She glanced at her watch. "How long is it going to take? They've been working on him for two hours." Two hours of anguish, she thought as she swiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"They had to relieve the pressure on his brain, set his leg. That takes time, Tess. He'll be all right."
All right? "Do you know something I don't know?" Shudder after shudder rippled down the length of her. She would never forget how her son had looked as the paramedics placed him in the ambulance. Like a broken doll.
Zachariah covered the distance between them in three long strides and drew her into his arms. For several heartbeats, she allowed him to hold her, to comfort her, but then the scene in the backyard rushed into her mind with all the guilt she was trying to keep at bay. Their fight was the reason Wesley was on an operating table right now. She tried to pull free, but Zachariah only tightened his arms about her.
"Let me help. What can I do for you?" Zachariah asked, his hand rubbing up and down her back.
This time when she jerked away, he let her go. "Nothing. You've done more than enough." The words came out in an accusing tone as she stepped back. If she wasn't hurting so much herself, she might have responded to the look of pain that flashed into his eyes. But she couldn't; she didn't have it in her. "You don't need to stay."
"I am."
"I'd rather you leave."
"I'm not, Tess."
"I want to be alone."
"That's the worse thing you can be right now."
"Don't you dare tell me what's good or bad for me. That's one of the reasons we're here right now."
He flinched as if she had slapped him.
"I want to be alone, Zachariah." She pronounced the sentence slowly and loudly.
He remained standing in front of her, determination slowly covering up the sadness in his eyes.
"What do I have to do to make you leave me alone?"
He started to say something but instead clamped his jaw tightly together. With a step back he positioned himself near the doorway.
Couldn't put Tess together again.
The cracks in her facade were fissures now, wide and deep, clear to her soul. She didn't want him to see her come apart. "If you won't go, I will."
He gave her one last, long look, then pivoted and left. The quiet in the waiting room crashed down on her and the fragile hold she had on her emotions shattered. Hugging her arms to her, she fell into a nearby chair and sobbed, rocking back and forth to stem the flow of pain that coursed through her body like a river out of control. Nothing took the feelings of hurt and helplessness away— not the silence, not the release of her tears, not the absence of Zachariah.
"Mrs. Morgan."
She heard her name as though it were spoken through a vacuum. She glanced up and saw the teary blur of the surgeon in his green scrubs standing in the doorway. "Is my son all right?"
Chapter Ten
Tess stared at the amount owed at the bottom of the hospital bill, not sure where in the world she would come up with the money. Thank goodness, at least her son would be all right in time. After spending two weeks in the Memorial Medical Center, Wesley would be going home today with a cast on his leg and his head shaved the only visible signs of his accident.
Sighing deeply, she clutched the piece of paper in her hand and left the cashier's office for her son's room. With leadened steps, she headed down the corridor. She was so tired and mentally exhausted after spending endless hours waiting during Wesley's operation, during his recovery. She had spent endless hours at his bedside, reassuring herself that her son would make it. She had spent endless hours berating herself for the scene in the backyard the day of his accident.
As she approached her son's hospital room, she saw Zachariah leaving it. She hadn't seen him in the two weeks since she had asked him to leave her alone while Wesley was in the operating room. Somehow Zachariah always knew when she was away from her son and managed to pay him a visit during that time.
Zachariah stopped in the hallway, his gaze locked with hers. Tall, powerful, he wore his uniform as though he were capable of taking care of anything. And he was, she thought, her heart tripling its rate at the sight of him, his expression unreadable.
"We need to talk," Zachariah said and started forward, gesturing for her to enter the waiting room behind her.
When she faced him, she noticed the tensed set of his shoulders, the clench of his jaw, the same tired look in his eyes as she felt. Since the accident she hadn't thought she could deal with him and the emotions he generated in her, not with all she had to handle the past two weeks. Now though, she knew she would have to, and she didn't know if she was mentally prepared. Confusion reigned inside her whenever she was with Zachariah Smith, and that fact hadn't changed in the time since she had last seen him.
"What's that? The bill?" Zachariah pointed at the piece of paper still clasped in her hand.
She nodded.
"I want to pay it. I'm to blame for Wesley being in the hospital."
"No," Tess said quickly, her grip on the paper tightening.
He paced away from her, putting the length of the waiting room between them. When he pivoted, he raked his hand through his hair repeatedly. "Tess, I need to pay the bill. If I hadn't put up that fence, he wouldn't be lying in that hospital bed right now."
"Wesley's my responsibility, not yours," Tess said, intending to explain he wasn't to blame but herself. She should never have caused the scene in the backyard in the first place. He had been right. She had been letting her past dictate her present.
Before Tess could formulate the words of explanation, Zachariah said in a tight voice, "You're too proud. You just can't accept help, can you? There's nothing wrong with admitting that you might need someone."
The frigid shards in his eyes chilled her, making her forget everything she was going to say. All of a sudden her anger matched his. "No." To make her point, Tess took the bill and stuffed it deep into her purse. She would not be steamrolled into doing something she didn't want to do.
His gaze narrowed, his jaw a harsh, forbidden line. "It's over between us. And don't kid yourself. We had something going." He combed his fingers through his hair and kneaded the corded muscles of his neck. "I'll tear down that fence this weekend. After that, you won't have to see me again."
"What about Wesley? He worships you." Panic crept into her voice while she frantically tried to remain calm. She knew in her heart she owed him an apology for the way she had treated him in the waiting room the night Wesley had been operated on, but she couldn't stop the rejected feelings from her past engulfing her now.
"I'll still be Wesley's soccer coach next spring and he'll still be Lance's friend. He'll always be welcomed at my house."
"But not his mother?" She laid her hand over her chest as though that would ease the crushing pain spreading outward to encompass her whole body.
Zachariah shook his head. "I need more than your kind of friendship. I need someone who will trust me, let me truly be a part of her life. I need a commitment, a relationship, a partnership, fifty-fifty. I thought this could work. I was wrong."
"So you're going to walk away?" Just like Brad, just like her father, Tess added silently, taking in one deep breath after another but nothing seemed to help the hurt.
"Yes. I just wish you needed me. Once—you really needed me." Zachariah strode toward the door. "Good-bye, Tess."
The finality of those words sliced through all of Tess's fragile defenses she had painstakingly erected to keep herself from feeling any pain. She hugged her arms to her as she watched him punch the down button for the elevator. When he got on it, he looked up at her and their gazes connected. For a heartbeat, she could have sworn his gray eyes were glazed with a deep hurt, but before she could discern for sure what she saw, he masked his expression and glanced away. The doors swished closed.
Suddenly Tess half ran, half walked toward the bank of elevators, tears blurring her vision. She had to stop him. She had to tell him—wha
t? She didn't know what to say to him. Confusion mixed with the feeling of betrayal to mangle her emotions. She turned away, wanting to double over and curl into a tight ball.
Couldn't put Tess together again.
She leaned against the wall and held herself. "I won't cry," she murmured over and over, but her tears flowed down her cheeks unchecked.
He had been right. She didn't know how to accept help. She was afraid to become indebted to someone. She had been forced to accept her grandmother's assistance because of the children. She had hated to admit she couldn't make it on her own when she had moved here. Every time she had started to depend on someone, that person had left, first her mother when she had died, then her father and finally Brad.
Tess wiped at the tears that still ran down her face. She had to compose herself before she went in to see Wesley to take him home. She couldn't upset her son again—not after the scene she had created in the backyard. Her fear of not being in total control of her relationship with Zachariah had driven her—and still did. But the past two weeks she had learned what not being in control of a situation meant. Life couldn't be completely planned no matter how hard she tried.
No matter how much she wanted to be calm and together for her son, the hurt wouldn't let go. It burrowed deep into her heart, constricting her throat, burning her lungs. Zachariah was gone. That realization struck her with the force of a sledgehammer, sending pain coursing through her body.
She loved him.
And it was too late.
She squeezed her eyes closed to silence the tears, but a lone one slipped from beneath her lashes and streaked down her cheek. She had come to Crystal City determined to stand on her own two feet, to make it alone. Now she truly was alone and it hurt like a wound that wouldn't heal.
Sucking in shallow breaths, she fought for control. Wesley needed her. She had to mend her son's pain before she could deal with hers. Placing the flat of her hand on the door into his room, she pushed her way inside, praying he didn't sense anything was wrong.
"Mom. Look what Zachariah brought me!" Her son held up a Star Wars figure. "It's one of the Emperor's guards. Isn't it neat?"
Her throat contracted. She nodded, not daring to speak, her emotions still too brittle.
"This makes my twelfth figure. I'm gonna have the best collection ever. Better than Jimmy's and Willie's." Wesley beamed from ear to ear while he fingered the plastic man garbed in blood red.
Tess smiled at her son, the corners of her mouth trembling. "Well, partner, are you ready to break out of this joint?"
"You betcha. I get to ride in a wheelchair. The nurse said so."
"Sounds like a plan to me. Everyone can't wait for you to get home."
"Did you get to see," her son paused, dropping his gaze to stare at the white sheet covering his lower body, "Zachariah before he left?"
Tess looked away, so afraid her raw emotions shone in her eyes. "Yeah."
"Did—did you two—you two make up?" Wesley twisted the sheet into a wad.
Tess drew in a sharp breath and held it until she thought her lungs would explode. This wasn't the place or the time that she had wanted to discuss what had happened in the backyard, but she saw the worried expression in her son's gaze when he lifted it toward her. "We spoke."
"Then he'll be coming over?"
She turned away, pulled the chair close to the bed, and sat. "Wesley, it's more complicated than that."
"You didn't make up." Tears welled up in her son's eyes, his bottom lip quivering. "It's all my fault. He's gone because of me."
Tess grasped his hands and held them. "No. Never because of you."
"You were fighting just like Dad and you right before Dad left. I heard you the night before. You were fighting about me." Tears spilled from his eyes, splashing onto their clasped hands. "I heard you and Zachariah talking about me. I'm the reason you fought."
For a few seconds Tess didn't understand then she remembered saying Wesley's name in the course of the fight. "We were arguing about the fence, honey. Not you."
He sniffed several times, but he continued to cry, his shoulders hunched forward. "Why did Dad leave us? What did I do wrong?"
Quickly Tess gathered her son into her arms, pressing his head to her chest as she stroked him. "You did nothing wrong. Your father thought I did something wrong, not you. He's the one losing out on being with us. You, Shaun, Katie and I are the lucky ones. We have each other. He doesn't have anyone now." She didn't think it was possible for her chest to feel such intense pressure. It was hard to breathe. It was hard to feel anything but the ache her son's words produced.
"Do you think he'll come back?"
"I don't know, sweetheart." She pulled back and cupped her son's face in her hands, her thumbs wiping his tears away while she fought her own. She had to be strong for Wesley. "You have me, and no matter what, that will never change." Her throat closed around each word as she spoke while her own eyes watered.
"I love you, Mom."
"And I love you, hon. Never doubt that." She drew him against her and wrapped her arms about him as if that would convey her feelings to her son.
"You will make up with Zachariah," Wesley mumbled against her chest, confidence in his voice.
And in that moment Tess realized her son was right. At least she knew she would try to make up with Zachariah. The big question was: would he want to make up with her? She hoped so because she wasn't sure she could or wanted to make it anymore on her own.
* * *
Tess stared out the kitchen window over the sink at Zachariah taking down the fence. He yanked off a wooden slat and tossed it to the ground, his action full of purpose, full of anger. She had thought in the hospital the last time she had seen him dressed in his uniform that he looked powerful, capable of taking care of anything. But it had nothing to do with his uniform, she realized as she watched him work, his body clad in black jeans and T-shirt. Zachariah had made her feel secure, safe, not just physically but emotionally. He had weaved his way into her life until he had become entwined with her as closely as the threads of a piece of cotton material.
It had been three days since Wesley had come home from the hospital and with each day that had passed Tess's conviction had grown stronger. She knew what she wanted, she needed. Zachariah Smith. The emptiness she had felt after he had walked away from her had left a hollowness that she didn't think she could fill with friends, work, activities.
She must do something now or she would lose him. But what if he rejected her? Memories of Brad and her father wormed their way into her thoughts, but she instantly shoved them away. That was the past. This was the present—and her future, if she could convince Zachariah to give her another chance.
But she remembered the hurt she had glimpsed in his eyes as the elevator had closed, and she didn't know if he would allow her into his heart again. He had every right to turn away from her. She had been wrong, so very wrong. She wasn't a risk taker, but she would do what she needed to get him back.
Inhaling a fortifying breath, she walked to the back door and placed her hand on the knob. Now or never, she thought and stepped out onto the small porch. Crisp, fall air cooled her heated cheeks as she gripped the railing.
"Zachariah, I need to see you."
Hammer in hand, he slowly turned, and his cold look skewered her, sending frozen fragments through her body. "What about?"
"I have some coffee brewing. Come inside and have a cup with me."
"You don't drink coffee."
"I know. I made it for you."
"Why?"
"To have with the cinnamon rolls I baked. Please." Her hands ached from gripping the railing so tightly. Not one bit of coldness melted in his eyes.
"Five minutes. I still have a lot of work to do." He threw the hammer down by the stack of wooden slats.
"That's what I want to talk to you about," she said as he passed her to go into the kitchen.
Just inside the doorway he spun about. "What?" Impatience
sounded in his voice.
"I want to keep the fence."
He didn't say anything for a full minute, his regard now void of any expression. Then all of a sudden anger replaced his blank look, carving a frown into his face. "Lady, make up your mind."
"I have. I want the fence. You were right about Bruce."
The hardened line of his jaw twitched. His eyes drilled into her with a relentless fury. "It doesn't make any difference now."
"I was wrong, Zachariah. About a lot of things."
Yours, Mine and Ours (Second Chances) Page 14