Middleton barely showed in his rearview mirror before the forest closed around the road, and within minutes he’d arrived at Highway 101. There was the sign: Middleton, 5 miles.
Five miles, and in another universe.
A semi roared by, followed by an RV and a couple of campers. People who’d taken an extended weekend over here on the peninsula, and were now heading home. They probably never even saw the sign for Middleton, or gave a passing thought to who would live out here in the middle of nowhere and why.
How in hell, he wondered again, had his mother ended up here, of all places?
Then he turned onto the highway, and Middleton fell behind him.
* * *
FOUR DAYS LATER, it seemed as remote and unlikely as Timbuktu.
Lucy, he missed. Middleton, however, took on a hazy, unreal quality in his mind, rather like the memories he’d been dredging from the distant past that included his mother. They were actual memories, yes; but perfectly recalled? Probably not. They were colored by family tensions, by his mood, by his limited understanding, and ultimately by her disappearance. He couldn’t be sure anything had happened the way he remembered it.
The first day or two in Seattle, he felt buffeted by the noise and speed of traffic and the crowds and the urgency with which people strode the sidewalks. He had some trouble concentrating, would find himself gazing out the floor-to-ceiling window in his office without really seeing the cityscape beyond the glass. He kept battling a feeling that nothing around him was real.
By Wednesday, it was Middleton he knew to be unreal. He’d felt a familiar surge of anger at the shoddy research a couple of associates had done in his absence. There was ice in his voice when he told them what he thought and sent them back to do it right. He snapped out orders for Carol to put through calls or check his schedule or find out why information wasn’t right where he wanted it when he wanted it. He thought about Lucy sometimes, his chest tight, about his mother less often. Middleton itself, with its old-fashioned air, seemed as illusory as a Wild West town on the Disney lot. For all he knew, residents had engaged in an elaborate conspiracy to bamboozle the big-city attorney. Why they would have bothered, he couldn’t imagine, and didn’t care. He was back to figuring how quickly he could get his mother moved to an assisted-living facility here in Seattle, and Lucy into his condo and bed.
He called her twice, but both conversations were briefer than he would have liked and stilted. He said, “I miss you,” and she said it, too. Otherwise, she told him that no, his mother hadn’t opened her eyes yet, although she thought any day it would happen, and that he’d missed the chance to try her famous potato soup today. He was the one with almost nothing to say. She wouldn’t get what he’d done all day, he told himself. You mean she wouldn’t approve, a voice whispered. She would listen with bewilderment if he tried to explain why he was fighting tooth and nail to defend a corporation engaged in unethical practices. So he didn’t try, merely said, “Doing my best,” when she asked if he was catching up at work.
Friday he worked until 8:00 in the evening. Adrian would have waited to drive over until morning if it hadn’t been for thoughts of Lucy. Hell, if not for Lucy he wouldn’t have gone at all. He’d fallen so far behind at work, he might never catch up. The last thing he should be doing was heading out of town for the weekend.
But...he couldn’t get her out of his head. The café was open and busy tonight, of course, but if he got a move on he could be waiting when she closed.
Mind made up, he packed a bag swiftly and caught a late ferry to Bainbridge. He didn’t go up to the observation deck, but got out of his car and leaned on the railing, catching the sea air, hearing the gulls cry and watching the sun drop behind the Olympic Mountains, jagged and white-tipped. For the first time all week, some of the tension left his neck and shoulders, the sharp-edged impatience and drive that kept him going blunted.
The drive felt weirdly familiar this time. It seemed to go more quickly, as if his car leaped eagerly forward. His thoughts kept jumping between work and Lucy, with his mother slipping in occasionally.
Why the hell hadn’t Brock returned his call? If he thought he could keep dodging... Lucy’s face, dirt-smudged but shining from within as she admired her newly planted flower beds. What kind of bad luck had gotten Judge Roberta Easton assigned to the ParTex case? The damned woman drove a hybrid and was a vegan, for God’s sake. What were the chances she’d rule fairly when big business clashed with the Sierra Club et al? Push her into saying something inflammatory. Yeah, that might work. Then he could demand a change of courtroom. His mother, young and pretty, laughing gaily; her face shifting, changing, aging, going still and unresponsive against the white pillow. Beep, beep, beep, life support.
He couldn’t remember disliking a client as much as he did Lyle Galbreath, the young CEO of ParTex, accused of sliding around environmental regulations. Listening politely, attentively, his thoughts hidden, Adrian had wondered what it would be like to defend someone he’d known for years, someone who was scared and troubled and heartsick—or, God, actually innocent. Someone with a good side and maybe a bad side but also a sense of remorse, who was thinking about something besides profit.
Lucy’s voice, rich and expressive, reading Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Tremulous. “I want you.” She’d wanted all of him. Would she still want him once she understood that his livelihood was defending scum like Lyle Galbreath? Would she want his heart?
His headlights picked out the sign: Middleton, 5 miles. He turned, darkness closing around his car, the headlights finding only the yellow stripe down the center of the deserted highway and the trees choking it on both sides. It was suddenly like being a kid who’d opened the closet door to find a path leading into a mist-wreathed forest instead of his clothes on hangers. Last time he’d felt reluctant incredulity. This time...he hardly knew. He found himself looking ahead eagerly for the first lights. There was some of the same disorientation, but also a sense of homecoming. He knew every business on Main Street. He’d smile and nod at people coming out of the café, because he’d met them, or knew they were related to Lucy however distantly, or had been kind to his mother.
Did he have time to go to the hospital first? He glanced at his watch. Would they let him in this late? Probably. In a small-town hospital like Middleton, nobody was big on rules.
The café wouldn’t close for another fifteen minutes. Lucy would be stuck there for another hour at least. Adrian made up his mind. He had time.
So instead of turning to go downtown, he continued toward the hospital. His foot lifted briefly from the gas pedal when he passed Safeway. He never went by the spot where his mother had been hit without looking, as if he might see a ghostly reincarnation of the accident. Middleton seemed like the kind of place where it might even be possible.
The information desk at the hospital was dark and deserted. Adrian made his way upstairs, remembering his first time here. Only this was different, of course. The nurse at the station looked up and beamed at the sight of him. “Mr. Rutledge! Your mother’s been so restless today. I know she’ll be glad you’re back.”
“Do you mind if I go in for a minute?” he asked. “I know it’s past visiting hours—”
“Don’t be silly,” she said comfortably. “Take your time. She doesn’t have a roommate you’d be disturbing. I haven’t turned out her light yet.”
“Thanks.”
When he circled the drawn curtain and went to his mother’s bedside, he expected her to be sleeping, as the entire hospital seemed to be around them. Instead, to his shock, he found her head turned on the pillow so that she could scowl fiercely at the empty chair. Her mouth worked, as though she desperately wanted to say something.
“Mom?” He reached out and took her hand. “Mom, it’s Adrian. Are you all right?”
Stupid question. What did he expect? Yes, dear, of course I am?
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But she gripped his hand. This time, it couldn’t be in his imagination. Her fingers bit into his and her head rolled frantically on the pillow. Restless, the nurse had said. More as if she were just below the surface, fighting her way up.
“Hey. It’ll come,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
He kept murmuring nonsense, she kept twitching spasmodically and holding on to him so hard, he was afraid he’d have to all but pry her fingers from his when it came time to leave. Eventually she subsided, though, and he thought she might even be asleep by the time he slipped out. He turned off the light as he went, and told the nurse, “She seems to have settled down.”
“Oh, thank goodness. I’ll bet she knew you were there.”
He felt a pang. She had responded to him. By the time he walked out of the hospital into the night air, however, he’d reminded himself that his mother was unlikely to have the slightest idea who he was if she did wake up. Maybe having anyone at all there holding her hand and talking to her would have calmed her.
With all the businesses closed, he was able to park right in front of the café. The front door was locked, but Mabel hurried to open it when he knocked.
“Adrian, I didn’t know you were coming back today.”
“I wasn’t sure I could make it.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “Lucy in back?”
She smiled. “I’m done out here. Tell her goodnight.”
“Will do.”
Surprising him, she reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m glad you came.” Then she hurried out, leaving him staring after her. Did everyone in town assume he’d ditched Lucy and his mother both for the bright lights of the city?
Hadn’t he come close?
“Mabel?” Lucy’s voice came from the kitchen. “Is someone here?”
“Mabel says goodnight.” Adrian walked toward the back.
She appeared in the doorway. “Adrian?” Her face lit. “It is you!”
She hadn’t thought he would show up tonight, either, he realized. He’d have been ticked at her lack of faith, if guilt hadn’t niggled at him for the reluctance he’d felt all day. Part of him hadn’t wanted to ever return to Middleton. He’d been afraid....
Afraid? Of what? Adrian asked himself in shock, but didn’t let himself pursue an answer he wasn’t sure he had.
“Yeah,” he said roughly. “It’s me.”
He took a couple of long strides; she flung herself at him. His arms closed around her compulsively, hers around him as tightly. His heart cramped, his eyes burned, and he thought, Am I afraid of this?
But he had a bad feeling it wasn’t that simple.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LUCY LIFTED her head at last. “Have you been to the hospital yet?”
“Yeah.” Adrian slowly, reluctantly, loosened his hold on her. “The nurse said Mom was restless. But it was more than that. It seemed as if...I don’t know, as if she’s fighting something I can’t see.”
Lucy nodded. “I almost called you this morning. I started to wonder if she can hear us now but can’t quite respond. Think how frustrating that would be.”
He shuddered, hating to think about her trapped, unable to scream, unable to let anyone know she was there. Yeah, frustrating was one word for it. “You should have called me.”
“But you said you’d come,” she said simply.
In complete faith? Or had this been a test? Pass if he showed, fail if he didn’t? Didn’t she understand that real life couldn’t be set aside so easily? Would she close the café for weeks on end because her mother needed her?
Yeah, he realized. She would.
“I’m here.” He couldn’t tell her how close a call it had been. Especially not when he felt an overwhelming sense of...rightness. Yeah, that was it.
To hell with real life, he thought violently, even as he knew he didn’t mean it. Couldn’t afford to mean it.
“Yes.” She sighed happily and lifted her face.
Funny thing, given the bruising force of their initial embrace, but this kiss stayed tender. He felt a tearing sense of regret at how close he’d come to disappointing Lucy. He hated the idea that anything he did would hurt her.
Rubbing his cheek on the top of her head, he said hoarsely, “Are you almost done in here?”
“Done?” Lucy pulled back, wild roses blooming in her cheeks, her eyes dazed. She blinked. “Oh. You mean the kitchen. Um... Just give me a minute.”
“Can I help?”
She shook her head. “I really was almost done.”
He picked up this week’s edition of the Middleton Courier and sat to read the local gossip while he waited for her, his interest only cursory.
The high school boys’ baseball team had failed to make the state playoffs, but the coach was optimistic for next year with so many strong players who had been sophomores and juniors this year. Stephanie Marie English had won a Rotary Club scholarship for a college semester in Rome to study art.
Talk about culture shock for a kid who’d never known anything but Middleton.
A memorial service held for Lucille Burnbaum had been well-attended. The old lady had been ninety-eight, Adrian read, and most recently had been a resident at the Olympic Retirement Home. She left an astonishing number of descendants. He was not at all surprised to see that she’d graduated from Middleton High School back in the thirties.
Did anybody ever leave Middleton?
Ignoring the chill he felt, since he hoped like hell Lucy would in fact be willing to leave behind her hometown, Adrian continued to read.
Jeffrey and Ann Peterson welcomed a baby boy, weight six pounds seven ounces. They almost had to be related to Lucy. Good God, how many baby, wedding and Christmas presents did she have to buy?
“I’m ready.”
He looked up from the paper, startled at how engrossed he’d become. The kitchen was dark, and she was shrugging on a sweater as she crossed the dining room to him. He studied her as she approached.
Her hair was pulled into a bun, although tiny tendrils straggled after a long day’s work. She looked tired, and yet color was still high in her cheeks and her eyes were soft, as though his mere presence made her happy.
His chest hurt again. If this was love, it was damned uncomfortable. Why was he having trouble enjoying the moment, uncomplicated by guilt or a sense of inadequacy or the reminder that he only had until Sunday?
“Good,” he said, voice husky.
He followed her home, remembering belatedly that he should have checked in at the B and B. Instead, he took his overnight bag into Lucy’s house. He’d claim his room at Samantha’s in the morning. If they were really lucky, no one would happen to notice his car parked out front before then.
He gave a grunt of amusement. Yeah, right.
But, hey. Maybe if several relatives chided her about having a man spending the night, it would annoy Lucy enough to give her an added push to make the move to Seattle.
Of course, he had yet to ask her if she’d consider moving.
This weekend? Or was it too soon?
Each time he realized what a short time he’d known Lucy, he felt a fresh shock. In his entire adult life, he’d never let anyone be as important to him as she’d become in a matter of weeks.
Inside, she told him somewhat shyly that she needed to take a shower. At her suggestion, he made himself a sandwich and had a glass of milk while he waited. The microwaveable dinner he’d eaten at his desk seemed like a distant memory.
He heard the shower running upstairs, then silence. When she padded barefoot into the kitchen, her face had a rosy hue, her wet hair was loosely braided and she wore a pink chenille robe. The creamy skin and hint of a cleavage revealed at the V of the neckline made him wonder if she wore anything beneath the robe. His body immediately tightened.
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br /> She smiled at him. “Oh, good. You did find something.”
He had to look down at his hand and the remnant of the sandwich to know what she was talking about. “Yeah. Thanks.” His gaze swept over her hungrily. “I like you barefoot.”
“My toes like it, too.” Her eyes were an even deeper blue than usual, suffused with some emotion.
He shoved his plate away and turned the chair, the legs scraping on the floor. “Hey. Come here.”
She came to him without hesitation, her cheeks even pinker, but her gaze never leaving his. When she stopped in front of him, he reached up and stroked the smooth, clean line of her throat, continuing down her chest to where the shawl collar crossed. When he untied the robe and slowly parted it, she made no move to resist, only watching his face.
She was naked beneath it, her skin warm and fragrant from the shower, her breasts perfect handfuls, her waist supple and slender, her hips a gentle swell. She quivered with reaction as his hands savored her body.
Adrian had never felt a surge of desire so savage. For a moment he went still, trying to get a grip on himself. “I shouldn’t have started this until we’d made it to bed,” he said rawly.
“I always did love that scene in Bull Durham,” she whispered.
He laughed. At least, he thought he did. With one hand he swept the plate and glass from the table, wincing at the sound of glass splintering. Then he lifted her up, the robe open, and sat her butt on the table. One more sight of her body, pale and pretty and sexier than anything he’d ever seen in his life, and he crushed her mouth beneath his.
Her arms clamped around his neck and she kissed him with hunger as ferocious and undeniable.
“You’re beautiful,” he heard himself say once, in a voice he didn’t recognize. The words I love you were there, too, but clogged in his throat. He hadn’t said them since he was a little boy, and his tongue didn’t know how to shape them.
They got his shirt unbuttoned, but not off, his pants open. If he hadn’t carried a condom in his wallet, right there, he wouldn’t have had the strength of will to go find one. He tried to let her put it on, but thought he’d explode at the tentative touch of her fingers. With a guttural sound he took over, kissing her the whole while, pushing her back down onto the dining-room table. Her legs locked around his waist as he slammed into her in an act so primitive, he’d lost all ability to reason. Sensation rolled atop sensation: creamy skin, gasps, the sharp edge of her teeth, the hot slick glove of her body.
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