- -
- 100%
- +
“It would have been charity if I’d just put a wad of bills in your hand and told you not to pay it back.” He shrugged, struggling to rein in anger that had materialized out of nowhere. “This is just putting a couple of empty rooms to use.”
She assumed by his offer that he was staying at the estate. It was the last place she wanted to be. Not with the past vividly rising up before her. “I really don’t think your father would exactly welcome the invasion with open arms.”
“One woman and an infant are hardly an invasion—or an intrusion,” Rick added before she could revise her words. He guessed at part of the problem. His parents had never treated her with the respect that he’d felt, at the time, that she deserved. His mother was gone now, but there was still his father. “And my father is Florida on vacation.” An extended one, he thought. His father hadn’t been back to California for several months, actually.
A vacation meant that the man was returning. “So, what’s that, a week, two?”
“More like three months or more.” With things like teleconferencing, there was not as much need to appear in the flesh anymore, Rick thought. He couldn’t say that he disliked the arrangement. The less he saw of his father, the better.
Her mouth curved with a cynicism that was ordinarily foreign to her. “Oh yes, I forgot, the rich are different from you and me—” She glanced up at him. “Well, from me at any rate.”
He heard the bitterness in her voice. Was that directed at him? Why? He hadn’t said anything to trigger it. But then, as his father had once pointed out, he really didn’t know Joanna at all.
Something within him made him push on when another man would have just shrugged and walked away. He wasn’t even sure why.
Maybe because, despite the bravado, she looked as if she needed him. Or at least, someone. “Mrs. Rutledge is still there.”
At the mention of the woman’s name, Joanna’s face softened. She and his parents’ housekeeper had gotten on very well during the days when he had invited her to his house.
“How is Mrs. Rutledge?”
Like a fighter returning to his corner between rounds, Rick gravitated toward the neutral topic. “Still refusing to retire. Still thinking that she knows what’s best for everyone.”
Joanna smiled, remembering. “She always reminded me of my mother.”
More neutral territory. Rachel Prescott had been the woman he’d secretly wished his mother could have been. He’d spent a great deal of time at Joanna’s house over the three years that they went together. He’d half expected to find her in Joanna’s room when he came to visit. “How is your mother?”
“My mother died last year.” Joanna looked down at her hands, feeling suddenly hollow. Thirteen months wasn’t nearly enough time to grieve.
The news hit him with the force of a bullet. “Oh, I’m sorry.” What did a person say at a time like this? How did he begin to express the regret he felt? The world was a sadder place for the loss. He looked at Joanna, his hand covering hers in a mute sympathy be couldn’t begin to articulate. “She was a very nice woman.”
“Yes, she was.” Joanna fought the temptation to stop this awkward waltz they were dancing and throw herself into his arms, to tell him that she’d really needed him those last few months when she had stood by her mother’s side, watching the woman who had been her whole world slip away from her. Instead, she looked up at him and said, “I read about your mother in the paper. I’m sorry.”
Rick shrugged, letting the perfunctory offer of sympathy pass. It was sad, but he really didn’t feel the need for sympathy. He’d never been close to his mother, not even as a child, and consequently, hadn’t felt that bitter sting of loss when she died. He’d returned for the funeral like a dutiful son, remaining only long enough for the service to be concluded before flying out again. The entire stay had been less than six hours.
In part, he supposed, he’d left so quickly because he’d wanted to be sure he wouldn’t weaken and do exactly what he’d done last night. Drive by Joanna’s house. Looking for her.
Joanna tried to fathom the strange expression on his face. She had almost gone to his mother’s funeral service at the church, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But somehow, that had seemed too needy. So instead, she’d shored up her resolve and remained strong, deliberately keeping herself occupied and staying away.
There was another reason she’d kept away. To come to the service would have been to display a measure of respect and she had none for the deceased woman, none for her or her husband. Not since the two had joined forces that August day and come to her bearing a sizable check with her name on it.
All she had to do to earn it was to get out of their son’s life, they’d said. To sweeten the pot, they’d appealed to her sense of fair play, to her love for Rick. Between the two of them, they’d projected the future and what it would be like for Rick if he married her. They were adamant that he would grow to despise her. He belonged, they maintained, with his own kind. With a woman from his social world, with his background and his tastes. Someone who could be an asset to him, not a liability. They’d even had someone picked out. A woman she knew by sight.
They argued so well that she’d finally had to agree. She hated them for that, for making her see how much better off Rick would be without her.
“Actually,” Rick commented on her original protest, “if there is any charity being dispensed, you’d be the one doing it.”
He always was good with words, she thought. But he had lost her this time. “Come again? I think I pushed out my hearing along with the baby.”
The laugh was soft. He began to feel a little more comfortable. Despite the hurt feelings that existed between them like a third, viable entity, Joanna had always had the knack of being able to make him relax.
“If Mrs. Rutledge finds out that you’re homeless,” he explained, “and that I knew about it, she’ll have me filleted.”
“I’m not homeless,” she protested. “Just temporarily unhoused.”
It was an offer, she supposed in all honesty, that she couldn’t refuse. She knew she could probably crash on any one of a number of sofas, but she would also be bringing her baby and that was an imposition she wasn’t willing to make. Babies made noise, they took getting used to. It was an unfair strain to place on any friendship. Rick had the only house where the cries of a child wouldn’t echo throughout the entire dwelling. Where she wouldn’t be in the way as she struggled to find her footing in this new world of motherhood.
Joanna chewed on her lip, vacillating. “You’re sure your father’s away?”
For a moment, Rick was transported back through time, sitting in math class, watching her puzzle out an equation. He smiled, fervently wishing he could somehow go back and relive that period of his life.
But all he had available to him was the present.
“I spoke to him this morning via conference hookup. He’s having a great time marlin-fishing off the Florida Keys.”
Joanna tried to picture the stuffy man sitting at the stern of a boat, a rod and reel clutched in his hands, and failed. “Marlin-fishing? Your father?”
He knew it sounded far-fetched, but it was true. Howard Masters had undergone nothing short of a transformation. “The heart attack turned him into a new man. He might not be stopping to smell the roses, but he is taking time to do almost everything else.”
The man had always been consumed with making money. She’d heard that he’d only taken one day off when his wife died. “What about the business?”
“Mostly, it’s in my hands.” He wondered if that made her think that he’d become his father. The thought brought a shiver down his spine. “He likes to look over my shoulder every so often and make ‘suggestions.’ But mostly, he leaves it all up to me.”
She wondered if Rick would eventually turn into his father. There was a time when she would have said no, but that was about a man she’d loved. A man who had failed to live up to her expectations. “Is that why you’re here?”
Eyebrows drew together over an almost perfect nose. “In the hospital?”
“No, in Bedford. Did the family business bring you to Bedford?” He nodded. She knew she should leave it at that, but she couldn’t help asking, “And why were you outside my house last night?”
He gave her the most honest answer he could, given the situation. “I’m not really sure.”
Fair enough. Joanna blew out a breath, shifting slightly again, trying not to pay attention to the discomfort radiating from her lower half. This too, shall pass.
“Well, I can’t say I’m not glad you were.” She raised her eyes to his. “Otherwise—” her voice, filled with emotion, trailed off.
He stopped her before she could continue. “I’ve learned that ‘otherwise’ is not a street that takes travel well.” There was nothing to be gained by second-guessing. “You get too bogged down going there.”
He heard the door just behind him being opened. Welcoming the respite, Rick turned and saw a nurse wheeling in a clear bassinet. Inside, bundled in a pink blanket, sleeping peacefully, was possibly the most beautiful baby he’d ever seen.
“Someone’s going to be waking up soon and it’s feeding time,” the woman announced. Her smile took in both of them.
Rick moved out of the way as the nurse brought the bassinet closer, his eyes riveted to the small occupant. “Wow.”
The single word filled her with pride. Joanna couldn’t help smiling. “I believe that’s her first compliment.”
“But not her last,” Rick guaranteed. “She cleans up nicely.”
“You got to see her at her worst,” Joanna pointed out. She didn’t add that he’d seen her at possibly her worst as well.
Rick sincerely doubted that the word worst could be applied to a miracle. Something stirred within him as he watched the nurse lift the infant from the bassinet and hand her over to Joanna.
He was in the way, he thought. “Well, I’d better be going.” He began to edge his way out.
Suddenly, she didn’t want him to leave. Not yet. “Would you like to hold her?” Joanna asked.
Somehow, the baby looked far more fragile now than she had last night. And his hands were large and clumsy. “I already did.”
“I mean now that she’s not messy.” Joanna read his expression correctly. “She won’t break, you know. Not if you’re gentle.”
“I won’t slam dunk her,” he promised. The quip was meant to hide what was really going on inside him. There were emotions there that he wasn’t sure he understood or knew what to do with. Certainly none that he could label properly.
Very carefully, he slipped his hands under the baby’s back and neck, making the transfer. He unintentionally brushed his fingers against Joanna’s breasts. Their eyes met and held for a moment before he backed away from her, holding the infant to him.
The nurse looked on and nodded with approval. “You’re a natural.”
“He should be,” Joanna told her. “He’s the one who held her first.”
The woman’s smile brightened. “Oh, are you her father?”
“No.” The nurse’s innocent question dragged him away from the formless region he’d momentarily found himself inhabiting and back to the real world. He wasn’t the little girl’s father and that was the whole point. “I’m not.” He handed the infant back to Joanna. “I’ll be back before you’re discharged.”
There was a formal note in his voice that she didn’t understand or like. The temporary bridge between their two worlds was gone and they were back to being wounded strangers again.
“We’ll see,” she called after him. She had the satisfaction of seeing him momentarily halt before continuing out the door.
Like a commando unit making a beachhead, the three other women who comprised the Mom Squad descended upon Joanna as one later that afternoon, brightening her spirit as well as her room.
They came bearing gifts, and, more importantly, they came bearing good will and cheer. Something she was finding temporarily in short supply.
The baby was awake and alert and seemed very willing to be passed from one woman to the other like a precious doll.
Sherry Campbell, newly returned to the working world as a reporter for the Bedford World News and a brand-new mother in her own right, was the first to hold her. The baby was almost as big as Sherry’s own three-month-old son. But then, Johnny had been a preemie.
“She’s beautiful.” She beamed at Joanna. “Of course, that’s not a surprise. Look at her mother.”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.