by Joleen James
"What exactly is going on here?" Robert demanded. He looked wildly around the room. "Someone tell me what's going on!"
Clea held a hand up to silence him. "Please." She reached for her son and pulled him down on the bed next to her. "I'm all right. I told you on the phone that I had a car accident yesterday. Nick's been taking care of me."
Nick no longer looked at Robert. At that moment he had eyes only for John. A myriad of emotions flashed across Nick's face, awe, hope, fear. She couldn't begin to imagine what it must be like for him to see his son in the flesh. She ached for both Nick and John. Two people who should know each other, but were strangers.
"John." Clea took a deep breath. "This is your father, Nick Lombard." She touched John's hair, but he jerked his head away, his wary eyes still on Nick.
She didn't want them to meet this way, under stressful circumstances, with her mother and Robert watching. What was between Nick and John was personal and emotional, not for onlookers.
"Hello, John," Nick said, a barely suppressed longing in his voice. He reached out, then pulled his hand back, as if he wanted desperately to touch his son, but didn't dare.
John kept his eyes downcast, but his silence said more than words could have.
There was so much Clea wanted to say, but not in front of Robert and her mother. She exchanged a glance with Nick and the naked hope in his eyes shook her.
"John," Clea said carefully. "Nick is here because I needed someone to take care of me last night. I got a bump on my head. A concussion."
"What!" Robert exclaimed, the anger in his eyes turning to concern. He sat on the edge of the bed. "Why didn't you tell us you were seriously hurt? I would have come at once."
"How badly were you injured?" Vivian said at the same time.
"I'm fine." Clea forced a smile of reassurance she didn't feel. "I foolishly thought I could make it up the mountain in the snow. I wanted to be with all of you. A car came around the hairpin corner in my lane and forced me off the road. I hit my head. I have a bump under this bandage, and some bruises, but I'm okay. My car, however, needs a little more work." Nick's eyes were on John. It was almost as if he couldn't look away, like he was trying to memorize every inch of John's face and body.
"Robert," Clea said, bringing Robert's attention to her. "I didn't want you to come in the snow. I couldn't have lived with myself if you'd had an accident, too. Nick towed my car, then he came to the hospital and drove me home. The doctor insisted he stay with me to wake me every two hours because of my head injury. It's been an exhausting night."
"So you're going to be okay?" John asked.
"Yes, honey," Clea confirmed, giving him a genuine smile. "I'm tired, but fine."
"Dear Lord." Vivian's hand went to her throat. "You could have been killed. Was it Dr. Martin who saw you at the hospital?"
"Yes. He was wonderful."
"I know him personally," Vivian said, the ring of pride in her words. "I'm going call and talk to him myself."
"Darling, I'm so glad you're all right." Robert patted her leg through the blankets. "You never should have tried to come up to the lake. Thank God your injuries were not more serious." He turned to Nick. "Please leave. I'll take care of Clea now."
"I'll leave when Clea asks me to," Nick replied, his tone hard.
Robert came off the bed, his stance rigid. "Get out."
Tension as thick as old glue stretched between Robert and Nick. They stood on either side of the bed, Clea and John in the middle. Clea didn't want John in the center of their male feud. She would already have to do damage control over the words Robert had shouted at Nick earlier, calling him a loser.
"Robert, Mother," she said. "If you'll excuse us for a minute, I'd like to talk to John and Nick alone."
"Really, Clea," Vivian replied. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"I have to agree," Robert said.
"I'm not asking your permission," Clea told them.
"Fine." Robert walked to Clea's mother, taking her arm. "Let's go and put some coffee on, Vivian. I think we could all use a cup. And while the coffee brews you can check in with Clea's doctor."
Her mother gave Clea a frown of disapproval.
Robert led Vivian from the room.
"John," Clea said when Robert and Vivian were out of earshot. "I know this is difficult for you. I wanted to introduce you to your father in private."
John kept his eyes on Clea and his misery seeped into her, unleashing long suppressed anguish.
"I loved Nick very much when you were born." She paused for a minute to absorb the words she'd just spoken; surprised to find she'd spoken the truth. She had loved Nick then, with every fiber of her being. Her throat tightened with emotion and she didn't dare look at Nick or she might fall apart. "I know this isn't easy for you. It's not easy for Nick either."
Nick took a step toward them. "John, I'm sorry I wasn't here to watch you grow up." He came around the bed to where John sat, but he didn't sit down. He merely stood close - close enough that John could touch him if he wanted to. "But I want you to know I thought about you every single day."
John lifted his head to look at Nick.
"I know you think of Robert as your father, and that's okay. But I hope we can be friends."
When John didn't reply, Nick shifted to Clea. "I'll go now. Call me if you need me." Nick sat on the chair near the bed and pulled his boots on.
"Thank you." Clea's heart overflowed with emotion. Nick's words to John had touched her, made her believe he could be a good father to his son. He'd shown a softer side with John, a more open side. Nick had to be hurt and humiliated, yet he'd hidden his disappointment from John, and instead had worked to build a bridge between them.
She held her hand out to Nick. "Thank you for taking care of me last night."
He took her hand, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze. "You're welcome."
Clea could see the torment in his eyes, the yearning he had for his son, and something more - a spark of hope.
Nick let go of her fingers and went to the door. He paused. "Good bye, John. I hope I'll see you soon." He slipped out into the hall. A minute later she heard the apartment door shut.
"John?" He'd been so quiet. With a gentle touch, Clea turned his face toward her so she could look into his eyes. Instead of seeing the beginnings of love in the blue depths, she saw an emptiness that chilled her soul. "Are you okay?"
John bolted from the bed, his eyes bright with the shine of unshed tears. "I don't want him here. He's going to ruin everything. He's a stupid loser. I hate him."
Clea stretched her fingers toward him, but he spun away, running from the room. A second later his bedroom door slammed. She winced. Tears stung her eyes. Her head pounded. Had John poured his hopes for a father into his relationship with Robert? Did he love Robert that much, or was he afraid to love Nick?
Robert appeared in the doorway. "I knew this would happen. Nick is trouble. Look what he's done to John."
"Nick hasn't done anything to John. Your words upset John. What were you thinking going after Nick that way with John watching?" Clea tossed the covers back. "I need to go to him."
"Give him a few minutes to cool off," Robert said. "It had to be a shock to come home and find his mother in bed with his father."
"It wasn't like that, Robert."
"Seeing the two of you together makes me sick." Robert came toward her. "I can't take it, Clea. I should have been here last night."
"I honestly didn't want to worry you." She touched her head, hoping to stop the pounding. "Nothing happened between Nick and me."
"I couldn't bear to lose you to him again," he said, his voice cracking. "I can't, Clea. I'd go crazy." He came to her, sitting on the edge of the bed. Leaning forward, he kissed her bandage. "I love you so much."
"Oh, Robert." Clea sighed. "You're not going to lose me. I promise."
The hard lines around his mouth relaxed. "What can I do to help?"
She held her hand out to him,
and he took it. "When it comes to John, I need you to put your feelings for Nick aside. You belittled Nick in front of John. I can't have that. John has enough to deal with right now without you making him feel like his father is a loser."
"You're right." Robert nodded. "I'm sorry. I didn't think. I just reacted."
Clea squeezed Robert's fingers. "We have to help John through this."
"I know." Robert sighed. "I'm trying, Clea, I am."
Clea gave him a soft smile. "We're all doing the best we can. Now, come with me. Let's go and cheer John up."
Robert returned her smile. "Sounds good."
He stood and helped Clea to her feet.
* * *
"This is it," Billy said.
Nick looked from his brother to the abandoned warehouse in front of them. Faded yellow paint peeled all over the building, revealing a depressing gray underneath. The upper windows were broken all the way around. A weathered For Sale sign was pasted to the door. The place looked like it had been abandoned years ago. Billy had dragged him out of bed at the ungodly hour of five a.m. on his day off to make the two-hour drive to Vancouver. "Just what are we looking at?"
"We," Billy said, clapping Nick on the back, "are looking at your future. Or should I say our future?"
"I'm still not following you," Nick said.
"Don't you get it?" Billy grinned. "It's the future home of the Lombard Brother's Auto Body and Classic Car Restoration Shop."
"You don't say?" Nick gave the building a second look. It did have potential. "Just how are we going to afford this place?"
"We'll get a loan," Billy said as if it were the simplest thing in the world to do. "We can do it. I have money saved. I own my trailer free and clear. Say the word, brother, and I'll get the paperwork started."
"I don't know." Nick stared at the building, enthusiasm building inside him. All his life he'd dreamed of owning his own shop, doing things his way. While in prison, he'd made plans and done research. He knew about what it would cost to set up shop. He had a good head for numbers. With enough money he could make it work, he just hadn't intended to start this big.
He'd planned to get the internet side of the business up and running first, and had already taken steps to make that happen. Over the next few days he was interviewing web designers. The rest of the money he'd saved, in prison, working as a production foreman for a fleece-wear assembly line, would go to purchasing a computer. They didn't need a fancy garage right away, especially now, since he'd rented the bay from Mr. Mullin. The shop could come later, when they had more money to invest.
"What do you say?" Billy tugged on Nick's arm. "Let's go inside. We can have the place for a song. The owner wants to unload it."
"Nothing comes that cheap." He followed Billy into the warehouse. In his experience everyone paid a price to get what they wanted. It happened in prison. It happened on the outside.
"The power is off." Billy led the way inside the dark building. The broken windows overhead let in enough light so they could see. Billy pointed to the right. "There are two offices. Over here we can put the lifts in." He swung around to the left. "The bay is huge. We can hold ten cars in here easy, maybe more."
"It's a great place," Nick said, catching Billy's fever. "How much?"
"Let me worry about that," Billy said.
"How much, Billy?"
"We can have the place for one fifty."
"One hundred and fifty thousand dollars?" Nick asked, his dream plummeting to the ground. "Jesus, Billy. We can't afford that."
"We'll get a loan," Billy said, the words coming out in a rush. He grinned. "We can make this work, Nick. Trust me."
"Who would loan us that kind of money?"
Billy sighed. He pushed his fingers through his spiky hair. "We have to try. Don't you want to get out of Port Bliss? I sure as hell do. I can't breathe in that town anymore."
"Why have you stayed?" Nick asked, wondering what the years had been like for Billy. It wasn't easy to live a lie every day; no one knew that better than he did.
"For Mom. She needed me."
The sadness in his words tore at Nick. "I'd like to leave Port Bliss someday, but it's John. He knows me now. I have to think of him."
"John can visit you here," Billy said. "You don't want to stay in Port Bliss after Clea leaves."
Nick turned away. He didn't want to discuss his feelings for Clea with his brother. He didn't want to tell Billy he hoped the wedding would never take place, or how much he hoped Clea would stay in Port Bliss. His dreams of a life with Clea were selfish because he knew deep down he would never keep her from following her dream. He didn't want to be the one who held her back.
"And besides," Billy said. "Look at what happened to The Boss last night. Do you really want to stay in a town where you aren't wanted?"
Nick frowned. He'd gone out to his car that morning to find the word Jailbird scratched into the shiny yellow paint. The Boss would need hours of sanding before the car could be restored to its trademark glossy yellow finish.
His first thought was that Boomer had written the word. He'd glanced over to find Boomer's car gone from the curb, but he'd discarded the thought. Boomer wouldn't resort to petty crime. Most likely it had been kids, maybe someone who knew John.
"Let's try to do this," Billy said, his tone calmer now. "You deserve this chance, Nick. I want to give it to you. I owe you, brother."
Nick turned. "You don't owe me anything, Billy. Not a damn thing. I owe you my life. If not for you, I'd be dead instead of Danny."
"I know, but you've given up so much for me. I should have gone to jail. I killed him."
"To save me. It was an accident. You were only trying to stop him."
Billy's jaw tensed. "I should have gone to jail, and the guilt has eaten at me every day since that night. I never should have listened to you. I never should have let you take the blame for what I did."
"What's done is done." Nick went to his brother, putting his hands on Billy's shoulders. "You were just a kid, a kid who got mixed up in my problems with the Bloomfield brothers. I'm sorry you felt you had to protect me. It should have been the other way around. It wasn't your fight. I could never let you pay for a crime that had nothing to do with you. Danny was after me that night. He was always after me. In fact, I'm sure it was Danny who tried to pin the lakeside robberies on me. Danny Bloomfield hated me. He managed to turn the whole damn town against me with his wild accusations. The fight between us was a long time coming."
Nick looked into his brother's eyes, eyes that held the shine of tears.
"Jesus, Nick." Billy's face crumpled. "I love you, man. I couldn't let him shoot you. I had to hit him. I just wanted him to put the gun down. I never meant to kill him."
"I know."
A well of long suppressed sadness overcame Nick, and he hauled Billy into his arms. They embraced each other, two brothers, trying to heal the deep hurt inside. When Nick finally pulled away, he felt better, lighter somehow, as if a burden had been eased.
They'd had so little time to get their story straight that night. Billy hadn't wanted Nick to take the blame, but Nick had insisted, and Billy had given in. Later, when no gun had been found to back up Nick's story, Billy had begged Nick to let him confess, but Nick had stood firm. He'd never expected such a tough sentence, six to ten years for manslaughter, for a crime that had been self-defense. He'd been up for parole many times over the years, and each time Robert had been at his parole hearing, making sure he'd stayed put.
Until the last time. Robert had been absent. Nick had been granted parole. He'd often wondered why Robert hadn't come to the last hearing, but he sure as hell wasn't going to ask him.
"Everything's going to be all right, Billy," Nick said, wanting to give Billy something good to look forward to. "If you want to try to get the loan, I'm with you."
"Really?" Billy wiped his eyes on his shirtsleeve. "That's great, Nick. You won't be sorry. We can make this work. Together the Lombard brothers can do a
nything."
"A hundred and fifty thousand." Nick whistled. "It might as well be a million bucks."
* * *
Clea went to John's bedroom door and pushed it open. "Hey, honey."
John dropped the toy car he held into the case and shut the lid, turning the lock.
"Can I come in?" Clea asked. They'd spent the evening packing. John had given her the cold shoulder the entire time, speaking to her only when she required an answer. She wanted to clear the air between them before they went to bed. She wanted him to talk to her about Nick. She needed to know what John was feeling.
"I guess."
Clea smiled. She sat down on the edge of his bed. "I'd like to talk about Nick."
John pressed his lips together.
"He's not going to go away. We need to find a way to get along with him. He wants to get to know you."
"How do you know?" John asked, a defiant look in his eyes.
"I never told you this before, but he tried to stay in touch with you," Clea said. "I sent his letters back. I was angry with Nick, and a little afraid to let him into your life. I can see now how wrong I was to have kept the two of you apart. Nick's done nothing but think about you while he's been gone."
"While he was in prison," John said with disgust. He turned away from her. "He's a murderer. A loser. That's what Robert says."
Damn Robert. "No, honey. What happened was an accident. Nick protected his brother and someone got hurt. You know all this John. I'm not understanding your anger. Are you mad at Nick, or are you mad at me because we are moving to New York?"
She reached out to touch him. He moved away from her.
John kicked his box of cars, sending the case rattling across his bedroom floor. "Robert's going to be my dad."
The anguish in his voice broke her heart. "I know you like Robert. And I promise you he will always be in your life, but give Nick a chance. You don't know him, honey. You just know he's upsetting your life. He's upsetting my life too, but I'm glad he's back."
"Why?" John asked his tone belligerent.
"I'm happy for you." Clea smiled, surprised to find she meant the words. "I'm glad you are going to have the chance to know your father. He loves you very much. Won't you give him a chance?" She held her breath, waiting for his reply.