Bayside Passions (Bayside Summers Book 2)

by Melissa Foster

  Dean felt as though he’d been punched in the chest. He moved out to help them? He leaned back in the chair, dragging air into his lungs.

  “He worried that if he continued to take out his frustrations on me, and our marriage, then he’d lose us all,” his mother explained. “He’s human, Dean. He didn’t know how to get control of his mounting responsibilities and the frustration that came along with them while living with us. He was becoming the type of angry man he didn’t want to be. Coming home every day at nine, ten o’clock at night with patient notes to dictate and three boys who wanted his attention. I know it’s hard to understand, but he didn’t abandon us. He left to save us.”

  Dean pushed to his feet, unable to sit still any longer. “Come on, Mom. He couldn’t have stayed and figured it out? That’s bullshit.”

  “Watch your language, honey. I know it sounds like that, but it’s not. Your father spent those twelve weeks working that crazy schedule and seeing a therapist three nights a week, and he still made time to see you boys as often as he could.”

  “If that’s true, then why did you go out with other guys? And why did you let them come to the house to pick you up?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “I didn’t go out with other guys, Dean. Your grandmother sent those two men over. We didn’t want to upset her, so we never told her the truth about what was going on. She thought your father needed a reminder that I was still young enough to attract another man, which he didn’t need and I never would have done. But I didn’t want to get into it with Rose, because then your grandfather would have gotten involved, and it would have defeated the purpose of your father’s leaving to get his head on straight.”

  “But you went out with those men. I saw you. I’m not judging you, Mom. I’m just saying. I might have been a kid, but I was there, remember?”

  “I did go out with them. Twice, with each one. We had dinner, and I told them exactly what was going on and set them up with my friend Eva Chase, who was more than happy to entertain them. I added about five rag dolls to my collection that year. I’d sit in a coffee shop and make them while Eva was out having fun. I would have rather been with you boys, but we couldn’t blow our cover.”

  “Jesus.” He continued pacing. “It’s like a frigging soap opera.” His mother had been making rag dolls since she was a little girl, learning how from her own mother. He knew she treasured them because of the memories they held, and now he wondered if she treasured the dolls she’d made during that time, too. The fact that she’d kept them was all the answer he needed.

  “I know. Life isn’t always easy. But your father came back, and he was a wonderful, attentive father to you three until years later.”

  “He lost Jett just because he left. You have to tell Jett the truth.”

  “I already have,” she said solemnly. “Unfortunately, because of the way your father is now, he’s not ready to forgive him yet.”

  “I’m not sure I am either.” Dean stopped pacing and rubbed an ache at the back of his neck. “He was good to us after he came back.”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “And then I went away to school and something changed.”

  “He lost his father, Dean. Years ago, he’d promised your grandfather he’d carry on the Masters name with pride. Your grandfather’s shoes would have been hard for ten men to fill, and your father wasn’t going to let anyone else take care of his father’s patients. And at the same time, he wasn’t going to let down his own. Suddenly the success of the practice and the name of the foundation came down to him. He couldn’t see twice the patient load. He couldn’t do it alone, but he refused to accept that and refused to give up his father’s or his own patients to his partners. To him that would have felt like he was letting his father, and his patients, down.”

  “He’s a control freak,” Dean seethed.

  “No. He’s a perfectionist. There’s a difference. He cares deeply about every patient he sees.”

  Dean scoffed. “It doesn’t seem like it. He’s all about image and income.”

  “I know it appears that way, but he’s not. He’s image conscious only because it’s his image, in his father’s shadow, that keeps the high standards of the foundation in place and the donations rolling in so that that foundation can help millions of families. Millions, Dean. Not one or two, not a hundred, or even a thousand. Millions. He caved under the pressure of it all, sweetheart. Don’t you see that? You boys were on your way to adulthood, and he only had me at home to worry about. And I didn’t mind the longer hours. I’ve always been self-sufficient, and I knew how important this was to him. It wasn’t until months later that I realized how much he had changed. How the job had sucked all the joy out of him.”

  Dean sank down on the chair again, his chest constricting. “He has partners to help him with the practice.”

  “Yes, he does. But they’re not Masters.”

  His heart thudded against his ribs as the pieces of his father’s life worked into some semblance of understanding. “But he treats people—”

  “Wonderfully, and not so nice, depending on where he is and what he’s going through.”

  “It’s inexcusable.”

  “Yes. It is.” She sat in the chair beside him and sighed. “Honey, he pushes you because he has always seen greatness in you. He knows you’d make an amazing doctor. You were top of your class. You never let things go. You were relentless in your pursuit to save every patient who landed on your table.”

  “And he called me weak for it.” The venomous word still burned. “Grandma called me human.”

  She smiled. “Grandma is an incredible woman, and she’s right. But he’s lost, Dean. He got swallowed up by the business and the pressure, and he doesn’t know how to get out from under it. His ability to separate what he wanted for you, and what was best for you, got buried, too.”

  “Well, I’m not the answer. I will never go to medical school.”

  “I know, honey. I’m not here to ask you to do anything. Not to apologize to him, not to change your life. I just thought it was time we talked about all of this. You probably don’t know this, but when Doug decided not to remain here in the States and practice with your father, he went head-to-head with him. It wasn’t pleasant, but Doug isn’t Jett. He left the door open, like you always have.”

  “Dad thinks the world of Doug because he’s a doctor.”

  “No, honey. Dad thinks the world of each of you because you’re his sons. He doesn’t think one is more or less of a man because of their job. He just wanted more for you.” She paused and stared out at the gardens. “Do you remember why you decided to be a trauma nurse?”

  “Of course. How could I ever forget?” He’d been in a car accident as a teenager and in addition to broken bones, he’d suffered internal bleeding. The thing he remembered most was the calm and confident demeanor of the trauma nurse. She’d taken the overwhelming fear out of the situation, and he’d wanted to do that for others. It had been a bone of contention with his father, who had wanted him to follow in his footsteps and join the practice. That had been the tip of the skeleton that would forever haunt them.

  “You were determined to be the best trauma nurse you could. You told me that you were made for the job. Remember?”

  He nodded. “I do. I thought I was.”

  “But you learned otherwise,” his mother reminded him. “Real life got the better of you.”

  His pulse raced with the memories of too many nights feeling as though he were in a dark tunnel with no way out. “Seeing all that death and destruction nearly killed me,” he said defensively as his mother’s point began sinking in. “I might be weak, but I know what I’m capable of, and that wasn’t it. I chose to surround myself with life instead of death.”

  “You are not weak, honey. What is it with you men? You all think there’s some line drawn in the sand between weak and strong, and you have to be on one side of it or another at all times. Life isn’t like that. We are all weak, strong, pathetic s
ometimes and valiant at other times. You did the right thing for yourself by changing careers. You were stressed even when you weren’t working because, like your father, you carried the emotions of the job with you on your days off, and that stress affected every aspect of your life. But it’s easier when it’s just you with no one else’s life hanging in the balance. Don’t you think it’s a little wrong to judge your father for not taking that out, when he has so many people—families, physicians, children, researchers—relying on him? How does a man walk away from families and patients who have developed years of trust in him? Tell me, Dean. If you had been him, after practicing for decades, becoming a pillar of the community because of your dedication to medicine and to the well-being of children around the world, could you have walked away from it?”

  His throat tightened with emotion, making it hard to breathe. It was all he could do to process the truth in her words.

  “He may not be the same person he used to be, but, honey, I know the man I married is still in there somewhere. I get glimpses of him from time to time, and I can’t walk away from that. I see the father who used to read you bedtime stories and take you fishing. The man who adores you, regardless of whether he’s able to show it at the moment.” She set her hand on his and said, “I know it’s hard to hear the truth, but you needed to hear it even if it doesn’t excuse what your father has done. What you do with all of this information is up to you.”

  He saw Emery walking by the window and his heart ached. “I will never be okay with the way he demeaned Emery’s career or the way he treated her. I love her, Mom. She’s my life now, not him.”

  His mother’s eyes dampened and she nodded, a small smile lifting her lips. “I know, baby. It’s a shame that you feel there’s a choice to be made, and it’s a greater shame that he can’t see the light. But I have faith that one day he will. We can’t always control the things we think, or do, no matter how hard we try. We’re all only human.”

  Dean reached for his mother’s hand. “Thank you for making me see the light. I never in a million years would have seen myself as anything like Dad. But I guess I was in denial.” He shook his head, thinking of Emery again. They had even more in common than he’d thought. “I’m sorry that you’re caught in the crossfire, Mom. I never wanted to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t hurt me, baby. What hurts me is seeing my family suffer. But that’s more on your father than anyone else. I have faith that we’ll get past this.”

  “Mom, can you please just tell me one thing? Are you happy? Is what you have right now enough?”

  “It has to be. I love him.”

  Emery peeked outside with a hesitant smile, and he waved her over. She took his hand and he pulled her down to his lap. The knots in his chest began to unravel. He felt like he could finally breathe again. He tried to imagine what it would be like if Emery’s life suddenly took a stressful or tragic turn and she changed in ways that weren’t pleasant. As he gazed into her eyes, he knew he’d still love her just the same.

  He looked at his mother, who was watching them adoringly, and said, “I think I understand where you’re coming from. Thanks, Mom.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  EMERY HAD WOKEN up in Dean’s arms Monday morning and they’d made slow, sweet love. Afterward, Dean had dipped his toes into learning yoga. They’d ended up kissing more than exercising, and when Dean turned onto his stomach and began doing push-ups, all his glorious muscles flexing temptingly, Emery had lain on his back. Can you handle a few more pounds? Dean had pumped out thirty more push-ups with ease before sweeping her beneath him and taking her in more delicious kisses. Drake and Rick had interrupted them and dragged Dean off for a run, which she knew he needed—the run, and the guy time. She’d taught her morning class and then found Dean putting the final touches on the flagstone patio, which was beyond gorgeous. He’d called Rose that morning, as unbeknownst to Emery, he did most mornings, and he’d told her everything.

  Now, as Emery waited in Rose’s living room while Rose got ready for their session, her nerves got the better of her.

  It felt weirdly confining to meet in her room again instead of the larger one downstairs, but Magdeline and Arlin were down in the theater watching a special showing of Gone with the Wind, and they didn’t need the extra space for their session. Emery had offered to reschedule so Rose could watch the movie, but Rose claimed she’d had enough Clark Gable for one lifetime. She said she’d be happy to plunk herself down and watch Dirty Dancing if they ever gave her the chance.

  “I’ll just get the mats ready,” Emery called into the bedroom, and began moving the coffee table and chairs.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were dating my grandson?” Rose called out to her.

  “I knew you and the other ladies knew Dean because of his work in the gardens, and I didn’t want to make things weird for him. But I honestly didn’t realize you were his grandmother until I met his father.”

  “Okay, I’ll buy that,” Rose said, as if she had a choice. “But what’s your plan now?”

  Emery huffed out a breath, thinking about the weekend. After his mother’s visit, Dean had received a call from Jett, who was out of town again. They’d spoken for more than an hour, and Dean had seemed relieved when he’d finally ended the call. The rest of the weekend had passed in a strange bubble of contentment for Emery and Dean. They both thought it was odd that they could be so happy having breakfast with their friends, going swimming in the ocean, and out to dinner while the relationship between Dean and his father was in complete turmoil. But while stargazing on the patio last night, they’d realized the love they shared was exclusively theirs. Family would always have a hold on them on some level, and they were both determined to try to make things better with his father. But no matter what happened with his father, or in the future with any other family members, they knew it wouldn’t lessen what they felt for each other.

  “Emmie?” Rose called from the bedroom, pulling Emery from her thoughts. “Silence is not always golden.”

  After everything Dean had told her that his mother had said to him, she wondered if maybe his father just needed extra love and understanding. “I’m going to kill him with kindness,” Emery answered.

  She heard Rose laughing at the same moment a knock sounded at the door.

  “Want me to answer that?”

  “Please. It’s probably Mag and Arlin realizing that even Clark Gable gets boring after a while. We might need to head down to the larger room after all. I’m just going to use the bathroom. I’ll be right out.”

  Emery pulled the door open, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. “Mr. Masters.”

  Surprise registered in the clenching of his jaw, and damn if she didn’t see a flash of Dean in that mannerism.

  “Emery,” he said tightly, and walked past her.

  Emery closed her eyes for a second, inhaling a calming breath. It didn’t help. She turned and found him standing in the center of the room, looking like a bomb ready to explode.

  “Where is my mother?”

  She bit back the urge to say, She’s busy being ashamed of you for your lack of manners, straightened her spine, and reminded herself of her resolution to be extra understanding. Forcing a smile, she said, “She’s in the bathroom. How are you today?”

  He visibly bristled, clearly surprised by her kindness. “Late for a meeting.”

  “I’m sorry. I meant, how are you. I wasn’t asking about your schedule. You had a trying time Friday night, and I apologize for my part in that.” She felt herself shaking and clasped her hands in front of her, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

  A deep V appeared between his brows, as if he didn’t understand what she’d said. “Yes, well. No apology necessary.”

  She had no idea if it was courage or stupidity, or why she was doing it, but her shaky legs carried her toward him. “I believe an apology is necessary. I was raised to be polite, and though I have no idea why you don’t approve of my career, or my
being with your son, I am sorry for whatever I’ve done to cause strife between the two of you.”

  His eyes narrowed. “It’s not my job to approve or disapprove of your career.”

  “Darn right it’s not,” she said before she could check herself, but he was looking at her with a piercing stare. She’d be damned if she’d allow him of all people to spend one more second making her feel small.

  “As for my son, he’s capable of being a much greater man than he’s achieved, and your involvement with him could hold him back.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” So much for kindness. “Dean is twice the man you’ll ever be.”

  He drew his shoulders back, and she swore he grew several inches taller right before her eyes. “I’m a leader in the field of pediatric neurosurgery. The head of three boards of directors. I have been invited to speak all over the world about—”

  “Do you even hear yourself?” Her words tumbled out fast and accusatory. “You’re spouting all those things off as if they speak to who you are. You’re so messed up you don’t even see the difference, and here I felt sorry for you.”

  He chuckled. “Young lady, I of all people do not need your pity.”

  “You’re wrong,” she said, pointing up at him. “You need it more than anyone I know, even if you’re not deserving of it. You achieved those things you mentioned at the expense of your family. What kind of man does that? What kind of man leaves his adoring wife alone so he can hobnob with the rich? What kind of man doesn’t do everything within his power to make amends with his sons he left when they were teenagers? And I’m not talking about Dean.” She had verbal diarrhea, and there was no hope of stopping it despite his clenching jaw and the steam pouring out his ears. “What kind of man speaks to his own mother the way you do? You should be ashamed of yourself. You act like a spoiled child who expects the world—and even worse, your family—to kowtow to him. And you don’t give a damn about your sons’ happiness.”