The Tie That Binds

by LAURA GALE

  “Buenos días, Michaela, Rachel.”

  Rachel smiled her welcome, eyeing with some trepidation the bag Lucas carried.

  “You’ve brought something else?” Rachel had innocently mentioned to Lucas that Michaela would need quiet activities to keep her busy once her energy and attention span began to return. Lucas had taken the suggestion to heart, bringing with him books, puzzles, games and what Rachel called Lego for girls, referring to the pastel-colored building blocks. To his credit, Lucas also made a point of participating in whatever activities he brought, ensuring that Michaela knew what everything was for and exactly how to use it.

  Rachel, too, had contributed her fair share of special items from home, including Michaela’s favorite stuffed animals. Between the two of them, Rachel and Lucas had managed to create a home-away-from-home atmosphere for Michaela, with one corner of her room serving as a cache for everything.

  Sheepishly, yet proudly, Lucas nodded and dramatically pulled a box from the bag. “Ta-da,” he intoned.

  “Chinese checkers!” Michaela squealed.

  “She knows the game?” Lucas’s face fell a little. He’d been counting on teaching his daughter about this particular game. He had found her to be just as bright as Rachel had said, even a little precocious, and had taken it upon himself to find things she didn’t already know about. He wasn’t having a lot of success, however. He’d been so sure about Chinese checkers.

  “Oh, yes,” Rachel said nodding. “She adores Chinese checkers. And—” she leaned toward him conspiratorially “—I must warn you, she’s very good.”

  Lucas chuckled at this. “Why does that not surprise me?”

  “Papá,” Michaela was continuing, “you open it, okay?” Already she was gathering her beadwork. “Mamá, help me put this away. I’ll finish it another time.”

  Rachel obeyed her daughter’s request, carefully stacking the jewelry kit amongst Michaela’s other possessions. Then she returned to her seat.

  Michaela had already arranged the playing board and claimed her favorite blue marbles. Rachel and Lucas were left to fend for themselves.

  An hour later Michaela had won four games while her parents had only taken one each. Lucas had quickly realized that, once again, Rachel had not exaggerated Michaela’s ability.

  Also obvious, however, was that Michaela had expended her morning’s energy. She was nearly asleep already. Rachel helped her back to her bed, and tucked her in, while Lucas cleaned up the site of the Chinese checker massacre.

  And so another aspect of their hospital routine was established. Together, Rachel and Lucas played cards, checkers, Chinese checkers, or whatever other game Michaela selected, every morning. All three of them. Like a family.

  “Rachel.”

  She looked questioningly at Lucas, having detected an odd note in his voice.

  His eyes were trained on Michaela, who was tucked in her bed, quickly falling asleep. So far this morning, the three of them had engaged in several rousing rounds of Go Fish, followed by what was by far Michaela’s longest walk around the hospital ward—without stops for resting. It was nearly six weeks since day zero and her progress was evident.

  Michaela continued to push her limits of endurance, and today had been no exception. Now she was tired.

  At the same time, the “truce by default” that had established itself between Rachel and Lucas, over a month ago now, had become broader and even less formally defined. The truth of it was, Rachel and Lucas were getting along. They were both nervous, their concerns for Michaela being one cause. The other cause was less clear, but it had something to do with spending time with each other. And being comfortable together.

  “Rachel,” Lucas said again, more urgently this time, his gaze still riveted on their daughter. “Does she have eyelashes?”

  Rachel blinked, looked at Lucas, then switched her attention to Michaela. Rachel had noticed several days ago that Michaela’s skin tone had crossed the line into the healthy range, although she was still pale. Now Rachel inspected her more closely. And there, curling gently against the curve of Michaela’s cheek, were the infant-like wisps of Michaela’s black eyelashes. Once again.

  “Yes, Lucas,” Rachel whispered, caught between reverence and exuberance. “She does.”

  Their gazes locked then, as they stood on opposite sides of the bed.

  “La niñita más linda del mundo.” Lucas quoted the Spanish. He, too, believed it, and spoke for both himself and Rachel.

  They smiled together, suddenly unable to suppress the bursts of laughter—sounds that were remarkably close to giggles—that seemed to worm their way out into the room. As a stress breaker, laughter went a long way.

  “Excuse me, Rachel,” a voice interrupted as Rhonda, the nursing assistant, popped her head into the room. “Oh, good, you’re both here. Paul wanted to see you, both of you, as soon as you have a minute. He’s in his office.”

  She was gone that quickly. So, too, was the smile from Rachel’s face. For her, being summoned by Paul Graham was something to be dreaded. She had heard so much bad news from him.

  “We should go, then.” Rachel was turning toward the door. She was cold already, beginning to tremble inside, imaginary ice shards shooting through her, splitting her into thousands of tiny, frozen pieces. She hoped her legs would carry her, that she wouldn’t disgrace herself by fainting in the reception area. But she wasn’t confident about it.

  Lucas, although new to the scenario, was quick to catch on. “Rachel,” he grabbed her hand, “I’m here this time. I’m sharing this. Okay?”

  She nodded wordlessly, swallowing hard. But she didn’t let go of his hand. She held it tight, fingers threaded through his, all the way to Paul’s office. Even when she sat down in front of Paul’s desk, she held on to Lucas’s hand.

  She’d always taken the news alone. She just couldn’t bear to hear more of the same, yet, of course, she would if she had to. But this time, she had a partner. She needed—and welcomed—his support. She wouldn’t analyze it deeper than that.

  “So Rhonda found you both,” Paul Graham began, noting the tension between Rachel and Lucas immediately. “Is something wrong?”

  Rachel didn’t answer. Her wide, blank eyes told Paul what he needed to know. He’d seen that carefully schooled expression on her face many times. He realized then what she was thinking, would have correctly interpreted the situation, even if Lucas hadn’t spoken.

  “We thought you might want to see us about a problem.”

  “No,” Paul was vigorously shaking his head. “Damn, I’m sorry. I should have realized before. I should have been more specific when I requested to see you. No, I do have news, but it’s good news.”

  He smiled. So did Lucas. Rachel couldn’t manage that, not yet.

  And she still didn’t let go of his hand, which Lucas didn’t mind at all.

  “It’s been almost six weeks now, and Michaela is coming along very well. I think by the end of the week she will be ready to go home.”

  Rachel’s heart began to hammer, so hard she was sure the others could hear it. She felt dizzy, warding off the faint feeling she had, desperate to avoid that kind of reaction again in front of Paul—or in front of Lucas. She had hoped, really hoped, for this for so long. Yet, she’d also been afraid to hope. She’d been afraid to let herself think about it. She hadn’t let herself think about it.

  She’d had no idea that relief could be so intense.

  Lucas felt it, too. He couldn’t breathe. In fact, it’s just like it was when Rachel announced I had a daughter, he thought. Just like that—again.

  He was grateful he was sitting down, knowing his legs felt weak. He could feel Rachel trembling, and tightened his grip on her hand. Instinctively he knew this trembling was different from the trembling he’d first felt when they had left Michaela’s room.

  “I’ll mention that you need to prepare her home environment,” Paul resumed. “It’s my duty as Michaela’s doctor to deliver the information, a
lthough I know you know the speech as well as I do, Rachel. Nevertheless, you know you will need to disinfect and sanitize the place, that you’ll have to limit visitors and so on. In your case,” his voice sharpened, “we need to enforce restrictions on you, starting now. You are on leave, Rachel. You cannot do everything by yourself, so please don’t try.”

  “I know.” She chewed her lip, unconsciously stroking Lucas’s hand with her thumb. “I’m on leave now?” That part of his statement had only just penetrated her brain.

  “Yes. I know you, Rachel. Which brings me to you, Mr. Neuman—” Paul readjusted his emphasis “—I’m hoping you will take it as your mission to see that Rachel…stays in line. It won’t be an easy task, but if she knows I’m assigning it to you, she might cooperate and be reasonable.” Paul smiled.

  Each was silent for a minute.

  “So, then,” Rachel began, “I’m on leave now? Right now? I don’t have to work tonight?” Realization was slow to dawn on her.

  “That’s right, Rachel. Go get whatever you want to start taking home—get out of here and get things ready for your daughter.”

  Paul saw Rachel swallow, saw her rapid blinking. This time, he realized, it wasn’t up to him to offer support. A different man sat in the position.

  Observing Lucas and Rachel together, Paul knew that whatever their problems, lack of love had not been the issue. It radiated from both of them—no matter how hard they tried to hide it. He wondered if they were as transparent to other people as they were to him. Then again, he considered Rachel to be the daughter he’d never had. And Michaela, his granddaughter by extension.

  He hoped these two could work it out. Whatever “it” might be.

  “You two need a few minutes alone.”

  Receiving no response from either of them, Paul slipped from the room, giving them the privacy they deserved. Good news required privacy sometimes, just as much as bad news.

  Rachel stood as if in a dream. She found Lucas already standing, still clasping her hand in his.

  But she felt numb.

  How can I feel numb? Doesn’t numb mean that I can’t feel?

  Turning to face Lucas, she vaguely felt his arms close around her, she blankly registered that her body was being folded against his.

  “Oh, honey, it’s okay. Rachel, it’s okay. It’s better than okay,” he whispered, murmuring over and over, using soothing words that didn’t make sense to Rachel. He stroked her back, pulling her hair free from the barrette that trapped it behind her head. He rocked her against him, knowing the instant her hot tears broke over the dam that had held them back for so long.

  “Rachel, honey, it’s okay. I’m here. It’s okay. It’s good news. It’s great, Rachel. Michaela can go home. She doesn’t have to stay here anymore.”

  Rachel had no idea how long she stayed in the circle of Lucas’s arms or how long she cried. She only knew that she was where she belonged, and that everything was going to be all right.

  Eventually she became aware that she was doing two things that were off-limits to her: crying and making physical contact with Lucas. She backed away from him, scrubbing angrily at the tear streaks left on her face.

  “No, honey.” Lucas grabbed her hand again. “Don’t pull away. We need each other. There’s nothing wrong with that.” He found her other hand. “Rachel, let’s go to lunch. Let’s celebrate. This is worth it, don’t you think?”

  It sure is, he thought. Michaela going home means a big improvement in her health. I can have a real relationship with Michaela, not a hospital relationship. And Michaela going home means Rachel and I have things to work out. We won’t be limited to a hospital relationship, either. We’ll be able to be together. As much as possible. Oh, yeah, this is worth celebrating.

  “Come on, Rachel. We can act like overjoyed parents. We have reason to.” He smiled at her, the special smile he’d always reserved for her. “I’ll get us a table, someplace special.”

  “Okay,” she sniffed, trying out her smile. “I need to go clean up a little. I’m sorry—” her smile changed to something shy “—about that little flood.”

  “Oh, no, Rachel. You had that coming. You deserved that. And you never—” he let go of one hand, tipping her chin so that she looked into his eyes “—you never have to apologize to me for what you’re feeling. Never. Okay?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Now, go. Get yourself ready.” He pushed her, jokingly, gently, toward the door. “I’ll make that call.”

  About fifteen minutes later Rachel met Lucas at the reception desk carrying a suitcase.

  “I thought I’d get a jump on things that need to go home,” she explained, sheepishly. “I hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course it’s okay, Rachel. Whatever you want.”

  He took the suitcase from her, shifting it to his right hand. His left arm curled around her waist, pulling her to his side. He held his breath.

  Rachel held her breath. Then she slipped her arm around his waist and melted against him, finding her place, fitting there, just as she always had.

  Chapter 14

  Durants was an old, well-established restaurant in central Phoenix. Rachel had never been there, but she had certainly heard of it. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t remember much about this visit. The excellent food, the exquisite champagne and the exceptionally discreet atmosphere—all these were completely lost on her.

  Her daughter was coming home.

  And the man she loved, her husband, was courting her. Or at least it seemed that way.

  Rachel decided not to dissect it right now. Instead, she was going to float along in the lovely, glowing little world she’d been transported to as soon as the meaning of Paul’s words had sunk in.

  Not just good news, she averred, the best news I’ve heard in a long time. News I’d despaired of ever hearing.

  Which is probably why she’d assumed the worst when she’d been told to go talk to Paul. It had always been the worst. Until today.

  And she was marking the occasion with her husband, something she’d never even considered doing. She still loved him; she’d admitted that a long time ago. Today she simply wasn’t going to worry about it. She wasn’t going to fight it. He probably knew, anyway.

  “I guess we should discuss what kind of schedule you want to live by, now that she’ll be home,” Rachel ventured.

  “Yeah, we could. Or we could just see what feels comfortable. It may take some time before Michaela gets into a routine. The process of moving home may wear her out.” He sipped his champagne. “But we don’t have to decide the specifics today, Rachel.”

  She agreed and gave herself over to the day. She ate what he ordered for her and toasted her daughter’s health, their daughter’s health, numerous times. She smiled. She laughed. She shared this time with Lucas.

  And she felt a little bit of her internal armor give way.

  “Come on, Rachel, we can share a slice of cheesecake,” Lucas coaxed. He, too, felt the magic of the day. “It’ll finish off the meal.”

  She smiled at him, feeling shadows flicker across her face. She wondered if he knew what she was thinking—that she’d never been out to celebrate something with Lucas before. That he’d never ordered for her in a fancy restaurant, shared champagne or cheesecake with her. He had done so for others, she knew. But not for her. This was her first time. Shaking the shadows away, she demanded that she not dwell on it. Today was hers.

  Lucas had seen the shadows, had realized that Rachel had forced out her sad thoughts, hadn’t allowed them to stay. He couldn’t be entirely sure what she had been thinking about, but he had a very good idea. Now was not the time to go into detail, about anything. He’d already decided that. But he could hint. He could set the foundation. She needed to know that he understood her thoughts.

  “It’ll be okay, Rachel.” He squeezed her hand as it rested on the table. “Rachel, I can’t undo things that happened before. But I can do better from now on. I will do better from now on.” He squeezed her hand again
, suddenly desperate to make her understand his thoughts, knowing it was a first, important step. “Give it a chance, Rachel. Sharing dessert is a small place to begin.”

  Rachel stared at their clasped hands. She swung her gaze back to Lucas’s face, unable to speak. So he did know where my thoughts had gone.

  “Please, Rachel.” His clear, dark eyes pleaded, too. He’d never wanted anything so badly. He decided she needed to hear that, too. “I want you back, Rachel. I want to be together. I know it’s not easy or simple. I know we have things to discuss. But I think you should know how I feel.”

  She sighed, a decision made. “I’ll share the cheesecake, Lucas. We’ll take today. We’ll have to see about…anything else.”

  Lucas released the breath he’d been holding. He smiled. He flagged down the waitress and ordered cheesecake. With cherries.

  Rachel was thinking, dreamily. Softly.

  There is something incredibly erotic, sensual, about your man feeding you from his own fork—especially cheesecake. When he puts that creamy sweetness in your mouth. And you let him.

  Rachel refused to analyze her thought or the fact that she actually was eating from Lucas’s fork. She felt herself glowing, riding a magic wave, and not about to disembark at this point. No way would she disturb the slow-motion movements or the soft watercolor images surrounding her.

  That very same magic found her, later, agreeing to dance with Lucas in her town house. He’d gone over to her CD holder and put on some music. Only when she heard the first strains of the Mavericks did she realize what he’d really done.

  They had danced for hours when they’d first married. They’d danced in their kitchen—it was big enough if they avoided the table, and it had a tiled floor. The Mavericks, a western band, always had plenty of dance songs on their albums, including slow ones that let a couple get close. She’d left everything behind when she moved out, but she’d bought her own Mavericks CD. And that’s what Lucas had chosen today.

  And Rachel chose to share it with him, moving into his arms naturally, molding her body against him just the way she had before. Feeling the way she’d always felt when he’d held her. Glowing from somewhere deep inside. Radiant. In love. Loved, too.