Free Public Secrets by Nora Roberts Page A

finished with frilly white curtains and rainbows painted on the pale blue walls. The bassinet had a skirt of snowy Irish lace dotted with satin ribbons of pink and blue. An old-fashioned pram stood in the corner guarded by a six-foot teddy bear. An antique rocker waited by the window.
Emma stood beside the bassinet as her father laid Darren down. Once the little cap was removed, she reached in to carefully stroke his downy black hair.
“Will he wake up soon?”
“I don’t know. I get the feeling babies are pretty unpredictable.” Brian crouched down beside her. “We have to be very careful with him, Emma. He’s so helpless, you see.”
“I won’t let anything happen to him, not ever.” She put her hand on her father’s shoulder and watched the baby sleep.

E MMA WASN’T SURE she liked Miss Wallingsford. The young nurse had pretty red hair and nice gray eyes, but she rarely allowed Emma to touch baby Darren. Bev had interviewed dozens of applicants, and was well satisfied with Alice Wallingsford. She was twenty-five, of good family, and had excellent references and a pleasing manner.
In the first months after Darren’s birth, Bev was so tired and moody Alice’s services became invaluable. More, she was another woman to talk with about things like teething, breast-feeding, and diets. Bev was as determined to gain back her willowy figure as she was to be a good mother. With Brian closed up writing songs with Johnno, or in meetings with Pete about the next recording, she struggled to make the home she wanted so badly for them.
She listened when he spoke of things like war in Asia, race riots in America, but her world centered on whether the sun would shine warm enough to take Darren for a stroll. She taught herself how to bake bread and tried her hand at knitting, while Brian wrote songs, and spoke out against war and bigotry.
As her body returned to normal, her mind eased. For Bev, this was the sweetest time of her life. Her son was chubbily healthy, and her husband treated her like a princess in bed.
With Darren at her breast and Emma at her feet, she rocked in the chair by the nursery window. There had been rain that morning, but the sun was out now, and bright. She thought that by afternoon she could take the baby and Emma for a walk in the park.
“I’m going to put him down now, Emma.” Bev shifted her blouse to cover her breast. “He’s fast asleep.”
“Can I hold him when he wakes up?”
“Yes, but only when I’m with you.”
“Miss Wallingsford never lets me hold him.”
“She’s just being cautious.” Bev smoothed the blanket over Darren before she stepped back. He was nearly five months old now, she thought. Already she couldn’t imagine her life without him. “Let’s go down and see about baking a nice cake. Your da loves chocolate cake.”
Knowing she had to be satisfied with that, Emma followed her out. Alice paused in the hallway, holding fresh linens for the nursery.
“He should sleep awhile, Alice,” Bev told her. “His tummy’s full.”
Yes, ma’am.
“Emma and I will be in the kitchen.”

An hour later, when they’d taken the cake out to cool, the front door slammed. “Your da must be home early.” Bev automatically fluffed her hair before she hurried out of the kitchen to greet him. “Bri, I didn’t expect you until … what’s wrong?”
He was dead pale, his eyes red-rimmed and bleary. He shook his head as if to clear it as Bev held out her hands to him. “They’ve shot him.”
“What?” Her fingers clamped down hard on his. “Who? Shot who?”
“Kennedy. Robert Kennedy. They’ve killed him.”
“Oh my God. Oh sweet God.” She could only stand and stare, horrified. She remembered when the American president had been killed, and the shocked world had mourned. Now his brother, his bright, young brother.
“We were rehearsing for the album,” Brian began. “Pete came in. He’d heard it on the radio. None of us believed it, not until we’d heard it ourselves.