened a whole new horizon. She still missed John Taylor, but she knew she had made the right decision, for his sake. And spending some time with Tom was like an unexpected gift and she was grateful. “I always wanted to tell you how much I admired you in court,” she said softly, but he didn't want her thinking of that anymore. He only wanted her to think of Vermont, and happy things, and summers in the country with Teddy. And when she came back for Malcolm's trial, he already knew he was going to be there to help her. He didn't want her to go through it alone. He didn't want her to go through anything difficult again, only happiness and peaceful things, if he could do anything about it.

“Don't think of that,” he said gently. He couldn't stop himself from reaching a hand out to her and bringing her closer. “Don't think of it anymore.” The past was over. Hers, as well as his own. There was too much pain there, and he wanted to close those doors firmly behind them. “Just think °f Teddy and his pony.” They both smiled and then his eyes grew serious as they stood very close to each other. “I'll miss you when you're in Vermont.” The crazy thing was he meant it. They scarcely knew each other, and yet they did. He knew her better than most of his closest friends, better in some ways than he'd known any of the women he'd gone out with. And he loved everything he knew about her.

“I'll miss you too,” she smiled at him, feeling hope for the first time in years, and totally at ease with him. “We'll call you on our party line.”

“I'll call you first,” he whispered. He had already written down the number. “Drive carefully.” He pulled her closer to him then and she closed her eyes when he kissed her. “Good night, Marielle…see you soon…” He looked at her for a last time as he stood in the doorway, and then he was gone, and she closed the door, thinking of how odd life was. You never knew what was going to happen. She had thought so many things that had been untrue in her lifetime…that she and Charles would be together forever, that their life would be happy and exciting and full of children…and that Malcolm would cherish and protect her forever…that nothing terrible would ever happen to them because he was so decent and so solid…and then she had feared that Teddy would never come back to her again. She had been wrong about everything, and especially, thank God, about Teddy. He was home again. He was all that truly mattered. He was the shining star of hope that she had survived for. But now, there was something more than that. The others had gone. The nightmares were past. The dreams had vanished in the mists. And she and Teddy were alone, with their bad memories and their good ones, and their whole lives before them. The sorrows would strengthen them, she knew. And the time in Vermont would do them good…and when they came home, they would begin a whole new life…and Tom Armour would be waiting for them, with all the decency and kindness he had to offer. And maybe their dreams would come true, and maybe they wouldn't. She hoped they would, and so did he, as he walked home to his apartment. She hoped the nightmares would never come again, to either of them. She hoped many things, and most of them about Teddy.

In the morning, when they left, Haverford stood there waving at them, as she and Teddy drove off in Malcolm's old Buick. Haverford had known her for all the years she had been married to-Malcolm, and Teddy since he was born. And now they were gone, to whatever life held for them. He silently locked the door, thinking of the boy, and slipped the key into an envelope to send to the lawyers. The house was empty, the family was gone. And as he walked down the steps and hailed a cab, he felt hopeful for them, and that cheered him. And at that exact moment, Marielle was driving across the bridge, and Tom Armour was on his way to court, to a fresh trial, thinking of her and Teddy.