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“If you’ll listen, I’ll explain,” Shane retorted. Mara clung with both hands to the phone. Her eyes were closed as she concentrated on what he was saying.

“I did lie to June,” he admitted, “and I’m not proud of it. But I knew that she wouldn’t let Angie go with me unless she thought I was meeting you.

“I really hadn’t planned on taking her with me. I just stopped by to say goodbye, and there Angie was, so glad to see me. She was filthy, covered with dirt from head to foot from chasing those cats, and . . . and it was impossible for me to leave her . . . I just couldn’t.”

“I . . . I understand,” Mara whispered, her eyes shining with pooled tears as she imagined the vivid, touching picture he was painting.

He continued. “And of course there was June Wilcox, standing guard overmychild—standing in the way of what should be ours alone, Mara.Ourfamily.Ourhappiness. She hadmychild, and I couldn’t stand it, not one minute more.”

There was a pause, thick with agony. Mara heard Shane draw in a long, deep breath before he continued.

“And so you have it. I took Angie on impulse, but during the drive home, while she was sleeping in the car, I had time to do a lot of thinking, and I’ve decided to keep her.” Mara’s breath stopped. “She’s safe, and she’s happy. If you want to see her, then you’ll have to come to Atlanta.”

“That’s blackmail!”

“No, kidnapping,” he retorted angrily. “I’ve talked with Henderson, my attorney, and instructed him to start custody proceedings for Angie.”

“No,” she interrupted as panic gripped her, but Shane continued.

“And unless you get down here as fast as you can, I’m going to call the local paper, along with a few syndicated gossip sheets, and tell them the whole story from the father’s viewpoint, of course, including the fact that I had to kidnap my own child.”

“Shane don’t—”

“I just don’t want you to be under any illusions, Mara. You know that I mean what I say, and I’m telling you that I’m going to fight you tooth and nail for custody of Angie, if that’s the way you want it. I mean it, I don’t care what it costs to get the best attorney in the country, I’m willing to take my chances in court! Are you?” he asked, brashly. In the background, Mara could hear Angie chattering away.

“It . . . it doesn’t have to be this way . . .”

“The choice is yours. If you don’t want the fight in court, then prove it!”

“How?” she asked weakly.

She heard his naked sigh on the other end of the line, somewhere deep in Atlanta. “Oh, Mara, baby,” he whispered, “it’s all so simple, if you want it to be. If you’re really concerned with June’s health, I understand that. But I think that the solution to the problem is to tell her the truth, as soon as possible. She’s stronger than you think, and I’m sure she can handle the news. The sooner you tell her, the better.” His voice, raw with emotion, became soothing, coaxing. “It would hurt the least, coming from you . . .”

The click in her ear indicated that he had hung up, but Mara still clung to the phone, unwilling to believe that the fragile connection that had bound them tenuously together, had been severed. “No,” she whispered into the receiver.

“No . . . no . . .”

Finally, realizing that she had to take some kind of action, she numbly hung up the phone and turned back toward the den. But June was in the doorway, grasping the molding for support.

“That was Shane, wasn’t it?” she accused, blue eyes unblinking.

“Yes . . . and Angie’s with him . . . safe.” Mara tried to sound cheerful, and in an effort to meet June’s inquisitive gaze, she began pouring lemonade. If June’s sharp eyes noticed the mess on the counter that had dripped to the floor, she didn’t comment.

“Why did he lie to me?” The question knifed Mara in the back.

“He didn’t . . . I mean it seems that he and I had a slight misunderstanding. That’s all.” Mara shrugged, reaching for the tall, frosty glasses of lemonade and handing one to June. The glass was visibly shaking.

“You’re not telling me all of it!”

Mara took a sip of the liquid. “Mmm . . . no, but I will,” she said, moving toward the den and hoping to appear calm. Mara flopped down on the recliner, in a position she hoped looked worry-free and unconcerned. “Shane took Angie to Atlanta . . . and I had forgotten all about it.”

June studied her daughter-in-law dubiously, and the ashen color of her complexion didn’t improve. Mara didn’t blame the older woman for seeming suspicious; her story sounded too much like the hastily contrived lie that it was. She tried to amend it.

“Shane had talked about it with me earlier in the week, but with all of the fuss at work, you know, the new computer, those formidable video games, quarterly reports. . . it slipped my mind. I really didn’t think that we had anything fimily planned.” She shrugged her shoulders, smiled at her mother-in-law, and took a long sip from her glass.

“Then why didn’t he tell me about it when he was here. I would have packed Angie’s bag . . .”

“Oh, well,” Mara gulped, “he thought I was bringing her extra clothes, and I suppose . . . that he thought you already knew about the trip. It wasn’t a lie—he did plan to meet me at the park. I guess he left a message with the receptionist or something, and I just didn’t get it.” Mara almost cringed visibly at her ridiculous excuses.