“For some reason, everything you say today sounds sarcastic.”
“Weird, huh?”
Livy sighed. So did Rosie. This wasn’t going well. Typical of every conversation they’d ever had.
“Unfortunately, Mama, the judge is going to see this as theft pure and simple.”
This is where they differed, or had since Rosie had come back to Savannah and discovered the Livy she knew buried beneath this stiff stranger.
“Nothing’s pure and simple. Cut-and-dried. Black or white. Life is often a dirty mess. But sometimes it can be full of colors and light and such beauty it makes you gasp. If you only open your eyes, your mind and your heart.”
“Don’t start that stuff with me now. The happy days of freedom are over. They fell out of the sky.”
Rosie flinched. “You have such a way with words, sugar.”
“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” Livy rubbed at her forehead.
The gesture always made Rosie want to hold her close and kiss it better. How had her dancing little girl become this sad-eyed woman who seemed to have a constant headache?
Rosie never pressed, but maybe she should have ferreted Livy’s problems into the open, the way her own mother always tried. Rosie had resented what she considered nosiness. But what she had resented might be just what Livy needed. Or, at least, what she needed right now.
For the past several days Livy had been more stressed than usual, and that was saying quite a bit. Something was going on. Call it a mother’s intuition, which Rosie should have made use of before now.
“You’ve been angry for so long.” Rosie took a step closer. “I don’t think you know how not to be anymore. And scared, too, about Max.” She put her hand on Livy’s shoulder and rubbed. The muscles were as hard as stones yet vibrated with tension. “I wish you’d trust me. Talk to me. Let me help you.” For a minute Rosie caught a glimpse of hope in Livy’s eyes, before it was smothered behind the cool blue once more.
She stepped away from Rosie’s comforting touch. “You help me daily, and I’m grateful.”
Rosie curled her fingers together to keep from reaching out again. “I’m your mother. I don’t want you to be grateful.”
“What do you want?”
“I guess I always wanted you to need me. But you never needed anyone except your father.”
Anger was an expression Rosie was used to seeing in her daughter’s eyes. But that didn’t make it any easier to face.
“That’s not true. I needed you once, but you weren’t there.”
Rosie put a hand over her heart. “Bull’s-eye again.”
“And I’m sorry again.” Rub, rub, rub on the forehead. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t mean to. Do we have to talk about the past? Dredge up everything that can’t be changed? I don’t know how to talk to you. I never did.”
“And I’m sorry for that. I always dreamed of a glorious relationship with my daughter, the relationship I wanted with my mother and never had. But look at us.”
“Ever since Daddy died, you’ve tried to change me. Telling me what I’m doing wrong—with my work, with Max, with everything. Nothing is ever right enough for you.”
Was that true? Rosie hadn’t meant to become her own mother all over again.
“I just want you to be happy. You were happy once.”
“Yeah, I was,” Livy whispered, almost to herself.
“Find that happiness again.”
Livy shook her head. “It’s gone.”
“You’re sure?”
“Very.” But she didn’t appear so.
“Sometimes what we think is gone is just waiting for us to come full circle. Like your father. He’s not really gone. He’s only waiting.”
And for the first time in a very long time, Livy didn’t argue with her mother.
*
Livy made it home by four. Barely. Another case had gone sour on her. She was beginning to wonder if she was cursed.
Once, she’d thought the law could give her the security she needed to survive. If she upheld the law, stood for those who could not stand for themselves, didn’t that make her stronger, she who had always been so weak? Upholding the law gave her control, or so Livy had thought. She was starting to understand that control was an illusion. Especially when emotions were involved.
Nothing’s pure and simple. Cut-and-dried. Black or white. Life is often a dirty mess.
When had Rosie become Savannah’s psychiatrist?
Livy put her briefcase on the table in the hall, then kicked her heels against the wall. She’d felt bad all day. Her mother had wanted to talk. Livy just hadn’t been able to. She’d spent too many years keeping to herself, managing as best she could. She didn’t talk about anything personal, mainly because she didn’t have anything personal to talk about, and she liked it that way.
But suddenly her entire life was one big soap opera, every little thing a throbbing personal problem. She might trust Kim with some of it, but she needed Kim focused on work. One of them had to be.
Though Livy should have stayed late and worked on an appeal, until Rosie was free, late was no longer an option. It was going to be a hardship to keep up with work and Rosie and Max. In all honesty, Livy didn’t think she’d be able to manage it.
Mrs. Hammond didn’t mind helping in an emergency, but she’d made it clear from the first she didn’t want Max over every day after school and sometimes at night and on the weekends, too. Livy couldn’t blame her. After the first trip to the E.R., she was surprised Mrs. Hammond hadn’t moved out of the neighborhood.
Livy wished she didn’t have to work all these hours. The guilt ate at her every time she arrived home after Max had fallen asleep. But the law waited on no one, and neither did the bills she had to pay.
Feet pounded up the porch steps. Max tripped in the door. His cast bashed against the wall.
“Hey, ba— I mean, Max. How’s that arm?”
He waved it about like a prizefighter. Several dents marred the surface already. “Great. You know having this means a lot less bruises on my arm.”
“I bet.”
“Where’s Rosie?”
Livy hesitated. Why was it so hard to tell him she’d failed.
“Jail, huh? That’s okay. You did your best. It’ll all work out.”
He trotted off to the kitchen in pursuit of food, and that was that. Max didn’t mention Rosie for the rest of the evening, except in the “God bless” portion of his prayers. Because in Max’s mind his mom would take care of everything. He trusted her. Just as Rosie trusted her. Everybody trusted her. Livy Frasier stood for justice and truth.
Too bad she was a big fat liar.
Exhausted, Livy went to bed right after Max. She hoped tonight, unlike last night, she’d be able to sleep. Though with all the things she had to think about, all the areas of her life that were unraveling, she had a feeling her hope would be merely that. Livy punched her pillow a few times and settled in.
Her exhaustion made her drift in a hazy place between asleep and awake, a subconscious world where thoughts came as fast and easy as memories of the past.
Rosie had said things come full circle. She’d meant love and happiness. She could have as easily meant justice and punishment. What goes around comes around, and Livy was pretty certain something was coming for her.
As if an echo of her thoughts, a thump sounded on the servants’ stairs.
Just an old house. Or too many memories.
Garrett’s phone call last night had made her think all day about things she’d believed forgotten. How he had once snuck up those stairs to spend each twilight in her bed. It had been easy. She’d given him the key.
A key he had never returned.
Livy sat up, suddenly wide-awake. At least that particular memory kept her from screaming when he stepped into the room and quietly closed, then locked, the door.
Chapter 13
Livy didn’t seem surprised to see him, which threw Garrett off his game.
So he’d stood outside and waited until all the lights went out, just the way he always used to. He’d devised a plan: unlock the door, slip upstairs, don’t scare her to death, talk fast before she threw him out.
But when he saw her sitting in bed as if waiting for him, just as she always used to, every word of the speech he’d planned flew out of his head, even as all his blood pooled lower. Everything he’d felt for her returned, slamming into him with the force of a Missouri ice storm and leaving him just as breathless. For a short time she’d been all he’d ever wanted, ever dreamed of, and so he’d been unable to stay. Because he knew he’d ruin the beauty of them eventually.
Whatever he touched he broke; whatever he cared about he crushed; when things mattered the most, he failed. Just look at the un-book.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
Garret swallowed. Throat treacherously empty of moisture, he nearly choked. Against the navy-blue pillowcase, her butterscotch hair shone. Once, her sheets had been crisp and white, soothing to rest upon in the heat of a Georgia summer night But the dark blue suited the woman she’d become and matched her eyes, though Garrett doubted she cared about such frivolities.
“We have to talk—” he began.
“I know.”
He gaped at her easy acquiescence.
“Did you think I’d disagree? Although I’d have preferred to wait until daylight to do this.” She threw back the covers.
His eyes, traitors that they were, scanned her form while she moved to her armoire and pulled out a robe.
She used to sleep in a skimpy T-shirt and silk panties. For years the merest thought of her long legs peeking from beneath the cotton had gotten him hard at the most inappropriate times.
Her sleeping attire was still cotton, but flowed about her ankles when she walked. As she lifted her arms and thrust them into the robe, the cotton tightened along her breasts, much fuller now because of him, because of Max.
Garrett moved to the window. Getting hard at inappropriate times did not seem to be a problem of just his youth.
He smelled her first, a haunting hint of spice, even before he heard the swish of her robe and nightgown. She stood at his side and stared out the window, too. Garrett fought not to turn and take her in his arms and make her forget talking while they did anything but.
“I’m going to give you a chance.” Her words, coming so soon on the heels of his lascivious thoughts made him start.
“At what?”
He felt her look in his direction, but even in the shadows he did not want to risk her seeing how she affected him, so he kept staring out the window, hands crossed over his interest.
“At getting to know your son.”
Hope sprang to life within him. “Really?”
“I’m not a sadist, Garrett. I wouldn’t hold out Max, then snatch him away and laugh.”
“You’ve been adamant that I didn’t deserve a minute with him. Why now?”
“I need help. My mother’s in jail, and she’s not getting out for a while. I can’t be home every day at four, and someone has to be. I could hire a nanny, but—” She paused as if she didn’t want to continue. “But?”
Livy pursed her lips, then looked away. “I think Max needs you.”
“Don’t sound so happy about it.”
“It would be my preference for you to go away and never come back, forget where Savannah is, forget Max exists. But you aren’t going to.”
“Damn right.”
“The two of you connected in a way he and I never have.’’ She sounded sad.
Garrett touched her arm. Even in the darkness, he saw the uncertainty in her eyes, and suddenly he wanted to comfort rather than ravish. “Max loves you.”
“He has to. I’m Mommy. But he doesn’t understand me, any more than I understand him. You do. I never thought blood meant so much.” She sidestepped, effectively removing his hand from her arm. “Max could use a man in his life.”
“What about your friend Klein?” Jealousy burned, even when he had no right. The man had taken an instant dislike to him, and Garrett figured that was because he had an extreme liking for Livy.
“He’s my friend and a good one.”
“Only a friend?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, he’s just a friend. I’ve needed friends like him lately. He’s also a colleague and great cop. Klein figured out that you were Max’s father.”
Surprise smothered the jealousy. “How could he know that?”
“He said you and Max have the same eyes.”
Pride surged through Garrett, until he saw the shadows dance across Livy’s face. The urge came again to take her in his arms, no longer sexual, but there just the same. “Livy, I—”
She held up her hand, seemed to struggle for words. “We’ll make an agreement. You can see Max on the condition that you don’t tell him who you are.”
The lightness in his heart that was hope, darkened. “Ever?”
“Let’s just wait awhile. Give all of us a chance to get used to this.”
Understanding dawned. “You think I’m going to run off again, and you don’t want Max hurt.”
“Is that unreasonable? Just tell me if it is and I can hire a nanny.”
Garrett’s emotions had been up and down and all around so many times since he’d come into this room that he was starting to feel like a trolley on the streets of San Francisco.
Once again he’d been judged inadequate before he’d had a chance to try. That made him angry, though Livy had every right to distrust him. And even as the anger burned, so did the fear. What if he did mess up? This was his son, not a book.
“I only want what’s best for Max. If you think that my being just his friend, for now, is what’s best, I agree.”
“Great.” Livy held out her hand.
Garrett stared at it in disbelief. “I’m not going to shake hands like Max is a deal you brokered. He’s a child. Our child.”
Her hand fell back to her side. “I’m not likely to forget that.”
“You did before.”
“No.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, hugged herself as if she were cold, though the room was far too warm. “I’ve never forgotten. Not one minute of any day, nor most of the nights. He was always yours. Forever ours. Why do you think I’m so angry?”
“Make me understand.”
Her sigh wavered in the middle, and suddenly Garrett understood that the shadows in her eyes had been lurking tears. He reached out, but she backed away.
“Don’t touch me.” She laughed, a watery sound, and sat in a rocking chair surrounded by the night. “Even now, when you touch me I can’t think. I only remember.”
Now was not the time to explore what they’d once felt, what they might feel again. When had he started to hope for a second chance with Livy? When she’d offered him a first chance with his son?
“Did I ever tell you about my father?” she began.
“Max mentioned it.”
“Good. Then, I don’t have to. I adored him and he left me. Forever. My mother dumped me here, and she was off on some great adventure before Daddy was even cold.”
Which explained her problem with her mother, and the reason she’d needed Garrett so much back then. She’d frightened him with that need, with the depth of her love. He’d been terrified he’d never be worthy of such a bright and shining gift, so he’d run, and ended up nearly missing the greatest gift he could ever imagine.
“I loved you so much.”
The intensity in her voice made his heart leap. Until he heard the past in those words. She’d loved him. Until he’d ruined it.
“You broke my heart.” She stared at her hands, twisting, twisting in her lap.
As if the sight disturbe
d her, she pulled them apart, cleared her throat and soldiered on. “The day after I said I loved you for the first time, I came skipping up the stairs to your room, and you were gone. I just stood there. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The place was empty of everything but an old, plaid shirt you’d tossed across a chair. I put the shirt on, and I could smell you.” She took a deep breath, as if living that moment all over again. “Then your landlady walked in, said you’d packed, paid, and you weren’t coming back.”
Livy’s eyes shone bright in the silver light of the half-moon. He made a move toward her, but she held up her hand. “I need to finish.” She rocked back and forth a few times. The floor creaked, an agitated sound that matched her mood. “I still didn’t believe it. I loved you. Then I found out I was pregnant—”
“Livy, I—”
“Be quiet! You need to hear this.” She paused again.
He wanted to tell her to stop, that this was hurting her, hurting him. But she was right; he needed to know what he’d done.
“I was happy when I found out. Everything that had been good about us would come alive in the child. And how could you not come back when there was a baby? Of course, that made no sense. You didn’t know about the baby. You’d left me. For months I wore your shirt to bed.” Her voice wavered; so did her lip. “As long as I had that shirt, I had hope. So I kept hoping, until…”
“Until?”
“Max was born. He was early and too small. The labor was long and, damn it, it hurt. I think more so because I was completely alone.”
Garrett closed his eyes. He was such an asshole.
“The day I was supposed to leave the hospital, I put on your shirt again, and it wasn’t good enough. The shirt wasn’t you, and I finally believed that you weren’t coming back. I couldn’t keep waiting and hoping forever. When my father died, I mourned, but the mourning ended. When you left me of your own free will, it killed me from the inside out. I didn’t want that for Max. When my hope died, so did you. And it was easier that way.”
“Until I showed up undead.”
“Exactly.”
Leave it to Max (Lori's Classic Love Stories Volume 1) Page 15