by LAURA GALE
She looks younger, he thought, noticing that the tracks of tears were visible on her cheeks. More relaxed than I can remember ever seeing her. I hope the tears helped.
As he left the room, pulling the door shut beside him, he wondered. Had she cried often, throughout her marriage, in the privacy of her own suite of rooms? Would she be happier now? Una buena conciencia es una buena almohada. Isn’t that how Diego said it? A clear conscience is a good pillow. Or something like that. Maybe that’s what his mother had finally found. He hoped so. His mother had paid her dues.
Dawn was creeping up in the east, radiant pink streaks slashing through the pale blue of the new morning. Last night’s moon was still visible high above him. Lucas was going to the hospital. He had a daughter to see, a family to spend time with. Maybe a marriage to mend.
He smiled, a genuine, full-fledged smile.
Stepping off the elevator, Lucas briefly considered that a few weeks of regular visiting had eased his hospital-induced panic. He was comfortable here now. He had managed to establish a reluctant working relationship with the nursing staff, so when he arrived at 5:00 a.m. to see his daughter, his presence was only briefly acknowledged as he went to her room. Mutual good-mornings passed between them as he went his way.
Lucas grabbed a face mask, put it on and went into Michaela’s room.
“She looks awful,” he whispered, his gaze riveted to her face, silently admitting that her pallor looked deathly. He’d been assured this was normal progress, but it felt—and looked—horrible. He took a deep breath. He reached over to pull back the lounge chair, preparing to sit down.
Only then did he see the figure in the chair, her hand tangled through the bed’s side rail. He caught his breath. It was Rachel. Sound asleep, hair draped around her shoulders, sitting with her knees pulled up to her chin, her other arm wrapped loosely around her legs.
Lucas watched her, feeling warm inside.
His woman. The woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. His heart lurched. Desire and love rolled together, tied themselves together, the way they always had with Lucas.
All they needed was for Rachel to admit her own feelings, the ones that were fighting to surface. Everything would be fine if she would just follow what he knew she was feeling.
Watching her sleep, he felt his body begin to stir. She looked so…inviting. So familiar. So right. Soft and warm in her sleep, vulnerable in this private moment. Fragile in a way he didn’t associate with Rachel. Not angry, at the moment, as she seemed to be so often lately.
Lucas wondered vaguely if everyone looked softer in sleep.
God, I want her.
He loved her. He wanted her. With him it was nearly the same thing.
That had been one of his mistakes. He hadn’t understood the connection until now.
Her eyes opened. Lucas felt, rather than heard, her soft gasp when she recognized him standing over her.
“Good morning, Rachel.”
“Buenos días,” she mumbled sleepily. “I guess I fell asleep.” She peered at Michaela, giving her hand a quick squeeze before extricating her own hand from the bars of the side rail. She lifted her arms over her head, stretching, pulling her lab coat tightly across the breasts which were bare beneath the fabric.
Lucas noticed. His body noticed. He had to think of something else. “I think you’re still asleep.”
“Hmm?” She stared back at him uncomprehendingly.
“Come on,” he said, reaching for her hands and pulling her from the lounge chair. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
She mumbled something again, but put her arm around Lucas’s waist for support, her hair tumbling forward in a vanilla-scented cloud. Yes, spicy vanilla and…her scent. Recognition—and desire—gushed through him. Lucas slipped his arm around her waist, thankful that she was too asleep to notice his response to her. He took a slow breath, inhaling deeply.
Yes, my body thinks bed would be a great idea.
Gently he led Rachel from Michaela’s room toward her office. Lucas had never seen Rachel’s sleeping quarters—that, after all, was private. But he found it this morning with no difficulty. He helped Rachel lie down, quickly deciding not to remove or even loosen any of her clothing.
He pulled the sheet up to her chin, remembering that she always slept better covered, even in the heat of the summer. The only time she preferred nothing was after making love.
It’s probably not the best time to think of that, Lucas lectured himself. But the memory lingered.
Rachel stretched a little, settling one hand next to her face in a loose fist, the other one stretched out across the sheets.
As if she’s looking for someone next to her, Lucas thought. At one time, that someone had been him.
Her lips parted and she sighed.
Lucas leaned over and kissed her. It was a chaste kiss, as far as kisses went, but he felt the sizzle go all the way to his toes. His throbbing body hardened even further, although he wouldn’t have believed it possible.
Rachel had kissed him back. Softly, gently—and utterly unaware of it. But completely naturally. Without reluctance. Without pulling away.
Lucas stood and smiled down at her. Then, rearranging his own clothes to be less constricting and more concealing, he left her office. With a big smile on his face. And a glow in his heart.
Rachel slept, deeply, soundly. Better than she had in a very long time.
Chapter 13
Several weeks after the BMT, Michaela was showing real progress. Of course, medically, her life was still controlled, but she was reemerging, a new butterfly anxious to leave her cocoon—perhaps a little faster than she should.
She wanted to do absolutely everything. Her energy supply, however, was quickly depleted. She needed frequent naps, which she hated, insisting she wasn’t a baby. Typically, though, she was practically asleep even as the protests left her mouth.
Such was the case today. Lucas and Rachel had gathered in Michaela’s room, specifically to watch yet another in the string of hospital-provided children’s videos. Michaela rarely saw the end of these films, tending to drift off to sleep midway through. This had happened today—Rachel and Lucas watching Michaela fall asleep and then watching the heartwarming, sometimes swashbuckling, finale of the animated feature in question. Michaela always had questions on the parts she missed, and her parents had learned rather quickly that they should expect to deliver a detailed summary in order to satisfy her need to know.
Eventually, blank blue dominated the screen.
“You’ve shaved it again,” Rachel commented, absently regarding her husband’s shiny head with a lazy grin.
Patting his newly bald pate, Lucas smiled. “Yeah. It was starting to grow back already and I thought it would be better if I was hairless as long as Michaela is, you know? I thought I should stay bald, too.” He chuckled to himself. “I was surprised how fast it came back. I was getting pretty fuzzy again.”
“Well, you always did get your five-o’clock shadow pretty early in the day.” The words had been spoken innocently and involuntarily. However, they pointed to a familiarity between the two of them that sent two red flags of embarrassed color rushing to Rachel’s cheeks.
“Yeah,” Lucas agreed, glancing at Rachel, wondering if she knew how intimate her words sounded to him, how his body relished them. “I guess it’s nearly the same thing.”
Rachel stood, needing to distance herself from this conversation and also to wake herself up. Her body clock continued to protest her change in hours if she sat still very long. She was always in danger of falling asleep at an inappropriate time. Falling asleep with Lucas would definitely be best avoided.
She walked over to the window, gazing out at the busy streets of Phoenix, stretching.
“She is doing better, isn’t she.” Lucas’s remark was more a statement than a question, but Rachel knew he still sought confirmation. As Michaela’s parent, she needed that confirmation, too.
“Yes.”
“Absolutely normal,” Rachel confirmed. “It varies a little from one person to another, of course. Michaela seems to be starting to feel better even though her appearance hasn’t caught up yet. The way she wants to jump in and be busy—” her voice grew husky and she stopped, taking a deep breath, trying to regain some composure, before she continued “—that’s normal for Michaela. I mean, that’s how she acts. She’s always busy and eager to get into things. Curious. So, for me to see that coming back, for her personality to be showing up—” her voice broke “—even though she can’t maintain it very long, that is a good change. Sí, sí,” she whispered nearly to herself, “that is good.”
Lucas left Michaela’s bedside, making his way to the window where Rachel was standing. Moments like this were difficult for Lucas, wanting as he did to hold Rachel, to take her in his arms and share the emotion with her. Yet, he had promised himself that he wouldn’t force physical intimacy on her. He didn’t mean sex, either, although that was on his mind, too. He wanted more than that with Rachel, much more, and he knew that meant taking it nice and slow. Rushing her was not an option. That, in turn, meant keeping his impulses under control.
Not sure what else to do, he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and rocked back on his heels. Then, leaning toward her, careful to avoid any suggestion of touching her, he whispered, “You can relax with me, you know. I told you I’m here to share this. I am sharing this. Take a deep breath, Rachel, and let go a little.”
Rachel followed Lucas’s instructions and gave him a sheepish smile. “I guess I don’t know how.” She smiled, a little brighter this time. “I’m trying, Lucas.”
“I know.” And he did know, more than she could understand. In spite of his good intentions, Lucas reached toward Rachel then, tracing the corner of her smile with his thumb.
Her smile faltered a little—but she didn’t pull away. Instead, embarrassed color zipped back into her cheeks and she gave an awkward laugh. “Thanks, Lucas.”
He smiled, too, a warm glow building inside him.
A companionable silence reigned for a few minutes, both of them alone with their thoughts. Which brought to Lucas’s mind some things he hadn’t mentioned to Rachel yet.
“Did you know I went golfing with Diego the other day?”
“No, I had no idea.”
“Yeah, it was sort of an impulse. But, even more of an impulse—I asked him for a job.”
“What?” Rachel was shocked. Lucas spending time with Diego? Lucas leaving his father’s company? Lucas being independent of his father? Unthinkable in the Lucas she had known.
If only he’d done that years ago— She stopped the thought right there. That kind of memory-lane trip would serve no purpose.
“Surprised you, did I? Me, too.”
Well, Rachel thought, that helps a little. At least he realizes it, too.
Lucas started to run his hand through his hair, hesitating when he felt the bareness up there on his head. “It’s time for the change. Sometimes I think I should have never started with Dad. I thought I could learn there, that it’d be a good way to start. And I felt like I owed him something for helping me get through school. He thought so, too. As I’m sure you recall.”
Lucas shook his head, feeling dismal. “I don’t think I owed him my entire life, though. I’m not even sure I learned anything I want to know, anything good or worthwhile.”
“Good parents don’t lay guilt on their kids about paying them back. That’s not what parenthood is about.” Briefly, she rested her hand on his elbow. “Any return your father deserved on his investment in you was paid back a long time ago—if you owed him anything in the first place. And you’ve learned plenty. You wouldn’t see the value in what Diego has to offer, if you hadn’t seen the other side clearly, too.”
She let her hand fall back to her side, somewhat surprised to notice she’d touched Lucas. But she’d said something that needed to be said.
“I’m not sure how long I can stay working there.” He had inclined his head when she touched him. He looked toward her now, from under thick black eyebrows. “I’m on leave now, technically. But I’ve decided to resign.”
“I think that’s good, Lucas. No, I think it’s great.” She was stunned, to the core. But she did think this was a good move for him.
“Amazing, isn’t it? That I finally get it?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “It surprises me, too. But it feels right, as well. Makes me mad I didn’t know how to take a stand before now.”
At this, Rachel visibly started. It was an echo of her own thoughts, an echo of what she had wanted so long ago. Had Lucas changed?
Of course he has, she told herself. He couldn’t have done this before.
“And what did Diego have to say about this?”
“He’s thinking about it. I guess there are cousins and such involved?” Rachel nodded her head, and he continued. “Cousins who have to give approval. But even if it’s not Fuentes de la Juventud, I’m absolutely sure I won’t be going back to Neuman Industries. I’ll have to start looking elsewhere.”
Rachel nodded again, thinking about Lucas’s chances with Diego. She couldn’t guess what would happen there.
And she had no concept of Lucas not tied to his father.
“You should know, too,” Lucas was saying, “Mother and Dad have split up.”
“You’re kidding!” Rachel was well and truly stunned. “Why? How? When? I guess it was sudden?”
“Well,” Lucas drawled, bemused by Rachel’s reaction to this news, “the ironic thing is…it’s because of Michaela.”
Rachel’s stomach dropped, and the color drained from her face. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that their prejudice ran so deep that the mere existence of a mixed-race granddaughter would destroy their marriage.
“Oh, Rachel, I’m sorry.” Lucas was contrite. “I didn’t word that very well. What I mean is that my mother is deadly serious about being a grandmother. She wants to know Michaela. And she wants to protect Michaela from my father. It seems that the discussion we all had at the hospital got her thinking about the negative presence that is my father. That you’re right in believing he would be horrible to Michaela. My mother decided she’d gone along with him on enough things for enough years. So, basically, she’s kicked him out. And says he won’t be allowed back in.”
“Dios mio,” Rachel murmured, “en cada villa, su maravilla.”
Laughing softly, remembering that “Will wonders never cease” had always been a favorite expression of Rachel’s, Lucas said, “I couldn’t agree more.”
Motioning with her hands, making a parting-of-the-Red-Sea movement, Rachel said, “So then, you’ve both stepped away from Arnold.”
“I guess you could say that, yes.”
“So, eventually we will need to talk about grandmother’s rights.”
“Yes, Mother will want that. Genuinely.”
Rachel nodded. It was a turning point, both in how Lucas and Rachel related to one another and in how they were going to be parents. More and more, they seemed to be working that part out.
Much was left to discuss, much still needed sorting out. But they were feeling easier with each other, as if grounds for talking might eventually emerge. Just as a platform for a chaste kiss upon departure had emerged that very day. Neither of them said anything, but both enjoyed it thoroughly.
From then on a routine emerged without much effort. Rachel and Lucas managed to make it comfortable for all three of them. They’d never really gotten around to discussing an arrangement. Their agreement that Michaela’s needs were paramount had governed e
verything. They’d simply gone from there.
Most days, Lucas arrived in Michaela’s room shortly after Rachel. Rachel usually left then, believing it was important that Lucas have private time with his daughter. Around noon, before Michaela’s lunch, Rachel would return, and both parents would walk with Michaela. Rachel then stayed with her during lunch until it was her own bedtime. Much to Michaela’s disgust, she usually needed some sleep both during her father’s morning visits and her mother’s afternoon visits.
Rachel wasn’t sure what Lucas did during the afternoon, but she knew he often returned to see Michaela in the evening. She saw him from time to time while she was working.
“Buenos días, mija,” Rachel said, arriving in time to see Michaela sitting at a table by the window, busily stringing beads. “How are you this morning?”
“Fine, Mamá. I ate all I’m going to for breakfast. I don’t like all that hot cereal stuff, but I ate the toast and the fruit and I drank the juice.”
Rachel smiled to herself. Michaela had always been direct—trust her to casually declare herself “fine.” And she’d never cared much for hot cereal. These were touches of Michaela’s normal self, and Rachel treasured them. “What are you making?”
“This will be a necklace for Naná,” Michaela explained, not pausing, not looking up, referring to Rachel’s mother. “She likes lots of colors, so I’m using the best ones.” She bit her lip in concentration, the tip of her tongue creeping out of her mouth as she successfully strung another bead. “Papá gave me this kit. Isn’t it cool?” Success achieved with the most recent bead, Michaela paused and pointed at the items spread out across the table. “It’s got stuff for friendship bracelets. See? I’ll do that when I finish this.”
Rachel gave Michaela a hug and sat down in the chair opposite her. Michaela continued intently stringing beads while she watched, savoring every second of her daughter’s reemergence.
A click alerted them both to the opening of the door. Lucas entered.
“Buenos días, Papá,” Michaela chirped.