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“He’s right,” Victoria said.
Kyle patted the dog’s head. “Good girl.” She opened a sleepy eye.
With his assistance, Mrs. Teeton moved her arms, legs, and head without a report of physical discomfort. “I’m going to lift you into bed.” She felt like a child in his arms. A small woman, like Victoria, Mrs. Teeton had all but stopped eating since her diagnosis three weeks ago, losing an estimated eleven desperately needed pounds. Too weak to participate in her own care and refusing psychological counseling, she had the highest acuity ranking of any patient on Kyle’s roster.
Once in bed, Victoria took over, checking the patient’s abdominal incision and taking her blood pressure before tucking her into bed. “The incision looks good. Your blood pressure is low. Before I put a call in to your doctor, tell us what happened.”
“I’m so tired.”
“It’s important.” Kyle put his hand on her lower leg, touch a big part of his therapy.
“I wanted to give Tori a treat from my breakfast,” Mrs. Teeton said, her eyes closed.
“That breakfast is for you to eat, not Tori. And I told you, she’s trained not to accept food from patients.”
A hint of a smile curved her lips. “Wanted to see. Sat up but so dizzy.” She sounded about to drift off to sleep. “Started to roll forward. Tori caught me.” She mumbled something ending with, “Good dog.”
“That’s the most I’ve heard her say since admission. And I visit her every day,” Victoria said quietly, looking at Mrs. Teeton’s sleeping form.
“Tori gets them talking.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.” She looked up at him, her beautiful blue eyes soft and warm. “You were great with her. So gentle and kind.”
The hint of disbelief he detected bothered him. Before he could call her on it she headed for the door. “I’ll call Dr. Starzi. Would you please put up all four bedrails and make sure her call-bell is within reach?”
As he was in the process of raising the last bed rail, someone walked into the room. A nurse, dressed in what he’d recently learned were 5E’s trademark lavender scrubs. Brown hair up in a messy knot, girl-next-door pretty. Even with the surprise of her pregnant belly, Kyle recognized her instantly. His friend Ali Forshay, who Victoria had befriended back in tenth grade, as unlikely a pair as he and Victoria had been. Some kids had accused Victoria of slumming, others had called Ali and Kyle her charity projects.
Maybe they had been.
Good, a friendly face. He clicked the railing into place. One of the two he’d hoped to see while back in town. At least he’d thought so until he noticed her scowl.
She observed the patient then pulled the cord to turn off the overhead light. With narrowed eyes and pursed lips she pointed at him and then the window.
Did she expect him to jump?
A second later she grabbed him by the lab coat and pulled him deeper into the room, yanking the curtain partition into place as she did. The second bed lay flat, empty and raised to the highest position with the covers folded down at the foot of the bed, likely waiting for the occupant to return from the OR.
“Why did you come back?” she whispered curtly.
Because Dr. Starzi was the best oncologist around and Kyle refused to pass up the opportunity to work with him simply because of where he had to do it. And what reformed degenerate wouldn’t want to ride the success train back into his hometown? Show everyone who’d labeled him worthless and turned a blind eye in his direction except to blame him for things he hadn’t done and threaten him away from their daughters that they’d made a mistake in writing him off.
“No hug?” he asked, half teasing. In anticipation of seeing Ali he’d visualized their happy reunion. They’d been pals, both with difficult home lives. They’d looked out for one another. It’d been Ali who’d suggested Victoria tutor him when the thought of failing out of high school hadn’t bothered him all that much. He owed her, planned to help her out if she needed it. But from the looks of her, and the size of the diamond engagement ring on her finger, she’d turned out okay, too.
“You’re lucky I don’t scratch your eyes out after what you did,” she said.
And she looked ready to do it. He took a step back, kind of glad to have Tori in the room. “Exactly what did I do?”
“You stay away from Victoria.” Again the pointing, this time at his chest. “Better yet, go back to where you came from.”
“Hey,” he said quietly, cupping her bent elbow. “We were friends. What happened?”
She looked up at him, her expression a mixture of sadness and hurt. “You’re not the person I thought you were. I’m sorry I ever encouraged Victoria to give you a chance.”
Ali had been one of three people to see something good in him, something of value, at a time when he had been unable to see it himself. Victoria and her Aunt Livi had rounded out the triumvirate.
The intercom in the room sounded. “Recovery Room on line two, Ali.”
“Be right there,” she responded without taking her eyes off of him. “Do the right thing, Kyle. Leave. And don’t come back. Victoria’s worked so hard to put her life back together. She’s interested in a man for the first time since you …”
What? Since he what?
“You are the last thing she needs right now.”
With that parting shot, Ali, at one time his closest friend, turned and left.
Back in town for two days and Kyle had more questions than answers. If Victoria hadn’t cried rape, where had the accusation come from? What was she doing in Madrin Falls, working as a nurse? A caring, competent nurse from what he’d heard and seen, but why hadn’t she gone to Harvard to become a physician as planned? Why was Ali warning him off? Why did Victoria’s life need putting back together? The most stable, together person he knew, why was she suffering panic attacks? Who was Jake and how serious was their relationship?
Sensitive to turmoil, Tori nuzzled his thigh. He petted her soft head. “We’ll find out, girl.” And since Victoria and Ali didn’t seem eager to enlighten him, after work he’d visit Aunt Livi.
The small raised ranch-style home looked better than he could ever recall seeing it. Neater. Prettier. The white siding could have passed for new, the once-dingy black shutters gleamed and a bright red door matched what looked like a freshly painted version of the heavy, antique planters he’d lugged out of the garage every spring and back every fall, which sat at either side of the front porch steps.
The gravel driveway he’d shoveled every winter for years looked newly paved, and the grass he’d mowed summer after summer, while sodden from the winter thaw, seemed fuller, healthier.
Odds were Livi had finally snagged herself a man with an interest in home maintenance. Good for her. Only knowing she had a man inside made him feel a bit guilty showing up at dinnertime, with an apple pie and an empty stomach.
The woman knew how to cook, and had never passed up an opportunity to invite Kyle in for a meal. Something he used to thank his lucky stars for, daily.
A boy responded to his knock. That was unexpected. He looked familiar. Probably because he shared Livi’s kinky red hair.
“I thought you were the UPS man,” he said with disappointment. “Mom,” he yelled over his shoulder. “There’s a man at the door.”
The kid looked up at him, got an odd look on his face. Kyle noticed his eyes, the same eyes that stared back at him every time he looked in the mirror.
“Jake Forley, you know better than to open the door when you don’t know who it is,” a familiar female voice said from the top of the stairs.
Over the kid’s shoulder Kyle caught a glimpse of Victoria, heading toward the door, looking very at home in pink warm-up pants and a white V-neck T.
This was Jake? Kyle shifted so Victoria couldn’t see him. “Is that your mom?” Kyle asked quietly.
The boy nodded.
“How old are you?”
“Eight.”
Holy hell!
CHAPTER THREE
VICTORIA struggled down the steps to the front door to see who Jake was talking to, stopping short at the sight of Kyle, holding a pie box, his expression a disturbing mix of suspicion and loathing.
“Go downstairs, Jake,” she said, needing a few minutes to talk to Kyle, to diffuse his anger before making any formal introductions. Although, based on the way they studied each other, Kyle had a pretty good idea who Jake was. And vice versa.
Her son turned to her, looking hopeful and excited. Of course he’d recognized his father, whose picture he spoke to every night before bed. “But it’s …”
“I know. Go downstairs and give us a few minutes to talk.”
“I don’t—”
“Now.” She flashed him the look that said she meant business then moved her gaze to Kyle. “What are you doing here?”
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” He glared at her, dared her to refuse him.
Every instinct she had screamed: Slam the door in his face, grab your son, and run. She needed time to talk to an attorney to find out Kyle’s rights. Her rights.
To talk to Jake about his expectations and set limits on the time he’d spend with his dad, if any. To prepare her son for the possibility Kyle might not be in town long and might not be interested in playing an active role in his son’s life. And most important, she needed time to figure out how to protect herself, both personally and professionally. He’d almost ruined her life once. She would not give him the chance to do it again.
“No,” she answered, hoping he’d leave, sure he wouldn’t.
“But, Mom …” Jake whined.
She pointed to the door of his playroom. “Down. Stairs.”
“Can I take the dog?” Jake asked.
For the first time she noticed Tori sitting quietly, looking up at her, watching her life unravel. “No,” she said.
At the same time Kyle said, “Yes.”
Discord, two minutes into co-parenting.
Victoria tilted her head and shot Kyle her best evil eye, the one guaranteed to make most people squirm. Kyle was not most people. He simply shrugged. “Livi loves animals. I came to see her.”
“Aunt Livi is dead,” Jake said matter-of-factly, and walked downstairs into his playroom. With a flick of the wrist from Kyle, his dog followed.
“Close the door,” she said to her son.
Jake did.
Except for pictures and the many stories Victoria had repeated through the years, Jake had little memory of his grandaunt who’d died a few weeks before his third birthday, leaving Victoria alone to care for her son. Not that Aunt Livi had been much help the last year of her life, but she’d tried.
Kyle paled, clutched the storm door, his knuckles white. “When?” The word came out hoarse.
His upset did not surprise her. Kyle and Aunt Livi had had a special bond. “Despite his upbringing he’s a good boy. There’s something special inside him. We can’t let it go to waste.”
She’d sure changed her tune when Victoria wound up pregnant, and Kyle wound up gone.
“Five years ago,” she answered. “Heart attack.” Victoria still harbored guilt that taking in her pregnant niece against her brother’s wishes, dealing with his threats and harassment, and helping a distraught teenager care for her infant son had been too much for Aunt Livi’s fragile heart. That Victoria had been at least partially responsible for the death of the woman who’d loved her like a daughter and, in return, she’d loved like a mother.
Tears threatened.
Not a day went by that she didn’t think of Aunt Livi.
“And you live here now.”
“She left everything to me and Jake.” The house and second mortgage. The car and car loan. Unpaid taxes. Credit-card debt.
The news about Aunt Livi seemed to neutralize Kyle’s anger, leaving him weary. “May I please come in?” Even though he could have pushed right past her, he stood on the porch and waited for an invitation. “Looks like there’s something more we need to discuss after all.”
“Now that’s where you’re wrong,” she said, ignoring the cold air chilling her exposed skin, not wanting him inside her home. “We needed to talk eight years and eight months ago, when I learned I was pregnant. Or maybe eight years and six months ago when my father figured it out and issued his ultimatum: ‘Get an abortion or get out.’”
“That sanctimonious bastard wanted you to kill our baby?” The usually calm Kyle did a convincing impression of someone ready to do a little killing himself.
“Shhh. Keep your voice down. And watch your language.” She glanced downstairs to make sure Jake wasn’t eavesdropping. Then she pulled the front door to her back, partially closing it to give them some privacy. “In dad’s mind,” she said quietly, “it was preferable to people finding out his perfect daughter had succumbed to temptation and gotten herself knocked up by the town’s teenage Lothario.”
“I wasn’t …”
He stopped before he spat out a lie.
“Okay. Maybe before I met you,” he relented. “But for the year we were together I didn’t touch another woman. I swear on my parents’ graves.”
“I know.” She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered.
“This is ridiculous. You’re freezing. Come on, Tori. Let me in.”
Come on, Tori. One quick feel. Under your bra this time. I swear I’ll be the perfect student for the rest of the hour … Come on, Tori. Live a little. Just strip down and jump in. I promise I won’t look … Come on, Tori. I want to show you how much I love you. Let me love you …
She shook her head to clear it. This flip-flopping between past and present had to stop. “The girl you knew as Tori died the day you left town,” she said.
“You make it sound like I suddenly decided, hey, let me run out on my girlfriend today. I’ve got nothing better to do. Why don’t I pick up and leave everything I know behind? Oh, and while I’m at it, I can rip out my heart and smash hers to bits in the process.” He leaned in, his eyes locked on hers. “If you’d known me at all,” he said, “if you’d loved me as much as you said you did, if you’d trusted me at all, you should have known in your heart I’d never have done such a thing.”
He threw her words back in her face. Maybe he was right. “But you did leave. And since I haven’t heard from you for almost nine years, I had absolutely no idea why. You knew where I was. At any time you could have called me to explain why you left, to ask me what I’d said to the sheriff. If you couldn’t reach me, you could have asked Aunt Livi or Ali to get me a message. But you chose not to.”
Victoria inhaled deeply, tired from a long day at work, drained and ready to be finished with this conversation. “None of this matters anymore.”
“It sure as hell does matter.” The sound of the storm door banging into the side of the house made her jump. “I’ve had a son for eight years and no one thought it necessary to tell me?”
“How was I supposed to tell you? I had no idea where you were.”
“You were a very resourceful girl who has no doubt grown into a very resourceful woman.” His voice turned cold. “If you wanted to find me you could have.”
She’d thought about trying, many times. Early on when she’d been so scared about the pregnancy and childbirth, then again, after Aunt Livi’s death, when she’d been desperate for help, for a break from Jake’s incessant crying, for protection from the creditors who’d called night and day. But she’d convinced herself if he didn’t want her, then she didn’t want him. And as much as it pained her to admit it, a part of her had been relieved to not have to deal with the issue of sex between them.
As if during her silence he’d come to some realization, he lifted his hand and ran a gentle finger down the side of her face. “We have a son.”
She didn’t want his tenderness. Not now. “I know we have a son,” she snapped. “I carried him inside my body for nine months. I logged hundreds of miles walking him up and down these hallways when he suffered from colic. I stayed awake night after night because he’d only sleep propped up on my chest and I was scared to fall asleep with him in my bed. I’ve bathed him, bandaged his scrapes and cuddled him when he’s had nightmares. I have taken care of him, loved him, and provided for him as best I could every single day since he was born.”
“If I was here I would have—”
“What you would have done doesn’t matter. It’s what you actually did that matters. And you left. Without a care for me or Jake.”
“If I’d known about Jake I never would have left.”
“So I didn’t matter but a son would have? My father was right about you all along.” She took on a husky man-voice and repeated her father’s harsh words. “A boy like that will ruin your life, Victoria. He’ll find a way to latch onto you and drag you down.” She glared at Kyle and asked the question that’d haunted her for years. “Did you even wear a condom that night? Or were you trying to get me pregnant?”
He recoiled like she’d taken a swing at him.
Years of suppressed hurt, anger, and resentment surged to the surface with a force she couldn’t contain. “Don’t pretend the thought never crossed your mind. My father told me about his visit to the garage to warn you to stay away from me, and his threat that if you didn’t he’d see to it that you did. Is it pure coincidence that very evening you surprised me at the library, took me to a secluded spot, and made it impossible for me to say no?”
“This is insane. I never set out to get you pregnant. You’re turning a beautiful memory into something tawdry.”
“Beautiful memory? You’re joking, right? We were crammed into the back seat of your car. I felt crushed beneath you. I couldn’t move, could barely breathe.”
He looked physically ill. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
At first, she hadn’t spoken up because he’d aroused her to the point she had to know what came next. She’d loved Kyle, had wanted to be with him, wanted him to find pleasure in her body. But as the car heated and the windows steamed up, as his passion increased and his body covered hers, panic had taken over, transporting her back to that terrifying day in the closet.
Not thinking clearly, she’d allowed her father’s words to seep in and take hold. If you don’t keep quiet you’ll have to endure it another half-hour. Keep quiet, she’d instructed herself over and over, just like she’d done all those years before. And using the coping mechanism she’d mastered as a child, she’d imagined she was somewhere else.
After he’d left town, she couldn’t help wondering if he’d been able to tell. If he’d found her so inadequate and disappointing that he couldn’t bring himself to face her.
“Look. I knew your father meant business,” he said. “I thought that night might be the last time we’d be together. I wanted to be your first. I wanted you to always remember it. I wanted you to remember me.”
Oh, she remembered him all right, but not in the way he’d intended. “What about what I wanted? Did you give any thought to that? Because I sure didn’t want to be pregnant at seventeen. I didn’t want to be joked about and ostracized by the kids at school. I didn’t want to miss out on my senior year, senior prom and giving my valedictorian speech. I didn’t want to forego Harvard to get stuck in this small town, going to community college, and owing years of my life to the hospital that paid my tuition. I didn’t want a baby. I didn’t want to lose my father’s love. I didn’t want any of it!”
“You didn’t want me?” a small voice said.
Her son’s voice.
Victoria stiffened, her carefully constructed world crumbling under her feet. Slowly she turned to see Jake standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Honey, I …”
With hurt, wet eyes and a look of complete devastation and utter betrayal he turned and ran. The door to the garage slammed, followed by the side door leading outside. Victoria took off after him, the pain in her right ankle and knee nothing compared to the lacerated walls of her heart. The guilt and shame of her admission squeezed her chest. How could she have been so heartless, so careless and cruel?
On the third step down, Kyle grabbed her from behind. “Give him a few minutes.”
“I can’t. He’ll run into the woods and get lost. He doesn’t have his coat.” He’s upset and alone and thinking his mother didn’t want him, doesn’t love him.
“You’re not wearing any shoes.”
“I don’t care.” She fought against his hold, didn’t care if he was bigger or stronger. Her son needed her and nothing would keep her away. “I have to find him. Explain. Oh, God. What have I done? Let go of me.” She bit his arm.
“Hell.” He yanked one arm away, but held her firmly around the ribs with the other. “Calm down. Tori’s with him.”
“He doesn’t need a dog, he needs his mother,” Victoria screamed.
“What he needs is time to blow off some emotion.”
“You’ve been a father for all of, what, fifteen minutes? You don’t know the first thing about being a parent.”
“Maybe not,” Kyle said calmly. “But I know plenty about being a hurt, angry eight-year-old boy.” He turned her, lifted her chin, and forced her to look into his eyes, to see his concern, his caring. “Trust me. Five minutes and I’ll go after him.”
“I’ll go with you. Let me get my—”
“No.” Kyle stood firm between her and the coat tree. “I’ll bring him back. It’s past time he had his father to look out for him.”
A father.
At twenty-six years of age, Kyle Karlinsky was father to an eight-year-old boy he’d had no idea existed until today. What the hell did he know about raising a kid? His father was certainly no one to emulate. Didn’t matter. He had a son, who was currently trudging through the thick, dank woods behind his home in need of rescue. At least, according to Victoria.
Victoria, who dogged his psyche on a regular basis, his own personal super-ego, despite repeated attempts to purge her with booze and women. Victoria, who’d failed to tell him about his son, denied him the opportunity to know his child from birth, yet had stood up to her father, probably for the first time in her life, to keep their child safe, and had given up her dreams to raise him, virtually on her own.
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