He turned his thoughts to Abby. Was she angry at him, too? He’d read her all the case studies, told her what the doctors had said, given her a list of pros and cons. He’d convinced her that this was her only chance to get what she wanted— normalcy—just as he’d convinced …
Just as I convinced John that leaving Harriet was the best thing for all concerned. “Jesus Christ!” he said aloud as he raised his chin and tilted his head backward. He felt as if a bolt of lightning had ricocheted down his spine.
Inside, in the kitchen, Carol assumed control of her domain. “Bunny, why don’t you fix all of us some of that herbal tea. I’ll settle Abby in, then we’ll have tea upstairs in her room.”
Bunny recognized the hint. Or was it an order? She wasn’t sure, so she reached for an exquisite teapot. Moments later, Donovan came in from the garage. Bunny was about to ask him which flavor of tea he preferred but decided against it when she saw his bleak expression.
Fifteen minutes later she had everything together on a tray that matched the teapot. She balanced it perfectly as she headed for Abby’s bedroom. Her guts churned when she saw her friend propped up in a nest of pillows. Abby’s soft whimpers brought tears to her eyes. She set the tea tray down on the nightstand, spread a napkin on top of the covers. She handed Abby a flowered cup that matched the tray and the teapot. It must be a set, she thought inanely. “Drink this. It’s chamomile. My mother always used to fix it for us when we got wired up,” she said, trying to sound confident. She stared at Abby a moment longer, before she served Carol and Donovan.
Abby sipped the tea. A moment later she looked at Donovan, her eyes full of pain and tears. “I need a pain pill, Uncle Donovan.”
Donovan moved around to the side of the bed next to Abby. “I’m sorry, Princess. I can’t give you one. The doctor gave you a shot for pain before we left and told me not to give you anything else for a couple of hours. Drink a little more tea. It’ll help you to relax.”
The tears spilled over. She howled in pain as her salty tears rolled down her burned face. “My face is on fire. Can’t we put some ice on it?”
Donovan shook his head regretfully. “The doctor gave me explicit instructions, and ice isn’t an option. The pain shot should be starting to take effect. Trust me.”
Abby had always trusted Donovan, but this time he was as helpless as she. She gave in to the pain and moaned. “God, it hurts so bad. I didn’t know it was going to be like this. I didn’t know. You have to do something. Aspirin, something, anything,” she pleaded.
Donovan sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for Abby’s hand. “Shh, it’s going to be okay.” He took the cup and saucer from her hands and gave them to Bunny. “Close your eyes, honey. Try to sleep.”
Abby squeezed Donovan’s hand. “Sleep? It hurts too bad to sleep. It hurts all the way inside my head. They didn’t say this would happen,” she said sharply. “I don’t ever want to do this again. I don’t care if I’m ugly or not. I don’t care. Do you hear me, Uncle Donovan, I don’t care.”
“Hush. You aren’t ugly. You’re the prettiest girl in the world. Isn’t she, Carol?”
Carol stood behind Donovan, clutching his shoulders. “You’re beautiful, Abby, inside and out,” she said.
“No!” Abby said. “Mallory was right. I’m ugly.”
“Mallory!” Carol spit contemptuously. “She’s a hateful, spiteful—”
Donovan put his index finger to his lips. “Shh. She’s asleep, Carol,” he said wearily. “I could kill that goddamn doctor!” he said between his teeth. “He said it would sting. He didn’t say she was going to be in this kind of pain. I feel like going over to the hospital and putting my fist into his face.”
“I told you it would be like this. But no, you wouldn’t listen.” Carol’s angry retort hardened her features. “Look at her, Donovan. Look at her face. It’s burned raw. I never should have allowed her to do this. There was nothing wrong with her using that professional makeup. She was so skilled at putting it on that you could hardly even see—”
“She wanted to look normal, Carol,” Donovan argued. “And I wanted whatever she wanted.”
Carol wrung her hands in agitation. “This is your fault, Donovan. Your fault! You shouldn’t have encouraged her.” She started for the hall, her anger building. It wasn’t her intention to tell Donovan about Mallory’s message, but she was so angry with him that she needed to strike out. “Guess who called today?” she blurted. “Mallory! She wants to come for Christmas mas dinner, and she has presents for everyone.” She waited for her husband’s reaction, but there wasn’t one. “I’m going to call her and tell her to stay away.”
“Whatever you think is best, Carol, is okay with me,” Donovan said, reaching down and brushing Abby’s damp hair away from her forehead. His insides roiled at the red, raw stain on her face. He turned to leave the room and spotted Bunny. He’d all but forgotten she was there.
“I’ll stay here and sit with Abby if you don’t mind,” Bunny said.
“No, not at all. With luck she’ll sleep for hours and wake up feeling better. We’ll be in the den,” Donovan said, motioning Carol to go ahead of him.
The moment the door closed, Abby opened one eye. “Are they gone?”
Bunny gasped. “You faker. Even I thought you were asleep. God, Abby, I wish there was something I could do.”
“I feel a little better than I did a few minutes ago. I think the shot is starting to take the edge off the pain. I guess you’re thinking what they’re thinking, which is that I shouldn’t have done it. Right now, I wish I hadn’t done it either. How bad is it?”
Bunny grappled for her words. “It looks”—she shook her head—“incredibly painful.”
“That’s not what I asked you. Get me a mirror.”
“Why don’t you wait until tomorrow, when some of the redness and the swelling go down? Right now it probably looks much worse than it is.”
“I want to see it now, Bunny,” Abby said firmly. “Get me the mirror. Please.”
Bunny retrieved the mirror from the dresser top and reluctantly handed it over. Abby’s expression was one of total horror.
“My God! It looks like raw meat! Oh, Bunny, I had no idea. What if it stays like this?” Abby burst into tears.
Bunny reached for a tissue. “Listen to me, Abby. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. Tears are salty, and your face is raw. Do you hear me? Don’t cry.”
“I’m not going back to school. I’m never going out in public again as long as I live.”
“Oh, yes, you are going back to school even if I have to drag you by the hair. You will pick up your life and go on because that’s what you have to do to survive. You’re not a quitter, Abby Mitchell. You’ll pull up your socks and go on and that’s that,” Bunny said, brooking no argument. “As soon as you stop feeling sorry for yourself I’ll tell you who called this morning.”
Abby put down the mirror. “Who?”
“Are you going to go back to school willingly, or am I going to have to—”
“Willingly,” Abby said. “Come on, Bunny, was it Connor? Did he say he’d call back?”
“Carol talked to him, and, yes, he did say he would call back. Tonight. So you’d better get to sleep so you can dream about what you’re going to say to him.”
Abby handed the mirror to Bunny. “You know, before I left, I asked him how he’d feel if my face ended up worse, and he said he didn’t know. How’s that for honesty?”
“At least he told you the truth. That has to mean something. You’re the same person inside you always were. That hasn’t changed.”
“Don’t pep talk me anymore, Bunny. You know as well as I do that guys want girls who are pretty and popular. They don’t want scary-looking girls with—” She cut herself off, tears welling in her eyes. She’d had such high hopes that the procedure would at least lighten the stain.
Bunny sat down on the side of the bed, her expression solemn. “Connor Bradford isn’t the only guy in the world, Abby. My mother
always said for every old shoe there’s an old sock. If you take out the word old, it makes sense. Don’t go getting desperate on me now. That just isn’t your style, Abby.”
Abby stared at the ceiling, ashamed of herself for being such a whiner. “Some vacation for you, huh?”
“Listen, except for worrying about you, the time I’ve spent here has been wonderful. It’s peaceful and quiet. My house is always jumping. Noise, kids, animals, everyone screaming and yelling to be heard over someone else screaming and yelling. The kitchen is never cleaned up, and you need to stand in line for the bathrooms. I’ve enjoyed myself. Now stop worrying about me and go to sleep.”
Dutifully, Abby closed her eyes, then opened them again. “I can’t. I’m not sleepy.”
Bunny groaned. “Then maybe I should leave the room. If either your aunt or uncle happens to peek in and see you talking to me, they’ll blame me for keeping you awake.”
“Believe me, they won’t be peeking in. They have to decide what to do about Mallory. And that could be a very long discussion.”
“What is it about that sister of yours? You’re never talked about her. How come? I thought we shared everything.”
“Trust me when I tell you that you don’t want to know about Mallory. It hurts to talk, Bunny, and I’m finally getting sleepy. Will you wake me if Connor calls again?”
“You bet. I’ll stay here until you fall asleep.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Bunny. You’re my best friend in the whole world.”
“Shh, we can talk later. Go to sleep now. I promise to wake you if Connor calls.”
“You’d better.”
Bunny sat in the daffodil yellow chair wondering why everyone hated Mallory. Of course, it was absolutely none of her business, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to know. Bobby probably knew. She could ask him. Then again, what kind of friend would she be if she pried?
“Connor Bradford,” she mumbled beneath her breath, “no matter what the outcome of all this is, you’d better not dump Abby, because if you do, I’ll lay you out cold!”
“How dare she call and invite herself for Christmas? How dare she?” Carol raged as she paced the length of the booklined den. “What are we going to do? I need your help on this, Donovan.”
“I thought you’d already decided to call her.”
“I can’t call her. You know that.” Carol flopped down on the leather sofa next to him. “I hate her, Donovan. She tried to ruin our lives. I can never forgive her. Look at what just getting her message has done to me. Can you imagine what would happen if I tried to talk to her, the things I might say? There’s no sense stirring things up more than they are.”
“So I take that to mean you want me to call her, right?”
Carol seemed surprised at Donovan’s offer, as if she hadn’t even considered the idea. “Yes, I think that would be best. You call her and tell her we won’t be home because we’re going to the mountains over Christmas.”
“Are we going to the mountains over Christmas, Carol?”
“We could,” she said, shrugging. “Bobby would love it. I think Bunny and Abby would like it, too.”
“What if Mallory says she’ll come over before we leave? Then what should I say?”
“Improvise, Donovan,” she said, leaning toward him, her eyes hard as marbles. “Understand me on this. I do not want that girl in our house.” Carol reared back and took a breath. “She’s trouble. God only knows what she’ll do or say when she sees Abby’s face. We can’t risk it. Abby isn’t emotionally up to dealing with Mallory right now.” Again, she leaned toward him, exhaling with agitation. “You need to call her, make it clear to her that she isn’t welcome here. I don’t care how you do it, Donovan, just do it!” The instant Donovan opened his mouth to reply, Carol pounced on him again. “Don’t even think about making any of your lame excuses for her. I won’t tolerate it.”
“All right. I’ll call her,” Donovan agreed. In fact, he was relieved to be the one to do it. Carol was right. There was no telling what she might say. “Do you want me to do it now or wait until tonight?”
“Now will be just fine.”
“Do you know the number?”
“It’s there on the pad by the phone. If she isn’t in, leave a message. And right after that, call the telephone company and get an unlisted number. I want it by tomorrow, Donovan. Don’t look at me like that. I mean it.”
Carol had always been controlling, sometimes a little too controlling, but her ordering him around like he was some lackey topped it. “I’ll call Mallory,” he said, refusing to let his temper get the best of him, “but the phone company will have to wait. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s almost fivethirty.” He stood up and walked across the room. “Even if they weren’t closed, I wouldn’t call them. Getting an unlisted number would be a slap in the face to Mallory. You know that, don’t you? God only knows what she would do.”
“Do!” Carol all but screamed. “You said she was cured. You said that, Donovan. Are you saying you lied to me? We paid a fortune to that place to make her well. But I think she’s still screwed up. I don’t care what those medical reports say.”
“Maybe she’s looking for a family, Carol.” Donovan ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe she needs us.”
“Maybe she needs money. Maybe she spent her inheritance. Did you see her offer Abby even ten dollars of it? No, you did not. That tells me she hasn’t changed one little bit. She’s greedy, she’s selfish, she’s arrogant, and she’s goddamn evil!” Carol shrilled.
Donovan knew Carol wouldn’t let up until he’d made the call. He picked up the slip of paper by the phone and pressed the numbers. When it started to ring, he forced himself to calm down. “Mallory Evans, please.” Carol’s short, blunt nails tapped the table beside the sofa. The sound was eerie to Donovan’s ears. “Mallory, it’s Uncle Donovan. Carol said you called earlier.” He waited patiently while she presented her plans. “It would be wonderful to visit with you, but we have a houseguest, one of Abby’s college friends, and we’re probably going to go to the mountains for Christmas. Bobby wants to ski, and there’s some new powder expected.” He paused, his eyes on Carol. “Yes, maybe Valentine’s Day. You have a wonderful holiday, too,” he finished, before he hung up the phone.
He stared at the receiver. There had been such joyful expectation in Mallory’s voice when she’d told him her plans and then … disappointment. She’d tried to hide it, but he’d heard it. He was sure Mallory knew that he and Carol didn’t want her to come home—that they never wanted her to come home.
Jesus! What kind of man would swear on his best friend’s grave to take care of his children and then throw one away like so much garbage? What kind of man would allow his wife to dictate the terms of his relationship with his adopted daughter?
He hesitated to answer himself, unsure as to whether or not he really wanted to know.
“Tell me what she said,” Carol demanded.
Donovan took a deep breath. “She said she understood. She was very upbeat, very cheerful, and pretended not to be the least bit upset; but she was, Carol. She asked me to wish everyone a Merry Christmas.” He sat down heavily in the chair. “I feel like shit.”
“Then why don’t you go see her? Take her to dinner. Enjoy her evil company. But don’t bring her anywhere near Abby or Bobby, or I won’t be responsible for what I do. This is the end of it, Donovan. I don’t want her name mentioned in this house again. Ever. Do we understand each other?”
Donovan sucked in his breath and glared at her. “Perfectly,” he said, and was rewarded to see the color drain from her face. “I’m going to check on Abby.”
Carol quickly regained her composure. “Take her mail in and leave it on the night table. There’s a really impressivelooking letter from a publisher. It’s addressed to Bailey James in care of Abby Mitchell. I wonder what that means.”
Donovan picked up the mail. “Make plans to go to the mountains, Carol. I’ve done enough damage for
one day. I don’t want to be a liar on top of everything else.”
“I can’t believe Mallory sounded upbeat and cheerful. She must be up to something. God, you have no idea just how much I hate that girl. Can you just imagine the glee on her face if she saw Abby now?”
“I thought we weren’t going to mention her name in this house again. Let it be, Carol. I took care of it. That’s the end of it. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I feel guilty as hell. Yes, we paid a fortune to the Argone School, but that’s all we did. We dumped her, and walked away. It doesn’t matter that the doctors said it was best that way. She was a sick kid. We just threw her away. And in spite of it all, she made it. All she wanted was to come to dinner and drop off some Christmas presents.”
“You know how I look at it, Donovan?” Carol said icily. “We saved one and we lost one. I don’t care what that makes me in your eyes. I know what I saw in that girl and I know what I felt and it hasn’t changed one bit. This is the end of it.”
Carol sat up in bed when she heard a noise. “What’s that?” she said, shaking Donovan’s shoulder.
“What? What’s wrong?” Donovan asked, groggily.
Carol listened intently. “I think—It’s Abby. She’s crying. She probably needs her pain medication. If I need you, I’ll call you.”
Donovan flung the cover off and stood up. “Like hell you will. I’m going with you.”
Abby was huddled under the covers when Carol and Donovan came in.
“Abby, honey, what’s wrong?” Carol said, taking the trembling girl in her arms.
“I can’t stand it,” she cried. “I feel like I’m on fire. It’s not just my face either. I think I have a fever, and I can’t get warm. I turned on the electric blanket, but I’m still cold. Can I have some more of the medicine and maybe some aspirin?”
Carol touched her lips to Abby’s forehead. “Donovan, she’s burning up. You need to call the doctor, and you need to call him now!”
Donovan turned the small bedside lamp to the third notch illuminating the room to a brightness that highlighted Abby’s fire red, swollen face. He gasped. Carol blinked, her eyes filling with tears.
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