by J. R. Ward
As he let his voice drift, he shook his head. "What the hell am I doing here, talking. This is crazy--"
"She can hear you."
Max stiffened and twisted around. Tanesha was standing just inside the door, looking like a proper doctor in those scrubs, and that white coat, and the stethoscope around her neck. Then again--when you got great grades through high school and college, were accepted into the University of Chicago's medical school, and busted your ass in your residency? Yeah, you looked like a frickin' doctor.
"I knew you'd go into oncology," he said roughly.
Tanesha's brows lifted. "Why?"
"Am I right?"
"Well, yes." She came in farther. "I've lost a lot of people to cancer. I guess that's why I gravitated to it."
"Both grandparents, your uncle, the little cousin who was three, and your second cousin in college."
Tanesha blinked. "That's right. You've got a heck of a memory."
Only for things about you, he thought as he studied her.
"I'm surprised you're still here," she said. "I thought you were leaving yesterday."
"I'm taking off right after this." He glanced at Miss Aurora. "I had to say good-bye."
"She appreciates it, I'm sure." Tanesha went around to the other side and checked the monitors. "But I'll bet you'd prefer he stays, isn't that right, Miss Toms?"
"How's your father?" Max blurted.
Tanesha smiled and shifted her eyes over. "He's the same."
"Still hates me?"
"He never hated you. He just thought you weren't the right match for me."
"Because I'm white, right."
"No, because you're a jackass. Not that my father would put it in those words."
Max had to laugh. "You were always so blunt."
With a shrug, she sat down on the other side of the bed. "It's just the way I am. Take it or leave it."
"Are you seeing anyone?" he asked, even though he had no right to. "You know, after you broke up with that J.Crew model--"
"He was not a model, he was an engineering student--"
"Who looked like he was ordered out of a catalog that sold pleated pants and penny loafers."
"Chad was a very nice guy."
" 'Was,' huh. Not 'is.' "
"I'm not with anybody, not that it's any of your business. Medical school and then residency is a lot to juggle. Besides, my focus is on my patients--"
"Do you miss me sometimes?"
Her eyes shifted away. "No."
"Liar."
"Max, stop. You're leaving anyway, why do you care?"
"It's just that way between you and me--"
"Okay, you can quit that. There is no 'you and me' and there never has been. We have never been together."
"That's not true," Max said in a low voice. "And you know it."
The blush that tinted her cheeks told him that, yes, she was remembering exactly the same thing he was: all of the times the two of them had snuck off and fallen into each other. It had always been when they were back in town on break from college, or afterward, when he had been farting around and she had returned from medical school. Usually it had happened after he had played pickup basketball games with her brothers--a dangerous proposition because if those two guys had ever found out what transpired after Max and Tanesha left separately? They'd have rolled Max out in an alley and left him for dead.
Although that wasn't a racist thing. They'd have done the same to any African-American suitor who was too stupid to settle down and be a proper boyfriend.
You didn't mess with their baby sister.
"I meant in a relationship," she muttered. "We were never in a--"
"Are you settling down in Charlemont?" He motioned around the hospital room. "Going to work here. Buy a house. You know, be a grown-up?"
"My father wants me to stay, but...no. Actually, I wouldn't mind even leaving the country. I'll always come back to see family, but there are bigger places to be and see than Charlemont." With a quick smile, she motioned around his face. "When did you grow that beard?"
"Like it?"
"It's...interesting. But I think you're more handsome when you can see your face--" She stopped. "Not that I notice these things."
He smiled. "Of course you don't."
"What have you been doing these last three years?"
"So you've been counting down how long it's been since you saw me last?"
"Not in the slightest."
Max felt his body light up on the inside. "You sure about that? You sure you didn't miss me even a little."
"Maxwell Baldwine, you are just not that big a deal in my life."
"Don't make me call you a liar twice today, come on." As he stared at her through low lids, she looked like she wanted to wrap that stethoscope around his neck and cut off his air supply--and how hot was that? "And as for what I was doing? Just driving around. Working odd jobs for petty cash. Seeing the country."
"I was surprised you left without saying good-bye."
"I had to." He shrugged. "If I'd looked into your eyes one last time, I might have had to stay."
She blinked. "Now, why have you got to be like that."
"It's the truth."
They stared at each other for the longest time. And then he whispered, "For what it's worth, which is not much, I know...the one constant on the road for me was lying back, every night, and picturing you as I fell asleep. You're kind of like my northern star, you know? You followed me wherever I went--and you're going to continue to do that."
There was a tight silence. And then she said, "You know what I hate most about you?"
"The beard, I know."
"Well, that's my number two, actually." She came over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. Then she brushed his hair back. "I really hate most how you always say exactly the right thing...at the wrong time--"
"Lane?"
At the sound of the croaked name, both of them looked at Miss Aurora. Her eyes were open and focused, and shockingly clear.
"I need Lane," the woman said. "My boy..."
"Miss Aurora?"
"Miss Toms?"
With quick moves, Max jumped off the bed, and Tanesha scrambled for the nurse's call button--but Miss Aurora wasn't going to wait to start talking.
"I killed William," she said. "I killed that sorry excuse for a husband and a father. I cut his finger off with m' kitchen knife and then I put him in the back of my car and drove him down to the river."
As Max froze, and so did Tanesha, Miss Aurora repeated everything she said, word for word. And then she added, "He got my boy's wife pregnant. That Chantal woman. I couldn't let it go on anymore. So I saw my chance and I took it. That man never belonged in that house, and he never should have been let stay that long. I need one of y'all to tell the police--Edward said he was putting himself in jail for me, and I didn't want that. I don't want that. Get him out and get me my boy before I die."
As Lane stood against her, Lizzie was stiff as a board. Of all the ways she had hoped this would go, his total shutdown was not it.
Heading over the Big Five Bridge from Indiana, she had alternated between daydreams: In one, Lane had felt an instant joy that wiped away all of his misgivings and disinterest, and in the other, he experienced nothing but a happy giddiness as they shared a special secret between only them.
Ah, rose-colored glasses.
Yup, there was a reason people enjoyed fantasies. They turned the buffet of life into an a la carte plate with nothing spoiled, slimy, or overcooked on it. It was mac and cheese, the perfect short rib, and fresh corn on the cob, every time. With chocolate cake for dessert. And a glass of ice-cold milk.
God...she had never thought she'd feel the need to put a stake in the I'm-keeping-this-baby territory.
When Lane eased back, she braced herself for him to hit her with all kinds of This will be fine, we'll get through this together, blah blah blah--in other words, the stated position of a nice guy in a bad spot who was prepared to make
the best of things.
Because he happened to love the woman he'd knocked up by mistake.
But that was not going to be enough for her. Not with something like this.
"Look, Lane--"
"What if I hurt it."
The bleak words were such a surprise, she recoiled. And then she was shocked as he held his hands out, his eyes locked on them as if he were trying to read his future actions in them.
In that moment, the true extent of what he'd been through as a child crystallized in Lizzie's mind. She had always known that William Baldwine was a bad man who'd been mean to his children--and if Lane had come from a poor background, her sympathy and understanding, her anticipation of what might be a trigger for him, would have been much more finely tuned.
Somehow, in her mind, the luxury of Easterly and the privilege afforded to him and his siblings had buffered the contours of the abuse.
This moment stripped all that away.
As his terrified eyes lifted to hers, he was practically begging for a life raft out of his past. "What if I'm my father?"
Lizzie grabbed on to his hands. "You're not. Good God, Lane, you're nothing like him. At all. You're going to be a wonderful--"
"What if I ruin our child?"
Now Lizzie was pulling him against her and holding him tight. As she closed her eyes, she was so angry at William Baldwine, she could have kicked his grave.
"You won't, Lane. I know you won't."
"How, though? How do you know that?"
"Because I love you, and I would never love a man who would hurt a child. It's not you, Lane. And if you don't believe me, it's okay. Because time is going to prove me right."
His arms came back around her, and they held each other for so long, her feet began to ache--not that she cared. She was prepared to stay here for however long it took.
"I'm so scared," he said into her hair.
"And the fact that you are is simply one more sign you're not your father." She rubbed his back in slow circles. "It's going to be fine. I just know it. We're going to have this baby, and we're going to love it and each other. And it's going to be all right, I promise."
"I love you."
She closed her eyes and felt a relief--although not because he was so upset. No, she hated that. But this was a very different paradigm than him not wanting to have children. Lane was going to show up for her and the baby because that was the man he was at his core. He had proved it so over and again, with every curveball thrown at him.
"I love you, too," she said. "Always."
Back in the bedroom, a cell phone started to ring, but they both ignored the sound as he straightened and rubbed a hand down his face.
"Okay, so tell me." He took a deep breath. "How do you feel?"
"Sick." She smiled. "But that's normal. I'm supposed to feel that way."
"And how did you find out? I mean..."
"Like I said, I piddled on a stick." She held up her forefinger to emphasize the point. "But not on my hand. Source of pride right there. And I waited until I saw the plus sign."
"All alone?"
"Well, it was private."
"I wish I had been there to see it with you." Lane took her hand. "Hold up. I want a do-over."
"What?"
He tugged her across to the tub, where he'd put the box down. "Let's do it all over again. Come on. Let's have the moment. Let's do this."
Lizzie had to laugh. "You're serious?"
"Yes, I want to be there when you find out. To support you--and now that I'm getting over the shock-and-terror part, to, like, cheer. You know, husband stuff."
"Well, I was going to retake the thing today."
"So let's do it right now." He extracted the test and broke it open. "Let's do this together."
As he held the stick out to her, she took a deep breath and realized she was nervous. A lot of pregnancies were lost before women even knew they had conceived. What if she had miscarried the baby?
She had been less sick today. Or was that because she'd only eaten pretzels...?
With her head going into a spiral, she nodded. "Actually, it would be great to have you here."
"And I want to be with you for everything. Ultrasounds, appointments, maternity-clothes shopping, sore feet, cravings. I mean, I want to do all of it."
It was clear what Lane was doing, she thought. He was banking that the likelihood of him not screwing up fatherhood started with him being a supportive partner during the pregnancy--and Lizzie took this as yet another sign that she was right and they had nothing to worry about.
"Let's do this."
In quick order, she did her business on the stick--neat and tidy. She was getting to be a pro at this, she decided.
And then they laid the stick on the counter, and went over to the lip of the tub.
They sat there, and tracked the time on his Audemars Piguet, and held hands.
"I would love to raise our child at least partially at the farm," she said.
"We can move out there."
She looked over at him. "How can you leave all this?"
"Why would I stay?" He squeezed her hand and kissed her mouth. "My family is going to be in Indiana."
Lizzie started to smile. And then she teared up.
As if he understood where she was at, he pulled her into his chest. "You're going to be a wonderful mother. I can't wait for you to know that as well."
And then he checked his watch. "Okay, it's time. Come on, Mom."
They both took a deep breath, got to their feet, and approached the stick like it was either a bomb or a Christmas present.
Leaning in together, Lizzie started to smile--only to glance at Lane: His eyes were so wide, they were liable to pop out of his skull, and he seemed to pale a little.
But then he wheeled around, scooped her up, and started spinning. "We're pregnant. We're going to have a baby. Come on, say it with me! We're pregnant!"
She could tell he was still uneasy, but deep in her heart, she knew this was all going to be okay. He was going to be a terrific dad, and she was going to love being a mom, and they were going to be out on her land together.
As a family.
"We're going to have a baby!" she said loudly.
Lane kissed her once. And then again. And then...some more.
As that cell phone kept ringing in the other room, Lane laid her out on the thick fur rug in front of the tub. With sure hands, they undressed each other and then they made love with a kind of wonderment on both sides, a kind of...oh, my God, it worked, the whole sex thing worked.
They were going to be parents.
And funny, but the prospect offered a completion Lizzie had been unaware of needing.
No matter what happened with Easterly and the BBC and the rest of Lane's family, life was very, very good for the two of them, and with their love for each other and their child, they were going to make sure it stayed that way.
As Lane floored the Porsche's accelerator, he had a serious case of existential whiplash going on. No more than twenty minutes ago, he'd been making love with Lizzie and trying to get used to the incredible idea they'd created a human life together...and now he was gunning for the hospital, hoping against hope that the time he had taken to share the joy with Lizzie hadn't cheated him out of a good-bye he didn't want to make.
Pulling up in front of the hospital, he put the 911 in neutral and engaged the parking brake. Lizzie and he both got out and they kissed quick as they traded places.
"I'll be up as soon as I park," she said as she got behind the wheel. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
Lane ran through the revolving doors and waved at the receptionist as she looked up at him. "I know where I'm going. Thanks."
He didn't bother waiting for an elevator. He hit the stairwell and took the concrete steps up two at a time. When he broke out onto the fourth floor, he jogged down the hallway, passing a couple of groups of people and nearly running over a pair of kids playing tag where th
ey shouldn't have been.
At the ICU, he didn't waste time at the nursing station, and they didn't stop him. They all knew why he was there.
What did slow him up? The fact that there were two policemen outside of Miss Aurora's room. Along with Max and Tanesha.
"Is she conscious?" Lane said as he came up to the two of them and nodded to his brother.
"Yes," Tanesha replied as they hugged quickly, "and very lucid. Her treatment team lowered the morphine dose this morning to try to cut down on the terrors. I suspect that may be why."
"What the hell is she saying?"
Lane went over to the closed door and reached to open it, but one of the officers stopped him. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stay out of there--"
"This could be the last time my momma is conscious, so no. I'm not cooling my heels in the hall."
Shoving the guy out of the way, he pulled the glass panel wide as Merrimack looked up from scribbling on a pad.
"Good," the detective said. "I'm glad you're here. She's been asking for you."
Lane stepped in close to the bed. "Momma?"
Miss Aurora turned her head slowly to him. And the smile she offered him was steeped in relief, as if she had just barely caught a plane or a train in time. "My boy."
She lifted her hand and motioned for him to sit down with her. And as he covered her palm with his own, she smiled even more, although she couldn't hold on to the expression. It was clear she was in too much pain.
"Thank you, ma'am," Merrimack said softly. "I 'ppreciate you."
"You do right, young man." She glared at the homicide detective. "I know your parents."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll take care of everything."
"Don't mess it up."
On the one hand, it was a surprise to find Merrimack cowed. On the other? That was Miss Aurora's way.
"I won't, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."
And then the detective was out of there. From the corner of his eye, Lane caught a quick impression of Merrimack talking to the other officers outside, but he forgot about all that.
"Hi," he said as Miss Aurora refocused on him.
"You came in time." Her voice was already fading, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Just in time. You got my will?"