Текст книги "The Good Father"

Автор книги: Taylor Quinn Tara

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

OH, GOD. SHE was pregnant. For the second day in a row, Ella took half a day’s leave and left work before she was scheduled. She didn’t go anywhere in particular. Just drove around.

Alone.

Jason had asked if she wanted company. He’d offered to spend the evening with her. But she had a feeling he was going to be distancing himself from her life fairly quickly.

He was a good guy. He’d be a friend.

But he didn’t want children of his own, let alone another man’s child.

And that other man—the one whose child this was—didn’t want anyone.

* * *

SHE ENDED UP at the beach. She’d driven by The Lemonade Stand. Needing to go in. To see Chloe. The place was crawling with compassionate women and she needed someone to talk to.

She’d even settle for Lila McDaniels. Would prefer the older woman, actually, with her quiet, but firm, motherly way.

Ella’s nerves needed a firm talking-to.

But she couldn’t tell anyone else until Brett knew.

She’d already made an appointment with an obstetrician she knew from the hospital for Monday—having explained her situation. Her hormonal imbalance. The loss of her first child. The woman had worked her in.

She’d had a doctor’s confirmation. She was pregnant.

At the moment, all that made her feel was fear.

She was all alone.

What if something happened and she lost this baby, too?

Shaking, she stared at the ocean. Jason had assured her that if her body had reversed itself, there was every chance she could carry this baby to term.

This baby. She was pregnant.

She, Ella Ackerman, was going to be a mama.

If all went well.

And...Brett...

She had to tell him. Right away. But she wanted nothing from him. And was clear on one thing. She wasn’t going to give him the chance to reject their baby a second time.

* * *

BRETT HAD NO idea why Ella wanted to see him. But he didn’t ask her any questions, either, when she texted him on a Friday afternoon eight weeks after their weekend at the cabin and asked if she could see him right away.

He assumed it had to do with Chloe. She was supposed to be taking Chloe to Palm Desert to meet with Jeff the following week. But hadn’t liked the idea of a meeting so soon after Jeff’s explosion. Maybe she’d talked Chloe into waiting.

Still, a phone call would have done in that case. What could she have to talk about that had to be done in person? Ella had asked if they could meet at his place. Out by the pool. She’d said it made her feel good out there. Peaceful.

He was expecting her at six. By quarter to he was pacing. The tea was freshly brewed. With lemon. But there was a bottle of wine chilling, too.

For the first time in history, he’d cut out of a board meeting before its conclusion when her text had come through late that afternoon. The meeting was continuing the next day, and there’d be a full video transcript. He’d wanted time to change out of his suit into khakis and a polo shirt. He always ended up acting like a stuffed shirt around her.

Probably made her uncomfortable.

Was she coming to tell him she was ready to have a purely physical relationship? That it hadn’t worked out with her doctor friend?

Or that it had and she was getting married again?

Maybe it had nothing to do with them at all.

She hadn’t bought a house yet. Had she decided not to stay in Santa Raquel after all?

He wanted a beer.

But had sworn off beer after that night on the boat. Though he’d only had three drinks that night, he’d made a mistake in sleeping with Ella.

He’d known that she couldn’t make love with him without investing part of her heart.

He’d known and done it anyway. Because he’d wanted to touch the heart of her one more time.

It hadn’t been fair to her.

And if she’d give him a chance, he’d apologize...

The doorbell rang.

Brett was ready.

* * *

HE WASN’T READY. Studying the staunch expression on Ella’s face, unable to glean even a hint of what was going on with her, he started to panic.

Like he hadn’t panicked since high school.

She sat across from him at the table by his pool, sipping tea. In black pants and matching black-and-white tweed jacket with silk trim. Looking professional and gorgeous and untouchable all rolled into one. Had she carried the clothes to work or gone home to change before meeting him?

“I need to talk to you,” she said, obviously uncomfortable.

“That’s what you said.”

He’d like to believe her odd tension was just nerves, but didn’t think so.

“I... Something has been on my mind, Brett, and I need it cleared up.”

Why did he have the feeling that hadn’t been what she’d planned to say? Breathing more normally now, Brett said, “I’ll do what I can.”

“That weekend...when we were on the boat...”

So this was about sex! If she was ready all she had to do was say so. Should he make it easy for her?

“You drew a correlation between your dad and you. Talked about how your parents vowed to keep violence out of their home—trusting each other to do so because they both came from violence and knew how damaging it was.”

He remembered Ella reacting strangely when he’d said that. As if she’d finally understood something.

Remembered, too, specifically not asking her about it.

He hadn’t wanted to know, then. And didn’t want to know now, either.

She didn’t seem all that surprised by his lack of response. Or deterred by it, either.

She also wasn’t drinking much of her tea.

“You said that I’d quit really listening to you. That I patted you on the head when you tried to talk to me about your fears. And so you quit talking.”

He nodded, feeling far too much at the moment. He wasn’t good at being vulnerable.

“Tell me how you felt, Brett. Really felt. When you came home that day and found out you were going to be a father.”

“Why?” He’d spewed his frustration at her. His tension. He’d told her he wasn’t like her. Wasn’t ecstatic. Wasn’t even happy about it. He’d accused her of never stopping to find out what he wanted. Somehow blaming her for his inability to celebrate with her.

The past was past. He wanted to leave it there.

But sitting there on his patio with Ella, noticing how much better it felt having her in his space than occupying it alone, it hit him why she was there. She’d come to him looking for a way to leave the past behind her and be free to love another man.

Jason.

He thought about telling her that he knew, thought about preventing this whole conversation—sparing himself from it. But didn’t.

Ella had the right to say what she’d come here to say. Had the right to get this closure.

He also knew, without doubt, that he had to give her what she wanted...

“Please, Brett, tell me how you felt.”

She didn’t answer his question. Didn’t tell him why.

But she didn’t owe him that. He owed her.

“I was scared to death,” he said, meeting her gaze in spite of what it cost him. His chest tightened to the point of pain. If he didn’t know better, he’d have considered the possibility that he was having a heart attack.

But Brett knew better. The sensation was all too familiar to him.

And one he’d been having since junior high.

“Of what?”

He drew in air. “Of having someone look up to me, looking to me for example and guidance in matters of life, and me, damaged goods, ruining them. Putting the family curse on them.”

“I was going to be there, too.”

“Yes, but it only takes one person to bring misery to a whole family.”

“You were afraid you were going to be your father.”

“There’s no guarantee I wouldn’t be.”

“Because he showed you the way, right? He showed you how a man can be absolutely, completely certain he’d never bring violence into his home and then...he did.”

“Maybe.”

“My father was a great dad, El. A great husband. For well over a decade there’d been no sign...and then, he just snapped.”

“Maybe there were signs. Maybe you were too young to recognize them.”

“I have a lot of memories of me and him when I was a kid. None of them bad.”

“Kids have ways of forgiving things, forgetting them. They adjust. Adapt.”

“There’s no guarantee I wouldn’t do the same. And I can’t let that happen. I’d rather be dead than abuse someone. And the thought of creating an abusive streak in another human being...of continuing the pattern...”

“But there’s no guarantee you would do it.” Her words were a cry from the heart. Even he recognized them as such.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why, after we knew you were pregnant, I’d started wandering the house in the middle of the night?”

“You were having trouble sleeping, obviously.”

He hadn’t planned to tell anyone other than the counselor he’d spoken to about that time in his life. About the nightmares that still haunted him when he allowed their memory to surface. Had thought that was a shame he’d carry with him to his grave.

But Ella needed his help. Needed to understand. And her comfort was more important to him than his own. At least these days. He’d grown up a bit since staying with a woman long past the time when he’d known he should get out.

“I was having nightmares, El. Every night. I’d close my eyes and there they’d be, waiting for me...”

He swallowed. Couldn’t meet her gaze.

“What kind of nightmares?” The softness of her voice reached him as surely as if she’d reached out a hand and stroked his cheek.

“I’d dream about things that had really happened. About times my dad had come at me. But in mid-dream his face would change to mine. And the boy in the dream would be my son, and I’d be lifting my hand to hit him. I’d see the fear on his face. And in those eyes, the love he still felt for me. I’d want to stop my hand from coming down, but I just couldn’t. Not ever. Not one single, damned night...”

He looked straight at her as he fell silent. Needing her to know the truth behind his words. The tears in Ella’s eyes weren’t a surprise to him.

“Didn’t you ever have a good dream about him? Something about us together? A family? You said you had good years with your dad.”

“Not one good dream, El.”

She nodded, dislodging the tears that filled her eyes. They dropped to her cheeks. “So...the fear...it was greater than the joy? Greater than the idea of you and me making a baby together?”

She was reaching for her future. He had to help her let go of her past.

“You want the truth?” he asked, knowing that now was the time to give it to her.

“Yes.”

“When I found out you’d lost the baby...my first conscious feeling was...relief. I’d been saved from what I saw as my fate—finding out too late that I was like my father.”

There. Now she knew his dirtiest secret. His darkest shame. He’d felt saved when his child had died before ever being born.

Now she could leave him, the phantom in the cellar.

Brett wasn’t surprised at the horrified pain on Ella’s face. The fresh spate of tears in her eyes. He wasn’t surprised when she stood and left him sitting there, in his beautiful garden, alone.

The only thing that surprised him were her parting words.

“I love you, Brett Ackerman.”

Sad truth was he loved her, too.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

ELLA RAN FOR her car. Got around the block before she pulled over and gushed a river.

For herself. For Brett. And for the precious little child who was just beginning to form in her womb and would never know his or her father.

She’d gone to Brett’s to tell him about the baby.

Chloe was going to know soon. She’d probably think it was Jason’s.

And she’d be happy for Ella.

She couldn’t tell Chloe, or anyone else, the truth without Brett knowing.

She had to tell him. She just hadn’t been able to stay with him another minute.

She’d been sitting there, wishing she belonged. And knowing she never would. Not with Brett.

No one would.

She cried until her stomach cramped and her tongue was dry. Cried for the baby she’d lost. For the life and dreams she’d lost.

And then, when her stomach cramped, she stopped.

She had a child to think about now.

A new life.

Cradling her stomach, she sat there in the darkness and rolled down her window so she could hear the waves in the distance.

She was going to have to move.

It wouldn’t be fair to Brett to have his child grow up right under his nose.

And she owed him. Because he’d done this for her. He’d given her his child.

He couldn’t give her his heart. Or his life.

But he’d given her a piece of himself. A new life.

One that would be a connection between them Brett could never sever.

She just had to get herself under control enough to let him know what he’d done.

* * *

BRETT WAS OUTSIDE, still in his khakis and polo shirt, skimming the pool in the shadows cast by the landscape lighting when he heard his doorbell ring. He glanced up, a bit confused by the sound. In all the years he’d lived there, he’d never had unsolicited visitors and now it was happening a second time.

Still, it wasn’t a summons he could ignore. And when he pulled open the door, he saw Ella standing there, looking exactly as she had when she’d walked out of his home an hour before except for her tear-ravaged face.

“I have to talk to you,” she said, stepping forward so he had to either let her in or block her. He stepped back.

“El, I’m so sorry...” The words stuck in his throat. It was closing in on him. He’d sworn he was done hurting her. And he was doing it all over again.

With a wave of her hand she dismissed his apology. And anything else he might say.

“I came here today to tell you something. But I had to understand the past first, and then that got in my way.”

She walked toward the kitchen, but before he could follow her she was on her way back to him. Looking at the floor. Not him.

“I know you don’t want this, but I still have to tell you. Brett, I’m pregnant.”

He was busy watching her pace, trying to get a good look at her face so he could figure out if she was pissed or beside herself with pain. It took an extra second for her words to register. She’d come to tell him she was pregnant?

Dear God, don’t let it be true.

That was why she’d been asking questions about the past?

Because she was pregnant?

No. Oh, God, no. Please...no.

She couldn’t be. They’d made love one night with no thermometer. No test tubes, or small rooms with a command to him to perform. No artificial insemination. Or fertility treatments. It had been physical desire, period. No baby making involved.

His thoughts flew like snowflakes in a blizzard. Mixing with mental repeats of the words he’d said to her earlier.

“I understand that you don’t want a child in your life. And I’m absolutely certain that I don’t want you in this baby’s life. You’re right—he doesn’t deserve a father who would be relieved by his death. The damage that would do to him would be irreparable...”

She paced. Still not looking at him. “But as his father, you had a right to know. I had an obligation to tell you. So there. You’ve been told. Now I have to go...”

She headed for the door and Brett, arms crossed, barred her way.

“Wait.” The word was short. Softly spoken. And filled with more emotion than he could decipher. But panic was definitely in there.

“The baby’s mine.” His gums hurt with the force with which his jaws clamped down on the words.

She looked up at him. And he saw the anger lighting a fire in her eyes. “I haven’t slept with anyone but you since we met.” How words that were so cuttingly delivered could ease the storm inside him he didn’t know, but they did.

Just not enough. “I wasn’t asking a question,” he clarified. She wouldn’t be there if the child wasn’t his. And then continued. “How dare you set me up like that? You come in here asking me to be honest about our past pregnancy, knowing full well that you’re about to tell me about a current one?”

“Exactly.” She was still staring him down in the front hallway of his home. “Because I needed to know the truth, Brett, not whatever obligatory or accountable thing you’d come up with. We know our situation. No matter how much we care about each other, we aren’t good for each other. A baby doesn’t change that. If anything, it makes any personal association between us even more out of reach because any risk I take now would involve the baby, as well.”

If she’d reached out and slapped him it would have hurt less.

His worst nightmare had just been reborn. With a twist. Ella wasn’t going to let him be involved with his child.

Why wasn’t he relieved? And what in the hell was he going to do?

“Is that all you’ve got to say?”

She nodded. But didn’t leave. If she was done talking, she should leave.

No. It was his turn.

There were questions he should ask. His mind was frozen.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been sharp with you.” This was no more her fault than his. And he couldn’t blame her for needing answers. “You have every right to ask whatever questions you need to ask. To make sure the past doesn’t repeat itself.”

He noticed her lips trembling. And felt shaky, too. All over. His thoughts. His body. His heart. The ground he stood on. Everything was shaky.

“I’ll pay for everything.”

That felt right.

His words brought tears to her eyes, and she shook her head.

“I told you, Brett. I’m doing this on my own. I don’t want this child to be supported by someone who isn’t in his or her life. There will be questions. Inferences drawn—you know, ‘he really loves us or he wouldn’t have supported us all these years.’ I know you can’t help how you feel, Brett. I don’t blame you or think any less of you. I just can’t set this baby up for the kind of heartache I’ve felt all these years.” Her voice fell as her eyes continued to glisten.

The words cut into him with a sharpness he could hardly withstand. And even then, he knew she was right. Knew there was nothing he could do to change things.

She was right on all counts.

For once in his life, he wanted to be angry. Wanted to fight back.

There was nothing to fight.

“You were right about one other thing,” he told her as she turned to go.

“What?” She paused at the door, looking back at him.

“Nothing’s changed.”

He meant between them. Her needing things he couldn’t give. Him trying to do the right thing and hurting her in the process. It wasn’t until later, after he’d calmed down enough to think and was replaying their exchange over and over in his mind, that it dawned on him that she could have taken his statement another way.

“Nothing’s changed,” he’d said. Had she thought he was referring to how he’d felt the last time she’d told him she was pregnant? Referring to the things he’d told her by the pool that afternoon? About him not wanting the child? Not wanting to be a father? The panic and dread.

He hadn’t been. And didn’t ask himself if those same feelings even applied. At the moment, they were moot.

He tried to call her. To apologize. And explain.

She didn’t pick up.

* * *

BRETT WAITED FOR Ella after work on Saturday. He’d rescheduled a dinner meeting and given away courtside basketball tickets to be back in Santa Raquel by three so he could find her car before she got to it and drove away. Luckily she’d found a spot in the on-site lot. He didn’t have access to the garage.

He wasn’t going to call and just be sent to voice mail. And he didn’t want to risk having to make small talk with Chloe at the apartment.

She stopped short when she saw him standing there among all the vehicles lining the lot. She’d made it to about five feet from her car.

“It’s okay,” he said, holding up both hands as he went to meet her. Her scrubs were purple again, with primary-colored teddy bears, and her hair was up in its usual ponytail. “I’m just here to apologize. And to explain. When I said that nothing’s changed, I was referring to me trying to do the right thing and hurting you instead. I wasn’t talking about the baby or my feelings about the pregnancy in any way.”

She nodded. Looked toward her car but didn’t leave.

“Ella? Can we talk about this?” he asked, following her. “I was up most of the night and don’t imagine you got much sleep, either. We’re having a baby. We need to figure this out.”

Her expression closed to him, Ella tilted up her face. “You’re right. I was up most of the night and after a full shift, I’m exhausted. But I know this, Brett. I’m going to be happy. I’m sorry for the cards you were dealt. I’m sorry for me that you are my one and only. But I’m not going to spend my life unhappy because things aren’t different. I’ve been given a second chance. I’m embracing it for what it is. Thrilled that it’s here at all. And I can’t afford to deal with your issues anymore. I can’t keep opening myself up to being hurt when you can’t come through for me. And I can’t keep hurting you, either, making you feel like you’re doing something wrong all the time, just because you don’t need the same things I do, or feel as I do, or think like I do.”

Her blows bounced off him like arrows against steel. He stood and took every one of them. Because he’d spent one of the most uncomfortable nights of his life. And that was saying a lot. Because Ella’s shocking news was forcing him to face up to the life he’d been dealt.

“I withhold affection when you need it most. You can’t trust me to be caring when you need to be cared for.”

“Maybe. Probably.”

“When you miscarried, I thought I’d been given a sign. A reprieve. I could be a selfish bastard and stay regardless of who got hurt because it was what I wanted. In spite of the fact that you knew I’d seen a divorce lawyer, you weren’t going to kick me out. But I saw what it was doing to you, El. Every time I got quiet, your shoulders would hunch. Your face got tight. It’s like a little more of you died every day. I’d try to think of something to say and just came up blank. And I knew my reprieve, my second chance, was to set you free.”

“Maybe, but you wanted out, Brett. That’s the truth that finally dawned on me. You didn’t try to get help. You just saw an attorney. And later, just left. You aren’t your dad, you know. You’re your mom. You check out. And maybe you can’t help that. I just know I can’t do it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she said then, her eyes warming and glistening, as if she might cry again. But then her shoulders slumped and the softness came back into her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said again, giving her head a little shake. “I’m not myself right now. I don’t mean to be so hard on you. Or so harsh. It’s just...I’m... I have to be strong, Brett.”

He nodded. Wanted to take her in his arms and promise her that everything would be all right. That he’d be strong for her when she couldn’t be.

But he knew he couldn’t.

Ella couldn’t take any more empty promises.

“I was going to call you,” she said, her voice gentle. “I was wrong yesterday. So wrong. I want you to know that as far as I’m concerned, you have no obligation here, at all. I’m perfectly okay and capable of doing this on my own. But I have no right to keep you out of your child’s life. This baby is yours as much as mine and you are welcome to whatever involvement you want to have. If that’s financial, then so be it. This baby is mine, but only on loan. I can’t control every aspect of his or life—including his relationship with his father. And I just can’t do...you and me...anymore.”

She was beautiful. And so far away. And so right. Again.

“Let me ask you something...”

She waited.

He stood in the employee parking lot of a children’s hospital and felt as though he was somehow fighting for his life.

“Knowing what you know about me, if I was around, would you really trust me not to abuse my child?” The question was purely hypothetical, but one that had repeated itself over and over as he relived the last time she’d carried his child.

“Of course I would. It’s not a matter of what I think of you, Brett, it’s a matter of what you think of yourself that’s always been the problem.”

The arrows hit flesh that time.

“Who knows, maybe with you living separately from us, if you are involved in the baby’s life, you won’t feel so afraid of getting out of control. You’ll have your own place to go to when you’re angry, so maybe you won’t be so paranoid about what you might or might not have in you. All I know is that you’ve taken almost thirteen years of my life, Brett. You can’t have any more.”

Unlocking her car, she flung her bag over to the passenger seat, climbed in and drove away.

But not before Brett had seen the tears in her eyes.

And he knew she meant every word she’d said. If, upon hearing the night before that Ella was having his baby, he’d had even half a hope that they might find some kind of future together, she’d just snuffed it out.

* * *

ELLA WAS CLIMBING into bed the next night—Sunday, one day after Brett had met her outside work—when her phone rang.

Recognizing his number, she slid her legs under the covers and sat back against her headboard while she answered.

Best not to deal with Brett lying down.

“Is this too late?”

“No.”

“I’m in a little town in Kansas, getting ready to attend the meeting of a potential new client in the morning, a nonprofit delegation of farmers, and my concentration is not what I need it to be. I want to help you. And it occurs to me that I don’t know how. I know that I can’t give you what you need most, but surely there are ways I can help.”

Oh, God. Her emotions were too vulnerable right now...she couldn’t let herself get soft. But soft was exactly how Brett’s words made her feel.

“I don’t have the answer to that, Brett,” she said, giving him complete sincerity when what would have been better for both of them was more of her stiff upper lip. “You are who you are. It’s not fair to you that you try to be anyone else. None of this is fair.”

“So...I was thinking...I would like updates on the baby. I want to know everything. Every step of the way. I just don’t want to make things more difficult for you.”

He sounded so stilted. So unnatural. Because he was trying to be something he was not?

Was trying too hard?

Biting off the words this is difficult for me, she said instead, “How about if I text or call when I have something to report?” she asked, picturing a relationship similar to the one he shared with his mother.

“That would be good.”

“Good...so...good...”

“I’d like to start now,” he said before she could get the “‘night” part of her salutation out of her mouth.

“You’re two months along. Based on what my memory’s telling me, you’ll soon be hearing the heartbeat and having an ultrasound. At some point, you’ll be able to choose whether or not you want to know the sex. And you need to be thinking about birthing classes...”

Whoa. He’d remembered all that? She started to smile. And then sobered. What was she getting herself into here?

He was the baby’s father. What choice did she have?

“I have my first appointment tomorrow. And when the time comes, I’m thinking of opting not to know the sex...” At least not until she was further along and had more assurance that she was actually going to carry the baby to term. “And I’m thinking about having the baby here, in the apartment, in my garden tub.”

“At home? Is that safe?” She wanted to be able to ignore his concern, not to be warmed by it, but failed. Miserably.

And spent the next ten minutes discussing details of the birthing process as she’d heard it described by the mother of one of her patients a few months before—an option many women were choosing these days.

“Can I be there?”

Heart pounding, she took a deep breath. “If you want to be.” This was his child. He had rights, though not the right to be present at the actual birth if she didn’t want him there.

“I think I do.”

He felt that way now. But she knew him. If he started to get too uptight, he’d change his mind. When Brett’s emotions started to get out of control, Brett got going.

Just as Jeff was learning ways to be accountable to and responsible for his negative emotions, Brett had been learning to avoid his since he was a little boy.

She’d finally started really listening to him.

He couldn’t help how he felt or what he needed. Not any more than she could help loving him. She got that now, too.

And wished him good-night.