Текст книги "The Good Father"

Автор книги: Taylor Quinn Tara

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Feeling a bit self-conscious about her purple scrubs with pink teddy bears on them, Ella ran a hand through her recently released hair, hoping that the long curls would detract from all the pinkness, as she walked toward him.

And then she noticed that about half of the clientele was dressed like her. Clearly the place was a popular hangout with hospital staff. And there had just been a shift change.

Now slightly self-conscious for another reason, Ella glanced around to make sure that Jason wasn’t there, and was relieved when she didn’t see him. Because she didn’t want him to see her with Brett and lose interest?

Or because she didn’t want another man approaching her while she was in the company of the man she’d promised to love and cherish until death did them part?

“I ordered,” Brett said as she slid onto her stool and glanced at the bucket with a yet unopened bottle of wine on their table.

A glance at the label showed her that he hadn’t forgotten what she liked.

So Brett.

Other than his inability to open his heart, or share it with anyone, the man was pretty much perfect in every way.

“Good, I’m parched,” she told him, fiddling with her glass rather than looking at him.

Parched? Who drank wine when they were parched?

But to make good on her word, she picked up the ice water in front of her and took down half the glass.

As if on call, their waiter appeared before she’d set down her water glass and opened the wine.

Brett ordered a fresh vegetable appetizer for them to share, and the waiter excused himself.

“To good work,” Brett said, raising his glass to her.

Don’t lift your glass, a voice warned from inside her. Don’t honor the old tradition. Brett’s glass hung suspended. If she didn’t tap hers to his, she’d be rude.

And it wasn’t as if he’d toasted to their future, or their love, or even just to them, as he’d done in the past.

His glass remained in the air.

Ella lifted hers. Touched his. And felt as if they’d just kissed.

* * *

HE’D HAVE PREFERRED to wait until the wine had had time to make his job easier, but as soon as he’d seen Ella cross the restaurant floor, he’d known he had to present his proposal and leave.

He had some inane response to the woman. Like an allergic reaction. Quite irritating.

“I stopped in Palm Desert last night and saw Jeff,” he said as soon as the waiter had poured and departed.

He had his mental agenda prepared.

“After speaking with him, I believe we need to take action to resolve this issue.”

Ella gave him her full attention. But the way her fingers were caressing the stem of her wineglass was distracting.

He should have stuck to iced tea. And taken his chances with her mood.

“What does that mean, take action? What kind of action? You aren’t suggesting that we turn him over to the authorities, are you? Because that’s not what this is about, Brett. The whole point here is early intervention. To help him before it gets that far.”

He’d been right about her irascibility. In a past life, at home after a hard day like hers obviously had been, he would have suggested that she drink some more wine, the words accompanied by a grin, and followed up with a kiss, to which she would have responded with all of the tension inside her and they’d have made love hard, followed by a softer, slower coupling.

They might or might not have made it to the kitchen for dinner...

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

The apology drew him out of his mental fog. And made him aware of his lack of response in what was only a business conversation.

“No apology necessary,” he said, pushing everything away but that meeting’s agenda. “And no, I’m not suggesting we call in the authorities. Nothing along those lines. On the contrary, I’m not convinced that the root of Jeff and Chloe’s problem is Jeff.”

Ella blinked. “What?”

A woman from the next table looked over.

“How can you not think the problem is Jeff?” She leaned forward, her voice quieter, but no less intense. “He’s been verbally abusive and now has escalated to pushing and shoving and restraining. You know as well as I do what the next step in that progression will be.”

“Jeff admitted to taking out his work frustration on her,” Brett said. “Much like you’re doing with me now.” He had a talent for getting to the point.

Sitting back, Ella took a sip of her wine, watching him.

He withstood her scrutiny with ease. He was a professional at the boardroom table.

“I asked Chloe about Jeff’s behavior,” he continued. “When you took Cody to play in the sandbox. She said pretty much the same thing he did. That he snapped at her, said things he’d give anything to be able to take back, simply out of frustration. That he apologized. Bad days are a part of life. Husbands and wives fight. People say things they don’t mean. None of that equals abuse.”

“I had a feeling she downplayed things for you,” Ella said, her tone equally professional now. Equally serious, too. “She wants your help. And she thinks, as I do, that you’re our only real hope in getting Jeff to see that he needs help before things get completely out of control. But she’s also a bit intimidated by the fact that you’re the founder of a women’s shelter. She’s afraid that you’re going to turn Jeff in, and she most definitely doesn’t want that.”

Should he be straight with her? Let her know that he was working with a different set of facts? That he wasn’t attempting to get Jeff to admit that he had anger issues that needed attention? “Jeff thinks that Chloe is going through some kind of emotional blip. Similar to the postpartum depression she suffered from after Cody was born.”

“I know what Jeff thinks. We need to change his thinking. He has to be able to see that this is his problem, and if he keeps blaming someone else, he could very well lose his family and maybe even end up in jail.”

“But what if he isn’t wrong?”

“You think this is all Chloe? That she’s making up the incidents of verbal abuse? The shoves and pushes? Of slamming Cody into a chair so hard he screamed?”

“I’m just suggesting that maybe she’s embellished them in the retelling to you because she’s slowly losing parts of herself by always putting Jeff and Cody first and is struggling with a way to understand herself and be happy.”

He knew when Ella took a long breath that she was considering his words. One of the things he’d loved so much about her was her ability to take a step back and look at both sides of a situation.

With one exception. She hadn’t been able to see the possibility that he could one day turn violent. Something that had, at least partially, ended their marriage.

He lost faith in her ability to hear his truth. She knew about his upbringing, of course. Understood and sympathized. And was completely certain he only suffered from abuse-based fear, not from the same latent violent tendencies that had struck his dad.

Her refusal to see, to believe in the possibility, had made it impossible for him to continue to share those fears with her. She gave them no credence. They fell on deaf ears...

But as good as she was at putting herself in other people’s shoes, she’d never seemed to figure out, or understand, that if he opened up and gave her all of the emotions he kept in check, all of the passion and the love and the joy, he’d also risk exposing her to the shadowy side of all of that. The anger that had lurked inside his father just waiting for a life challenge that was too big for him to handle to trigger it. And could possibly lurk inside him, too.

The tension that had built within him during the repeated fertility treatments had been a sign to him. He’d thought, at first, that he was experiencing the normal reactions most couples in their situation experienced. He’d only realized, after Ella finally got pregnant, and he couldn’t share in her joy, that his tension stemmed from something else. He wasn’t prepared to be a father. Wasn’t willing to have a child, as his parents had, knowing that at some point, he could turn from a loving father into a monster...

Ella wasn’t aware of the danger. But he was.

“I saw the bruises, Brett.” Ella’s voice was completely different now. Soft. Almost pleading. And a shock to him, following on his thoughts...

“Chloe told me she was bruised when she came here.” He gentled his voice, as well. Because Jeff and Chloe—they didn’t fit the pattern of abuse. They were just a normal couple. “She said she fell into a doorjamb during the last argument. He’d said something to her about bombarding him with her crap and pushed past her just as she was stepping back away from him...”

Breaking eye contact, Ella took a sip of her wine. Watched as the couple at the next table, the older woman who’d stared when Ella raised her voice, paid their bill and left.

“They had a victim at the Stand a while back,” Brett said. “She was young. Fifteen. She claimed that her brother had hit her. More than once. He was older, about our age. The brother had raised her from infancy...”

He had Ella’s full attention again.

“He claimed that he’d never touched her. And that he wouldn’t ever do so. There was no indication through medical or school records that there’d ever been an issue with him. Or her, either, for that matter. But it was clear to Sara and Lila and others that the girl was afraid of her brother. And that she’d been abused. Charges were going to be pressed against him, on her behalf. He stood to lose custody of her. And would have, if not for one person, an attorney, who believed him enough to do some checking on her own.”

“You said would have. I’m guessing that means he wasn’t charged?”

“He didn’t abuse her. There were other things going on. He’d lied to his siblings about his past. His little sister found out his secret at the same time she witnessed something else that weakened her trust in him. She felt angry. Afraid. And had to get away from him.”

“But he’d never hurt her?”

“More like he was father-of-the-year material.”

“But her distress was valid.”

She was getting it.

“Yes.”

“You’re saying that you think something else could be going on here with Jeff and Chloe.”

“I’m saying I believe Jeff when he tells me he’s not abusing his wife. I also know he doesn’t fit the profile. He’s never been involved in any sort of violent activity. He’s never shown signs of having a temper or anger issues. He comes from a good, loving family. Your folks were respectful of you both. And still are.”

Other than being gone more than they were around. Traveling through North America as full-time RVers, working in various parks as they went, going on their eighth year now.

“He doesn’t have an alcohol problem, has an easygoing disposition and is financially secure. He’s socially adept, confident and is clearly devoted to his family.

“All of this leads me to believe that something else is going on here.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, like Jeff thinks, Chloe is suffering from depression. She went from being a career person, managing a restaurant with the hopes of owning her own someday, to being a stay-at-home mom.”

“That was her choice. Jeff was happy to support whichever decision she made, to stay at home or keep working.”

“And maybe it was the choice she wanted to make, the one that she believes is best, but it’s an enormous life change. There could be some residual depression involved. And maybe subconsciously, Jeff is reacting to that. Maybe he’s more irritable with her because of it, which feeds her feeling that his anger with her is escalating...”

“I know that she loves her work at the Stand,” Ella said. “She’s exhausted, but clearly enjoys what she’s doing.”

Ella paused and then asked, “Did you ever meet him?”

He frowned. Wondering what he’d missed.

“The brother you were talking about. Guardian to the fifteen-year-old resident at the Stand.”

“Of course not. I have nothing to do with any of that. You know that.”

“You still get the reports.”

“Yes.” The place was his responsibility. Others did the work, but ultimately the buck stopped with him. He had to read the reports.

Ella nodded and sat back as their vegetable tray was delivered with a chrome bowl filled with dip in the middle of it.

As soon as her hors d’oeuvres plate was in front of her, she filled it. He watched, knowing before she reached where her fingers were going to land. Carrots, celery, broccoli and cauliflower. No peppers. Ever. The cucumbers weren’t peeled.

She passed them by just as he’d expected.

He paid attention. And when his study—of life, of situations, of people—presented choices, he made the one that made the most sense.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

BRETT POURED HIMSELF a little more wine and topped off Ella’s glass, too, though neither of them had had much to drink, and looked out over the street of homes below them. Provincial, large and in pristine condition, the old Victorian homes stood tall and proud. And yet, intrinsically vulnerable, as well. To the weather coming in off the ocean. To a modern-day society that wanted everything to be new.

Homes that were similar to his own.

The plumbing was a challenge. Electricity had had to be rewired to be up to code and still had hiccups now and then. But there was affection in knowing the home’s eccentricities so well. Security and a kind of beauty that couldn’t be created overnight. Or purchased.

Like good art, he could enjoy their value.

And like good art, he could enjoy a moment sipping wine with a woman who, while young, had the wisdom of age and wore her value beautifully.

“You had a rough day today.” The words came as she was down to her last stick of celery. He’d shied away from personal conversation. But he was confident that they were on the same road where Jeff and Chloe were concerned, which to him meant that getting her to agree to the plan was no more than a formality at this point.

A presentation and acceptance that would end their meeting.

Taking a short breather from the business at hand was perfectly acceptable. Maybe even advisable to further the good working relationship they were establishing.

He wished he’d held his tongue as the shadows came back over her face. Why did he have such a propensity for hurting her? Almost as though it came naturally to him.

Old feelings of guilt and frustration filled him. Panic would follow. He knew the way it worked. Brett reached for a carrot. Took a sip of wine. Distracted himself long enough for the sensations to pass.

“I’m assuming you’ve read the emails,” Ella said while he was busy tending to himself.

“I haven’t seen anything since first thing this morning,” he told her. “As soon as the day’s meetings were over I headed to the hospital and then here.”

“Your mother didn’t text you?”

“No.” Pulling out his phone to check for any missed communication, he asked, “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Lila must not have been in touch with her yet,” Ella said. “It’s not like it’s an emergency as far as the Stand is concerned. Not like we can do anything, and if we all got in 911 mode for every at-risk woman we dealt with, we’d never get out...”

“El...” He reached forward and touched her hand. As he’d done a million times before when she thought out loud before letting him know what was going on.

Getting ahead of herself, he’d always called it.

“I got ahead of myself, didn’t I?”

Every nerve in his system tightened as she voiced the words running silently through his mind.

“It’s Nora Burbank,” she continued, unaware of the discomfort he was feeling. The connection that had just been revealed to him.

Him. Her. Still of like minds.

He’d thought the divorce had taken care of that.

“What about Nora?” The woman Ella had brought to the Stand from the hospital, he reminded himself. Her infant was Ella’s patient.

“Her baby was released today, and she took him home. To their permanent home.”

“I thought arrangements had been made for her to live at the Stand.”

“They had. She didn’t tell them she wasn’t coming back. We wouldn’t have known at all, until she didn’t show up downstairs for her ride, if an employee hadn’t noticed the change she’d made to her address on the discharge papers.”

He frowned. “I’m assuming the High Risk team has been notified?”

“Yes.”

So there was nothing more they could do for now. Except add another name to the prayer list. Keep a close eye out. And hope.

“I can’t believe she did this, Brett. I don’t get it. She was desperate for help. And was so grateful when it was provided to her. She couldn’t have faked that.”

“I’m sure she didn’t,” he said, and it dawned on him. This was a first for Ella. Her first domestic-violence case. Her first case on the High Risk team. Her first flesh-and-blood introduction to the manifestations of the insidious disease.

“She loves that baby, Brett. Much more than she loves her husband...”

“But she’s a victim, El.”

“Not if she stays away from him.”

“That’s a misconception. She’s a victim whether she’s currently being abused or not. Much like an alcoholic is an alcoholic even when he’s not around alcohol. She’s mentally and emotionally vulnerable to his conditioning.”

“Brainwashed, you mean.” She was drawing on the table with her finger.

“In essence.”

“I read about some of that, but you should have seen her, Brett. She was so glad to have a way to take back control of her life...”

“She had moments where she was able to think clearly. But in the beginning, those moments will be less frequent than the ones where she feels out of sync with herself every time she goes against his conditioning.”

He heard the passion in his tone and sat back. Blamed the wine.

“I spoke with her as soon as I got to work this morning and was told of her plans. When she heard that child protective services had cleared them, she called him,” Ella was saying. “She said she wanted him to know that she hadn’t gotten him in trouble. That he was free and not being looked at anymore. She said that as soon as he heard her voice he started going on about how wrong he’d been, how sorry he was, how things were going to be different. He said it took her leaving him like she did to open his eyes and that from now on, she’ll be in charge of their son’s care. That he’ll do whatever she tells him from now on.”

“You don’t believe him.” Neither did Brett, but he was understandably biased in cases like these. He’d heard his own father make similar promises when his sister had been in remission.

And then she’d relapse again.

First thing in the morning he was going to use some of his investigative skills and do a thorough online check on Ted Burbank. Before the day was done he’d know if the man had so much as ever gotten a speeding ticket.

And he didn’t kid himself about why, either. Yes, he’d do what he could to keep Nora safe, but there was no way he could keep track of every abuser of every resident they’d ever had at the Stand.

It wasn’t technically legal, either, with him having access to the residents’ personal information.

No, he was doing this for Ella.

Because he knew her well enough to know that she’d blame herself if something happened to that young woman and her son...

“I’ve never met Nora’s husband,” she was saying. “But based on what I’ve read, and seen with her, I don’t believe a word he said. If he was truly sorry, he’d get himself into some kind of program. And he’d want Nora to stay someplace safe until he was confident that he had his issues under control.”

Which was exactly what Chloe was telling Ella she was trying to do.

And he was back to where he’d started—knowing that getting her to cooperate with his plan wasn’t going to be easy.

Knowing, too, that his idea was their best shot at reaching their goal—getting Chloe back home with Jeff. Though their ideas of what it would take to fix the situation were different—he and Jeff believed that Chloe needed time alone to find herself, while Chloe and Ella hoped that the separation would prompt Jeff to acknowledge his anger issues and seek help—the time apart was key. And the only way that Jeff was going to be able to give Chloe that time was to see her again and assure himself that their love was still there. As it stood, the last time they’d been together had been angry. If they could spend some time together and then separate on good terms, Jeff’s chances of giving Chloe what she needed were far greater.

And yet, to help his friend, Brett had to put his own emotional health in the direct line of fire.

A line he’d told himself he’d never approach again.

Brett took another sip of wine, uncomfortably aware that he could well be facing the challenge of his life.

* * *

EITHER SHE NEEDED more wine, or she needed to go home to bed. Ella was wiped out.

“So, are we done here?” she asked as she finally finished her glass of wine. One glass was all she’d had. Over the space of an hour.

She could afford to have another and stared at the bottle as though it would tip itself over above her glass.

“No.” Picking up the bottle, Brett poured a little more wine into each of their glasses. More than half the bottle remained. “I called you here to discuss an idea, and I haven’t yet told you about it.”

She thought back. They’d discussed Chloe and Jeff. It had felt as though they were on the same page for the first time since this whole thing had begun. Except that she knew Chloe’s bruises were Jeff’s fault. And knew that her brother needed help.

And they hadn’t actually decided what to do for the other couple. Hadn’t discussed ways to help.

So how had more than an hour passed?

And why had she let it? She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to get sucked in by Brett’s magnetism again.

“What’s the idea?” she asked.

“Each day that passes without your brother knowing where his wife is, or understanding why she’s gone, he gets a little more desperate. Not as a sick man with control issues, but as a man in love with his wife, who’s just had his life disrupted and isn’t sure it’ll ever be right again.”

“I know—that’s where you came in. I’d hoped you’d help him see why Chloe left so that he can get help, and his world can be right again.”

She still wasn’t convinced that Jeff didn’t have a very real and dangerous problem.

“I don’t want my brother falsely accused,” she said. “But I don’t think Chloe imagined all of this. When you listen to her over a period of time, you hear how the fights escalate, and I think she’s right to be concerned. I was concerned,” she admitted. “I’m the one who suggested she get out of there. She thought she could stay with him and help him to see that he needed help. I was scared to death that if she did, Jeff would really hurt her. To the point of her needing a doctor or the police being called, and then there’d be no going back.”

“But if the situation continues as is, especially now that Sara’s involved, he could start looking like he’s stalking her when in reality he’s just a desperate man trying to save his marriage.”

“Regardless of what’s happening, she needs time apart from him to get herself straightened out, Brett.”

“I agree.”

Okay. Good. She met his gaze. Almost smiled at him. That intimate, it’s-me-and-you smile that they’d shared when other people were around.

“The other problem is that Cody’s birthday is coming up, and Jeff has every right to see his son for his birthday.” Brett’s words stole the smile before it could escape.

Jeff could push things. Get the law involved. And win his birthday party with his son. But at what cost?

They’d be right back where they started.

“I asked Jeff if he’d be willing to give Chloe total silence, no phone calls, no attempts to see or speak with her, if we could arrange a weekend away first—the five of us—to celebrate Cody’s birthday. A weekend would give him enough time with Chloe to celebrate their son’s birthday, but also for them to reconnect. Just enough to reassure him that he and Chloe aren’t becoming strangers.”

The five of us. They were the only words she heard.

For a few wonderful years it had been the four of them. And then she’d gotten pregnant, and it was going to be the five of them.

Now here they were, all these years later. And Chloe and Jeff’s baby made the fifth, not hers.

The five of them...

“El? I promise I’d stay out of your way.” Brett was talking faster than normal.

This really meant a lot to him.

Which told her he thought it would work.

And since it meant him having to spend time with her, he must think it was the only thing that would work.

“Jeff has agreed to leave her alone,” he said, meeting her gaze. “That means he’s not going to come off looking like a stalker.”

He knew where she hurt. And how to work her.

He’d said he didn’t want to hurt her ever again. He’d had tears in his eyes at the time. The night he’d told her he was walking away from their marriage forever.

She’d believed him then. And believed him now, too.

A weekend in his company.

She didn’t know if she could handle it.

She loved the man. Always had. And knew now that she always would.

But he wasn’t good for her.

“El, will you talk to Chloe? At least see what she thinks about the idea?”

She didn’t feel as though she had any other choice.

“Okay,” she said.

And drank her wine so she didn’t have to look at him again. Make eye contact. Feel that special connection between them.

How could she, and take care of herself?