Believe Me (Hearts for Ransom Book 3)

by Evans, Georgia A

  “Ice wouldn’t have melted, the way she was with you.” Logan leaned forward in his chair. “I think she would have ignored you if she could. Did something happen between you and Spencer?”

  Mason shook his head, returning his eyes to the menu. “Claire just doesn’t approve of my lifestyle. She’s always been on me to make sure I keep it separate from my relationship with Spence.”

  Logan folded his menu and gave Mason his full attention. “You haven’t acted like you did last night in a long time. What was that about?”

  “I was just looking for a good time,” Mason answered defensively.

  “Who’s Zoey?” Logan asked.

  A loud crash jolted all three of them.

  Claire heard her daughter’s name come out of Logan Taylor’s mouth and dropped her tray with all three drinks and salad plates on it. She immediately sank to her knees and began picking things up.

  “I’m sorry,” she told them, not looking away from her task. “I’ll take care of this and be right back with new drinks.”

  Judy appeared and knelt to help Claire clean up the mess she’d made.

  “That’s okay.” Emily’s pleasant voice floated to Claire. “We’re not in a hurry. I shouldn’t admit it since I’m the head emergency room nurse, but we drop things at the hospital all the time.”

  “Like livers, spleens, patients…” Logan teased.

  Emily giggled. “Not quite.”

  Claire had her tray full of the empty glasses and broken plates. “I’ll just go get rid of this and get a new tray fixed up. I’ll be right back.”

  “Thank you, Judy.” Claire managed a shaky smile for her friend before Judy returned to one of her own tables.

  Alan, one of the waiters, was on his way to the kitchen. “I’ll take care of that.” He lifted the tray from her hands before she could say anything.

  “Thank you,” she called after him. Most of the people she worked with were like that. Everybody pitched in and helped each other. That was one of the reasons she’d been able to stick this job out for so long—nearly sixteen years now.

  Claire picked up a new tray to start over with. She placed three clean salad plates on it and was standing at the soda dispenser when she heard a familiar voice.

  “I made you do that,” Mason said in a matter-of-fact voice.

  She whirled on him and glanced around to make sure nobody was near before she spoke in a low voice. “I heard Logan ask you about my daughter. We have an agreement. Nobody is supposed to ever know about…about us.”

  “He doesn’t.” Mason kept his voice just as soft. At least he didn’t think he told Logan anything about him and Claire.

  “Then why was he asking about Zoey?” She felt frustration growing inside her. “How does he even know her name?”

  “I might have mentioned her,” Mason sadly admitted. “I’m not sure.”

  “You’re not sure?” She couldn’t believe it. “Let me guess. You were partying, and got so trashed, you can’t even remember what you did.”

  Claire realized what she said as soon as the words left her mouth. Who was she to judge him for doing the same thing she had done? Even though she hadn’t set out to get drunk, nobody held a gun to her head to make her get that way. But even so…

  “You don’t have the right to tell your friends about my daughter.” She kept her voice sharp.

  Mason was absolutely miserable. He couldn’t remember all of what he told Logan the night before, but if Logan didn’t know who Zoey was, it evidently wasn’t everything. “I’m sorry.” It seemed like that was all he ever ended up saying to this woman. “You’re absolutely right.” Without another word, he turned and walked back to the table.

  Instead of sitting back down, he addressed his friends. “I’m not feeling very well. I guess I’m still feeling the effects from last night.”

  “Maybe you’ll feel better after you eat something,” Emily’s eyes were clouded with concern.

  “I don’t think so.” He looked at Logan, hoping he would accept his explanation at face value. “I’m just going to call a cab and pick up my car.” He hurried before Logan could speak. “I won’t even go in at Trimble’s. Last night won’t happen again. I’m just going home and taking aspirin.”

  Logan looked at Mason with skepticism. “Okay.”

  “I hope you feel better.” Emily was obviously still worried.

  “I will.”

  He picked up his coat before he turned and walked out of the dining room.

  Claire walked up to the table and set the drinks down. She was surprised when she set the Sprite at an empty spot. He’d probably gone to use the restroom.

  “Are you ready to place your orders, or would you like to wait until…your friend…gets back?”

  Emily looked at her curiously. “Mason went home. He said he didn’t feel well.”

  Claire breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh.”

  “But I don’t believe him,” Emily declared, looking from Claire to Logan. “Something is going on with him. He hasn’t been himself for a very long time now.” She turned her gaze back to Claire. “Has Spencer said anything?”

  “Spencer and I don’t really talk about him.” Claire felt uncomfortable discussing the situation at all. “I mean, Spencer has his time with…Mason…and I let him keep that separate from his family time.”

  If anything, Emily looked more dubious. “Okay.”

  “What can I get for you?” Claire tried to smile.

  Logan and Emily placed their orders. As Claire walked away, she couldn’t help but overhear Logan’s words.

  “I don’t know what’s going on, but last night Mason was a man wrestling with his own conscience.”

  One thought immediately came to Claire. It was too bad Mason hadn’t listened to his conscience before he took her to bed.

  This had always been one of Mason’s favorite places—the ballpark. Today, he needed to think, and this seemed like a good place to do it. So, he mulled over his mistakes—especially the “big one” as he sat in the bleachers.

  Laughter interrupted his musings. He looked at the entrance to the field and saw Bo and Jan Daniels walk onto the field with Seth behind them. The teenager was carrying a baby seat that undoubtedly held his sister. They were all wearing thick jackets. Of course. It was their famous “Family Sunday.”

  At over six-three and weighing more than two hundred sixty pounds, “Big Bo Daniels” was the largest man on the Slammers. He played first base and was the team’s best batter. Bo also worked at Taylor’s Construction with Mason. Jan was a nurse at Mercy House nursing home. Mason had heard stories about some pretty unique patients.

  Seth was actually Jan’s nephew and Bo’s “little brother,” but the two of them had gotten married and legally adopted him. Then their baby girl was born a few months ago. So, this was what a real family looked like. Mason wouldn’t know.

  None of them noticed him, so he sat quietly and watched. It looked like Jan and Seth were taking on Bo in a softball game. As Mason watched, Bo pitched the ball and Jan hit it. She took off running, her breath visible in the crisp air. Bo easily retrieved the ball, and instead of running to first and tagging his wife out, he met her before she could make it to the base and picked her up to swing her around. Before he set her down, he kissed her.

  Seth yelled at them, “Cut it out, or Lucy and I are going home! You’re parents, for Pete’s sake! Can’t you act like it?” Mason could hear the happiness in the boy’s voice from where he sat.

  Bo retorted with, “How do you suppose people get to be parents?” Then he kissed Jan again.

  Seth stuck his finger in his mouth and started making gagging sounds before bursting into laughter.

  Then Mason heard the distinct sound of a baby crying. Bo jogged over and, after messing with some straps on the carrier, lifted the snowsuit-clad, tiny little girl out of it. She looked even smaller in the giant’s arms as he held her like a priceless work of art.

  “Does Daddy’s girl wa
nt to play ball? You can bat next. I bet you can hit the ball as far as your mommy did.” Bo chuckled.

  Mason heard Jan threatening Bo and laughing, but all he could see was a father holding his daughter. He tugged the hem of his shirt up between the open zipper of his coat and wiped the tears from his eyes.

  He couldn’t take it anymore. He had a daughter. He wanted to be her father. Yes, he had been a screw-up for most of his life, but he would show Claire he could change. He just wanted to see, to hold, his baby girl at that moment.

  He quietly climbed down the bleachers and walked to the back lot, where he’d parked his car. It was a short drive to Claire’s house, and he was soon on the front porch knocking on the door.

  Claire opened the door and saw the last person she expected or wanted to see.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Spencer’s at Austin’s.”

  “I…” was all he managed to say before she continued.

  “You know you’re supposed to call before you come.”

  “Please…” he pleaded. “Just listen to me for a minute. That’s all I’m asking for.”

  She crossed her arms and stood there, not even opening the storm door. “You’ve got one minute.”

  “Look, Claire.” He searched for the right thing to say. “I know there is nothing I can ever say or do to make up for what happened…what I did to you that night.”

  “You’re right,” she stated flatly, “and I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Whether I deserve it or not, that baby girl is my daughter. I want to be a part of her life.” He had to make her understand.

  “No way.”

  He searched his mind for an option—anything. “Then can I just see her—hold her one time? So I know what it feels like to hold my own child?”

  “No.” She was finished listening to him. “You’ve had more than a minute. Go away.”

  Before she could close the door, he had something else to say.

  “Which one of us is actually suffering more because of that night? You have a whole new person to love and be loved by.” His voice was shaking. “Do you know who I have?” He paused for a second. “Nobody.”

  Something made her leave the door open and listen.

  Mason was going for broke. “I’ve thrown my life away, but I can change. I have already changed, but I know I can do better, so I will. Just so I can be a part of my little girl’s life. So I can love her, and hopefully, be loved back. And I’ll be better for Spencer, too. You’ll see if you just give me a chance. That’s all I’m asking for. A chance.”

  She strengthened her resolve. “I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you.”

  He had given it his best and failed. There were tears in his eyes as he spoke again.

  “Believe me, I’m sorrier for that night than you’ll ever know. I disgust myself. I’ve barely been able to live with myself since it happened, I feel so guilty. I felt guilty and ashamed right after it happened.” His tear-filled eyes searched her face. “If I could go back and change the way it happened, I would. But I can’t tell you I would undo it altogether, and I don’t believe you would want me to because then Zoey wouldn’t exist. If it means anything at all, I’m so, so sorry.”

  As hard as she fought it, she couldn’t help but be touched by his words. But she still didn’t trust him.

  “If you want a child so bad, why don’t you get one of your floozies pregnant and be a father to that baby?”

  He looked right into her eyes and told the truth. “I haven’t been with another woman since I was with you. I haven’t even wanted to.”

  She didn’t know what to say. She still wasn’t sure whether she could believe a word that came out of his mouth.

  “Goodbye, Mason,” she said firmly. “Don’t come here again unless you call first, and it has something to do with Spencer.” She closed the door.

  He turned and walked to his car, the sidewalk barely visible through his unshed tears.

  As he drove home, he couldn’t get the image of Bo holding Lucy out of his head. He wanted so very much to cradle Zoey like that. But he had to face the facts. It was never going to happen.

  He saw the dog run out in front of him and felt the car swerve before he heard a loud crash. Then everything went black.

  “Mason?...Come on…Wake up…Mason?”

  A familiar voice roused him. Where was he, and why was Emily there? And why did his eyes seem so determined to remain closed?

  “Come on, Mason,” she urged. “Open your eyes…please.”

  He slowly forced them open. Emily’s face was inches from his.

  “Wh…” His mouth felt like it was full of gravel. “Where am I?”

  She smiled at him, tears in her eyes. “You’re in the hospital.”

  “Why?”

  “You don’t remember anything?” As she straightened, she reached up and softly swept the hair from his forehead.

  He tried to think. Claire had closed the door on him. Then nothing. “No.”

  “You were driving your car.” Her smile wavered. “The police think something must have run out in front of you because of the skid marks. You hit a concrete pillar.”

  “Is my car totaled?” He’d spent months restoring the ’69 Dodge Charger.

  Emily smiled sadly. “You were trapped in it for a while, Mason. They had to cut you out.”

  Well, he was pretty sure that would have totaled it. “How long have I been here? Is it Monday already? You don’t work on Sundays.”

  “One of the nurses on duty called me because she knows you’re my friend.” A tear ran down her cheek. “You’ve been unconscious for over three hours.”

  “Three hours?”

  “Yes.” She wiped her face with her hand. “I have to let the doctor know you’re awake, and then I need to go out and tell the guys. They’re all here, you know—the Slammers and your coach; Troy Simpson arrived just an hour ago.” Her smile wobbled. “You should see how small the waiting room looks right now.”

  His buddies were there? And the team

  sponsor? What was up with that?

  “Dr. Lysart will be in to see you soon. I hope you don’t mind that I had them call her. She’s the best physician I know.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Emily started for the door, but then stopped and looked over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back, Mason.”

  As he watched her walk out the door, Mason didn’t question why her promise comforted him, but it did. His family…No, he wouldn’t think about those people right now. Anyway, he wasn’t alone; his friends were there; Emily was there—she even made the effort to get him who she considered the best physician.

  Mason didn’t have a doctor. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he visited one. He went to a clinic for the annual physical Logan required of all Taylor’s Construction employees, and for regular tests to make sure he was clean. He had always used protection when he was with a woman—until Claire—but he knew nothing was foolproof, and at least wanted to stay healthy. Of course, he hadn’t even needed to be tested in well over a year now since he hadn’t been sexually active at all.

  As he lay there, he slowly felt his body come to life and found himself wishing it hadn’t. One of his arms and both legs were wrapped so tightly he couldn’t move them. A needle stuck in his right arm connected him to an IV. His head hurt, and his ribs felt like they’d been trampled by a small herd of stampeding cattle. His face felt funny. He reached up with his right hand to feel his chin, only to discover his beard was gone—a row of stitches in its place. He could feel other scratches and scrapes on his face, too. His arms and legs felt like he’d been wrestling with the entire ball team.

  Emily walked back in. “They’re all descending on the cafeteria,” she told him. “I hope the cooks fixed plenty of food today.”

  “Why don’t they go home?” Mason couldn’t understand why they would want to stay at the hospital. He sure didn’t.

  “They�
��re waiting to see what the doctor says.”

  “I don’t need to see the doctor.” He tried to smile, but it hurt his face too much. “Every part of my body is throbbing.”

  An attractive woman with a stethoscope around her neck walked in. Her ash-blonde hair was in a loose knot on the back of her head, and her blue-green eyes sparkled as she smiled warmly at Mason.

  “Hello, Mr. Wright. I’m Dr. Lysart.” Mason wondered if she was aware her speaking voice was more pleasant than most singers. “I understand you and Emily are good friends.”

  “I hope so.” He messed things up between them once before, thanks to his drunken stupidity.

  “We are.” Emily moved to stand beside him.

  “No offense, Mr. Wright, but you look like you faced off against an angry bull and lost.” Dr. Lysart’s smile was wry as she made her observation. “How do you feel?”

  “Like I got into a scrape with a cement mixer.” He tried to grin. “Or a pillar.”

  A look of concern crossed the doctor’s face. “I’m just going to look you over.” She started at his head. Even though her hands were soft and touch, gentle, he nearly whimpered when she examined his crown. “I hope you weren’t too fond of your beard. That gash was just too big for me to try and stitch between strips of hair.”

  “I don’t care.” He grew the beard when he was seventeen—an act of defiance. Oddly, he had been wondering just the other day how he would look without it, but when it came to shaving, he chickened out.

  “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up so we can run some more tests on you.” The doctor spoke as she examined his eyes. “All we’ve been able to do are very basic. I didn’t observe any evidence of internal injuries, but both of your legs and left arm are broken.”

  “Broken?” Was that why he was trussed up like a turkey?

  She solemnly nodded as she inspected his stitches. “That’s why your legs and arm are in casts.”

  “Both of my legs and arm?” This wasn’t right. “They all can’t be broken. I have to work tomorrow. You’ve got to get me fixed up so I can go home.”