"Zack. Are you okay?"
It was Maddy's voice, tight with concern. Her hand was on his knee. He stared at her like a person waking from a nightmare. He wanted to say something to her, to reassure her, but at that moment the bailiff intoned, "All rise…"
The present reclaimed him; the hearing had begun.
"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Larry asked. His grin was disgustingly cheerful, but his eyes were kind, and Zack knew he meant to be soothing.
They were back in the courtyard again, basking in welcome sunshine beside the Spanish fountain. Zack scowled at the merrily tumbling water, forgetting he'd ever touted its tranquilizing properties. "Still think you should have pressed charges," he grumbled. "That guy should be put away."
"So his wife can go on welfare?" Larry said mildly. "And the guy comes out angrier and more violent than when he went in?" His eyebrows lifted reproachfully. "Are you interested in justice or revenge, my friend? We've got the child. He'll never harm her again."
"Temporarily."
"Oh, well, that's just procedure. The permanent-custody hearing's been set-"
"For July seventh. That's only thirty days." Zack shot a look of appeal at Maddy, who seemed to be avoiding his eyes. Either that or she'd developed a sudden fascination with Spanish tile. "That doesn't seem like very much time."
"It's a little shorter than usual," Larry said, "but that's because the aunt testified that there aren't any other relatives willing and able to take in a child. The court just needs enough time to verify that fact-they don't want her in limbo any longer than necessary- and then…" Larry beamed. "Theresa's ours."
"Mine," Zack corrected him, glowering.
Larry's smile vanished. "Don't get your hopes up," he cautioned, looking grave and Lincolnesque. "As I've told you, you've either got to go talk to those people-the Sotos-and get them to agree to a private arrangement, or apply through the county. And as a single male parent…"He shrugged. "There's a long waiting list of couples ahead of you. Some of them have been waiting for years."
"Yeah, I know." Zack was frowning at Maddy, who was still steadfastly refusing to look at him. Dammit, what was wrong with her? She had to know he was trying to catch her eye!
"Where is Theresa now?" he asked softly, stubbornly keeping his gaze on Maddy's averted face.
Larry, with the kind of perceptiveness that made him such a good therapist, remained silent, so Maddy had no choice but to answer. Zack saw her shoulders rise and fall with a deeply drawn breath, as if she needed to fortify herself in order to talk to him.
"She's with a foster family," she said. "A really super family, named Frownfelter." She smiled, and added softly, "When I went to pick her up for the meeting with the judge, she was up to her elbows in peanut-butter-cookie dough."
Larry chuckled, but Zack refused to be sidetracked.
"Where is she now? How is she getting home?"
"Mr. Frownfelter picked her up and took her back. It was his lunch hour…"
Her voice trailed off. It was odd, he thought. First she hadn't seemed to want to look at him at all, and now that he'd established eye contact with her, she couldn't seem to break it. Matter of fact, neither could he.
Not that he wanted to. She had such nice eyes. Gray, rather than blue, which he decided he liked better, because they were softer. And she had very dark lashes for someone as blond as she. Of course, he knew very well that for the price of a bottle of mascara anyone could have dark eyelashes, but hers seemed too soft and too thick to be anything but real. As a matter of fact, now that he thought about it, he didn't think she put much of anything on her face. Her skin… She had really nice skin, and like everything else about her, it made him imagine how it would feel against his own.
"Well…" Larry's cough was meant to be discreet, and sounded amused. "Time to get back to work. Maddy, can I give you a ride back to the clinic?"
Maddy actually shook herself, like someone trying to wake up. "Oh. No, thanks anyway, Larry. I have my car here."
"Right. Forgot. Okay, see you back at the ranch. And you hang in there, Zack. Patience, remember." Larry went loping across the courtyard toward the parking lot. Maddy turned as if to follow, but Zack put a hand on her arm.
"See you tonight?" he asked.
"What?" She seemed flustered. It gave her a nice touch of pink across the cheekbones.
"Your next swimming lesson." His voice felt furry in his throat. "This evening, same time, same station- right?"
"Oh. Right." She cleared her throat nervously. Good grief, he thought. Was she still afraid of him? "I'll see you later, I guess…"
"Yeah, you will."
"Okay then, "bye."
" 'Bye."
Scintillating conversations they had, the two of them, Zack thought sourly as he watched her make her way carefully across the courtyard's uneven tile paving. It frustrated him that he wasn't getting to know her as fast as he wanted to. He'd thought if he could just get her away from her puppets…
It occurred to him that Theresa might have somehow gotten in the way. He didn't know why, but ever since last night, something had definitely come between him and Maddy.
Theresa. Thirty days. Damn! He had just thirty days in which to find the stomach and the self-control to go to those people-the Sotos-and persuade them to relinquish custody directly to him. Either that, he thought with amusement, or he had thirty days in which to get married and move himself up in the county adoption board's eligibility ratings.
A short, ironic laugh escaped him. The only woman he'd even thought of in those terms in two years was just escaping around a hibiscus hedge, dashing for the parking lot for all the world as if she were escaping from him. He had a feeling it would take a lot more than thirty days to bring her around to thinking along the same lines!
It sure looked as if his best bet were the aunt and uncle.
"Hey! You."
Zack looked around and muttered, "Speak of the devil," under his breath. Theresa's uncle was bulldozing his way across the courtyard toward him, with his wife clinging to his arm like a sea anchor.
"You're the guy from the pool, aren't you?" Soto said. "The swimming teacher." He managed to make the identification sound like an insult.
"Yes, I am," Zack said, proud of his calm. "And as a matter of fact, I'd like to talk to you. It's about-"
"Well, buddy, I've got a few things I'd like to say to you too. You're the guy who started this whole thing, aren't you?"
"Joe-"
"Shut up, Carleen!"
The man had shaken his wife off and was facing Zack across a few feet of tiled courtyard. His face was dark and angry, and his arms hung at his sides at the ready, like a gunfighter's.
Zack knew very well that at this point, discretion dictated a strategic withdrawal. So what did he do? He folded his arms across his chest and said very politely, "I reported it, if that's what you are making reference to."
"Look, I don't know who the hell you think you are, butting into a man's private business. I got a right to discipline a kid who smart-mouths me in my own home, you got that? You made a lot of trouble for me, you know that? I got cops hassling me, I could lose my job… Hey, I really oughta let you have it!"
"Joe!"
"Oh, now, I don't think you'd do that," Zack drawled. "I'm not a little kid."
He'd almost expected it. Hell, he'd probably invited it. But it was a shock to him anyway. He hadn't been hit in anger since fourth grade, when a kid named Hank Plunkett had bloodied his nose and given him a fat lip with one punch. It had come as a shock to him then, too, and he'd reacted reflexively. His instinctive response had left poor old Hank sitting in a puddle of water, clutching his middle and gasping like a netted fish. At that point Zack had touched his face, discovered blood, and had run for home, howling his head off.