Boardwalk Summer

by Kimberly Fisk

  How she envied the normalcy of their days. Where schedules didn’t revolve around hospital stays or medical procedures but around school projects and sport activities. How she wanted that for her own child.

  She turned back to her son. Even in sleep he looked drawn and pale. Half-moon bruises smudged the undersides of his eyes. She brushed the hair off his forehead and felt an almost unbearable agony when strands fell out and tangled in her fingers. A sob caught in the back of her throat. This should not be happening to her son. To anyone’s child.

  She felt the start of tears and willed them away. She turned to gather her strength and saw Dana coming down the hall. When Dana caught Hope’s gaze, a gentle smile graced her lips and she gave a wave. For the first time that day, Hope felt her spirits lift. What would she do without her best friend?

  They had met on Joshua and Susan’s first day of kindergarten; Dana had been their teacher. On that long-ago September morning, the twins had let go of Hope’s hand and, grasping their shiny new backpacks and each other, had bravely walked into that new world. It had been a bittersweet moment, having to let go. They’d looked so young, too little to be starting school. Dana must have seen the lost look on her face because she’d walked over and said, “I can always use an extra pair of hands in the classroom.”

  Hope had become a familiar face in the classroom when her school and work schedule allowed. As the days lengthened and the months went by, Hope and Dana developed a wonderful friendship.

  It had been Dana who stood beside her as she made funeral arrangements for her aunt. When Dana achieved her master’s degree in education, Hope and the twins had cheered and clapped from aluminum chairs at her graduation ceremony. When Hope had been hired at Tranquility High School, Dana had insisted on taking the four of them out to celebrate.

  And when they’d first learned of Joshua’s leukemia, it was only Dana whom Hope let see the endless black hole of despair that filled her.

  “How’s our boy today?” Dana asked as she slipped through the door and walked over to where Hope was sitting. She gave Hope a bolstering hug and, as always, held her for a fraction longer than was necessary.

  Hope hugged her in return, so thankful for Dana’s constant support. “He’s slept most of the day.”

  “Poor baby. But sleep isn’t a bad thing,” Dana said quietly as she looked pointedly at Hope. “His mother would do well to follow his example.”

  “I sleep.”

  “Yeah, and I’m a size six.” Dana patted her size-twelve thighs.

  Hope tried to smile.

  “Not only do you look exhausted but you look like you’ve lost another five pounds.” Quietly, Dana pulled up a chair and sat next to Hope. “Have you eaten anything today?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re lying,” Dana said with a sympathetic smile. “I work with five-year-olds, remember? I can spot a fib from twenty yards.” She dug around in the worn leather backpack she used as a purse, pulled out a granola bar and handed it to Hope. “I would have brought something a little more substantial but I thought you had a dinner date with Ben. That’s why I’m here, to stay with Josh while you went out. We had it all arranged.”

  Hope took the food but didn’t bother to open it. “I cancelled. And how do you do that? Remember everything, even my schedule?”

  Dana set her backpack on the floor. “It’s easy when you’re not juggling ten things at once.”

  “I’m sorry you made the trip for nothing. I tried to call but your cell went straight to voice mail.”

  “You called?”

  “Twice. You can remember my schedule but not to charge your phone.”

  “Give me some credit. I told you. I’ve turned over a new leaf.” Dana fished through her purse once more and produced her cell phone. “See—” Her sentence broke off when they both saw her battery was dead yet again. “Shoot. I really thought I’d remembered this time.”

  A small smile found its way to Hope. Dana was legendary for forgetting, losing, or just plain not charging her cell phone.

  “Was Ben upset when you cancelled on him again?” Dana dropped her phone back into her purse and set it on the floor.

  “He was as understanding as always. You should get to know him better, he’s a wonderful man. Kind and loyal and a wonderful listener.”

  “You just described my mom’s poodle.”

  “Not funny.”

  “While it’s true I’m not Ben’s biggest fan, you should have gone out with him. A night away might do you a world of good.”

  “This is a surprise. You’ve never thought my dating Ben was a good idea before. Besides, as I’ve told the both of you on many separate occasions, getting Joshua well is my priority. Right now, dating doesn’t even register on my radar. Ben understands and knows not to push.”

  Hope knew Dana believed Ben lacked excitement, spontaneity, that sweep-you-off-your-feet type of personality. But those were all the reasons Hope found Ben Allen so attractive. She didn’t want to be swept off her feet—that had happened to her once already with Nick, and while there was nothing else in the world that felt as wonderful, the sad truth was you had to come back down to earth sometime. And it was a long, hard fall, one Hope never wanted to repeat.

  “So why did you cancel?” Dana asked.

  “I just told you—”

  “The real reason.”

  Nothing got past her best friend.

  Dana sat up. “Wait. Did you hear back from your mother?”

  “No.” Hope set the unopened granola bar on the small table next to Joshua’s bed.

  “She’ll get tested. I know she will.”

  Hope wasn’t nearly as optimistic as Dana, but it didn’t matter because whether Claire Montgomery knew it or not, she was going to get tested. Hope would make damn sure of it.

  “I’m so sorry,” Dana said.

  Hope looked at her. “For what?”

  Sorrow darkened Dana’s features. “For not being a match.”

  “Oh, Dana.” Hope leaned against her friend, took her hand in hers. The moment they’d learned Joshua would need the transplant, Dana had been by Hope’s side, insisting on getting tested at the same time Hope and Susan had. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  After a moment, Dana drew back and looked at Hope. “Now are you ready to tell me what’s really going on?”

  With one last look at Joshua to make sure he was still sleeping, Hope motioned for Dana to follow her. This was one conversation she didn’t want Joshua to overhear. They made their way down the hallway and into the small family waiting room near a bank of elevators. Except for the two of them, the room was empty.

  The bright, overhead light had been dimmed for the evening and while a cartoon played out on the TV in the corner, the sound had been muted. Even knowing this was a children’s hospital, sometimes the harsh reality—like cartoons on television—hit Hope hard.

  “Now I know it’s serious,” Dana said the moment the door closed softly behind them.

  Hope sat down on one of the upholstered chairs that lined the perimeter only to pop back up. She began to pace and twist her hands into knots as everything—everyone—that had happened today rushed back at her.

  She stopped and faced Dana. “Nick showed up at my house today.”

  “Nick? As in Susan and Joshua’s father, Nick? As in ‘NASCAR’s Fortune,’ Nick?” Dana sank down onto the chair Hope had vacated as she repeated the phrase that had graced more magazine covers than Hope cared to think about.

  “Yes, that Nick.”

  “I guess now I know why you cancelled your date. What did Ben say when you told him about Nick?”

  “I didn’t tell him.”

  “You’re going to have to at some point.”

  It was an argument she and Dana had had before. Naturally, Ben knew of Hope’s plan to contact t
he twins’ father. He even knew Nick’s name. His first name. But Hope saw no reason to go into the full explanation of who exactly Nick was. Why should she? The chance of the two men ever meeting was slim to none. And none had a huge head start.

  The intercom system clicked on, summoning a doctor, and then clicked back off only to come immediately back on with another scratchy summons.

  “So,” Dana began, and Hope tensed, knowing what question was coming next. “When are you going to tell the kids?”

  It was the question that had troubled her from the moment Nick stormed out of her house. “I’m not going to.”

  Dana shot her a look. “They’re going to have to find out sometime.”

  “No, they’re not. They know I got pregnant when I was a teenager and the boy had other plans. Nothing like a teenage pregnancy to open up a frank dialogue with your kids about using protection.” Hope sighed. “They know everything they need to know about Nick.”

  Dana’s brown eyes were full of compassion. “Everything but his name.”

  Hope sat down next to Dana, her shoulders weighted. “His name isn’t important. Nick has nothing do to with our life.”

  “He is their father, Hope.”

  “No, he’s not.” Hope drew in a breath. “He might have helped bring them into this world, and for that I’ll always be grateful, but that’s all he did. A father is so much more. He’s someone who comes home from work every night and helps you with your homework. A father tosses a ball out back with you. He’s there for your baseball practices and soccer tournaments, ballet recitals, and school plays.” Hope turned to Dana. “Nick could never be a father to Joshua and Susan.”

  Dana didn’t say anything for several moments. “Maybe he’s changed.”

  Hope shook her head. “Nick is just like my father, and my father never did. He and my mother were forced to get married when she became pregnant with me. He hung around for a few years, but he never wanted to be there. Then, one morning, he went to work and never came home. For years I blamed myself. If only I could have been a better little girl; if only I could have made him love me, then maybe he wouldn’t have left. But you can’t make someone love you. I learned that too late. I’m not going to put my children through that same misery. Nick Fortune could never be the father my children deserve. Remember that Internet article you showed me a few months ago? The ‘Day in a Life’ piece? The reporter said Nick wasn’t even home long enough to change his shoes. The man hasn’t changed. He knew what he wanted all those years ago, and it is the same thing he still wants. Fame and fortune—” Hope paused and then gave a short, humorless laugh when she realized what she’d said. “Even his name proves it.”

  Dana gave Hope’s hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “Don’t be. Aunt Peg was my mother in every sense. Through her example I learned having one loving parent is all a child needs.”

  “And your children have that in spades.”

  Hope smiled tiredly. “If I told Joshua and Susan who their father is, he would end up breaking their hearts.”

  Dana’s eyes were full of understanding when she said, “Like he broke yours?”

  For several heartbeats Hope didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. “I won’t let him hurt them. There’s only one thing I want from Nick and that is for him to get tested to see if he can save my son.”

  “So how did he react to the news?”

  Hope briefly closed her eyes. “He didn’t give me a chance to tell him. When he learned about Joshua and Susan he became so angry he stormed out of the house and was gone before I could stop him. I jumped in my car and tried to find him, but he was already gone.”

  “He didn’t say anything?”

  “He said”—God, she didn’t want to remember what he’d said—“he said he’d be back tomorrow to see the kids.”

  “What are you going to do when he shows up tomorrow?”

  “I’m not waiting until then.”

  “What exactly do you have planned?”

  Hope looked at her best friend. “I have no idea, but I’m going to do something. I’m done waiting for Nick Fortune.”

  Four

  NICK lifted the long-necked bottle and took a healthy swallow. In the nearly deserted lounge, a country song rasped from the scratchy sound system. Less than a dozen people were scattered throughout the dimly-lit room. Above them the air hung heavy with stale smoke and stale dreams.

  The bartender made his way down the counter, pausing across from Nick. A soggy towel lay bunched under his hand. He lifted his chin in a nod toward Nick’s beer. “Need another?”

  Nick tipped the bottle and studied the nearly empty contents. For the first time in nearly ten years he was tempted to tell the bartender to keep them coming. But if Nick had learned anything from his old man it was that answers couldn’t be found at the bottom of a drink.

  Nick shook his head. “No thanks.”

  “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  The bartender moved on and left Nick with only his thoughts and a warming beer. Neither of which he cared for.

  What, after all these years, had made Nick think of Jack Fortune? His father had been one mean son of a bitch who cared more about his next drink than his only child. And after Nick’s mom died, the drinking only got worse—impossible as that seemed. But even though his father had been a miserable excuse for a human being, at least a person knew where they stood with him. A whipping so hard it left your back scarred was a hell of a lot better than being told lies and being deceived.

  Anger pulsed hard and fast through Nick.

  Goddamn Hope for lying to him. For keeping his children from him.

  He reached into his jacket pocket and carefully removed the photo he’d taken from her house. For a brief moment, he stared at her image. His anger returned, pounded through him. He tore his gaze away from her and, instead, focused all of his attention on the only other people in the snapshot.

  Not people. Kids. His kids.

  He was a father.

  No matter how many times he said it or thought it, Nick could hardly make himself believe it.

  A kid (let alone kids) had never been a part of Nick’s plan. Fatherhood was one club he flat out refused to join. He’d been dealt a crap hand in the gene pool department and refused to pass along that burden to anyone. Let alone a child. He’d always been damn careful when it came to protection. He wore a condom as religiously as the pope wore his ring.

  Except with Hope. When passion and need and a sense of belonging had overridden all other thoughts and he’d been young enough and dumb enough to believe where you came from didn’t matter.

  Nick rubbed his thumb across the image of his son, down the slope of his daughter’s cheek. He stared at their faces, committing them to memory, but really there was no need. He’d memorized them hours ago.

  As he continued to stare at the picture, worry continued to weave its way through him. What if he turned out to be like his old man? The Fortune blood ran just as hot through Nick’s veins. There was no doubt in his mind he would screw up their lives just like his father had screwed up his.

  Unable to stop, he found his gaze sliding over and focusing on Hope’s image once more. In the picture, she was smiling, laughing, like she didn’t have a care in the world. There must have been a gentle breeze because her blond hair all but floated in the air.

  His anger returned full force. How could she look so carefree when she’d been lying nearly her whole life?

  “Hi,” a seductive, feminine voice purred on his right, catapulting his thoughts back to the present. “I don’t mean to pry, but aren’t you . . . aren’t you Nick Fortune? The racecar driver?”

  “No, ma’am,” Nick replied, lying easily. He appreciated the people who loved racing as much as he did and always made time for the fans—except for tonight. Tonight he was in a foul mood
and unfit for conversation. Polite or otherwise.

  “Oh.” The well-built blonde studied him for a moment. “It’s just that you look so much like him. I mean, I’ve seen your—his—picture in over a dozen magazines and watched him race. . . .”

  Nick gave her a polite but dismissive smile. “Sorry, wrong guy.”

  “I was so certain—”

  “Mr. Fortune?” A hotel employee approached.

  Nick inwardly groaned.

  “Mr. Nick Fortune.” The young kid’s pimpled complexion turned redder and redder the closer he came. “Ex-excuse m-me, Mr. F-Fortune. The hotel manager sent me to f-find you. You have a telephone call. A Mr. Sterling. He says it’s urgent.”

  The last person Nick felt like talking to at the moment was his business manager. Sterling had already left a half dozen messages on Nick’s cell. If Nick didn’t know him so well, he’d wonder just how in the hell Sterling had managed to find out where Nick was and where he was staying. “Tell him I’ll call him later,” Nick said to the kid.

  “Uh, o . . . okay.” The teenager fumbled with his tight collar before turning to leave.

  “Wait.” Nick dug into the pocket of his Levi’s and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill. He handed it to the astonished bellhop. “Better yet, tell him I’ve checked out.”

  The kid looked at the money, looked at Nick, and then back down at the fifty. A smile slowly spread across his face until it was ear to ear. “Yes, sir, Mr. Fortune.”

  Nick watched him leave, all the while wondering how long it had been since fifty lousy bucks could turn his whole world around.

  Silky material drifted across the stool next to him.

  Damn, he’d forgotten about the blonde.

  “I knew it. I just knew you were Nick Fortune.”

  He tipped his head to the side and sent her an apologetic smile, not feeling sorry in the least. “Sorry.”

  “Oh, no need to apologize.” She settled herself more comfortably on the high stool, looking as if she planned on taking up permanent residence. “I can only imagine how annoying it must be to have strangers come up to you all the time.”