Текст книги "Reckless In Love"

Автор книги: Bella Andre

Соавторы: Jennifer Skully
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The following morning, Charlie bypassed her workshop and headed straight for Sebastian’s waiting car. Though they were going to Shady Lane to see her mom, she couldn’t help the delighted, slightly wicked smile at the memory of last night—his touch, his taste, his splendor, and everything that was growing between them moment by moment.

“I’m happy to see you too, Charlie.” He followed up his sweet words with a kiss that left her as breathless as if she’d just gone for a morning run.

A large box sat on the seat beside him. “Another gift for my mother?”

He grinned. “I enjoy giving her gifts. I hope she likes it.”

“I can’t imagine you doing or giving her anything she wouldn’t love.” Like mother, like daughter. It was enough that he gave her mother his time, but of course Sebastian always wanted to do more. “You’re going to spoil her at this rate.”

“Good. She deserves it.”

She tried not to take his words as a condemnation of the little she’d been able to do for her mother, especially when he tucked her hand into his in the front seat of the car. Guilt, however, immediately reared its ugly little head, adding to her tension over today’s meeting with the doctor Sebastian had brought in. She didn’t want to make the mistake of getting her hopes up, but it was hard not to. Especially when she knew just how badly Sebastian wanted to make a difference in her mother’s life. She hoped he would soon realize he already had, simply by offering his time so willingly.

She was actually quite nervous by the time they entered the nursing home. A tall, white-haired gentleman she knew didn’t belong at Shady Lane strode toward them with a confident gait.

“Dr. Hillman.” Sebastian shook the other man’s hand. “I’m Sebastian Montgomery, and this is Charlie Ballard, Francine’s daughter.”

The doctor turned, then held her hand in both of his. “It’s so good to meet you. I’ve just left your mother in the lounge. She’s an absolute delight.”

“She certainly is,” Charlie agreed.

The white hair made the doctor appear older, though his features were unlined and his strong hands lacked even a hint of age spots. Rather than speaking to Sebastian, who’d called him, Dr. Hillman focused on Charlie. He cleared his throat, as though switching to professional mode. “I arrived early, so we’ve been getting acquainted. I did a cursory examination and I’m pleased to be able to tell you that her original surgeon was quite competent.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” More than glad, actually, both for her mother’s sake...and because it was one less thing Charlie had to feel guilty about.

“Her pinkies are very elastic, but I wouldn’t recommend putting in a new joint. She wouldn’t see a quantifiable increase in usage. I’m afraid there’s not much to be done with her other fingers, either. Even with another operation, she wouldn’t gain any strength in her hands. I’m sorry, Ms. Ballard, but everything’s been done for your mother that can be done.”

“What about pain medication?” Sebastian had set his box on the counter, his face grave, the line of his lips flat. “Can we alleviate her pain?”

“She’s already on pain management. There are other meds, but the results will be about the same. I’m afraid the pain will never be completely eradicated.”

“But there has to be something.” Sebastian’s jaw flexed, and Charlie knew that the doctor’s analysis was hitting him harder than it was her, because her expectations were so much lower.

She reached for Sebastian’s hand and held on tight as Dr. Hillman said, “She’s quite resilient. Many patients at her stage are confined to a wheelchair. She’s good with a walker, and her pain level isn’t debilitating. She has admirable tolerance.”

“Admirable tolerance?” Sebastian’s fingers squeezed Charlie’s almost painfully, and an edge grated in his voice. Clearly, he wasn’t used to not being able to fix something.

“I’m sorry I don’t have better news for either of you.”

“Thank you for coming to meet with her,” Charlie said. A house call from a renowned surgeon was more than could be expected. But Sebastian had managed it. “It means a lot to us.”

Sebastian finally seemed to shake himself, an actual tremor she felt through their clasped hands. “I appreciate your dropping everything to come by.”

Dr. Hillman nodded. “I was happy to do it.” The doctor shook their hands again before striding out the front door.

A nurse trundled the meds trolley past them, smiling politely. Charlie nodded in return.

“We’ll get a second opinion,” Sebastian said through gritted teeth when the nurse was out of earshot. “Something has to be done. Dr. Hillman’s record said he was the best, but we can’t leave it at that. Tell me more about the pain meds, Charlie.”

“Mom could take stronger drugs, but they’re highly addictive and the body builds up a tolerance to them eventually. The side effects can be worse than the pain, and she doesn’t want to start down that road.”

He closed his eyes briefly, then nodded once, a muscle still flexing in his jaw. “I understand.” But as he picked up the box, she wasn’t sure he truly did. Helping people make their lives better was Sebastian’s calling. Not being able to help her mother—just as he’d been unable to help his parents—had the potential to hurt him. Badly. “Let’s go see your mom.”

She held on to him one moment longer. “Thank you for everything. Even if we can’t find any other ways to make her feel better, you’ve already made such a big difference for her.” And for me too.

“We’ll find something.” His face was determined. “For all we know, the ankle guy I’ve contacted might come to a different conclusion.”

Charlie already knew how deeply Sebastian cared for the people who mattered to him. His friends, his foster parents. And now her mother. Though she was worried he was going to end up disappointed by the doctors he was bringing in, she couldn’t dim his hope.

“So,” she said as they headed down the hall toward the lounge, hoping to shift his mood back to the smiles he’d been giving her earlier, “what’s in the box?”

She’d asked him the same question a half-dozen times since getting in the car. And he hadn’t so much as cracked. “Are you this impatient with your own presents?”

“I’m killer at Christmas. Mom and I have a deal that we only spend twenty dollars, but if you get freebies, like buy-one-get-one-free, then the free one doesn’t count against the twenty bucks. Something from a thrift store like Goodwill is okay too. We don’t care if it’s used.”

His mouth was still tight, as if he couldn’t let go of the failure with the doctor, but she could tell that he was trying to shake it off. “Sounds like a lot of fun.”

“It can take an hour to open all the little gifts we buy each other.”

“What about birthdays?”

“Same thing. Twenty dollars.” With his hand in hers, she led him down the hall.

“When’s your birthday?”

She sidestepped a man in a wheelchair, giving him a brief pat on the shoulder. “Hi, Kurt.” Then she answered Sebastian’s question. “December. I’m a Sagittarius. What about you?”

“April. Aries.”

She couldn’t remember whether Sagittarius and Aries were complete opposites or a perfect match. She’d never been into astrology. And no matter what the stars said, nothing was going to ruin the beautiful connection she and Sebastian were building.

“And your mom?”

“January.” She could almost see him planning ahead. But December and January were long past her deadline for the sculpture, long past the point when she would be moving out of his guesthouse and back into her own home.

But she didn’t want to think about the end.

Not when every new day gave her hope that there wouldn’t be one.

* * *

Frustration simmered through Sebastian’s veins as they entered the lounge. Francine, wearing a pretty flowered dress, was seated in her usual spot on the sofa.

He felt helpless, just like every time he’d walked into his parents’ home only to find them totally blitzed. Again. For five long years after he’d moved into Susan and Bob’s crowded but caring household, he kept returning in an effort to get help for his parents. And it had torn him up every single time, especially when nothing he tried to do to help them worked.

Damn it, Dr. Hillman should have been able to fix Francine’s hands, do surgery, prescribe a treatment—at least give her some damn pain medication that worked without getting her hooked or having terrible side effects.

“Charlie, Sebastian.” Francine held out her gnarled fingers, her smile so big and sweet, despite the lines of age and pain on her face.

“Sebastian brought you a present, but even though I’ve been pestering him, he won’t tell me what it is.” Charlie slid into the chair next to her mother and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“You’re such a little girl when it comes to presents.” Francine’s wrinkled face glowed with fondness. “I am too.” She grinned up at Sebastian. “What did you bring?”

Sitting next to her, he also kissed the soft, paper-thin skin of her cheek. “You’re as bad as your daughter,” he said, keeping his tone light. He wouldn’t take his frustrations out on either of them. Instead, he’d do more research. He’d find another doctor.

He’d do something.

For now, he simply pulled a penknife from his pocket and slit the tape along the top, then pulled out a second box.

As soon as Francine saw the picture on the outside, she put her hands over her mouth. “Oh my.”

“What is it?” Charlie moved the bigger box out of the way so that she could see the picture too.

“A paraffin bath,” her mother said, tears glistening in her eyes. “This is the sweetest gift a man has ever brought me. Thank you. You’re such a darling man.”

Her glow did his heart good after Hillman’s disappointment. “I did some research, and the heat of the paraffin wax sounds like it might help ease some of the pain. It comes with gloves you put on after you dunk. Then you start to feel the heat transfer from the wax into your hands. There’s a temperature control, and paraffin has a lower melting point than candle wax, so it doesn’t burn your skin.”

Francine put a hand on his arm, her touch as delicate as a hummingbird’s. “Sebastian, you are sweet as the dickens.”

Charlie didn’t say anything at all, but the look in her eyes said she thought he’d just moved mountains for her mother. He wished he could do more than this one small thing. What the hell use was his money if he couldn’t make Francine feel better?

“It takes the wax four hours to melt the first time. And you should toss the used wax from your hands after it cools instead of reusing it. I’ll make sure more wax is delivered on a regular basis.” He’d read all the instructions. “Would you like to set it up in your room?”

“Oh yes, please. I’ll get one of the aides to help me this afternoon.”

After filling the paraffin wax, he and Charlie took Francine to lunch, then a drive, along with a stop for coffee and a bit of cake. By the time they returned, the wax had melted. They helped her dip, put on the plastic gloves, then add the mittens that would help retain the heat.

The bliss on Francine’s face was worth every moment he’d spent scouring the internet, and the kiss Charlie gave him melted his bones like the paraffin. He would do anything to make things better for them. He hadn’t been able to save his parents, but he would for damn sure make life easier for Charlie and her mother.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

With Sebastian, Charlie had quickly learned, everything moved fast. The following Monday, though he’d already been out of town for the past several days, he told her, “I’ve got a gig down in Los Angeles and I’d like you to come with me.” He’d held her hand and looked at her with his dark, hot eyes. “I knows it’s time away from your work on the chariot and horses, but I miss you and don’t want to leave you again so soon.”

If a heart could have turned over, that’s what hers did, just as it had every time he surprised her with yet another of his sweet thoughts or actions. His consideration was innate, bred into him with years of caring for his parents even when they hadn’t wanted it.

Now that she knew exactly what selling more pieces could do for her mother’s way of life, Charlie had been toiling maniacally since Sebastian had sold the rams. She couldn’t work on the chariot twenty-four seven without the risk of making both creative and technical mistakes that would be difficult to correct. So, during what she called her creative breaks, she’d started a couple of new projects, mostly animals for the menagerie she now believed someone might actually want. Sebastian had also arranged for the T-Rex to be brought over to the new studio and she was working on finishing that too.

The truth was that by the time he’d asked her to come to L.A. with him, she’d been feeling tired and a little burned out—a rare thing for her, when she’d always worked at a steady but reasonable pace. A day watching Sebastian do his thing would be pure pleasure.

So now here she was, occupying a special reserved seat in the front row of a sold-out fifty-thousand-seat auditorium. They were all here for Sebastian. People chattered and programs fluttered as the audience began taking their seats for his grand entrance. She’d left him backstage with a kiss—a really hot one that she could still feel tingling on her lips. As an usher escorted her to her seat, her heart was pounding and her palms were sweaty, as though she were the one about to stand up in front of all these people. Whereas Sebastian had been as calm as if they were having a quiet dinner on his terrace.

Charlie couldn’t say what she’d imagined one of his presentations would be like, but this was mind-boggling. The stage stood in the middle of the arena. Cameras were trained on the center, with its single stand for a glass and a carafe of water, while special lighting beamed down. Sebastian told her the workshop would be filmed for later syndication to TV stations, as well as DVDs and audio downloads.

He’d called it a workshop, but this was like a rock star’s performance. Since Sebastian had slowed down to just a handful of appearances a year, the place was packed. Everyone clearly wanted a piece of him.

The lights dimmed, voices hushed, and that was when she realized she’d gotten it wrong. This wasn’t a rock concert, where fans shrieked and screamed. It was the symphony, where a reverent silence fell and everyone in the audience waited, breaths held, to be swept away by the magic. Just as Sebastian had swept her away so many times since she’d first met him.

A spotlight snapped on, illuminating Sebastian, who was halfway down an aisle to the stage. The clapping started then, rising until it was deafening. Charlie jumped to her feet too, beating her hands together. She’d understood that he was a celebrity with beaucoup bucks, but she hadn’t understood this, the adulation, the way people reached out to touch him as he passed.

Then he was in front of her, leaning in for a quick kiss and flashing that killer smile, leaving her dazed, until she blinked and realized he was now on stage. His dark suit and white shirt were beacons in all the lights shining on him. His sable hair gleamed, and he was utterly gorgeous.

Who wouldn’t listen to a man like him?

He raised his hands and waved people back to their seats. “Welcome.” His voice boomed out of the microphone clipped to his lapel. There were indistinguishable shouts in return.

“Today is all about you. About your life and what you want it to be. I don’t have guiding principles to give you, just a little common sense. But here’s the thing about common sense. Sometimes we’re just too close to see it. And sometimes we need help from outside ourselves to understand it.”

He moved around the stage, circling slowly so that he could address the full audience. The lights were blinding, and Charlie wasn’t sure how much he could see. Until he paused in front of her and smiled. That was when she knew he saw everything. Absolutely everything.

“So let me ask you. Do you believe in yourself? Do you believe you deserve happiness and prosperity? Because that’s where you have to start.”

Four big-screen TVs were mounted above the stadium seating. He was up there in brilliant Technicolor, and she watched his larger-than-life image as he moved around the stage. Most people would have been dwarfed by the huge screens, but Sebastian looked stronger than ever. Charlie couldn’t help a fleeting wish that his parents had lived to see him on stage, just once, to see that he’d made something amazing of himself. And that he hadn’t given up, even though they’d disappointed him time and time again.

“Opportunity doesn’t suddenly come your way once you start believing in yourself,” he continued. “It’s that you finally recognize the opportunities already there because you believe they deserve to be there.”

He’d walked into her yard full of scraps and sculptures and offered her the world. But he was right—he’d been there because she’d had the guts to stomp up the parish steps of that Chinatown church and tell them they needed her dragon. One opportunity had brought her another. And another.

Best of all, it had brought Sebastian.

She read the same thoughts in the people around her, the way they were all looking inward, acknowledging the things they’d done right, considering the changes they needed to make.

“Some of you probably know about my childhood. About where I came from. It wasn’t pretty. Wasn’t fun. Wasn’t happy. So if I could do it, if I could learn how to believe that I deserved happiness, then you can too.” He spoke to her. He spoke to everyone. Fifty thousand people were completely silent, no whispering, no chattering. No one left for a soda or a hotdog or to use the restroom. They couldn’t bear to miss a thing, drinking in his every word.

Wanting to believe.

Listening to Sebastian, watching him, feeling him, Charlie wanted to believe too. In this moment, he made her feel as though she truly could do anything. Better yet, he made her feel that she wanted it all too. That she should ignore her hesitation to reach out and grab the glittering brass and diamond rings, and go for it with all she had. Maybe the thought of being a huge star in the art world still didn’t sit quite right with her, but she could learn to be comfortable with the thought of being successful. She could do it. Sebastian helped her believe.

“It’s not about the money.” He laughed, holding up a hand. “I know what you’re thinking. Yeah, right.” He brushed his palms down his expensive suit. “Seriously, though,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes, “money is great, and I hope all of you make a lot of it doing what you love, but in the end it’s not about the money. Not if you get rich but hate your job while you’re doing it. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?” He was greeted with shouts of agreement. “You deserve to enjoy what you do. You deserve to have a job that’s a vocation, that has meaning, that gives you satisfaction, and makes you feel like you’re giving something back.” He paused again with impeccable timing, letting the audience ponder. “Let’s talk about how to figure that out.”

An hour and a half seemed like mere minutes as he offered up a clear-cut pathway to opportunity and success. But Sebastian went a step further—he made it personal too, by telling everyone more about his parents, his struggles, about never feeling he was good enough. Then he told them how he’d had people who believed in him, like his adopted mom and dad, Susan and Bob, and his friends. He explained that they’d helped him learn how to believe in himself.

“You don’t have to do this all alone. But you can make changes.” His voice rang out. “You can do anything. Absolutely anything.” He stepped back, drank from his water glass, and for a long moment, he held the big tumbler in front of him, staring, until he turned back to his audience, his fans, his devotees. “We’re almost done, but before I leave, I want to tell you about a lovely lady I met a few weeks ago.”

Charlie’s heart did a somersault as his eyes found and held hers for a split second.

“Francine is the sweetest thing. Tiny.” He held out his palm to demonstrate her height against his chest. “She’s friendly, upbeat, always with a smile or a laugh even though she has severe arthritis and uses a walker to get around. Most people would be in a wheelchair or bedridden. All her finger joints have been replaced.” He held up the tumbler. “Imagine not being able to hold this glass in one hand. Imagine that even two-handed, this glass would slip out of your fingers.” He let it slide until it almost fell, catching it at the last second. “Imagine you couldn’t jog down the stairs, that your ankle bones had disintegrated and the only thing holding each foot together was a steel bolt and some staples. Imagine your vertebrae had to be fused just so you could hold your head up. Imagine the shocking pain. And yet—” He held up the glass again, pausing. There was complete silence, unbroken by even the whisper of fifty thousand breaths. “And yet, every single day you get up and you walk a mile. No matter what.” As Sebastian set down the glass, he said, “Do you know how much farther a mile is for her than for you and me?”

Charlie knew. Sebastian obviously did as well. Though he was a good thirty feet away on the stage, she could feel his anguish at not being able to help as if it were her own. Which it always had been. Until he walked into their lives and tried to help in any way he could.

“Francine tells me that if she didn’t walk, she’d be in a wheelchair or a bed. Use it or lose it.” He made air quotes to show that they were Francine’s words. “There are days she doesn’t want to. Days when she can barely move because the pain is too great.” His voice dropped almost to a whisper that echoed in the auditorium. “But then she gets up, aims her walker, and starts that mile.”

Emotion squeezed Charlie’s chest as he said, “So I ask you, can you walk a mile? Every day, rain or shine, pain or gain, because you know you have to just to stay alive, just to breathe. Can you walk that mile?”

And Charlie began to cry.