by Gina Wilkins
She set down the tumbler. “I think so. I’m sort of sleepy, though.”
“Could be the medicine making you sleepy. Why don’t you take a little nap?”
She gave the suggestion a moment’s thought, then nodded. “Okay. Will you still be here when I wake up, Nate’s mom?”
“I don’t know. I’ll be here for a little while longer. And you really must find something else to call me.”
“Like what?” Isabelle asked.
Caitlin watched as Lenore struggled for an answer, her eyes meeting her son’s. Nathan made a gesture as if to say, “You’re on your own.”
“How about Nanna?” Lenore said finally.
“Nanna?” Isabelle repeated.
“Nanna?” Nathan echoed.
Her cheeks just a bit pink, Lenore nodded. “It’s the name I always thought I would like my grandchildren to call me. Since you’ll be growing up with them—if I ever have any,” she added with a meaningful look at Nathan that made Caitlin a bit nervous, “you might as well call me the same thing.”
“Nanna,” Isabelle murmured again. “I think I like it.”
Lenore smiled. “You can decide for certain during your nap.”
Nathan pushed the bowl aside. “C’mon, poppet, I’ll tuck you in.”
He left Caitlin alone in the kitchen with Lenore.
Suddenly awkward, Caitlin carried Isabelle’s dishes to the sink, rinsed them and stacked them in the dishwasher. And then, since she didn’t want to share Isabelle’s nasty virus, she washed her hands and dried them carefully on a paper towel she then tossed in the trash.
“What can I do to help you?” she asked Lenore.
Lenore nodded toward a pan on the counter. “You can put the bread in the oven. Everything else should be ready by the time the bread is browned.”
Caitlin opened the oven door and slid the pan of herbed bread inside. “The sauce smells delicious.”
“If we’d left it up to Nathan, it would be reeking of garlic.”
“He did seem eager to add more, didn’t he?”
“Nathan has always loved garlic. Scampi was his favorite dish when he was a teenager. He ordered it every time when we went out to eat.”
“Mrs. McCloud.” Caitlin turned hesitantly toward the older woman. “I know this is really none of my business, but I’m very glad you came today. Nathan has missed you.”
“Yes, well, my son has the best of intentions, but I couldn’t in all conscience leave any child entirely at his mercy.”
Even though she knew Lenore was partially teasing, Caitlin couldn’t help feeling a little defensive on Nathan’s behalf. “He really has been marvelous with Isabelle. Considering that he has no experience with children, he seems to be doing a wonderful job raising her so far.”
Lenore glanced at the doorway, then spoke in a low voice. “It’s still hard for me. Seeing her, I mean. Knowing that she was conceived while I was still married to her father—quite contentedly married, I thought at the time.”
She held up her hand when Caitlin started to speak. “I know it isn’t the child’s fault, and I will make every effort to keep those feelings contained. She is an endearing child, and I’m sure I will grow quite fond of her, given time.”
“I’m sure you will. I’ve fallen rather hard for her myself, and I’ve never been particularly drawn to children.”
Rinsing pasta at the sink, Lenore glanced over her shoulder. “You’ve been spending quite a bit of time with Nathan and Isabelle?”
“Some,” Caitlin admitted cautiously. “There was no one…I mean, he needed someone to, um…”
“He needed someone to be on his side when no one else was. There’s no need to tiptoe around me, Caitlin.”
Caitlin nodded and checked the bread, which wasn’t quite done.
“What I’m trying to say,” Lenore added, “is that I want to apologize for the things I said to you that day in your office. I was rather emotional, and I don’t remember everything I said, but I know I was angry with you for not helping me talk Nathan out of taking Isabelle in. I believe I said he was sacrificing his happiness and that you were being heartless not to help me rescue him. I was wrong.”
She cleared her throat. “I know now that you understood better than I did that Nathan could never be happy if he made any other decision. He would have been haunted by regrets, and he would most likely have blamed me for it, eventually. Either way, I was in danger of losing my son, and you saw that more clearly than I did.”
“You were never really in danger of losing Nathan, Mrs. McCloud. He loves his little sister, just as he loves all his siblings and you. If there’s one thing I can say with certainty, it’s that family is the most important thing in the world to Nathan.”
Lenore turned from her cooking to study Caitlin’s face. “And what is the most important thing in the world to you, Caitlin?”
The shrill beeping of the oven timer saved her from having to answer. She didn’t have a clue what she would have said.
Nathan entered the kitchen then, rubbing his hands and sniffing exaggeratedly. “Smells delicious.”
Setting the pan of bread on a hot plate, Caitlin glanced at him and found him looking back at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. How much, she wondered, had he overheard?
Lunch was a fairly comfortable affair, not as awkward as Caitlin had feared it might be. That was mostly thanks to Nathan, whose relief at having his mother there to reassure him about Isabelle had changed his mood from frightened to almost exuberant.
Lenore was considerably more subdued than her son, of course, but she was obviously making an effort to keep the conversation pleasant. She talked about her community work, her activities at church and her other two offspring.
“We simply must get him out of the house more,” she said of Gideon. “The boy is in danger of becoming a crusty old hermit.”
“I’ll keep working on him,” Nathan promised. “He said he would play racquetball with me soon.”
“As for Deborah, I don’t know what’s going on with her,” Lenore admitted. “She calls at least once a week, but she doesn’t actually say anything. I know she’s unhappy, but I honestly don’t know why.”
“I’ve been talking to her,” Nathan said, looking as concerned as his mother. “She hasn’t opened up to me, either, but I’ll keep trying.”
If he put as much effort into his business as he did into making sure his family members were all safe and happy, he would probably head the hottest law firm in Mississippi by now, Caitlin found herself thinking. Yet, in the long run, which cause was really more important?
That was such a radical question for her that she momentarily lost track of the conversation. Toying with a crusty slice of bread, she drifted in her own thoughts until Nathan recalled her attention by saying her name.
“I’m sorry.” She set the bread down. “What did you say?”
His gaze was intent on her face again, but he spoke lightly. “I asked if you would like some more iced tea.”
“Oh. No, thank you, I’m fine.”
After studying her for another moment, he nodded and changed the subject by asking his mother for more details about the virus that had been going around and for further reassurance that serious complications were very rare. Caitlin suspected he had deliberately drawn Lenore’s attention away from her, and she was grateful.
She really needed some time alone to think about the dramatic changes that had taken place in her life lately. And maybe to come up with a definitive answer to the question Lenore had asked her: What is the most important thing in the world to you, Caitlin?
Lenore didn’t stay long after lunch. Caitlin had the feeling that Lenore simply needed to go home and be alone for a while, perhaps to come to terms with the knowledge that her ex-husband’s child would from this day on consider her a surrogate grandmother.
Caitlin certainly understood the need to be alone to think.
She was standing in the den when Nathan jo
ined her after checking on Isabelle. “She’s still sleeping,” he reported. “I felt her face. I think her fever might be down a little.”
“Your mother left the thermometer and the medicine.”
He nodded. “She certainly knew what to do, didn’t she?”
“Of course she did. She raised three children of her own.”
“I have to admit I was a little surprised that she came right over when I called her.”
“I think maybe she was subconsciously looking for a reason to reach out to you. This gave her an excuse to do so and still keep her pride intact. She’ll be able to tell all her friends that of course it’s painful for her to be reminded of her husband’s betrayal, but she simply couldn’t turn her back on a helpless child being raised by a clueless bachelor. Everyone will admire her selflessness and generosity so much they’ll probably give her another award.”
Squeezing the back of his neck with one hand, Nathan chuckled dryly. “You’re probably exactly right. By the time Mom spins the story, she’ll practically qualify for sainthood.”
“She really is a good woman, Nathan. I admire her very much.”
He dropped his hand and smiled more naturally. “So do I. Thanks.”
She motioned toward a tray on the coffee table. “I made coffee. I thought we might as well talk about work for a while, as we had planned to do this afternoon.”
He sat on the couch and patted the cushion beside him. “Might as well be comfortable while we talk. Have a seat.”
After only a momentary hesitation, she perched on one end of the couch, setting her briefcase between them. Nathan promptly picked it up and set it on the floor, sitting very close beside her.
“I haven’t even kissed you today,” he said, laying an arm on the back of the couch behind her.
Considering last night, it was ridiculous that she was suddenly self-conscious at the thought of kissing him. She cleared her throat. “We’ve been a bit busy.”
“A bit.” He toyed with a strand of her hair. “I haven’t even told you how pretty you look.”
She certainly didn’t consider her sweater and khakis an alluring ensemble and had chosen to wear them today specifically for that reason. “Thanks. About the case files…”
“About that kiss,” he countered, turning her face toward him again.
She supposed one kiss wouldn’t distract them too badly. She lifted her mouth to his, promising herself she wouldn’t let the embrace get out of hand.
The problem was, she hadn’t accounted for Nathan’s hands.
She was flat on her back beneath him, his hands under her sweater and hers fisted in his hair, when she finally surfaced enough to gasp, “We really have to stop this.”
He was busy nuzzling her ear. “Why?”
His lazily rotating thumb temporarily drained all rational thought from her mind. The kiss he pressed onto her mouth threatened to make the condition permanent. It took her several long minutes to remember that he had asked her a question.
“We have to stop,” she said, pushing at his shoulders, “because it’s the wrong time and place. Isabelle could walk in at any moment.”
He sighed. “You’re right,” he conceded, then kissed her again.
Logic almost deserted her again when their legs tangled and his hips moved against hers. Her lips still fused with his, she couldn’t resist arching into him a few times.
And then she tore her mouth away, took a few gasping breaths and pushed against his shoulders again. “Stop.”
Groaning, he levered himself upright and helped her sit up. She immediately busied herself straightening her hair and her clothes, at the same time making an effort to calm her breathing and heart rate.
Nathan made a few discreet adjustments of his own. “You say you made coffee?” he asked, his voice husky.
“Yes. Help yourself.” She reached for her briefcase. “We should start with the Smith case, I suppose. That’s the one that’s going to keep us very busy for the next few months.”
He didn’t even glance at the file she pulled out. “Tell me about your family.”
Her left eyebrow rose. “What do you mean?”
Lounging against the back of the couch, he sipped rapidly cooling coffee and studied her over the rim of the cup. “You know just about everything there is to know about my family, but I know almost nothing about yours. What was it like for you growing up?”
She shrugged lightly. “We moved a lot. Daddy was a sweet man who loved his beer, his junk food and his TV set. What he didn’t love was work. He had trouble keeping a job and a place to live and a car. But he had no trouble keeping his family. Mama and I loved him despite his shortcomings.”
Nathan used his free hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “I bet he loved you, too.”
He always seemed to be touching her. Playing with her hair or her fingers, stroking her arm or her hand. It was very difficult to keep her attention on conversation or work when every touch made electricity sizzle along her nerve endings. She cleared her throat. “I was the apple of his eye. He thought I was the smartest, most beautiful child who ever lived and he told me so every day.”
He traced the curve of her ear with one fingertip. “That’s a nice memory to have of him.”
“I have many nice memories of my father. We didn’t have money and we didn’t always have a nice place to live, but we had love. I tried to remember that during the worst financial times.”
“When did he die?”
Though she spoke matter-of-factly, it still hurt to remember. “Soon after my college graduation. Massive heart attack. He was so proud at the graduation ceremony. He wore his only special-occasion necktie and he didn’t stop smiling all day.”
Nathan covered her hand with his. “I wish I’d had a chance to meet him. I’m sure I would have liked him.”
Caitlin didn’t doubt that. Nathan didn’t judge people by their appearance or social standing or financial success. He was as unfailingly respectful to the least affluent of their clients as he was to the local bigwigs. She knew that his circle of friends included doctors, bankers, mechanics and laborers.
His parents had been wealthy and influential, but he would never look down at her because hers hadn’t been.
It was no wonder she had fallen so hard for him, despite her misgivings about mixing business and pleasure.
“I’d like to go with you to visit your mother sometime.”
That surprised her. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because she’s your mother,” he answered simply.
Caitlin toyed with the cover of the case file. “She doesn’t know she’s my mother. She doesn’t know she’s anyone’s mother. She sits in a chair, totally immersed in whatever video is playing in her mind. Sometimes she murmurs words, but they don’t make any sense. Sometimes she seems to be singing a little, but there’s no real tune or lyrics. I talk to her when I visit, but I doubt that she even knows there’s anyone in the room with her.”
“But you still go. And you still reach out to her, even though she can’t reach back. We’re a lot alike, you and I, Caitlin Briley.”
She had never thought of them as being very much alike or even having anything much in common, other than their work. Swallowing, she opened the file again. “About the Smith case…”
“Nate?” Isabelle wandered into the room, rubbing her eyes and carrying her stuffed owl. “I don’t feel good again.”
Nathan rose to tend to his sister and Caitlin closed the file in resignation. It seemed that they wouldn’t be working today. Again.
Chapter Fourteen
Caitlin was falling behind at work, though she would have been hard-pressed to pinpoint the reason why. Irene was certainly doing her part to keep everything on track. The clerical staff was keeping up with the filing and the billing, for the most part. Nathan left the office only when his responsibilities as Isabelle’s guardian called him away. If he’d taken any free time just for himself, Caitlin cer
tainly didn’t know about it.
It was true that she’d been spending many evenings with him and Isabelle during the two and a half weeks that had passed since the Sunday when Isabelle had been sick. They had several dinners together, attended a kid-friendly movie one evening and spent quite a few hours watching Isabelle make use of the local playground facilities. The holidays were approaching, and Isabelle was busy with school programs and the twice-a-week dance class she had persuaded Nathan to enroll her in, but there was still the occasional evening when Nathan and Caitlin found a few hours to be alone together, with Mrs. T.’s cooperation.
They made very good use of that time.
Caitlin had been forced to cut back from sixteen work hours a day to ten or twelve. Maybe that was why she was having trouble keeping up with her too-heavy workload. She had worried from the start that her relationship with Nathan would interfere with her work, she thought in mounting frustration.
“You and Mr. McCloud should consider bringing in another lawyer,” Irene said after a particularly strenuous afternoon. “Not necessarily a partner, but an associate to take some of the time-consuming bankruptcy cases.”
“It’s something to consider,” Caitlin replied absently, her fingers flying over her keyboard.
“Ms. Briley, there’s a call on line two,” Mandy said over the desk intercom. “It’s a Mr. Tom Hutchinson from Los Angeles.”
Gathering papers, Irene left to give her privacy to take the call. Caitlin pushed a hand through her hair and looked at the phone with misgiving. She wasn’t sure what to say to Tom right now, especially if his call had anything to do with an interview with his firm.
Because she couldn’t simply leave him holding, she picked up the phone.
“Katie. Hi, it’s Tom.”
She’d forgotten how annoying it was for him to call her that. “How are you, Tom?”
“Great. Couldn’t be better. I’m working on a couple of possibly precedent-setting cases and making more money than I could have imagined at this stage in my career. It’s a tough firm—fiercely competitive, unforgiving of mistakes, almost cutthroat, at times, but the future is unlimited here.”