Текст книги "The Good Father"

Автор книги: Taylor Quinn Tara

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

ON MONDAY, ELLA’S day off, she was in a big-box store, buying moving boxes. In their conversation the night before, Brett had indicated that she could move as soon as she was ready, and so she was getting ready. She didn’t want to leave the unpacking for when the baby was bigger.

It had all made sense to her when she’d gotten up with a smile on her face that morning.

But as she was going to load her boxes in her cart, she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. In a baggy shirt and jeans, she didn’t look like herself at all. She looked like a pregnant housewife. Someone she’d once been.

Someone she desperately wanted to be.

And she stopped.

What in the hell was she doing? Moving into Brett’s house? How would that work if she ever managed to fall out of love with him and meet someone else?

Was she, by moving into his home, resigning herself to a life without a mate? A life without romantic love?

When she started to shake, she knew that she was in over her head. She had to talk to someone.

And the only people she felt she could comfortably confide in were at The Lemonade Stand.

Leaving her empty cart for the next customer, Ella left the store. It was her turn to admit she needed help.

* * *

BRETT TRIED TO call Ella on his lunch break in Seattle. When she didn’t pick up he left a message for her that the paperwork to transfer his house over to her would be complete by the end of the week. If she wanted to move in prior to that, she was simply to let him know, and he’d accommodate her.

She was welcome to whatever furniture of his she wanted. What she didn’t want, he’d either move to the apartment or have put in storage until he found another place.

He wasn’t in a hurry.

The house, the yard—they’d all be ready and waiting for her.

And when he hung up, he wasn’t feeling nervous about the plan at all. He wasn’t worried about finding another perfect house for him to live in. He just wasn’t fueled by a need to do so. He had nothing to prove to himself.

To prove to himself? Was that what his life had become? A series of accomplishments that were all designed to prove...what?

That he could control his life and thereby control himself?

He texted Ella as he finished lunch, just to tell her he’d left a voice mail.

There was no response.

During the afternoon break he called Ella’s cell phone. Monday was her day off. And she always responded to him, at least with a text. When she didn’t answer, he tried his mother. If there’d been an emergency with the High Risk team, she’d know.

At the same time, he texted Jeff, just to ask how things were.

Jeff texted back immediately. He and Chloe and Cody were spending the afternoon at a carnival that was in town.

If there’d been an emergency, Jeff and Chloe would have known about it. They were listed as her next of kin. She’d already told him that.

And Brett forced himself to calm down. Ella was fine. Brett just wasn’t a priority in her life.

Because that was the way he’d wanted it.

* * *

“I THOUGHT I was over him.” It was late afternoon. Ella sat with Lila in her little apartment at The Lemonade Stand. She’d already spent an hour talking with Sara, telling the other woman her life story, or at least the parts that pertained to Brett.

Neither Sara nor Lila knew, of course, that the man she was talking about was the founder of The Lemonade Stand. She couldn’t betray Brett, even now.

“I went through all the counseling,” she said again now. Repeating herself because no matter how many times she explained things, she couldn’t find the road that would take her out of the past.

Lila had been sitting, mostly silent, for the past hour.

“It’s not like I don’t want to say no to him,” she said. “I do in my mind. But my feelings don’t follow my head. I want to move into his house. I want to live there. I want him in my life.”

“Because you love him.”

“Yes, but it’s destructive. Because he’s right. I wasn’t happy with him. I needed more. I could have done more, too. I see that now. I didn’t accept him for who he was, but for who I thought he could be—in terms of our relationship. But even if I had accepted him for him, I still would have been incredibly lonely. Because I need more than he can give.”

“Can or will?”

“What?”

“You need more than he can give. Or will give?”

“I think with him that’s one and the same. He can’t let himself open up because he’s afraid of experiencing the full strength of his emotions. So the will is the choice not to let himself, but the fear makes it so he can’t.”

“But this...you being here...it’s not really about him. Is it?”

Ella shook her head.

“I’m ashamed,” she said.

“Of what?”

“I’m so busy thinking of my own life, of how hurt I’ve been and how to prevent being hurt again, and in doing so, I’m hurting him.”

“Sometimes pain is inevitable.”

“Yes, but I was so certain when I came here that I was strong enough to move on with my life. But the truth is, I’m not strong enough to stop loving him. I say I will, but I don’t. We’ve been apart all these years and here I am, pregnant with his child and ready to move into his house. Just accepting what he decides he can give in spite of the fact that I know it won’t be enough.”

She stopped. Her words hanging in the room. Scaring her more than she’d thought possible.

“I’m weak where he’s concerned,” she said. “It’s like my feelings for him have some kind of power over me and I let them manipulate me. And not only do I get hurt, but he does, too.”

The pattern was slowly showing itself to her. The books she’d read. The things she’d told Chloe. The loneliness she was trying to run from.

“And then how do you hurt him?”

“Because I need what I need. Want what I want. I tell him how much I love him, but I don’t accept him for who he is.” He’d said she’d been so busy telling him what she saw in him, she’d quit listening to what he saw. Who he was inside. So he’d quit talking to her about it. “I set standards he can’t possibly meet.”

“Maybe so. But your needs and wants are a natural part of you and speaking about them, asking for them, is healthy.”

“I didn’t come to Santa Raquel for my new job, did I?”

“Why did you come here?”

“Because I knew he lived in town. I came here to be close to him. I’m like a pathetic groupie. I don’t get mad at him, I just hang around and let him make us both miserable. I just can’t believe it took me so long to figure it all out.”

“Our minds have a way of presenting things to us when we’re ready to accept them,” Lila said. “It’s called getting clarity, my dear.”

Her mind went blank.

And then started racing.

“Growing up in an abusive home, not having stability or security even in the simplest of things, instilled in him the need to be in control above all else. And he and I both suffer because of it.”

It was all so clear.

So frighteningly, horrifyingly clear.

“And because I love him, I put up with his inability to open up, to love and share a life with me. I know he can’t help it, so I hang around. But I feel helpless. And eventually hopeless.”

All these months, she’d been thinking she was proving her ability to be over Brett. To help Chloe and Nora and others take back ownership of their minds. Their hearts. Themselves. And while Chloe had grown stronger, Ella had fallen prey all over again...

“He must be a pretty fine man, this ex-husband of yours,” Lila said, her eyes glistening as though she might be holding back tears.

“He’s a great man, Lila. And I don’t just say that because I love him. I look at what he’s done with his life, apart from me, of course. He is a man who has a national reputation for honesty. He got a lot of press at a young age due to a business he’d developed and sold. He was the golden boy everyone could trust. And still is. Believe me, some would love to find dirt on him, but it’s just not there.

“He has never once given me cause to doubt his integrity.”

“It sounds like he’s a man worth fighting for.”

The words stopped her.

Again.

“I thought the plan was for me to be free of him once and for all.”

“The plan is for you to be healthy.”

“How can I be healthy while I’m controlled by the love I feel for him?”

“Are you sure that’s a bad thing? If you were in an abusive situation and continued to go back to it, that would be unhealthy. But from what you’ve said, that’s not the case here.”

“It can’t be healthy, though. It’s like we’re both beating our heads against the wall. We just keep hurting each other.”

“I’m suggesting that maybe love is pushing you toward him for a reason. You love him. And maybe it’s that love that keeps sending you back to him. Love isn’t easy, my dear. Nor is it always wrapped in pretty packages. Sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes you have to go through hell to get to where you need to be. But the love is strong enough to carry you through.”

The words were softly spoken, but they exploded inside her.

She felt as if she was fighting a losing battle. Because she was. She was trying to fight love, and there was no way she was going to win that one.

And still, settling into a relationship where she’d never be happy or fulfilled didn’t feel right, either.

“So what do I do?” Ella rubbed her hand over her growing belly. Taking comfort from the being who nestled there so trustingly.

Lila glanced at Ella’s hand caressing her baby, a sad expression on her face, and Ella wondered again about the woman. Word through Chloe was that no one really knew much about Lila’s past. “I’m not an expert on love, sweetie,” she said. “But it seems to me that when love is your guiding force, then you need to listen to your heart, not your head, to find your answers.”

Her heart started to thud. The air cooled. It heated. Ella wanted to grin. And to cry.

“You think I should do whatever I can to get him to try again?” It was what she wanted, wasn’t it? In her deepest heart.

“I’m not a counselor,” Lila said. “And I can’t tell you that. From what you say, he’s probably facing some very real issues. I’m only saying that your heart is not accepting the choices your mind is making. You might want to find out why.”

Her heart would have her running to Brett. Her heart would have her willing to accept whatever crumbs of himself he could give her. Her heart would have her hoping that someday he’d trust himself enough to love her back.

She couldn’t take any more chances on hope.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

THERE WAS STILL no word from Ella when Brett shut down his phone and boarded the plane home that night. He must have scared her, offering her his home. Perhaps it had seemed like nothing more than a grand gesture.

He’d meant only to give her every part of himself that he could. Because he couldn’t give her what she wanted...

Brett had come full circle. Sitting on the plane after his meeting, he was grateful for the physical restraint holding him in his seat.

He’d upgraded himself to first class. He needed the space.

And ordered a cocktail. To calm his nerves.

Realizing his hands were once again clenching the armrests, he forced his muscles to relax.

He was a little boy again, a month after his tenth birthday. His little sister had been sick. His parents had just come home from the doctor. They were fighting. His father was saying things Brett didn’t really understand. Using words that had never been spoken in their home before. His mother had started to cry.

Livia, seven at the time, had whispered to him, “I’m scared, Brett.”

She was on the couch, where their father had set her when he’d carried her in. Brett was with her. He’d been reading, but put the Baby-Sitters Little Sister book down and told her, “Don’t worry, I’m here.”

He’d really believed he could protect her. His folks had given him the job when she was born. Before they even brought her home from the hospital. “You’re the big brother,” they’d said, assuring him that his role was as important as anyone else’s. That he wouldn’t get any less time and attention from them.

He’d been only three.

But he remembered hearing that.

In the end, it hadn’t mattered. Nothing he’d known during those first ten years of his life had mattered.

He hadn’t been able to help Livia. She’d been scared of dying, and he’d sat there and watched her die.

He’d told his mother he wouldn’t let his father lay another hand on her, but the old man had just knocked him out cold and hit her anyway.

He’d made a silent promise to Ella that he’d never hurt her.

And that was just about all he’d done.

His plans...they hadn’t worked.

Which left him with...nothing.

No plan. No action to take. No solutions.

The engine droned. A lady across the aisle snored. He was like his mother. He shut down. Cut people off. He couldn’t open his heart to the woman he loved more than life.

He dared anyone to sit there with a sick little girl who was looking to you to make it all better. To listen to his mom get the crap beat out of her because another medical bill had come in, and they didn’t have the money to pay and be too young to get a job.

You have to make your own choices, Brett. How often had he heard his mother say those words?

She’d been so certain he’d make the right ones.

And how could she believe that? He’d made one wrong choice after another.

You aren’t your father, Brett, you’re your mother.

Ella’s words came back to him. Brett closed his eyes. Tried to sleep.

Rage is distorted anger. Usually resulting from internal shame. He’d read that someplace.

Rage triggered fight-or-flight tendencies. Which triggered chemicals in the brain to see everyone in sight as an enemy. To distort thought.

To lash out at everyone.

He knew all of this.

Knew it.

Your instincts are honed to prevent abuse. Ella had told him that when he’d saved Jeff from hitting Chloe.

You’re a great man, just one who’s chosen to live life on the sidelines. He could see Ella standing on the boat in the dark, looking so damned sexy in jeans and that big bulky sweater.

I’m scared, Brett.

Don’t worry, I’m here.

Livia had trusted him.

It’s not a matter of what I think of you, Brett. It’s a matter of what you think of you that’s always been the problem.

Ella had taken a chance on him. Married him. Loved him.

I’m scared, Brett.

You’ve taken thirteen years of my life. You can’t have any more.

And that was really it, wasn’t it?

He’d had his chances. And he’d blown them.

The overhead speaker crackled. The captain’s voice came on asking the flight attendants to prepare the cabin for arrival.

A good man was all he’d ever wanted to be.

He’d taken control of his life, of his behavior.

And now the only thing he could do, was being made to do, was return his seat back to its full upright position and hand over his first-class tray table.

* * *

ELLA CALLED LILA on her way home from work on Wednesday.

“I want, first of all, to thank you,” she said. “For listening the other day.”

“You’re welcome, my dear,” Lila said. “You do understand that it is not my job, nor my training, to give advice...”

“You listened. I think that’s what I needed most.”

“I think so, too.”

She’d spent the last couple nights home alone. Cleaning. Listening to music. Talking to her unborn child. Trying to quiet her mind so she could hear her heart. Brett had been back in town Monday night, and would be again that afternoon. Ever since she’d told him she was pregnant, he’d been keeping her up-to-date on his schedule. He would be calling at some point. Wanting to switch homes with her. She had to know what to tell him.

“Do you think, maybe, we could get dinner or something sometime?”

“I don’t go out much,” Lila said. “But let’s not rule it out.”

Ella took a breath. Wiped her sweaty hand on her scrubs.

“I have one more favor to ask,” she said, resting her hand on the baby mound beneath her shirt.

“So ask.”

“I need to know how I’d go about scheduling a visit for someone at the Stand. Not a woman. Or a child.”

“You want to bring a man here?”

“Yes. My husband. Ex-husband. My baby’s father...” She was blabbering. Talking too fast. Brett was probably never going to agree to the visit.

“I’d like him to meet you and Sara...”

“I’m happy to arrange a visit,” Lila said. “I can’t guarantee I’ll be available, but certainly one of the counselors can be. We don’t often deal with adult male victims since we aren’t equipped to house them here, but we’ve counseled a few.”

“I’m not even sure he’ll agree to come with me.”

“Don’t be disappointed if he doesn’t. From what you tell me, it could be a harder sell than he’s able to take on.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“But if you can get him to agree, you call me. I’ll arrange something.”

“Tonight?”

Lila’s pause prompted her to say, “If I can get him to agree, I want to get him to go before he has a chance to change his mind. I need to try this, before I can move into his home.”

She was listening to her heart.

Brett wouldn’t be allowed down in the bungalows. But that wasn’t what she needed him to see.

“Oh. Okay, fine. Yes, if he agrees, you call, and I’ll get him in.”

“Could you see if Lynn and Sara have plans for tonight? And Maddie? And Darin and Grant? Since they’re the only two men living in the complex? I know they aren’t victims, but... And some of the residents, too? If not, that’s fine, but I thought...I might only get this one shot at this, and I want him to meet some of the others who know and understand and are like...”

Him, she’d been about to say. And stopped herself.

She wanted him to meet the people whose names he’d recognize. People she believed he’d grown to care about—even without having met them.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Lila told her.

And Ella crossed the easiest part of the plan off her mental checklist.

* * *

BRETT HAD HAD a meeting in San Francisco first thing Wednesday morning. Just a stop in to go over the monthly books at a local nonprofit gay and lesbian support house. He flew in and out of Burbank and made it home by midafternoon. But as tempted as he was to drive by the hospital, look for Ella’s car and then wait for her to get off shift just so he could assure himself she was fine, he took a roundabout way home to avoid the hospital altogether.

Changing into his golf clothes, he thought he’d take himself out to hit nine holes. Saw his bike and changed his mind. And his clothes.

In black jeans, a black leather jacket and shades, he felt free, and completely innocuous as he took Coastal Road One and sped along the ocean for more than an hour. He’d always loved riding. From the first time he could remember being on the back of his dad’s bike. He’d been given the ride—which he’d been begging for for what seemed like forever—as a gift for his seventh birthday.

He’d ridden with Jeff for a while in college.

And then quit.

Because eventually, he’d shut out everything in his life that reminded him of the good times he’d had growing up.

Because every single time he revisited them, they led to the bad times. And the pain of their loss served no purpose.

He’d been a fool.

He hadn’t had to lose the joy of riding.

He pulled into his driveway just as the sun was starting to set. Maybe he’d go out for dinner.

Go down to the corner and have a sandwich and a beer.

He hadn’t seen Ella’s car as he’d gone roaring up to the garage. She’d parked it in the gravel parking area to the side of the house—put there by the former owners who’d used the old home as a bed-and-breakfast.

But he saw her as she stood up from a white wicker rocker on his front porch and came toward him.

He stared. Felt his jaw drop. And just kept staring.

In jeans that hugged every inch of her long legs and a tight, short-sleeved T-shirt, the evidence of their child was on display for him to see.

She’d left her hair down, and it curled around her arms and shoulders, her breasts.

“It’s not polite to stare.”

He’d give anything to change his past. And be able to scoop her up and carry her to bed.

“You...look...beautiful.”

“I’ve come to ask a favor, Brett.”

He’d give her the moon if he could. Problem was, most of what she needed, he didn’t have. “Ask. You know I’ll do what I can.” Hooking his helmet over the handlebar of his bike, he smoothed a hand over hair that was too short to stick up far, and walked toward her. Intending to take her into the house.

She stopped on the driveway.

“I want you to trust me. Completely trust me,” she said.

Frowning, Brett studied her face, wishing he still had the ability to read her. “I do trust you. Trust has never been an issue between us.”

“I mean really trust. As in, you’ll go along with whatever I say—whatever I ask of you over the next hour or so. No matter what. Just for an hour. Not a lifetime.”

An hour he could do. Couldn’t he? An hour was only sixty minutes.

Even he wasn’t convinced by his own nod.

“I mean it, Brett. But we’ll take it slow. If you really can’t handle it, as in you’re going to have a heart attack or throw up or start seeing stars or something, you tell me and we’ll stop.”

He had no idea what they were talking about. And Ella’s expression was as serious as he’d ever seen it.

He nodded again.

“So, just so we understand each other, in this exercise, if you start to struggle, you have to tell me.”

He got it. Loud and clear. She was trying to force him to share himself with her.

Standing toe-to-toe with her, Brett, careful not to allow any part of his body to touch any part of hers, looked her straight in the eye. “Just so we understand each other,” he echoed, “I will do my utmost to try to do as you ask.” He could only give what he had to give. But he had to give all of it.

Nothing had changed.

And there was no room for game playing between him and Ella.

Life had been serious from the day they’d met.

Because he’d come to her with issues.

And she’d loved him enough to take them on.

He’d give anything to be able to love her back that much.