Accidentally Yours

by Susan Mallery

  She was still grinning at the thought when she opened the door and saw Linda standing there. But her normally well dressed, pretty, calm friend looked disheveled and blotchy.

  “What’s wrong?” Kerri asked as she pulled her inside. “You’re not okay, so don’t pretend you are.”

  Tears filled Linda’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Desperately sorry. I didn’t know. I knew there were problems, that he blamed himself for what happened, but I never thought it would matter. That it would get in the way. I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.”

  Kerri went cold without even knowing why. “What are we talking about? What’s wrong?”

  Linda swallowed a sob, then wiped her face. “Abram. At the lab. He says he won’t hire the researchers, won’t open the lab up again. He says he’s the reason those people died before, when it exploded. That he killed the town and he won’t risk hurting anyone again. I told him no one blames him, but he doesn’t believe me. I don’t think I can change his mind, Kerri. I walked out. I don’t know what to do.”

  Kerri went cold. It was as if her body temperature dropped fifty degrees. She expected to see chilly clouds when she exhaled.

  Pain was everywhere, starting at her heart and radiating out to her fingers and down her legs. The death of hope was excruciating.

  Then she turned her head and stared down the stubby hallway to the closed door of her son’s room. Cody was finishing his homework in anticipation of a Mariners game on TV that night. She saw his happy smile, his trusting gaze. She remembered her promise to his late father.

  “I’ll talk to him,” she told Linda. “I’ll go see him and convince him. He’s going to get that lab up to speed again and they’re going to find a cure.”

  She would buy a gun and threaten Abram Wallace’s life if she had to, she thought grimly. Because they were too close to a cure to stop now.

  ABRAM WALKED through the quiet office as he headed for his lab. Normally he enjoyed the silence, but not today. Nothing had felt right since Linda had left that morning. He tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter, that she would be back later to scold him about how he wasn’t eating or make him walk out in the sun. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.

  She’d never been anything but supportive, anything but caring. She’d kept him going through the darkest hours of his life after the explosion. After he’d found out people had died because of him.

  Solace, he thought grimly. All he wanted was solace. A chance to forget, even for a minute. But he never forgot. He couldn’t.

  A soft chime caught his attention. He glanced at the security monitor and saw a woman had entered the lab. She wasn’t alone. There was a boy with her. A boy on crutches.

  Abram wanted to bolt for freedom, but something kept him in place. He watched the different cameras as she made her way down the long corridor, following the wide path to the only room with lights on. Then she pushed open the double swinging doors.

  “Dr. Wallace?”

  She didn’t look like any of the people who had died in the explosion, yet there was something about her. It was as if all their ghosts had taken up residence in her and returned to look him in the eye.

  He thought about how some of his colleagues would be surprised that he believed in ghosts. He was a man of science, after all. But he’d learned that there were many things in the world he would never understand and for which explanations would never be found.

  “I’m Dr. Wallace,” he said slowly, willing to accept the punishment in any form.

  “I’m Kerri Sullivan. This is my son, Cody.”

  Cody looked at his mother, who nodded, then the boy moved forward and held out his right hand.

  Abram didn’t want to touch him. He didn’t want to feel his skin or look at him. Because Abram knew what was going to happen to him in excruciating detail.

  Then the scientist in him took over. He shook Cody’s hand, then walked around him, noting the way he stood, the weight he put on his feet and how he used his crutches.

  “He’s old,” Abram said.

  “Nine.”

  “So the disease has progressed slowly.”

  “So far.”

  He turned to Cody. “How do you feel?”

  Cody rolled his eyes. “Mo-om, do I have to do this?”

  Kerri shook her head. “You want to wait back in the reception area?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  The boy went out into the corridor. Kerri turned to Abram.

  “He’s having a lot of good days, lately. Not so much pain. He’s not on anything strong. Yet.”

  But he would be, Abram thought. Soon. Very soon. Then he would be in a wheelchair, then a hospital bed and then he would die.

  Kerri grabbed his arm. “You could save him.”

  Abram took a step back. “No. I can’t.”

  “You can and you will. You have a gift. God decided to make you brilliant and with that comes responsibility.”

  Linda had said much the same thing, he mused, again telling himself she wouldn’t stay away permanently. She would forgive him and return. She had to.

  Kerri shook his arm. “Listen to me,” she said harshly. “You have to fix this. You have no right not to try. It’s your job.” She looked at him more closely. “It’s more than that. It’s your calling. You have the power to save him and you’re not trying. How dare you not have a thousand scientists working day and night to solve this. You have the answers within you. Linda told me you were close before. She said you could do it. We’re talking about children, damn you. My child. My son. He deserves this.”

  She spoke with conviction and power. He wanted to turn away, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Maybe he needed this, he thought. Maybe it was his punishment.

  “Save him,” she ordered.

  “I can’t.”

  “You have to. I won’t let him die. And if you don’t care about him, what about the other children who will die because you can’t be bothered? I pray there’s a special place in hell for you. I swear, if there is, I’ll be there, putting more wood on the fire and watching you burn.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “You’re right,” she said angrily. “I don’t and I don’t want to. If I had the power to fix my son, I would, but I don’t. So I did the next best thing. I found you. Last I heard you needed twelve million dollars to fund the rest of your research and find a cure. I got you fifteen million, in case the price of miracles had gone up. I will do anything to make this happen. I will sell my soul to the devil or I will stand here and put a gun to your head. I don’t care which. You are going to do this.”

  What he remembered most about the explosion was the heat of the fire that followed. Maybe it had been the fires of hell she’d talked about. He’d never experienced such raw power—so uncontrolled and destructive. Much like the disease that ravaged Cody Sullivan’s body.

  He looked down at his hands…they were shaking. He looked at the woman standing in front of him, felt her need, her pain and knew he could do nothing.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I can’t.”

  He braced himself for the next attack, for the barrage of words. Instead, all the color drained from her face and she swayed slightly as if she were going to faint.

  Before he could reach for her to catch her, she turned and ran. He was finally alone.

  Feeling very old and so very useless, Abram sank into his chair and cradled his head in his hands.

  CHAPTER SIX

  FRANKIE TOOK her latte to a table in the corner. Starbucks was one of the few crowded places where she felt comfortable. She’d never figured out why. Maybe it was the smooth coffee and the jolt of caffeine. Maybe it was the warm motif or the way people who sat in Starbucks were always so calm and sophisticated. Reading the paper, working, listening to music. It made her feel good to be a part of what was happening, even if it was just on the periphery. The Bell Square Starbucks was her favorite.

  She sipped h
er latte and watched the people around her. She was early for her appointment, a habit of hers. She wanted to be able to pick the table, pick the seat. Safety first, she told herself.

  She saw Grant come in. He paused, looked around, then walked over to her without getting a coffee. That bugged her. He should get a coffee—that’s what the store was about.

  She’d known Grant about two years. They’d met at a rally, when he’d come up and introduced himself. He’d talked about her brother, asking her general questions. Right away she’d figured out that he wanted to take Nathan down. Grant believed Nathan was his ticket to a real newspaper.

  It had taken Frankie a couple of months to decide whether she could trust Grant. It was one thing for her to destroy her brother, but it was another for the world to know about it. People wouldn’t understand—they would think because they were family, she shouldn’t want Nathan punished. But those people hadn’t seen the blood…hadn’t lived through it all.

  Once she’d decided to trust him, she’d given him whatever information she could. It hadn’t been much. He’d always pressed her to go see her brother, to find out what was happening in his life, but she’d resisted. She didn’t want to see Nathan or talk to him. She wanted him punished. A few months ago, she’d broken off contact with Grant.

  But now things were different. With the newsletter shutting down, she felt pressure. To lose everything and have nothing to show for it wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Nathan had everything and she had nothing.

  It hadn’t always been that way, she thought, remembering the time before he’d left. He’d taken care of her. She’d depended on him, but then he’d been gone and she’d been alone.

  “Hey, Frankie,” Grant said as he slid into the chair opposite hers. “What’s up?”

  She’d phoned him and arranged the meeting. He’d been surprised to hear from her but more than willing to get together.

  His eyes were pale. He was about her height, which made her feel more safe with him. He wasn’t big, like Nathan.

  “We’re being shut down,” she told him. “In about a month.”

  Grant leaned back in his chair. “So you want to go out with a bang?”

  He always used clichés. Not her favorite thing about him. “I want to do something. I don’t know where to look. I thought you would.”

  Grant looked at her for a long time. “You know about the towers he wants to build.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “They’re awful. Like the rich need more places to live. Do you know how many species will be displaced by his buildings? All so he can have his name fifty stories up.”

  She pressed her lips together. If she said much more, she would start to lose control. That was never good. She clenched her hands together on her lap and began counting. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

  She kept it up, counting steadily, until she’d downed eighteen sets of four. She inhaled as a calm washed over her.

  Grant nodded slowly. “That’s them,” he said. “He wasn’t getting much support, so it didn’t look like he would get the zoning permission he needed. Then he made this donation.”

  “To what?”

  “Some lab up in Songwood. A scientist there is working on the cure for Gilliar’s Disease.”

  “That’s what Daniel died of,” Frankie murmured, not wanting to think about the boy. She’d liked Daniel. It wasn’t his fault that Nathan was his father.

  “The timing is suspicious,” Grant told her. “Plus Nathan’s hanging out with this woman. Kerri Sullivan. She’s got a kid with the same problem. He paraded both of them around at a charity event last weekend. There’s something going on. Something that isn’t right. Maybe you could find out what it is.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “No. I can’t find that out.”

  “You could try.”

  “No. I don’t want to see him.”

  “It’s the only way.”

  “He won’t tell me anything,” she insisted.

  “Maybe he doesn’t have to. Maybe you can just look around.”

  Nathan’s office? Grant was an idiot. Nathan wasn’t going to leave her alone in his office.

  “You can do things I can’t,” Grant continued. “He trusts you.”

  Did Nathan? Frankie wondered. Was he that stupid? Probably, she thought. He certainly didn’t see her as a threat.

  “Okay,” she told him. “I’ll try to find out something. I’ll go see him.”

  “Good.”

  “You can stop the towers?”

  “I can try,” Grant told her.

  “I want them brought down.”

  “They haven’t been built yet.”

  Maybe not but she pictured them falling and falling. Thinking about the structures crumbling in a pile of dust made her smile.

  “Maybe your brother’s involved with that Kerri woman.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said absently. “He doesn’t get involved. Doesn’t care.”

  He had once, years ago. But then he’d gone away. He’d changed. Nothing touched him. Except maybe Daniel.

  Frankie blinked the memories away. All of them. Nathan deserved everything bad he got. He didn’t have the dreams. He didn’t know what it had been like. He’d left her.

  “I’ll go to see him,” Frankie told Grant. “I’ll find out what I can and call you.”

  She stood and grabbed her coffee, then walked out onto the sidewalk.

  It was nearly seventy, on a rare clear day. Frankie let her eyes adjust to the bright light, then she started down the sidewalk, careful to step where she always stepped, not looking left or right, counting, always counting.

  Without meaning to, she remembered teaching Daniel to count, first to ten, then to twenty. He’d been smart. A fast learner. He’d smiled. She remembered that most. How he’d always smiled when he’d seen her. He would run up to her, his arms open. He’d wanted hugs and she’d been happy to give them.

  She had loved him. But when Nathan had told her his son was dying, a part of her had been happy. She’d been ashamed then, ashamed of feeling pleasure. But as much as she loved Daniel, she wanted his father to suffer. Daniel’s death had nearly brought her brother to his knees.

  She’d gone to the hospital at the end, and had sat with the boy. She had felt her own heart break with the realization that he would be gone soon. Sadness and pleasure.

  They had confused her then and they confused her now.

  She waited at her bus stop, then boarded and saw her favorite seat was open. She sat exactly in the middle, looking at no one, willing the trip to be over quickly.

  Fortunately there wasn’t a lot of traffic. When she was back across the bridge, she got off at her stop and headed for her small apartment.

  Once there, she threw out her coffee and walked to the sink. She pumped the smooth, creamy soap onto her hands and began to wash. One, two, three, four. Over and over, eighteen times.

  The ritual relaxed her, eased the tightness in her chest until she could breathe again. Until she was clean.

  When she was done, she dried her hands on one of her special towels, then walked to the window and looked up at the sky.

  It was a beautiful day, she thought wistfully. The kind of day that made her recall what it was like to be normal.

  She wasn’t anymore. She knew that. She needed help. A doctor, medication. Someday, she told herself. But not just yet.

  She let her gaze drift lower until it landed on another building Nathan owned. Seeing it and the shadow it cast made her angry again. Better to be driven than cured, she told herself. She would destroy Nathan. When he had nothing, maybe she would feel better. Maybe then the blood would go away.

  NATHAN PARKED in front of Kerri’s small house. He still didn’t know what the hell he was doing here. He’d gotten a call from Dr. Wallace’s assistant saying there was a problem with the funding, but nothing more. When he’d tried to reach Kerri at work, he’d been told she’d called in sick. A first for her. But she wa
sn’t answering her phone at home.

  Was she sick? Injured? And what had happened to the money he’d sent to the research facility?

  He looked at the beat-up car in the driveway. She was home at least. Had something happened with Cody?

  If it was the latter, he wanted to be anywhere but here. He was not getting involved with that kid. The smartest thing to do would be to turn around and head back to Seattle. Or maybe the smartest thing would have been not to drive here at all.

  “Dammit all to hell,” he muttered as he climbed out of his car and headed up the front walk. He pounded on her door and waited.

  Seconds later it opened. Kerri stood in front of him, but not the Kerri he knew.

  Her blue eyes were red and swollen, her skin blotchy. She blinked at him, said, “Go away. I can’t do this now,” and started to close the door.

  He put a hand up to stop her, then pushed his way inside. “Can’t do what?”

  “Whatever it is you want. Go somewhere. Do something. I can’t. This is a bad time.”

  He stared at her, taking in the oversize and stained T-shirt and baggy sweats. “You look like crap.”

  “Whatever.”

  Worse, she looked…broken. He didn’t like the word, but it fit.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She walked to the sofa and collapsed on a flat cushion. “He won’t do it. Dr. Wallace. Linda told me there was a problem, so I went to see him myself. He won’t continue the research. He blames himself for the explosion.”

  Nathan must have looked blank because she continued with, “Remember? He was working on a cure and the lab exploded. Something about an electrical problem. I don’t know the exact details but people were killed. The lab was closed and as it was Songwood’s biggest industry, the town began to die.” Tears filled her eyes before spilling down her cheeks. “He was my last hope. I don’t have anywhere else to go. He was going to be my miracle for Cody.”

  She hunched over, as if in pain. “I can’t let my son die, but I’m out of options. I spent all last night on the Internet, looking for someone else working on the disease, but there’s nothing new. No hope. It’s the death of hope. Do you know what that feels like?”