Andy managed a tight, tiny nod.
"Does what's bothering you have something to do with me? We told you not to worry, but I suppose that was sort of dumb. If you're worried, you're worried."
Andy tried to nod his head. It would make everything simpler if his dad thought that's all that was bothering him. But it didn't quite come out a nice, clean nod. There was a bit too much of a shake to his motion.
"You're worried," his dad said. "But it's more than that."
Andy stiffened his mouth. He really didn't want to break down. God, that would be embarrassing.
"What else is it? Please, Andy. I think it would help if you could tell me what's wrong. Obviously, it's really bothering you."
He wanted to hold it in. This was his problem and only he could deal with it. But it was like his dad was reaching in and grabbing his vocal chords. "It's my fault," Andy burst out.
His father didn't say anything at first.
Andy stared down at the table, wishing he could sink into the ground. Suddenly the words sounded almost arrogant.
Then he felt his dad put a hand on his shoulder. "It's your fault? What's your fault?"
Andy didn't answer but his father seemed to get it anyway.
"You think my heart attack was your fault?" he asked, sounding incredulous.
So his father thought the idea was arrogant, too. But Andy knew what he knew. He spoke through his teeth. "You were fine until I started talking back to you that morning. Then you got this funny look on your face." He shot his father a glance. "That's when it started, isn't it?"
As a matter of fact, his father was getting the same sick look right then.
Andy's stomach fell. He hoped someone in the restaurant knew CPR.
"Andy—" Ian began.
"Never mind," Andy said quickly. "Forget I said anything."
"Oh, I'm afraid I can't do that," Ian replied. "Listen, I— All right, it's true I was starting to get symptoms then, symptoms I should have paid attention to, but it had nothing to do with you."
Andy's gaze shot to his father. "You just admitted it. Your symptoms started when I swore at you."
"Andy." His dad was sounding way too patient, condescending, one might say. "A heart attack is caused by a clot in an artery. The clot takes years to develop. It has nothing to do with emotions, or what somebody might say to somebody else. I didn't like the way you were acting that morning, but it had nothing to do with my heart attack."
Andy felt like his jaw was set in stone. Sure there'd been a clot. He knew that. It's what the angioplasty had been about, reaming it out. "But I started it," Andy maintained. "Maybe it was going to happen anyway, but I started it."
"No." Ian sounded definite.
Andy glared at him. "Then why did it start just then?"
Ian lifted a shoulder. "Coincidence."
Andy made a rude noise.
Ian went on as if he hadn't heard anything. "My time had come. No way any of us could have known. Andy, it was going to happen, one way or another. It was going to happen."
Andy had never felt so helpless in his life. Here he was, coming clean—and his dad refused to take him seriously. "I can handle the truth," he insisted.
Ian frowned. "Andy, listen. You aren't responsible. That's the truth."
Andy's eyes narrowed. His dad sounded pretty definite. Heck, maybe he was being sincere. Maybe his father truly did not believe Andy had started his heart attack.
Oddly, the idea made Andy's stomach sink. If he had caused the heart attack, at least it would mean he could affect his father, that he wasn't completely insignificant. But, no. How could he have been so stupid? Of course he didn't have that kind of power—not over his dad.
He should have known. He totally should have known. He could not have impacted his father. He just wasn't important enough to do so. And all this time he'd thought— God, he was an idiot. Feeling a horrible weight increasing inside him, he mumbled, "Whatever," and looked away.
"Whatever?" Ian gave a frustrated laugh. "Andy, you need to understand—"
"I get it." Andy waved a hand. He didn't want to hear any more about how unimportant he was. His eyes were starting to burn. "I didn't cause your heart attack." Of course not. "But it doesn't matter anyway," Andy went on, deliberately probing at another sore spot. "Because you're all better now, right?"
As a matter of fact, his father was starting to look sick again.
Andy suppressed a flutter of panic. His dad was trying to convince Andy that he didn't have the power to give him a heart attack. Let him convince Andy by avoiding one now.
"I am better," Ian claimed. "We keep trying to tell you. The operation in the hospital cleared everything."
Sucking in his lips, Andy nodded. Uh huh. Go on. Tell him another one. His dad wasn't better.
"Andy. I'm telling you the truth." Ian's voice was low, urgent, as he gave this most classic line of the bald-faced liar.
Andy shot him a skeptical gaze. "If you're so okay, then why aren't you back at work?"
Bull's-eye. His dad suddenly looked like a cornered rat.
Ha! Andy wanted to shout. Ha! His dad hadn't been telling the truth about his health since they'd wheeled him into the recovery room. Finally, he was about to hear proof of it.
A grim determination banished Ian's sick look. "That's a good question, Andy."
You bet it is, Andy thought.
Ian tapped his thumb on the tabletop. "And it's funny you should bring it up, because the fact is I'm going back to work...tomorrow."
No way!
Ian's gaze shifted. "My boss called this morning. You remember, he interrupted breakfast."
Andy's brows dipped. He had to admit, he did remember the phone call and his dad suddenly leaving the room. But he'd never dreamed..."Why didn't you say anything?" he now asked.
Ian sucked in his lips. "I had to think about it. Last time I talked to Howard he really pissed me off."
Andy was agog. "You mean, you were thinking of quitting?"
Ian shrugged. "I don't know if I got that far in my thinking. But then he called this morning and offered me a new project, a pretty cool one, actually."
"But you wouldn't quit," Andy claimed. His dad didn't believe in quitting anything.
Yet now Ian laughed, nonchalant. "I could quit. I've got plenty or money in investments, or I could find another job. The only question was whether or not I wanted to."
No, Andy thought, frowning harder. There were a few other questions, like how his father could have entertained for one minute the idea of quitting at all. It certainly couldn't have been because of a pissy boss.
No, the only reason his father would quit a job was if his health were so bad even he had to admit he couldn't hack it. But his dad was deep in lying land now. He wasn't going to admit anything real or true.
"Anyway, the project Howard offered me is a new music center in Kansas City," his father went blathering on. "It's got an amazing architect. The whole thing is going to look like a big, flying bird—built out of steel. It'll be quite a challenge."
"Mm." Bull-cracky. Just today his dad had gone off to be babysat by Aunt Maggie. Now he was suddenly in charge of some big, huge music center?
"So." Ian held out his hands. "I'm going in to the office tomorrow morning to talk it over with Howard."
"Mm hm."
Ian lowered his hands. "I'm all better, Andy. Maybe you're not ready to hear that, not ready to believe it. But...at least start to consider the idea. Maybe everything can go back to normal, huh?"
Andy regarded his father, his totally lying, unbelievable father. He felt an emotion he never dreamed he'd be feeling that evening: anger.
His dad wanted everything back to 'normal?' First of all, he was lying through his teeth. He wasn't normal. And secondly, he was going to go off to build this freakin' music center as if the lie were true. As if he was okay. He wouldn't listen to Andy. Why should he? Nothing Andy ever said was worth anything. He was completely insignificant. For s
ure he didn't have the power to cause a heart attack.
His own helplessness made rage a hard knot in Andy's throat. He didn't have any power at all with his dad. Certainly, he couldn't persuade him to take it easy and take care of himself, to stay alive. Instead, Andy was worth nothing. Nothing.
His dad was looking at him. "So. Think you can do that? At least consider it?"
Andy looked back at his father. The rage was tight in his throat and in his chest. "Sure, Dad. I'll think about it." In fact, he'd not only thought, but also decided. If his father didn't care about Andy, then Andy wouldn't care about his father. He. Would. Not. Care.
"Good." Ian smiled.
Andy smiled back. Sure, why not? His dad would only keep bugging him if he didn't act normal. Well, hell, this actually was normal, him not caring about his dad. If he could keep this up, he could get rid of his embarrassing anger and hurt, too. Just don't care.
Andy kept smiling. "I'm hungry. Suppose the waitress will come soon with our food?"
"I hope." His dad looked real happy, probably thought everything was normal.
And it was, Andy thought, making sure to keep his smile. In a way, it actually was.
~~~
In her kitchen, Maggie took a dish towel and wiped dry the pot she'd used to cook her vegetarian supper. It had been many hours since her altercation with Ian at the nursery, but she still burned every time she thought about it.
The nerve of the man. The nerve! First he pushed his way into her life, using his indisposition as an excuse, trading on her natural sympathy. And then he thought, having insinuated himself into a place nobody'd wanted him in the first place, that gave him the right to start issuing critiques and ultimatums. The same kind her father had dished out to her the whole time she was growing up.
Maggie set the dry pot down on the counter. Her father had never been right in criticizing her and neither was Ian. She knew what she was doing with Corporate Edges. It was called keeping the customer happy. This was a measure Ian, obviously, knew nothing about. Sometimes a small business owner had to take a hit in order to entice a big customer like Corporate Edges.
Maggie picked up the lid of the pot and firmed her jaw. She was not letting Corporate Edges take advantage of her. They certainly could go to another nursery, though the only ones as big as hers were a hundred miles away in Los Angeles. Still, it could happen. She was being smart, smart, to let Corporate Edges buy on credit.
Maggie opened a cabinet door and set the pot inside. She was glad she'd told Ian off. Glad she'd run him out of her nursery. It had been about time.
Outside in the backyard, the leaves of the oak tree were fading into the dusk. The birds had hushed. It had become so quiet Maggie could almost hear her ears ringing. Slowly, she folded her dish towel. She was alone, she realized. Very alone.
The ringing in her ears was suddenly broken by the sound of a car slowing in front of the house. Frowning, Maggie moved to the kitchen window. Her heart jumped as she looked outside. Ian's Cherokee was pulling to a stop in her driveway.
She jerked back from the window. Surely he didn't intend to continue their argument? Not even Ian could be that bull-headed. Surely not.
Yet her doorbell rang.
Maggie stood in the kitchen, paralyzed. It wasn't so much that Ian had shown up, apparently not done bossing her around. It was that...she felt a tiny drop of joy he'd shown up, bull-headed tyrant and all.
She spent another two seconds bemoaning her abject weakness, then straightened her shoulders. Ian didn't threaten her. She would never let him, or any other man, tell her what to do. She let out a deep breath and walked to her front door. She drew in another deep breath and threw it open.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Arching one eyebrow, Maggie stood in her doorway. "Ian." She made her tone cool.
"Maggie." With his hands in his jeans' front pockets, he hunched his shoulders. "About today...I'm sorry."
Maggie stood where she was, still gazing haughtily out at him. But inside, she felt her righteous indignation turn to brittle crystal and shatter. A part of her fell to her hands and knees, desperately trying to gather the broken shards of that indignation. The rest of her kept hearing that amazing word coming out of his mouth. Sorry.
Ian gestured with his head. "Can I come in?"
Still in shock, Maggie stepped back from the door.
"Thanks," Ian breathed, and walked in.
Bemused, Maggie closed her front door after him.
Ian turned to face her, looking scruffy, looking miserable, and looking way too adorable. No, a man just didn't have a right to be this appealing.
"I am sorry," Ian repeated. "I had no right to tell you what to do with your nursery. And I made it worse by losing my temper. If it's any— Well, you have a right to run your own life any way you want to."
Even if it's wrong, Maggie finished for him, but she had to admit, he hadn't said that. He'd only said exactly what she would have wanted to hear, what she'd never dreamed would ever come out of his mouth: an acknowledgment of her right to be herself. Warmth suffused her chest. "Thanks," she said gruffly.
Ian drew in a deep breath. "I'd like to explain."
"Explain what?"
Ian let out his breath. "I called you a coward, but I was really calling myself one. I've been a coward."
Maggie frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Turning, Ian paced into the living room. "Okay, maybe I'm not a complete coward. At least I finally did have a talk with Andy, something that was long overdue. Do you know he was afraid he'd been the cause of my heart attack?" Ian's lips thinned. "I've been letting him live with that guilt because I didn't know how to talk to him. Some kind of father I am, huh?"
Maggie followed him through the living room toward the window. "Well—"
"No." Coming to a stop by her sliding glass door, he held up a hand. "Maybe I'd better not hear your opinion. At least not today."
"I had no idea Andy was thinking that, either," Maggie told him anyway. "Who could have guessed?"
"I could have, if I'd made him talk to me earlier." Ian's tone was harsh and rang against the walls of Maggie's little house. Glancing back at her, he grimaced. "Sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice."
"You're upset."
"Yeah." Ian let out a breath from between his teeth. "I'm upset. And I'm dumping it all on you."
Maggie narrowed her eyes. "I'll let you know when I've had enough."
A smile flitted over his face. "It'd take a lot to push you to that limit, but I'll do my best. Ready for more?"
"Shoot."
"Let me tell you about my cowardice, then. See, I got a phone call before I left the house this morning, from my old boss, Howard."
Maggie lifted her eyebrows. "Oh."
Ian turned to look out the window. "He wanted me to come in, talk about a new project."
Maggie's brows drew down again.
Ian glanced at her, with one side of his mouth curved. "You're thinking that should be good news. I still have a job. My boss even wants to give me a new project, the biggest one I've ever handled."
"Um, well. I don't really know...You're not happy about it?"
Ian shook his head. "Not in the slightest. Fact is..." There was a long pause as he stared out the sliding glass door into the dark backyard. "Fact is, I'm terrified."
Maggie stilled. Was there anything he could have said that would have pulled her harder? Ian was terrified? The big, strong fellow taking up so much space in her living room?
With his gaze fixed out the window, he heaved a deep sigh. "The doctor claims I should be able to hack it, but I don't know. I just don't know. I don't feel...the same." His hands clenched into fists by his side. "I'm not the same."
The difference in Ian from his old self was exactly what had drawn Maggie to him over the past two weeks but apparently these changes weren't copasetic with Ian. Thinking hard, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Not being the same makes you afraid? Why is that?"
Maggie clutched her forearms. She understood exactly what was going on with him. Oh, it was so...Ian. "Let me see if I have this straight. You don't want to go back to work because you're afraid you're not Superman any more."
Ian shot her a piercing glance.
"Well?"
"There's a difference between being Superman and—and—"
Maggie raised an eyebrow. "And being made of Kryptonite?"
A ragged laugh escaped him. "Come on. You know what I mean."
Maggie stepped toward him. "Yeah, I know what you mean. You want to go back to the happy, dreamy place where you could pretend you were invincible. But it was never really true. You never were."
"Tell me about it." Ian laughed again.
"No. I mean even without the heart attack. You were never Superman."
Ian's eyes grew pained as he looked at her. "Maybe not Superman, but at least I was strong."
"You're still strong!" Couldn't he see that?
He frowned at her, and Maggie perceived that, indeed, he could not see it.
"That's what's been driving me crazy about you," Maggie confessed to him. "You're strong, very strong, and yet I'm still— I can't help being rather, kind of...ugh!"
Frowning harder, he tilted his head. She couldn't believe he still didn't get it.
"Oh, Ian."
He stood there, all vulnerable and bleak and—and—completely clueless! Maggie couldn't take it any more. She simply walked up and threw her arms around him.
He tensed, apparently still clueless. A split second later he finally got it and, with a guttural sound, wrapped his own arms around her. Hard.
Maggie closed her eyes. Oh, my, that felt good. He truly was strong—and big and male. Best of all, he was holding on to her as if she were the key to something valuable. Emotion crested within her, sweet and sharp, then gently dissipating as they continued to stand in each other's embrace for several long moments.
That'll Be the Day Page 18