by Lea Nolan
There went two weeks of hard earned brownie points. And perhaps more disturbing—and surprising—he truly regretted upsetting her so deeply and destroying what little bond they’d built. Now, thanks to his impatience and scheming, there’d be no more duckpin, no more falafel, and worst of all, no more laughter from Gwen. Operation Seduction was officially back to square one. Since she already hated him, he figured he might as well go for broke, “Will you still have the test after the baby’s born?”
“Yeah, you’ll get your vial of blood. After the baby’s here. And only to reassure Judith.” Looking like she was ready to spit, Gwen turned and left the room.
Chapter Twelve
“So, are you still playing with Ben’s daddy’s balls?” Emerson asked Gwen one Friday afternoon after she’d finished with her last patient.
She rolled her eyes. “Really? That joke hasn’t gotten old for you yet?” She wiped down the therapy table, then gathered up the liniments and locked them in the treatment cabinet.
He was referring to her daily therapy sessions with Rocky Anderson. She’d been working with him for several weeks now, sneaking in therapy by turning it into a series of sporting events. It all started after she got the idea to combine Rocky’s past experience and competitive nature into a personalized therapy program. That evening, she brought home an inflatable beach ball and sat on the floor across from his wheelchair. “Heads up!” she’d called, then rolled it toward him as he watched television.
Caught off guard, Rocky instinctively nudged his left foot forward to make contact. It was the smallest of movements, but since the ball was nearly weightless, it rolled a few inches, surprising him. Gwen and Judith broke out into applause.
That first tiny inch was like a mile, boosting his confidence and encouraging him to try again. That night he nudged the ball five times, the next six, and so on. They played other games to move his upper body as well. Each small success built on the last and encouraged him to try harder. Now, although his right side was still completely paralyzed, Rocky could lift his foot slightly from his wheelchair brace and tap the ball, propelling it across the great room. The games helped his mental outlook, too. There was light in his eyes now and he laughed every day. His progress was so astonishing she’d nearly forgotten her vow to move out of River View once she’d stockpiled a few paychecks.
Emerson shrugged. “Hey, cut me some slack. Ever since Sebastian and I took a break, I’ve got to take my smut where I can, even if it’s imagined. It’s not like you’ve got anything juicy to report from that hulking mansion of yours. I mean, you live with Carter Anderson, for cripes sake. If I was shacking up with D.C.’s sexiest bachelor, I’d be stalking his fine ass just to have something interesting to talk about.” He rubbed his hands together greedily as he followed her to the back room that housed the facility’s washer and dryer and their employee lockers.
“Oh, he’s a fine ass, all right,” she called over her shoulder. “A complete, unmitigated jackass. Trust me, gorgeous or not, Carter’s not worth stalking.”
Ugh, Carter. He was the last person she wanted to think about, much less stalk. Ever since his self-serving request to tap her uterus like a beer keg, she’d avoided the black-hearted bastard. Gone were their impromptu lunches and weekend dates. She wasn’t sure what bothered her most, that he’d come up with the amniocentesis suggestion in the first place, or that he’d waited to spring it on her after he’d been so charming.
Their relaxed outings had helped her to see behind the angry bluster, past the arrogance, to glimpse the man that lay beneath. She’d been drawn in by how much Carter loved and cared for his family. It was the strongest aphrodisiac she’d ever encountered. Sure he was beyond handsome, witty, and richer than Zeus, but his devotion to Rocky and Judith had made him nearly irresistible to her former foster-care eyes. Not that she was in any position to sample such a perfect package. Between being pregnant and all the truly gorgeous women across the metropolitan area throwing themselves at his feet, Gwen doubted she even registered on Carter’s interest scale. But at least she’d begun to understand why so many women fell for him. He was, in a word, magnificent.
But then he ruined it by insisting she submit to such an invasive test. How could he think she’d be so reckless as to endanger her child just so he could sleep at night? Why would she do that just to prove something now that could easily be established later? And to make matters worse, he’d couched his request as a favor to Judith, to manipulate her into caving to his demand. Well, she hoped he was holding his breath because the birth was still months away. Until then, she planned to steer clear. Thankfully he’d helped her out on that account. Home only occasionally between black tie galas, he rarely ventured out of his wing, and then, only to watch her therapy sessions with Rocky. If it weren’t for his shiny black Jaguar churning up the gravel driveway, she’d hardly notice his presence.
In the laundry room, Emerson curled his fingers into a claw. “Meow. Jealous much?”
Gwen tossed the dirty towels from her session into the hamper then whipped around to face him. “Of what? That I’m not one of his nameless blond Amazons?” Her stomach turned and it wasn’t because of the growing baby inside. The last thing she wanted was to be a member of Carter’s harem. How could he find any meaning in a series of rapid non-relationships with women whose sole purpose was to be arm candy?
“Maybe.” He arched a brow then stooped to empty the dryer’s contents into a basket. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to be wined and dined in a four star restaurant? Even if it was just for one night.”
She scoffed. “Trust me, I’m not his type.” She opened the washer and dragged out the clean towels, then tossed them into the waiting dryer. “I’ve got a brain. And integrity. And…and…” She searched for more ways to delineate herself from Carter’s usual type.
Emerson smirked and set the folded towel down. “Me thinks the lady protests a wee bit too much.” He performed a deep stage bow then stood up with a flourish. “That’s Shakespeare, just in case you didn’t know.”
“Yeah, I grew up in foster care, not in a cave. Even Shakespeare seeps in occasionally. And you got the line wrong, Master Thespian. It’s ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks’.” He pantomimed being stabbed in the heart, making her laugh. “Besides, even if Carter magically transformed into a decent person, I’m almost six months pregnant.” She rubbed her rounded belly. “Dating is the last thing on my mind.” Her baby bump had recently emerged, necessitating the purchase of some maternity yoga pants. As much as she hated spending money on clothing with a short shelf life, she didn’t have a choice. At least she’d found this pair in a thrift store.
Emerson threw up his hands and laughed. “Fine, you win. Carter’s a jerk and you’re not interested. Whatever you say.”
Purposely ignoring the sarcasm in his voice, she shot him with a finger gun. “Now you’ve got it.” She grabbed her duffle bag from her locker and hiked it over her shoulder. “Have a safe weekend,” she said as she headed out.
“Sure thing, Mommy Dearest,” he called after her. “As long as you give Carter a kiss for me.”
…
“Come on, Mr. Anderson. You call that a move? You can do better than that!” Gwen moved her own pawn out of the way on the black-and-white marble checkerboard in Rocky’s private study. It was the first time they’d played chess and she was more worried about remembering the rules than applying strategy.
He grunted at her then edged his arm across the chessboard, pushing a piece diagonally from one black square to another with his knuckle. He’d already lifted his arm to the table on his own, now it rested comfortably on the cool marble surface. All he had to do was move it back and forth, shifting it across the board and trying to avoid the other pieces. They’d done so much large motor development lately, she wanted to test his fine skills, at least to get a baseline. Moving chess pieces seemed like a great way to start, especially since Judith had told her Rocky was once a junior champion. Talk abou
t competitive. Was there any game he hadn’t excelled at?
“Ha! I’ve got you now.” She pushed her own piece—a knight?—to block his. “Don’t expect me to go lightly on you, old man. That wheelchair doesn’t mean a thing to me. You’re going down.” She chuckled.
His chest shook when he sucked in deep gusts of air as he laughed. He sounded a bit like a strangled goose, it was one of the most beautiful sounds she’d ever heard. Leaning forward, he inched his hand toward one of her pieces. With a twinkle in his eye, he flicked the tip of his index finger and knocked over her queen.
Gwen’s jaw dropped. “You rascal! I didn’t even see that coming.” It was the truth. And it proved how alert Rocky’s brain still was. He was a smart man, brilliant actually; he was just trapped inside a broken body. She checked the time on the wall. The game had taken only ten minutes, but it had required extreme concentration and effort. He was probably exhausted. “Hmm, I’d play you again, but I don’t want to crush you. Maybe we should pack it in for the night.”
A deep crease furrowed his brow and he moaned. Over the past few weeks, they’d developed their own brand of non-verbal communication. It was amazing what you could convey through limited body language and a few guttural sounds.
“You want to play again?” She shouldn’t be surprised though, given how tough he was.
He nodded his head slightly.
She sighed. “Okay, but after you lose, don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m telling you I was the chess queen of the D.C. Home for Girls.” Which wasn’t saying much, but still, it was a title she’d earned.
His head tilted to the side.
“Oh, I forgot you don’t know that about me.” She looked around to make sure they were still alone. Not that she expected Judith or Olivia, the nurse, to be hovering in some shadow or corner. She just didn’t want anyone to hear. She leaned close and whispered, “I was a foster kid.”
He let out a short grunt that kind of sounded like the word, “Oh.” But even with only one syllable, it was enough to convey his understanding and compassion. His eyes turned down and he edged his hand closer to hers.
Reaching toward him, she gripped his fingers. “Thanks. Yeah, it wasn’t the nicest way to grow up.” That was an understatement. But given Rocky’s condition, she thought she’d spare him the gloomy details. “Don’t be sad. It’s why I’m so determined to be a good mom.” She patted her tummy. “I’m going to make sure this little one doesn’t have to deal with the same stuff I did. I don’t care what I have to do, this baby’s going to know it’s loved.”
Against Judith’s initial request, Gwen had long ago confided her pregnancy to Rocky. Even though she was concerned it would add stress and concern on him, Gwen thought otherwise. Telling him the truth was, as usual, the best policy. Eventually, he’d notice her stomach was growing and he wasn’t likely to think she was just overeating. Besides, she figured it was a good motivator for him to keep improving his mobility. How else was he supposed to eventually hold his grandchild?
She rubbed her eyes. “I didn’t tell any of you this before because I was afraid Judith, and definitely Carter, would get the wrong idea about me. I’m guessing Judith’s already had me checked out, which is fine. I’ve got nothing to hide, but if Carter knew, I’m sure it would add to the little gold digger narrative he’s got going for me. I mean, how perfect is it that a former foster kid ends up having a millionaire’s baby?”
Gwen looked into his eyes. There, she caught a glimpse of the man he must have been. She could swear his steely gaze was telling her he wanted to ensure she and her child were provided for.
Patting his hand, she said, “I think I know what you’re trying to say. You want to make sure the baby’s taken care of, like an Anderson.”
He nodded his agreement.
“Here’s the thing. You’ve already done more than you can imagine. Really, if Judith hadn’t let me rent my bedroom, I don’t know where I would have ended up. Eventually, I would have scraped up enough money to get another basement apartment but honestly, I don’t think I could have lived with my best friend and his crazy boyfriend for much longer.” Gwen shuddered at the thought of what Sebastian might have cooked up in his next culinary attack. “Anyway, by the time the baby’s born, I’ll have saved up enough to get a place of my own, and for that I’ll be forever grateful.”
He balled his cramped hand into a fist and shook his head.
It was time to come clean. Drawing a deep breath she admitted the truth. “Ben and I didn’t plan to have a child. In fact, we barely planned to get together. Or knew each other very long.” She bit her lip. “There was a lot of tequila involved.”
He leaned back in his chair, comprehending all too well.
Embarrassed, she cleared her throat. “I didn’t want to tell you or Judith, and especially not Carter, because of what you might think of me. I swear I’ve never done anything as crazy as that in my whole entire life.”
Rocky nodded his understanding.
Gwen’s chest felt lighter than it had in ages, ever since she’d accidentally told the Andersons about her pregnancy. “So that’s why I don’t feel right about taking anything from you at all. Yes, this child is an Anderson, but only by accident. A happy accident, but still not something I ever contemplated. When I discovered I was pregnant, I had no idea who Ben was related to and planned to raise the baby on my own, with my own funds. So, I don’t need what I never expected. Does that make sense?”
Nodding, he leaned forward again and pointed to the chess pieces.
Gwen chuckled. “Enough talk, huh? Okay, but don’t cry when I whoop your butt.”
She set up the pieces and they played another game. This time, she spun the board around so she was white and he was black to stimulate his visual cortex as well. Once again, it only took about ten moves for Rocky to capture her queen.
He shrieked with laughter as he knocked her queen to the board with his index finger.
She pounded her fist in mock outrage. “You suck!”
Just then, a loud gasp surprised them both. Carter stood in the doorway to Rocky’s private den, his jaw hanging slack. “Dad!” was all he uttered. His voice was hushed, filled with a mixture of elation and disbelief.
Chapter Thirteen
Carter couldn’t believe his eyes. His father was moving one arm. And laughing. What kind of magic was this? He blinked to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Weeks ago, he’d watched his father tap a ball, but this was something else. He’d wished his father might recover, but Rocky’s debilitation had been so severe, and his subsequent depression so deep, Carter never imagined it would come to fruition.
But now, his father was playing chess—chess of all things!—with his paralyzed hand.
A chill ran over Carter’s body and he reminded himself to breathe. “Dad! You can move. I can’t believe it!” Clutching the rolled bundle of schematics he’d planned to share with his mother, he rushed into the study and crouched at his father’s side, gaping at his once immobile arm. Carter’s eyes filled. It hardly mattered that the rest of his father’s body was still motionless. This was miraculous progress. Perhaps the first step in a real recovery. Was it too much to hope that Rocky could ever regain even a fraction of his former glorious self? And, by extension, could Carter then forgive himself for the part his divorce played in his father’s stroke?
“How did this happen?”
Rocky slowly moved his hand to gesture toward Gwen.
Of course. How did he not put it together?
“You’re amazing.” Carter’s voice shook as he gazed up into her dazzling eyes. Rising to his feet, he set the design plans on the table next to the chessboard.
Smiling, she waved him off. “I didn’t do anything. It was all Mr. Anderson. He’s done all the hard work. I’ve just coached him.” She winked at her patient then walked to the back of Rocky’s wheelchair and pulled it back from the table.
Carter shook his head. “I disagree. He’s made astounding improveme
nt.” His throat tightened with emotion. “I’ve been working so much lately, I haven’t had much time to watch your therapy sessions.”
Gwen smiled. “I agree the chess looks impressive, but we’ve got something even better to show you.” Her gaze sparkled as she steered Rocky’s chair clear of the playing table, then moved him to the center of the room and grabbed one of the inflatable balls in the corner. She rolled it to him and he struck it with his foot, launching it into the air and soaring across the den.
Carter roared with approval. Clasping his father’s shoulders, he squeezed harder than he probably should have, but he forgot himself amid his euphoria. “That’s fantastic, Dad.” His voice caught. “I’m so proud of you.”
Gwen retrieved the ball and held it against her hip. “The best part is now that he’s got some muscle tone and movement, I think we can start working toward getting a motorized chair. It’ll be good to get a little autonomy and freedom of movement. He won’t have to rely on Olivia for everything.”
Rocky nodded as he strained to work his lips into a smile. A happy groan worked its way from his mouth. Gwen grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll get there, I promise. And then we’ll work on getting you out of that chair altogether. You may not be able to run down a football field again, but I’m sure we can get you walking on one. At least a few steps.”
Carter watched as his father squeezed her back. The man was very fond of her. Rocky, who before his stroke had been strict and imposing, and the toughest judge of character he’d ever encountered, clearly approved of Gwen. Despite all the doctors and therapists they’d seen since the stroke, Rocky never tried, never attempted, to live again. Until now.
Suddenly, Carter understood why. Gwen. She was the lone variable that had changed. Somehow she reached him, deep down in the morass of his despair, and pulled him to the surface.