by Mara Jacobs
The beautiful animals still knew his scent and nickered their welcome.
“Hey guys,” he whispered. It was all he trusted himself to say, afraid his voice would crack. He went to all seven of his former pride and joy, pleased to see they had obviously been well cared for. Petting and nuzzling, but not daring to go into the stalls themselves for fear he’d never want to come out.
He sat on a bale of hay directly across from the stalls and thought about the day he’d watched them being taken away. He loved the animals, had raised every one of them himself from birth. Hell, he’d even birthed two of them all by himself. He ranked the day he sold the horses second - only behind the day he found out about Annie’s condition - as the worst of his life.
Not so much for the loss of the horses themselves, though that had stung like a son-of-a-bitch. But it had been more than his horses that had been taken from him that day. He’d lost all sense of hope, of goodness, in mankind. It’d been Dana’s treachery that made selling the horses necessary. It’d been fate, or God, or Karma or whomever he’d pissed off, that had not let the tiny vertebrae on his precious baby girl develop properly. All the other shit that had happened to him in his life he could take, hell, he probably deserved, but not his baby girl. She was so innocent and pure.
He felt as helpless the day they’d taken his horses away as he had the day he’d sat down with the doctors when they explained his daughter’s condition. Helpless, bitter, betrayed and seething mad. Absolutely sure he’d never have any hope or calm in his life again.
But Liz had restored that, not even realizing what a precious gift she’d given him. All to have it snatched away again.
This betrayal hurt even more because he just couldn’t believe that Liz Hampton was capable of such a cold-blooded seduction. Had life really changed her that much?
He snorted at that, causing the horses to shuffle uncomfortably. Of course it did. Look at how life had changed him. Goddamn, he wasn’t even sure if he felt worse for himself or for Liz, he loved her that much. It tore him apart to think that life had made her yet another calculating bitch like Dana.
He dreaded telling the kids that Liz was gone from their lives. Annie would pretend to be glad, but Finn knew his daughter had come to care for Liz, had come to depend on her as the mother she’d never had. Oh, Gran had been great with Annie, but Annie needed a mother and Liz had filled that role, however briefly. Stevie would be the most hurt. He’d pretend not to care or notice, but Stevie was Finn’s son and he knew the wound would cut deep. He vowed to be there for his son, try to help him through this. Hell, maybe they could help each other.
Some hours later, Finn rose and left the barn to drive home. At least Annie would get her operation, have money for recuperation and the farm would be in the black. He had tried to pay for it once with his horses - his heart - but that hadn’t worked, thanks to Dana. He guessed it only made sense that now he pay for it with his heart after all.
And that was okay with him, he’d gladly live with heartbreak if it would mean Annie had a shot at a normal childhood. But God, it hurt to know he wouldn’t have Liz in his life anymore.
Chapter Twenty-One
√ Get athletes to airport
√ Meet Davis for breakfast
√ Go back to bed
Davis showing up at the dance had been a complete surprise. He texted her, and Lizzie met him for breakfast Sunday morning, getting only a measly three hours sleep after her foray to the beach. She apologized for leaving him the way she had.
He brushed her apology away with a wave of his hand. “It was fine. Pete and the other players took care of me. I ended up staying at Pete’s as a matter of fact, seems your Annie Aid drew enough people to fill up all the hotel rooms.”
Lizzie nodded. “Yes. It was quite a success. If I’d known you were coming, I’d have made arrangements. We kept a couple of rooms open for just such a reason.” As she spoke the words, she felt the Yooper casualness fade from her voice and her business tone take its place.
“Pete’s place was fine, though I didn’t get much sleep,” he smiled. A devastatingly handsome smile she noticed, but not with much interest.
“No, I suppose not. Petey’s place was probably party central after the dance.”
He leaned across the table and laid his hand gently on top of hers. “It doesn’t look like you got too much sleep last night either, Lizzie.”
She knew what her eyes looked like, had splashed cold water over them several times before meeting Davis at the restaurant. “No. No, I didn’t.”
His hand squeezed hers. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She looked at him hesitantly. “I don’t think I can talk about this, Davis. Not with you, anyway.”
He seemed to understand and sat back in his chair, nodding slowly. “That’s fine. I just want you to know one thing,. We’ve been dancing around each other for a couple of months now and I came up here, not only to congratulate you on a wonderful event, an event that several of our players were involved with, but to put an end to the dancing.”
Oh great, dumped twice in two days. Not that she’d even been Davis’ to be dumped. She wondered if it was too late to change her breakfast order of fruit salad to stacks and stacks of pancakes. “I understand,” she said to him.
He looked closely at her. “I don’t think you do. I don’t know what you had going with the man I met last night, it’s really none of my business. But I came here to tell you I want to start seeing you, Lizzie, exclusively and frequently.”
Oh. She wasn’t being dumped after all. Quite the opposite in fact. Oddly, the thought that Davis wanted to begin a relationship with her was not the least bit appealing. “I don’t know Davis…I don’t think…”
“Look,” he cut her off. “You don’t have to say anything. Obviously you’re in a pretty weird place right now. But once you get back to Detroit, back to your real life, and things get back to normal, let’s discuss it again, okay?”
Her real life? Back to normal? Would things ever be back to normal for her? Was her old life to be considered normal? Funny, she couldn’t think of anything more normal than standing in Wal-Mart picking out a new tank top for Annie, or helping Clea clear away the dinner dishes.
When they parted, he gave her a soft peck on the cheek, nothing more, but his eyes held a promise of things to come.
Driving back to her parents’ place she realized the date. Exactly eight weeks since she’d first come to town. In eight weeks she’d managed to find Finn, get him to sleep with her, get comfortable with her new physique and was now in place to begin a relationship with Davis Cummings. She didn’t miss the irony of how her original plan had come to full fruition.
She’d never been more miserable to have successfully completed a plan in her life.
She got the athletes off on their chartered plane, presenting them all with thank you baskets full of traditional Yooper things, right down to a flannel shirt and orange touque. The guys loved them, donning the bright knit hats, made for deer hunting season but worn year round by the locals, right in the airport. She even managed to snag a new client in one of the Russian Avs and had been promised a follow-up meeting with the Lions’ hot new running back. The fundraiser had been very good for her firm. She would’ve let Finn know so he wouldn’t feel so indebted to her, if she thought he’d speak to her.
In a daze, she moved through the next few days. She met with Margo at the bank to go over the final numbers from Annie Aid. She resigned from the Hannah Robbins Foundation board of directors, even though Margo begged her not to.
“This was your brainchild, Lizzie, you should stick with it,” the banker said.
“No, it’ll be fine now. The funds can be administered through you and the bank. Promise me, though, that if, say years down the road, Annie needs another operation or something, you’ll contact me.”
“Of course, but surely you’ll be aware if something like that happens.”
Lizzie only gave a small smil
e, but she knew that Finn would not keep in touch, would want her nowhere near his family. There’d be no shoebox of unsent letters this time, not if his parting shots at her were any indication of how much she’d hurt him.
Her parents called from somewhere in Tennessee. They were on their way home after spending a week with Zeke. Her mother sensed something was wrong with Lizzie when she asked her daughter about the fundraiser, but Lizzie brushed her mother’s concern away. They asked if Lizzie would like them to stop in Detroit on their way home. Knowing that it was out of their way, that going through Chicago and Wisconsin would be faster, and not really wanting them to see how Finn Robbins had once again devastated her, she said no.
Zeke called, making idle talk until she realized that Petey had probably called him.
“Petey tell you I got dumped?” she said, always able to cut to the chase with her twin.
“Yeah. Sorry.” He didn’t seem to know what else to say. She knew guys in general were bad at this sort of thing, but Zeke was woefully out of practice at being there for her after a breakup.
“It’s okay. I’ll get over it,” she told her brother.
If only she believed it herself.
The ten-hour drive back to Detroit seemed like twenty. What she wouldn’t give to have Annie and Stevie fighting in the back. The silence was deafening.
She didn’t keep her staff on pins and needles, approving the partnership plan her first day back in the office. The next two months were spent hashing out the details, signing legal documents and occasionally being talked off the ledge whenever she’d start freaking out about letting go of her baby.
Lizzie answered her doorbell late one evening in mid-October to find Finn standing on her doorstep.
“Today was Annie’s operation,” he said.
No hello, no greeting of any sort, just right to the point. He hadn’t changed a bit. Then she looked more closely at him and realized she was wrong. His face looked drawn and worried, much paler now that the summer sun had left the Copper Country and his tan had faded. His hair had just been cut and he was wearing a crisp dress shirt under a sports coat and slacks that were severely wrinkled. Probably from sitting in a hospital waiting room all day.
It was all shecould do not to nuzzle her nose into his chest and breathe deeply.
“I know. I called the hospital, but they wouldn’t tell me anything because I wasn’t family. How is she?” she asked
“Good. Out for at least ten hours. They want to keep her perfectly still, so they have her totally juiced up. They wouldn’t let me anywhere near her for the night. But the operation went great. The doctors are pretty optimistic.” He looked past her, into the living room. “Are you busy? Can we talk?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Come in, come in,” she stammered, not believing her own brief lapse in manners. She waved him to a chair in the living room, then sat on the couch to his side.
“Finn, I think you should know that…” she began but he cut her off.
“No Liz, let me. I can’t tell you how sorry I am about the things I said that night at the rec center. It was childish and hurtful and you have to know I didn’t mean a word I said.”
She bowed her head, looking at her hands folded in her lap. “I know you didn’t,” she said, and heard his sigh of relief.
“Thank God. I wouldn’t have blamed you one bit if you’d slammed the door in my face.” He leaned forward, his knee brushing hers. “But I’m so glad you didn’t. Liz, about us...”
“Finn, I really need to tell you...”
But neither of them got to finish as the door to the kitchen swept open and an apron clad Davis Cummings entered the living room. “Lizzie, your palate is in for the night of its life. Oh, sorry, I didn’t know we had company.”
Lizzie could see the muscles of Finn’s jaw tighten, saw the blue of his eyes turn steely as his gaze went from Davis to Lizzie, then took in the two half empty wine glasses on the coffee table.
“Finn, you remember Davis Cummings, don’t you? Davis, Finn stopped by to give me a progress report on Annie. Her surgery was today.” She looked at Finn, silently wishing that he’d come for more than that, but knowing he hadn’t. Just seeing the way he reacted to Davis’ presence convinced her that he was still mad at her.
“Right. And now that I’ve done that, I’d better get going and let you two enjoy your dinner.” He started to rise and Lizzie fought the panic she felt at the thought of him walking out the door. Walking out on her. Again.
“You’re welcome to stay, Finn, I’m sure Davis made plenty.” She tried to hide the pleading in her voice.
Finn looked at Davis, then at her. “No. Thanks anyway, I want to get back to the hospital. I just wanted to let you know how she was doing.”
“Thank you for that,” she said, following him to the door.
He turned at the entrance and said low, for her ears only, “And to apologize.”
“There was no need, but apology accepted,” she said. She reached a hand up, to touch his cheek, but saw him recoil, and quickly dropped her hand. “Good bye, Finn.”
“Good bye, Elizabeth,” he said, then turned and left.
Damn. Damn. Damn. Of all the nights to finally cave in to Davis’ offer to let him cook for her. He’d been after her for weeks to let him loose in her kitchen but she’d put him off. The bad mood she’d been in all day, knowing today was Annie’s surgery, finally made her relent. She figured if there were a man in her kitchen, she’d be less likely to drop everything and high tail it to Ann Arbor to see Finn.
She loved seeing him again, but took his visit for what it obviously was, a mere courtesy call. After all, if it hadn’t been for the fundraiser she’d helped pull together, Annie probably wouldn’t even be having her operation today.
But she didn’t want his thanks, or even his apology. She wanted him to tell her that he still loved her, that he couldn’t live without her, that the two months apart had been hell for him. They sure had been for her.
“Lizzie? Dinner’s ready,” Davis said behind her. She started toward the kitchen, but only made it as far as the couch before her legs gave out and she crumpled into the soft cushions, sobs racking her body.
Oh God, not more crying! It seemed like that’s all she’d done for the last two months. She would have sworn there wasn’t enough water left in her to shed, but the tears kept tumbling. It was so odd to feel bad instead of shoving the pain down with food. Odd, but good.
She knew she’d get through this night, just as she had all the others since she’d come back to Detroit. It actually got easier every day. It was just seeing Finn again that set her off.
She could hear Davis moving to her, felt his weight on the couch as he sat next to her, sensed his hesitation. No wonder, he’d never dealt with anything other than the fun Lizzie, the nice Lizzie, the always up Lizzie. He’d be appalled at this pile of sobbing woman. Lizzie found that the thought didn’t really bother her. She cried. So what.
Davis waited patiently until she got her crying under control, even found her some tissues. When she felt able to talk she turned to him, but he held his hand up for her to stop.
“Me first, Lizzie. I know you’ve been putting me off since you’ve been back, that I’ve been the one calling and you were the one with all the excuses. I guess I just figured that you really were too busy catching up to go out with me like you said, but obviously it was more than that.” She waited for him to go on, there really wasn’t much she could say, what he said was true. “I don’t know what you had with that guy this summer, but you’re not over him, are you?”
“No,” she whispered. “I’ll never be over him, Davis.”
“Who is he, anyway?” he asked.
He hadn’t asked her about Finn during their phone conversations since she’d been back, and for that she was grateful. She didn’t know how she would explain Finn to Davis. Or to anyone for that matter. How did she explain emotions that she herself were only now coming to terms with?
; “He’s the man I fell in love with eighteen years ago. The man I’m still in love with,” was all she said.
She watched as he absorbed the information, and like the classy guy he was, gave her a squeeze on the hand. “I understand, Lizzie, and its okay. Now, how about some of my famous Chicken Kiev?”
“Do you mind if I take a rain check Davis?” Then she spoke words that had not passed her lips before. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
It wasn’t rage or fury that Finn felt this time as he walked away from Liz. It was defeat.
So that was it. She’d made her choice. He would just have to live with it. He had come to her place for more than a progress report on Annie and to offer the much-deserved apology. He had come to make amends and to hopefully make a clean start.
When the doctors informed him that his daughter was resting comfortably and that the operation had been a success, his first thought had been of Liz. He followed his instincts and, after being told he wouldn’t be able to see Annie for at least twelve to fourteen hours, he made his way to Novi to see Liz.
On the drive over, his mind raced with all he wanted to say, starting with I’m sorry and ending with will you marry me.
He’d only gotten the first part out before her new man had interrupted them.
The thought of anyone else’s hands on Liz’s body nearly made him drive off the road. Would he know how to touch her? Would he make her feel good about her body? Would he love her like Finn did? Was it possible for anyone else to love Liz Hampton the way he did? He didn’t think so.
Needing a distraction lest the vision of Liz straddling Davis Cummings drive him insane, he turned on the radio, hitting seek to find the first station he could and cranking up the volume. As a commercial ended, a lone guitar sang out and Finn realized it was a Springsteen song.
He turned the radio off and drove the rest of the way in silence.