by Noelle Hart
She refused to rise to the bait and fumed inwardly instead. So far all she'd done is defend herself. Like father, like son? She was getting a clearer picture of Drew's characteristics now, and where they came from. Absently she sipped more wine, then quickly put it down when she remembered what it was.
Olivia was doing a decent job of hiding her distress. She leaned toward Kylie. “Don't you like the wine, dear? Can I get you something else?”
Kylie gave her a genuine smile. “The wine is great. But I'm feeling a little jumpy in my stomach. Maybe some mineral water if you have it?”
Olivia went to fetch the drink, her hand shaking as she poured the sparkling water into a tall glass with ice, added a lemon wedge. She topped off her own glass with straight vodka and took a healthy slug before returning to the couch.
The Philippine woman appeared in the doorway and announced that dinner was served. Olivia asked her to kindly bring the drinks, then guided Kylie out of the room and into a formal dining area with French doors leading out to a fairy lit garden. The doors stood open to admit a soft summer breeze.
The table was laid out with formal dinnerware, with an artful trio of crocuses floating in water at its center. First up, creamed lobster soup, ladled out wordlessly by the Philippine woman. Wine flowed and the conversation remained civilly polite as the meal wore on. Kylie held her own, warming up to Olivia while remaining wary of Stanley. Drew mostly grunted at the appropriate times, and by the time they'd plowed through a magnificent array of courses and were offered dessert and coffee, Kylie thought she might burst from having to mind her manners like never before.
The liquor had loosened Stanley up. He made a toast. “To Drew and Kylie, may you both find what you're looking for.” Granted it was a strange one, but to Kylie it seemed friendly enough as she raised her mineral water.
Drew decided to throw a monkey-wrench in. “We've already found it in each other father,” he said. “We're getting married.”
The blurt seemed to surprise even Drew himself as they were all stunned into momentary silence. He'd done the opposite of what he'd said in the car earlier, his outburst completely overshadowing the more disturbing fact that again he'd turned on a dime. This was a habit, she realized, to say one thing and then do another. He simply lived by his own agenda, doing and saying whatever pleased him in that particular moment. He'd done just that with the issue of them having sex, as well as making the assumption now that they were getting married. She'd agreed to no such thing!
Olivia was the first to recover. “This is wonderful news. There's so much to do, so much to...”
“Hold on,” boomed Stanley, cutting her off. “Olivia, didn't you tell me they've only been seeing each other for four months? Drew, that's not long enough. What the devil are you thinking?”
Drew dug his heels in. “You and Mom got married within two months of meeting each other.”
Stanley waved an imperious hand. “Those were different times, different circumstances. But you... you're in line for a partnership at the agency. You'll need a corporate wife. Is Kylie here up to the task?”
Drew swallowed hard and stubbornly maintained. “We love each other and we want to get married. End of story.”
This was crazy, nuts. Off the charts insane, and however unexpected, Kylie had to agree with Stanley. What was this about a corporate wife? Seeing the panic in Olivia's eyes, she realized that hell was about to break loose over chocolate mousse and cappuccinos.
Stanley's eyes narrowed as he studied his son. They were in a staring match stand-off, neither willing to back down. “Come into my study,” said Stanley. “We need to talk.”
About to rise, Drew had his father sitting down again. “Whatever you have to say can be said here.”
Stanley waved his highball glass in Ligaya's direction who had been standing to one side. She scurried off to fill his order.
“Marriage,” said Stanley commandingly, “is a serious step. We know nothing about this girl, her family. What's the real reason you want to rush into this thing? Although I suspect I know the answer to that already.” His direct gaze landed on Kylie who was trying to figure out how to be diplomatic for Drew's sake, truthful for hers.
This time it wasn't such a shock when Drew spelled it out in plain language. “Here are the facts. Kylie's pregnant and I intend to marry her. Isn't that right, Kylie?”
All eyes turned to her. She tried to read reactions: Olivia was obviously distressed, Stanley was indignant and Drew was actually expectant, waiting for her back him up.
She chose her words carefully. “It's true that I'm pregnant. And while I enjoy Drew's company,” – okay, an exaggeration but she had to give him something - “we barely know one another. Not at a base level. Drew, when you spring things on people like this, they tend to get defensive. But I'm not being defensive as much as practical when I say that not once have you asked me if I love you. For me it's an important ingredient for a successful marriage. You've made some very big assumptions and an impulsive, if not reckless leap. So Stanley, you can set your mind at ease, there will be no wedding.”
Like a burgeoning storm cloud, Drew visibly darkened. He muttered under his breath, “You're embarrassing me.”
She laid a cautioning hand on his arm and he brushed it off. Abruptly he got to his feet and hauled her up with him. “We're leaving. Thanks for dinner, Mom.”
Olivia's eyes teared up. She gulped down the rest of her wine and busily poured more. Avoidance, or fear, Kylie guessed.
“Seems to me that Miss Lambert here has some sense in her,” called out Stanley when Drew dragged Kylie through the house. Stanley's laugh followed them out the door.
Outside by the car Drew bent over, hands on his knees while he struggled with his temper. Teeth gritted, he fought for equilibrium. Kylie stood to one side, uneasy with his emotional state. The hold he'd had on her arm as he'd steered her out of the house had been tight as a clamp. The fact that he hadn't given her a chance to thank his mother for the dinner played across her own emotional field.
She waited for him to get a grip. Looking up, she caught sight of Olivia hovering by the front windows, peering out anxiously.
Drew straightened. In stony silence he opened her door for her and hesitantly she climbed aboard. She was prepared for the storm to break, for harsh words to rain down. But not for the thunder that struck.
In the driver's seat now, Drew's backhand lashed out in a hard slap to her face, landing with a resounding smack. Ears ringing, Kylie gaped at him in the gloom of the interior.
“How dare you embarrass me like that,” he said with quiet menace that promised more to come.
Kylie's hand rose to her cheek. Bruises would form, but none so damaging as the one he'd just now inflicted on her heart.
It was unforgivable.
She said nothing. What would be the point? For her, this was over. Lightening quick, she opened the door and leaped out into the night, tearing down the driveway and into the darkness that reached out to engulf her.
* * * *
CHAPTER EIGHT
Doctor Lydia Barrymore was finally on her way home from a busy roster of patients. Thankfully no one had gone into labor, so for now that meant the possibility of a quiet evening at home with her husband and their two faithful Siberian Huskies.
About to pull into her driveway, a figure suddenly dashed across her path and she braked hard. Caught in her headlights the figure froze for a full three seconds, then rushed off into the dark.
What the... was that...?
She hastily lowered her window and called out, “Kylie? Kylie Lambert?”
The woman froze again and hesitantly turned. In the moonlight her cheek appeared to have a red welt and black mascara trailed over it, her eyes wet with tears.
Lydia Barrymore held up her hand. “Wait. Stop right there. Just let me pull in.” She eased her car into her driveway and got out, turned to the woman she'd taken on as a new patient that very morning.
She
walked over to her as Kylie hadn't moved an inch. “Are you alright?” She looked around, saw no one.
Kylie swiped angrily at the tears. She wasn't a woos, wasn't one of those simpering women who cry at the drop of a hat. Or at getting smacked soundly on the face. She was just... pissed! Frustrated and utterly pissed.
A car cruised up the street toward them, going slow. Kylie stiffened and moved deeper into the shadow of a giant oak, slipped behind it when the silver convertible passed by.
Instinctively guessing what was happening, Lydia pretended to be searching through her purse for something while the car went by. When it was out of sight, she said quietly, “You can come out now.”
Kylie took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She looked up briefly at the stone and Tudor-style home tucked back behind a small stand of maples, and tried for a smile. Pain lanced through her cheekbone. “I know this is a helluva way to meet up with a patient, but silly me, I don't have the number for a cab company and I could really use one right now. Do you think you could...”
Lydia gently took Kylie's arm and steered her up the driveway. “I'll do better than that. The universe arranged things so that I would be here at this precise moment in time to rescue you, and that's exactly what I intend to do.”
Lydia's no-nonsense tactic bore no argument and Kylie was grateful for her intervention. “What are the odds, huh?” she murmured.
“Let's get some ice on that cheek. Then you can tell me how this happened.”
Inside, incandescent lighting glowed a welcome home and even more-so, two furry Siberians with pale blue eyes as they launched themselves at Lydia. On her command they sat politely, one all white, the other liver and cream, both lifting a paw to shake Kylie's hand. She was instantly charmed, her dilemma momentarily shoved aside.
“These two are Bonnie and Clyde, my precious babies. They make up for the fact that I've never had kids of my own,” said Lydia. “And this is Frank. Come and meet Kylie Lambert.”
A short, rotund man came out from the depths of the house to meet her. When he saw her face he smiled grimly. “Kylie Lambert. Are you related to Rita and Joe Lambert by any chance?”
Lydia filled him in. “Rita brought her to my clinic. She's their daughter and by some strange twist of fate, landed in our driveway this evening in need of assistance.”
Frank leaned in and kissed his wife, then led them both to a sitting room. The house was every bit as opulent as the Hammond residence, yet it felt cozy and lived in. The difference struck Kylie immediately.
Lydia pressed an ice pack onto Kylie's cheek while Frank placed a cup of herbal tea in front of her.
“Now,” said Lydia, “how did you get this? Who's car was that you were avoiding?”
Kylie looked at Lydia Barrymore and saw an older woman with gray in her hair and wisdom in her eyes. “I'm afraid that the father of this child I'm carrying and I don't see eye to eye.”
Anger sparked. “He hit you?”
“A disastrous dinner at his parent's house a few streets over. I didn't back him up when he announced we were in love and getting married. Didn't take my lack of support very well.”
“I see.” No judgmental look, no shocked intake of breath. “Your mother filled me in somewhat on your situation and quite frankly,” she winked at her husband, “I think you're doing the right thing by waiting until you know whether or not the father will make good husband material. By the look of things, I can see he's lost points. Big, fatal ones.”
The ice felt heavenly but she lowered it now, took a sip of her tea. “So very nice of you to take me in like this but I don't want to intrude. Could you call me a cab please?”
Lydia sent her husband a look and they wordlessly communicated as Frank rose and she tossed him her keys.
“I'll be happy to see you home safely.”
Protests aside, Kylie was ushered down the driveway and into Lydia's vehicle. She thanked her profusely.
Lydia leaned into the window before they took off. “Let me tell you something that might make this easier for you. I've seen plenty of single mothers over the years and most of them make a go of it just fine without having a man involved. Keep that in mind and be strong, because this baby deserves nothing less than a loving upbringing. You'll get plenty of support from Rita and Joe.”
Kylie felt the sting of new tears prick her eyelids and she blinked them back. “Thanks. I'll see you in a month at the clinic.”
When Frank turned into the street where Kylie and Jolene shared their apartment, a silver convertible was parked at the curb out front. Seeing her tense, Frank asked, “Is that the guy? Want me to have a little heart-to-heart with him?”
“It's enough that you've brought me home. Just give me a minute.” She pulled out her cell and called Jolene who answered sleepily, and made arrangements.
“Go around the back of the building,” Kylie instructed. Frank pulled into a service alley with garbage bins where Jolene was lowering a fire escape ladder. With a wave at Frank, Kylie climbed up to their apartment.
Jolene furiously ranted, “That fucker! I swear I'll return the favor if he ever comes near you again.” She stopped suddenly in her tracks. “In fact, I'm going down there right now and...”
“Stop,” said Kylie with quiet intensity. “I've had enough drama for one evening.” She went to a window and peered through the blind. “Damn, he's still there. What the hell does he want?”
Jolene examined Kylie's cheek. The welt would make way for a colorful bruise by morning. “Want some tea?”
“God no! What I really want is a shot of whiskey,” she rubbed her belly, “but the munchkin is seriously underage. I wonder how long he'll wait.”
“He can wait from here to eternity for all I care,” spouted Jolene. She stalked to their front door and double checked the deadbolt, the slide rod, then returned to plant a gentle kiss on Kylie's good cheek. “I have a feeling this isn't going away,” she told her. “You know I'm here to help, right?”
Her support group abounded. Kylie realized she was truly blessed in that department. Her sleep however was fitful that night as anxiety-filled dreams crowded her subconscious, leaving her feeling no where near as strong as Lydia Barrymore had suggested or as she herself would have liked.
*
Will knew he should stay away. But when the grapevine passed on the news of last night's dinner debacle that ended in a bruised cheek and probably bruised feelings as well, he had to go and see her.
What kind of man hits a woman, Will pondered. A weak, selfish one came the answer, with low self-esteem that required cutting down a woman who hadn't seen it coming to prove his dominance. A few less gracious terminologies flitted through his brain but he shelved them and knocked on Kylie's apartment door. The address he'd gleaned off of Jolene's job application after she'd told him Kylie had been sent home from work by her boss when she'd seen the damage done to her face.
Kylie's eyeball briefly appeared in the peephole, then he heard the locks disengage.
“Hey,” he said, priding himself on keeping a straight face when he saw the purple swelling. He held up a fistful of cheerful yellow tulips and a bottle of pain killer with a little red bow on it. “I come in peace.”
She tried to smile but stopped halfway as pain shot through her cheek. Overnight she'd ballooned out and had been icing since she'd returned from work. The whack had been harder than she'd imagined. The relief was in knowing that she no longer had to mull over the option of marriage, and the lack of heartache told her it would have been her decision anyway.
Will strolled into the apartment. It was small, the furnishings used, scarred and well lived in. Plants, pottery and artwork were strategically placed to create a welcoming, cozy atmosphere. He appreciated this, an all-female den.
Kylie carried the flowers to the sink in the kitchenette and angle cut the stems. She chose a tall, clear vase and placed them on the living room table.
Will watched her. The attraction was there, no denying it. Ev
en with her cheek aflame she got under his skin. Not that he was going to act on it. But damn it all, that compact, well toned body was a feast for his eyes and other senses too. Not to mention those lily-of-the-valley eyes. He realized his excuse for coming here might fly today, but what was he going to do when today was over? Remembering his promise, he felt a regretful ache.
“So,” she said, sitting next to him on the couch, “are you the Cavalry? Well you're too late. And by the way, Jolene shouldn't have told you.”
“If it's any consolation, she tried to stop me from coming over when I tried to brow beat your address out of her.”
“Bad choice of words. Do people even say that anymore?”
“Just an expression.” He tilted her chin and examined her cheek. “I don't go in for this sort of thing. Men, now that's another story.”
The contact was light as his fingers skimmed. Their eyes met and held as he laid his forehead on hers in a gesture of friendship. When he pulled back, Kylie felt touched.
Kylie ran her finger over a hairline scar on his chin. “Is this the aforementioned story?”
“Best told another time,” he said, grinning.
“Is it one that ends with, you should have seen the other guy?”
“Fortunately, yes.”
“I already got the third degree from my parents. I was supposed to bring Drew to brunch but obviously that didn't pan out. You're not going to drill me on what happened, are you?”
“The evidence speaks loud and clear. The schmuck obviously blindsided you.”
She told him anyway, starting with Stanley Hammond's iron fist attitude and ending with the rescue by the kindly doctor and her husband. His eyes never left her face as she narrated, emotions playing tag across her features.
“Cripes, Stanley Hammond's firm does our accounting,” said Will. “I wonder if his slap happy son has a hand in it.”
“I'm sure your account is safe enough. Drew hasn't met Jolene and she's the only connection between us.” She paused, testing the waters. “Does it mean something, that you and I have met?”