Mary Clark - Nighttime Is My Time

An outdoor girl, I'm not, Laura thought, but since everybody says they're going to the game, I'm not missing it.

Gordon, she reminded herself as she tied the scarf. Gordon, not Gordie. Carter, not Howie. At least Robby was still Robby, and Mark was still Mark. And Jack Emerson, the Donald Trump of Cornwall, New York, hadn't decided to be known as Jacques.

When she went down to the dining room, she was disappointed to see that only Mark Fleischman and Jean were at the honorees table.

"I'm just having coffee," Jean explained. "I'm meeting a friend for breakfast. I'll catch up with you at lunch."

"You'll go to the trooping of colors and the game?" Laura asked.

"Yes, I will."

"I never went up there much," Laura said. "But you did, Jeannie. You were always a history buff. Didn't one of the cadets you knew pretty well get killed before graduation? What was his name?"

Mark Fleischman took a sip of coffee and watched as Jean's eyes clouded with pain. She hesitated, and he clamped his lips firmly together. He had been about to answer for her. "Reed Thornton," she said. "Cadet Carroll Reed Thornton, Jr."

The most difficult week of the year for Alice Sommers was the one leading up to the anniversary of her daughter's death. This year it had been particularly hard.

Twenty years, she thought. Two decades. Karen would be forty-two years old now. She'd be a doctor, probably a cardiologist. That had been her goal when she started medical school. She'd probably be married and have a couple of children.

In her mind, Alice Sommers could see the grandchildren she had never known. The boy, tall and blond, like Cyrus-she had always believed that he and Karen would end up together. The one thing about Sam Deegan that really upset her was his unshakable belief that Cyrus had caused Karen's death.

And what about their daughter? She would have looked like Karen, Alice had decided, fine-boned, with blue-green eyes and jet black hair. Of course, she would never really know.

Turn back the clock, Lord. Undo that terrible night. It was a prayer she had uttered thousands of times over the years.

Sam Deegan had told her that he didn't believe Karen ever woke up when the intruder came into her room. But Alice had always wondered. Had she opened her eyes? Had she sensed a presence? Had she seen an arm arcing over the bed? Had she felt the terrible thrusts of the knife that had taken her life?

It was something she could talk about to Sam, although she had never been able to express it to her husband. He had needed to believe that his only child had been spared that instant of terror and pain.

All this had been running through Alice Sommers' mind for days. On Saturday morning when she awoke, the heaviness and pain was lifted at the thought that Jeannie Sheridan was coming to see her.

At ten o'clock the bell rang. She opened the door and embraced Jean with fierce affection. It felt so good to hold the young woman in her arms. She knew her welcoming kiss was for Karen as well as Jean.

Over the years she had watched Jean evolve from the shy, reticent sixteen-year-old she had been when they became neighbors in Cornwall to the elegant, successful historian and writer she was now.

During the two years they'd lived next to each other before Jean graduated from high school, went to work in Chicago, and then went to Bryn Mawr, Alice had learned to both admire and pity the young girl. It seemed incredible that she was the child of her parents, people so caught up in their own contempt for each other that they never could see what effect their public brawls were having on their only child.

Even then she had shown so much dignity, Alice thought, as she held Jean out to inspect her and then hugged her again. "Do you realize it's been eight months since I've seen you?" she demanded. "Jeannie, I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too." Jean looked at the older woman with deep affection. Alice Sommers was a pretty woman with silver hair and blue eyes that always held a hint of sadness. Her smile, though, was warm and quick. "And you look wonderful."

"Not bad for sixty-three," she agreed. "I decided to stop supporting the hair salon, so what you see now is the real thing."

Arms linked, they walked from the vestibule to the living room of the townhouse. "I just realized, Jeannie, that you've never been here. We've always gotten together in New York or Washington. Let me show you around, starting with my fabulous view of the Hudson."

As they walked through the townhouse, Alice explained, "I don't know why we stayed in the house so long. I'm so much happier here. I think Richard felt that if we moved, in some way we'd be leaving Karen behind. He never got over losing her, you know."

Jean thought about the handsome Tudor-style house that she had admired so much when she was growing up. I knew it like the back of my hand, she thought. I was in and out of it when Laura lived there, and then Alice and Mr. Sommers were always so nice to me. I wish I had known Karen better. "Did anyone I might have known buy the house?" she asked.

"I don't think so. The people who bought it from us were from upstate. They sold it last year. I understand the new owner did some renovating and is planning to rent it furnished. A lot of people think that Jack Emerson is the real buyer. The rumor is that he's been picking up a lot of property in town. He has certainly come a long way from the kid who used to sweep out offices. He's quite the entrepreneur now."

"He's chairman of the reunion."

"And the driving force behind it. There's never been this much hoopla over a twentieth anniversary at Stonecroft." Alice Sommers shrugged. "But at least it got you here. I hope you're hungry. Waffles and strawberries are the breakfast menu."

It was over their second cup of coffee that Jean took out the faxes and the envelope with the brush and showed them to Alice, and told her about Lily. "Dr. Connors knew a couple who wanted a baby.

They were patients of his, which means they must have lived in this area. Alice, I don't know whether to go to the police or get a private investigator. I don't know what to do."

"You mean you had a baby at age eighteen and never told anyone about it?" Alice reached across the table and took Jean's hand.

"You knew my mother and father. They'd have had a shouting match about whose fault it was that I got into trouble. I might as well have distributed flyers around town with the news."

"And you've never told anyone?"

"Not one single soul. I had heard that Dr. Connors helped people adopt babies. He wanted me to tell my parents, but I was of age and he said he had a patient who had learned she could not have a child. She and her husband were planning to adopt, and they were absolutely wonderful people. When he spoke to them, they immediately said they'd be thrilled to have the baby. He got me a job in the office of a nursing home in Chicago, which gave me the cover of being able to say that I wanted to work for a year before I entered Bryn Mawr."

"I remember how proud we were when we heard about your scholarship."

"I left for Chicago right after we graduated. I needed to get away. And it wasn't just because of the baby. I needed to grieve. I wish you could have known Reed. He was so special. I guess that's why I've never married." Tears welled in Jean's eyes. "I've never felt that way about anyone else." She shook her head and picked up the fax. "I thought of going to the police with this, but I live in Washington. What could they do? ' Do I kiss her or kill her? Just a joke .' This isn't necessarily a threat, is it? But it stands to reason that whoever adopted Lily was living in this area because she was a patient of Dr. Connors. That's why I believe if I go to the police it should be in this town, or at least in this county. Alice, what do you think?"