Can't Forget Him

by West, Cara

  "Say it," Megan instructed. Nothing could be worse than what she'd already heard.

  "I don't know what Nate will do if he loses Sam's friendship. Or if, because of him, you are estranged from the family." Jenny looked down at their joined hands. "I don't think you understand quite how an estrangement might affect Nate."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Nate and I have both been outsiders. So to some extent, we identify with each other."

  "He told me that once."

  "It would devastate me," Jenny said, "if for some reason, I was to lose you and your family."

  "It would devastate Nate, too," Megan said through pinched lips. "I was angry with Sam and my father, and I lashed out at them. I didn't stop to think how I might be hurting Nate when I did. All I've done is make matters worse."

  Another silence fell between the women. This time, they seemed to have run out of words, each sitting alone with her thoughts until neither could bear the clamor in her head.

  "Jenny—" Megan squeezed her sister-in-law's hand, let it loose and stood abruptly "—let's don't lose touch. We probably should have talked sooner."

  "Yes. Not that we've solved anything."

  "Maybe not. But we need to keep the lines of communication open. Promise you'll come back often."

  "If you'll promise not to give up on Sam."

  Megan smiled grimly. "I can't afford to, can I? Not with Nate the loser."

  "Sam, too," Jenny reminded her. "I don't know what he'd do without Nate."

  AFTER JENNY LEFT, Megan went through the motions of putting the house in order. There was a list of things to do on her desk. It was best to keep busy.

  Yet as time dragged on, no matter what the task, Megan became more and more distracted. More and more absorbed with an encompassing pain. It was in her gut, roiling with nausea. In her chest, constricting her heart. In her skull, like a pounding hammer.

  The pain increased until finally she slumped at her desk and shuddered with the intensity of it. Regret tore through her; Sobs tore from her throat, but tears couldn't wash away the torment.

  And that was when she admitted she loved Nate Kittridge. Not as a girl would an older brother. Not as a teenager with a crush. Not as a dear friend.

  She loved Nate the way a woman loves a man. She knew this because the pain she felt was for him and everything he could lose because of her.

  She'd taken his love like a willful child, the spoiled Megan of old. When she'd wanted him, she'd used his feelings against him. And now the new Megan would have to deal with what the old Megan had done.

  Sitting there, trying somehow to take hold of her anguish, Megan reached for the phone. At least she could call Nate and tell him she loved him.

  Her hand fell back to make a fist on the desk.

  That was the old Megan's thinking, wanting to smooth things over without weighing the cost.

  The new Megan needed to ask herself some hard questions.

  If she loved Nate the way a woman loves a man, did that mean she was ready for marriage and children? Ready to give up her hard-won independence? Ready to relegate the gallery to second place?

  She'd better have some answers before she confessed anything.

  Otherwise, what would she say? I love you, Nate, and I feel your pain. But all I can offer you is my guilt and anguish.

  She couldn't be so selfish. Her breath caught in her chest.

  They seemed to spend their lives on different planes emotionally. First she'd wanted him and he'd denied his feelings. Then he'd fallen in love with her and she'd only wanted his passion. Now she knew she loved him, but she wasn't ready for commitment.

  Her family had granted Nate conditional love. Perhaps that was all she herself could offer. Nate deserved more from the woman he cherished.

  If she called him, it would be the old Megan speaking. Needing to give cheap reassurance. Needing reassurance herself. Salving her conscience.

  The new Megan would have to love him in silence, knowing her silence at this moment was the greatest gift she could give.

  She'd never felt shame as she did at this moment. From the beginning Nate had doubted his worthiness. As Megan saw it, she was unworthy of him.

  His love had contained an innocence that had brought youth and excitement to his eyes. She'd torn that innocence away and left him with precious little to take its place.

  He might lose Sam and the rest of her family. Before this was over, would she strip him of everything he held dear?

  A new thought gripped her, shaking her fragile control. What if her father died without reconciling with Nate? Nate would always feel he'd played some part in Andrew's passing.

  Dear God, she couldn't let that happen. Dear God, what could she do to stop it? Dear God, how could she make things up to Nate?

  TWO DAYS LATER her mother phoned.

  "I wondered if I might come see the house?"

  ''I've been waiting for you to ask."

  "And I've been waiting for an invitation."

  "Oh, Mom. We've both been acting like idiots. Find someone to sit with Dad and come over now."

  "That's one of the things I called to tell you. Your father's making progress again. His attitude has completely changed."

  "Oh, Mom, that's great."

  "He was the one who insisted I call, and instructed me to accept any invitation you gave me."

  "He knows you've been worried about me."

  "Not only that—" there was a break in Molly's voice "—he refused to let me call Risa or Carol to sit with him. He said he was just fine by himself. When I argued, he sat me down and told me he needs more time to himself. And he wants me to stop hovering. He didn't sugarcoat it.

  "I feel," she added, "as if I've been reprimanded by the high school principal. You know that tone your father gets."

  "Well, come over here. I need your help."

  Megan had said the magic words. Within twenty minutes Molly showed up in her driveway. They spent the next fifteen minutes surveying the premises. And that was before they even made it indoors.

  Molly had several ideas about what to do with her yard, including laying out parking spaces.

  "You know," she said, "they sell a kind of paving that lets the grass grow through. You can extend the parking down the driveway and around the back of the house and make this portion of the backyard a patio garden."

  "I'd hoped to exhibit outdoor sculpture."

  Molly waved her hand over the weeds. "This would be the perfect place."

  Megan stood back to look up at the entire structure. "What do you think? Should I paint the exterior or just clean it?"

  Molly glanced at her daughter hesitantly. "Honey, you're the artistic one."

  "But I'm not a homemaker, Mom. I've never worked with an entire house."

  "Well..." Since Molly had been asked her opinion, she took time to ponder it. "I would paint," she finally said. "A new coat of paint makes a statement to the world that the building has new life."

  "Do you think perhaps a fawn color?"

  Molly nodded judiciously. "It would go well with the red-tile roof. You don't want to make changes to the structure itself. The lines are wonderful. Megan—" Molly turned to her daughter "—this is really a find. I see why you snapped the place up. Sam and Larry should have trusted you."

  "I followed my heart," Megan admitted. "But my head agreed."

  "Has Sam been by?"

  Megan shook her head. "Only Jenny." Wanting to avoid that particular subject, she took her mother's hand and led her to the front door. "Just wait'll you see the inside. You're going to fall in love with it."

  The two public floors were almost ready for Betty's paintings, some of which had been delivered, framed and propped against the walls. Megan had also hired a local craftsman to make wooden benches for each of the viewing areas. But she was still trying to decide on a small grouping of furniture in the large front parlor. Part of her decision was dependent on her bank balance. Every penny she hadn't already spe
nt needed to be pinched.

  Molly waxed poetic from the moment she stepped into the foyer. Megan, however, heard an underlying note of regret. Megan knew her mother well enough to appreciate the reason for that regret. Molly wished she'd been in on the refurbishing from the very beginning.

  "I think you need a love seat and a comfortable chair near the main fireplace, with perhaps an end table between them. You could leave brochures on it. Art magazines. That sort of thing."

  "That's what I thought. I just hadn't gotten around to picking out the pieces."

  Molly eyed her daughter shrewdly. "Have you got any money left to buy new furniture?"

  Megan blushed. "I need to be as frugal as possible," she confessed.

  "Well, I think your old mom and dad could spring for a love seat and chair."

  "Now, Mom, I didn't ask you over to elicit your parental generosity."

  Molly dismissed Megan's protest as she paused in the office. "You know, your great-granddaddy's table—the one he built himself? I think it would blend in nicely with your desk and chairs. The matching armchair has to be fixed, but that shouldn't be a problem. And you need some plants, dear. Why didn't you tell me? I have several in my greenhouse that will warm up your empty spaces."

  "I was going to—"

  "And remember that file cabinet your father was using? He moved most of his papers to his office at the university, and I haven't any use for it."

  Not now, Megan thought wryly.

  "Every business needs a file cabinet," Molly went on. "And Dad will give you his old computer—it's got all sorts of bells and whistles. Of course I don't touch the thing."

  "Mom—"

  "Every business needs a computer. And you know Dad buys a new one every three years through the university."

  Molly headed for the kitchen in a purposeful fashion. "I'm so glad you were able to buy a stove and refrigerator. Nothing like new appliances to brighten up a kitchen. You still need a microwave, I see. I'll suggest it to Carol. She's been wanting to give you a housewarming present."

  If Carol hadn't before, Megan was sure she would now.

  "Of course you'll need a table and chairs for the breakfast nook. Carol still has hers from before they remodeled. They'd be perfect right here in front of the windows."

  "Mom—"

  "Now, where are your sleeping quarters?"

  Docilely Megan led her mother up the stairs.

  An appreciative gasp told Megan Molly was impressed with the garden terrace.

  "Oh, Megan, what a wonderful retreat. You know, Risa has lawn furniture she was going to take to the lake house. But I think they'd be lovely up here. Is this your bedroom?" She pointed to the patio door.

  Megan nodded.

  This time, Molly stopped just inside the door to survey the territory. Her look told Megan everything.

  "We're going to have to get your father practicing on the stairs so he can come up and see this. Oh, Megan, it's the most entrancing room." Molly laughed. "I keep saying that, don't I. Of course it needs a lot. You can't expect to live out of a bed, dear."

  Reviewing what she'd just said, Molly blushed prettily, but nothing could deter her. The bit was between her teeth. "I have a chiffonier and a wardrobe that should blend in nicely. And a chest for the end of your bed to keep the quilts I'll bring over. I have three that your grandmother Grant quilted."

  "Didn't Risa want them?"

  "She got your grandmother's silver."

  "I see."

  Molly cast an assessing eye back over the room. "A night table—I know where I can get my hands on one of those. You really need a reading lamp and perhaps a small bookcase."

  "Yes, Mother," Megan said.

  "We'll go out this afternoon on a shopping expedition. I've been wanting to check out the San Antonio furniture store that's opened a branch here."

  "But aren't they expensive?"

  "We don't need very much." Molly nodded her head decisively and got out a pencil and paper.

  With a watery smile, Megan dropped down on the bed.

  "What are you grinning like that for?" Molly asked when she noticed Megan's expression.

  "This is the first time since I've been home I've seen the mother I remembered. I didn't realize how much I'd missed you."

  Molly winced and after a minute came to sit beside Megan. "This is the first time I've felt like myself in a long, long time. I don't know how to explain what was the matter. I might as well have been possessed by demons. I kept doing the wrong things over and over. And I couldn't stop until Andrew made me."

  "Tell me about Dad."

  "He's finally come back. I don't mean it's as if the attack hadn't happened..."

  "I know."

  "But he's reclaimed the optimism he used to have. He's exercising regularly, just as the doctor ordered. And he refuses to use the wheelchair any longer."

  "Thank goodness for that."

  "And we've begun to take short walks in the neighborhood. He says it's the lecture you gave him that did it."

  "It wasn't a lecture. It was more of a plea."

  "Well, whatever, it did the trick. He has a whole new attitude toward living. He told me we had to take pleasure in each day. He seems to have come to a kind of peace about the uncertainties of the future. It helped me find peace just hearing him talk."

  She met Megan's eyes. "I don't know how long I'm meant to have your father. But I intend to enjoy his company every minute I can. And I'm going to stop worrying." Molly immediately looked sheepish. "At least, as much as I'm able. Tackling a new project is just what I need."

  Mother and daughter exchanged a look of love and understanding before they gave each other a gigantic hug.

  "But—" Molly pulled away anxiously "—I don't want you to feel like I'm taking over."

  Megan examined her emotions in light of her continual quest for independence. But she didn't feel threatened by Molly's enthusiasm. All she felt was happiness and relief. She'd be able to set boundaries with her mother—when she needed to. She didn't have to be overwhelmed by her loving family.

  "I really need the help, Mom," she said earnestly.

  "Well, then, let's get busy." Molly hopped up, raring to go.

  "Wait. I need to ask you for something else."

  "Anything, honey." She paused. "I'm sorry I haven't been here for you."

  "You've had your hands full being a wife."

  "I haven't done a very good job at that, either."

  "Now, Mom. Don't be hard on yourself for being human. We've all muddled through as best we could."

  "You're a dear daughter." Molly patted Megan on the cheek. "So. What do you want to ask me?"

  "I want your help with Sam and Daddy. I want them to accept Nate and me."

  A great sadness clouded Molly's features. It took a moment for her to speak. "We've been terribly unfair to Nate, haven't we. But you see, I just couldn't cross your father. Not when he was doing so poorly. Andrew had to come first."

  "Just as Nate comes first with me."

  Molly studied Megan. "You really love him, don't you?"

  "As much as I'm able," Megan answered honestly.

  "What do you mean?"

  Megan shook her head. "That's between Nate and me. Right now, I want to do something about the family."

  "You realize Carol and Risa have taken Sam's side. Carol could be brought around. But Risa's got her mind set. She thinks the two of you have hindered Andrew's recovery."

  "She's just reacting to having been in denial."

  Molly's smile had a touch of rue. "I'll say this for my eldest—she's very tenacious."

  Megan's chin jutted out. "Your youngest is too. If Dad accepts Nate and me as a couple, Risa and Larry will come around. Jenny's working on Sam."

  "Just don't expect miracles. I'm still hesitant to bring up... unsettling subjects." Molly's look fell before Megan's militant expression. "But I'll do what I can."

  "Nate's missed you especially. Mom, I can tell."

&
nbsp; "I've missed him, too. My second son." Molly's features twisted in pain. "I wish there was some way to make it up to him.''

  "Give us your support. That'll be a start."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE DAY AFTER Molly's visit, Megan received a phone call from Sandra.

  "I was wondering," Sandra asked, "if you and Nate would like to come to dinner this Saturday. I know you wanted Nate to meet Betty and view some of her paintings."

  Megan could hear the anxiety underlying the request. She also recognized the significance of Sandra's calling her, instead of Nate.

  This wasn't just an invitation. It was a plea for Megan to help. And Megan couldn't deny Sandra that any more than she could Nate.

  Besides, she suspected he'd need her when he learned about his mother, and the best way for Megan to express her love was to be at his side.

  She assured Sandra that she'd show up Saturday with Nate in tow.

  This time when Megan reached for the telephone to call him, she didn't hesitate.

  "Did you think I'd abandoned you?" he asked gruffly when he heard her voice.

  "Not for a second." Megan's tone was reassuring. "After all, appliances don't usually serve as farewell tokens. Thank you. They're perfect."

  "You mean you're not upset I bought them? I thought perhaps you'd think I was being overbearing."

  "And get on my high horse, you mean?"

  "Well..."

  "The high horse is currently in storage."

  "In that case, you're welcome. Although I don't want you to think I sent them as a substitute for me."

  "Lord, I hope not. Because, believe me, they can't even carry on a decent conversation. All the refrigerator does is hum off-key."

  "And here I distinctly asked for harmonious appliances."

  A feeling of pure joy coursed through her. She'd missed his banter as much as his passion.

  "Oh, they get along with each other," she said. "Better than we do. They're also decorative, but not nearly as decorative as you. I did want to know if there was some kind of symbolism involved. You know—one's hot, the other's cold?"