by Jamie Beck
“I don’t think the antibiotics are helping.” His brows pinched together.
She stroked his forearm. “Jenna was planning to speak with the doctor. Maybe they’ll have answers today.”
“Let’s hope.”
When they exited the car, Sara noticed Hunter don a tough, confident expression before giving the gang of boys a pointed look. He then put his arm around her shoulders and escorted her up the front steps.
Fall breezes whipped dead leaves along the sidewalk. Each week that passed brought her closer to Gentry’s due date, and closer to being a mom. That cheerful thought temporarily distracted her from the troubles of the people living in this neighborhood.
They stepped past some trash left in the hallway and knocked on Pam’s door. She answered without much of a smile. Beside her sat one standard-size suitcase. Sara couldn’t imagine having so little, or lacking the education and wherewithal to land a decent job with benefits. The world must feel frightening and cold to those in Pam’s shoes. No wonder the woman kept her defenses on high alert.
Sara crouched to Ty’s height. “Ty, this is my husband, Hunter. Isn’t he tall?”
Ty ducked behind Pam’s leg while peering up at her imposing husband.
Hunter waved at him, grinning, and then looked at Pam. “May I carry your bag?”
“I got it.” She cracked her gum, chin raised.
He slid Sara an inscrutable look. “Okay, then we might as well leave.”
Once they were loaded in, Pam buckled Ty into the toddler seat Sara had borrowed from the Angel House. Ty strained to see the gigantic computerized monitor on the dash, while Pam’s hands brushed the supple leather seats. Hunter’s car cost as much as some small condos. That realization—or rather her concerns about Pam’s judgment of them—made her uneasy.
An awkward silence descended as Hunter pulled from the curb. Fortunately, they had to go only a few miles to arrive at the two-story apartment complex Hunter had found. The shingled building, in a graffiti-free neighborhood, was painted in shades of light and dark gray. Dormant flower beds that would probably look quite pretty in the spring surrounded the parking lot. In the common area on the left, there was a small playground.
Sara waited for Ty’s reaction.
“Swing!” he said, pointing at the swing set and slide. The fact that he spoke made Sara want to lift him into a hug. Her smile nearly split her cheeks.
“Won’t that be fun?” Sara wanted to lift Ty onto her hip and play with him, but Pam’s hand was on his shoulder.
Hunter removed the suitcase from the trunk, and then they followed him to unit 117. After he unlocked the door, he handed Pam the key without crossing the threshold. “It’s furnished, and I’m told this is a safe neighborhood.” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a bus stop one block east of here, so commuting should be pretty easy.”
“Thanks.” Pam, who’d never been effusive, stared at them, appearing impatient for them to leave.
“You’re welcome.” He handed her his business card. “Keep this handy. If you have any trouble, you can call my private line at work.”
Pam flicked the card with her finger, then tucked it in her jeans.
“If you ever need help with Ty, please let us know,” Sara added, sensing their imminent farewells. Her stomach tightened into a hard pebble as she prepared to say goodbye to Ty. “I’m happy to watch him a few days a week if it will help you get on your feet.”
Pam’s eyes narrowed. “We’re good.”
“It’s no problem,” Sara began, but Hunter squeezed her waist to signal her to stop. A lump formed in her throat as she stared at Ty, desperate to memorize the curve of his cheek, the color of his eyes, the shape of his tiny ears. She wanted to hear his voice one last time, too, but that was a long shot. She bent over and poked him in his belly, holding back tears. “You be good, Ty. Keep reading.”
Her eyes stung, but she made a mental note to drop off a box of books and toys on this doorstep in a couple of weeks as a surprise. Right now she’d give anything for two minutes alone with Ty, just to ruffle his hair and give him a hug. To tell him that he was the most special little boy.
“Good luck.” Hunter nodded at Pam and then tugged Sara away.
They walked to the car in silence. She dabbed at a tear once she was seated in the passenger seat.
“Babe?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. I hope it works out for them.”
“We’ve done everything we can—now it’s up to Pam. You can’t live other people’s lives for them.”
“I know.” She inhaled deeply and tried to quiet her thoughts. “Let’s go see your dad. I want to hear about Gentry’s appointment this week. She didn’t invite me to go with her.”
Hunter’s gaze remained on the road, but tension flowed off him in waves. Had something happened that she didn’t know about? Had his ongoing battle with Jenna angered Gentry?
“Has she said anything to you?” Sara asked.
He shook his head.
“Do you know why she blew me off? I’ve been so grateful. I couldn’t have offended her, could I?”
“When have I ever understood what motivates Gentry to do anything? Like I’ve said, you can’t control what people will do. Gentry is more unpredictable than most, Sara. You know that.”
His tone sounded like a warning, which did nothing to ease the knot that leaving Ty behind had tightened in her chest. To make matters worse, Sara saw Bethany’s name pop up on the monitor when the phone rang. On a Saturday.
“Hey, Bethany. I’m in the car with Sara.” Hunter drove on, eyes fixed on the road.
Was that a warning, too? What didn’t he want Bethany saying in front of her?
“Hi, Sara” came Bethany’s smooth reply, although Sara would bet the woman was disappointed by her presence.
“Hello.” She wanted to make a smart-aleck crack about working overtime but kept quiet. If she became a shrew, it would only make it easier for Bethany to lure Hunter away.
“What’s up?” Hunter asked.
“I finished revising those projections for Ki—er, that you wanted. They should be well received.”
Hunter brightened, his spine straightening a bit in his seat. “Great. Go ahead and send them along. Hopefully, it’ll open a door.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“No. That’s it. Thanks. Bye.” Hunter punched off the phone.
“What projections?” She stared at him, trying to decipher the truth.
He had that killer look in his eyes she’d seen whenever he felt confident. “Let’s just say I’m not dead in the water yet. My Hail Mary may succeed.”
She knew she should be happier for him, but success meant he’d be working more often, not less. “What’s the plan?”
He didn’t look at her. “I’d rather not jinx it.”
She pressed her lips together. “But Bethany knows.”
“I work with her. I share work-related things with her, period.” More quietly, he added, “Besides, I know you’re hoping I fail.”
It sounded awful when he put it that way.
“Hunter, trying to get you to see how the sale could be a win for everyone and prevent a family rift is not the same thing as wanting to see you fail.” She laid her head back against the seat. “I really wish you understood.”
“You want me to roll over and make it easy.” He glanced at her. “A sale isn’t a win for everyone, because I lose my dream. My plan is the real win for everyone.”
His gaze returned to the road, but she saw that smug grin tug at his lips. She wanted to be thrilled for him. He’d built his career around CTC, and he wouldn’t pretend confidence he didn’t feel. She had a sinking feeling, however, that his secret plan could have unintended consequences. “Well, I guess I’ll have to wait and see.”
The car fell silent, then in a soft voice he said, “I hear that you’re hurt, but you’ve hurt me, too, you know. Yet despite the fact that you don’t have my back
, I just signed a lease for a woman I’ve never met in order to make you happy. So how about you cut me a little slack today.”
She swallowed hard. She’d hurt him? Hunter had always been a force of nature, and rather impenetrable. Most of the time he commanded everything and everyone to bend to his will, and she could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen him cry in fourteen years. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” He pulled into his father’s driveway and turned off the engine. Instead of opening the door, he closed his eyes and put his forehead on the steering wheel.
“What are you doing?”
He sat back and opened his eyes. “Trying to find some Zen before having to deal with Jenna.”
Sara wrinkled her nose. “Come on. Time to rip off the Band-Aid.”
Chapter Sixteen
“He’s still in bed?” Hunter glanced at the kitchen clock above Jenna’s head.
“That’s what I said.” Jenna poured two containers of soup from A CertainTea into a pot and turned on the stove.
Colby must’ve visited earlier this morning. He wished she were still here to act as a buffer. Sara’s focus would remain on Gentry and the baby—not that his wife should have to be his referee.
“What are the doctors saying?” He leaned forward, flattening his hands on the island, trying his best to make nice with his stepmom for Sara’s sake. “Shouldn’t he be improving by now? Perhaps his medication needs to be adjusted.”
“Do you think I haven’t asked those questions?” Jenna stirred the soup, then clanked the ladle onto the spoon rest. “I’ve explained this already. This isn’t an uncommon reaction to the antibiotics.”
He mentally repeated “She loves my dad” a few times to keep from sniping at her caustic tone. Given his dad’s lack of progress, Hunter thought it was time to seek other opinions. If he wanted to persuade Jenna to consider that, he couldn’t alienate her. Taking a page from Sara’s playbook, he softened his voice.
“There’s so much controversy about Lyme diagnosis and treatment. Maybe we should take Dad east to a specialist or investigate other avenues.” He’d already started that research—lately having read pages and pages of papers online. “Things like MS, lupus, and Epstein-Barr can be misdiagnosed as Lyme and vice versa. Or there could be a coinfection that complicates the diagnosis. His doctors could be wrong, and these treatments could be hurting him or masking something else.”
Jenna closed her eyes like she needed patience to deal with him instead of it being the other way around. “Smart as you are, I don’t see a medical degree hanging on your wall. Besides, your dad’s in no condition to travel, Hunter. His whole body hurts, and he’s exhausted.”
He dragged his hands through his hair. Helplessness clawed at him, making him twitchy. When he noticed his hands had balled into fists, he shook them loose.
“Chill out before you burst a blood vessel.” Gentry stuffed a grape into her mouth. “Mom and I are taking care of Dad. The nurse comes here almost every day. No one but you is freaking out. Dad will be fine in time, just maybe not on your schedule.”
He faced his sister. Sara made a little sound, like she was clearing her throat. He ignored her unsubtle cue, but he measured his words and tone to make his point. “It’s proven that doctors make misdiagnoses every year. Patients need to be their own best advocates. What can it hurt to get another opinion?”
“I’m not putting your dad on a plane.” Jenna retrieved a few bowls from the cabinet and set them near the stove. “He has great doctors right here in Portland. I won’t interrupt this treatment based on your Google degree and your vague feeling that his doctors have screwed up.”
“Let me help, Jenna.” Sara jumped up to get silverware and set the table, while Gentry continued eating grapes like a princess.
Hunter remained on edge, as he’d been for days. So much so, he’d even thought about calling his mom to discuss homeopathic remedies. He was getting nowhere with Jenna or Gentry, so he would go over their heads. “Sara said she didn’t see Dad yesterday. I haven’t seen him in two days. I want to talk to him.”
“Why? So you can upset him with these theories that his current doctors aren’t helping, or do you want to badger him about the business?” Jenna bit out. “He doesn’t need more stress. That will only hurt his immune system.”
“Are you accusing me of something?” He narrowed his eyes, giving up the pretense of getting along or sparing her feelings. Jenna never let up on him, but if she was wise, she wouldn’t push him today.
According to the company bylaws, if the CEO can’t fulfill his duties, the CFO becomes the acting CEO in charge until a new one is appointed. He’d refrained from enforcing that clause because he didn’t want to cause more tension or upset his dad, but if the doctors couldn’t clear his dad for work soon, he’d have to invoke it. CTC needed a leader.
In the periphery, he noticed Sara approaching him. She and his family would pitch a fit if he put that clause in play, but he might not have a choice.
“Hunter, Jenna’s a worried wife looking out for her husband’s best interests. If he needs rest, let’s not push.” She rubbed his back like he was a baby in need of soothing. He shrugged her off. She stiffened, eyebrows raised. If Jenna and Gentry noticed their wordless argument, they didn’t react.
Fortunately, it ended abruptly because his dad shuffled into the kitchen. His ashen face did nothing to ease Hunter’s concern. “Stop the commotion. I’m here and I’m hungry.”
Gentry sprang off her seat and pulled out a chair. “Sit here, Daddy. Mom made soup.”
Daddy? Since when had Gentry reverted to that endearment? And “Mom” hadn’t made anything—Alec had.
Gentry had used a light hand on her makeup application, thrown her hair in a simple ponytail, and worn casual clothing. At first, he figured she was doing so for comfort’s sake, but now he wondered if she wasn’t somehow regressing, seeking some kind of do-over of her childhood now that her parents were finally spending time at home with her.
God, this house made him crazy, but not as crazy as seeing his dad so ill.
“Dad, how are you?” Hunter crossed the kitchen to get a closer look at his dad’s appearance. His pasty face needed a shave, and he remained dressed in that drab old robe. Every painfully slow movement appeared to sap a huge amount of his energy. “Maybe it’s time we see a specialist?”
His dad waved him off before Jenna could rant. “No, son. There’s so much inconsistency when it comes to Lyme. No one knows anything. Let’s stay the course and hope for the best.”
The illogical conclusion only confirmed Hunter’s suspicion about his neurological deterioration.
“Dad—” he started, but Sara cut him off when she squeezed his shoulder.
“Jed, are you enjoying anything about your time off?” She smiled as she deftly steered the conversation into more pleasant territory. “Have you caught any good daytime television or read any good books?”
Hunter had always admired Sara’s desire to keep peace in his family, but today he felt managed. It might be tolerable if he didn’t suspect her motives were personal and self-serving. She’d do anything, including shut down a discussion about his dad’s health care, in order to keep her relationship with Gentry on track. That didn’t sit right. Of course, she’d say he was being selfish by ignoring his dad’s and Jenna’s wishes, which would be bullshit.
Anyone could look at the man and see he hadn’t improved one bit. He might even be worse off than when they released him from the hospital.
“Gentry turned me on to Judge Judy. What a hoot.” His dad chuckled and picked up a spoon as Jenna set a bowl of soup in front of him. He stared at the lumpy golden broth sprinkled with green-and-red oil and topped with some blue-toned ribbons of whatever weird food Alec had selected, then scowled. “What’s this?”
“Some fancy Mexican corn chowder.” Jenna crossed her arms. “Don’t judge it by its appearance. It smells divine.”
His dad poked at th
e blue stuff with his spoon, then he looked at Sara. “Don’t tell Alec, but I prefer your chicken noodle soup.”
“I can bring more.” She covered his hand with hers, grinning.
Gentry eyed Sara in an oddly assessing manner, then must’ve sensed Hunter staring at her. She raised one brow, challenging him to speak his mind. He flicked his gaze to his wife, who’d been feeling slighted by Gentry, but he kept his mouth shut . . . for about ten seconds. Unlike all the women in the room, he preferred a direct route from A to B, and a straightforward conversation to one that never got to the point. If he didn’t say something, he’d explode.
“How was your doctor visit, sis?” He turned from Sara and caught Gentry’s eye again. “Sara was sorry to miss it.”
“Everything’s normal. No worries. I’ve been following all the rules.”
“Of course you are,” Sara quickly replied. Hunter guessed she was wearing a look that begged him to back off. “Did you get another sonogram picture or learn anything new?”
“Nope. Just a checkup.” Gentry stood and went to the refrigerator, lingering behind its open door, where neither Hunter nor Sara could see her face.
“When’s the next one?” Sara asked, her voice sweet and hopeful.
Gentry closed the refrigerator door, her expression turning bitter. “Sara, I can manage to keep my own appointment schedule. If there’s something to report, I’ll share it.”
“Sorry.” Sara clasped her hands together on the table and chewed the inside of her cheek.
That’s it! Hunter shot from his chair, propelled by his pent-up frustration with the entirety of their family situation. “Don’t snap at Sara. She’s been nothing but kind to this whole family from the first time I brought her home from college. You owe her more respect than that, Gentry.”
“Hunter, it’s fine.” Sara frantically waved her hands to stop an argument from erupting. “She didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just hormones.”
“You’ve been loaded with hormones—literally injected with them—and never snapped at my family.”
“Sorry, Sara,” Gentry said.