Children of Destiny Books 1-3 (Texas: Children of Destiny Book 9)

by Ann Major

  “You just haven’t gotten used to me,” he replied, smiling placidly.

  “I don’t intend to.”

  “Then we’re at cross-purposes—as usual.” The fact didn’t seem to bother him in the least.

  When she picked up another section of newspaper, he said softly, “I called the hospital.”

  Instantly her hostility died. Her eyes softened with love and motherly concern. “And?”

  “I thought that would get your attention.”

  “Tell me, damn it!”

  “Can you believe Triple’s himself again and trying to run the show as he always does. He made them move him out of the intensive care unit this morning. He was eating breakfast when I talked to him and complaining because his cinnamon roll was too mushy. It was all I could do to talk him out of going down to the kitchen and teaching the chef...”

  “Oh dear! We’ve got to get to the hospital,” Amy cried, pushing her coffee cup away. “There’s nothing more dangerous than Triple unsupervised—when he’s not on his deathbed. He can get into trouble faster than any child I’ve ever known.”

  “He reminds me of me and Jack,” Nick said fondly.

  “Unfortunately,” came her dry retort. “Why couldn’t he have been just a little like my side of the family?”

  “Maybe when we have a girl,” Nick tossed hopefully.

  A look of horror flashed across her face. “No...”

  Nick merely laughed good-naturedly. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll drive you, darling.”

  She was about to object to this last statement on several points when he pulled her into his arms. His hands plunged into her hair. She could feel his fingers quickly, deftly, unpinning the thick braids looped at her neck.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Improving the scenery,” came his husky tone. Her hair fell in showers of black silk down her shoulders. Gently he ran his fingers through it. “There, that’s better.”

  “Nick, you have no right...”

  He gave her a searing look as he undid the top button of her blouse.

  “Don’t remind me of my rights, honey, unless you want me to exercise a few of them.”

  “You are so politically incorrect.”

  “And proud of it.” He smiled, softening the comment.

  Her senses rocked in alarm as she felt the full power of his earthy appeal. “No,” she protested raggedly.

  Ever so gently he brushed the leaping pulse in her throat with a callused fingertip, and beneath the velvet warmth of this most casual touch, her heart beat all the faster. “Just be glad I don’t have time to strip you, darling,” he whispered.

  “Don’t call me—”

  “I keep forgetting, darling,” he said.

  His fingertip remained on her throat. He stared down at her intimately, impertinently, but instead of the fury she wanted to feel, she felt herself melting. Nevertheless, she managed a stern tone. “You’re impossible!”

  “Like our son. You love him. Why can’t you love me half as much as you love him?”

  For a breathless eternity they stared into one another’s eyes. She thought of him growing up unclaimed and unloved, a child wanting love more than anything.

  His long fingers wound into her thick hair, pulling her head back so that the curve of her neck was exposed. Like one mesmerized, Amy watched the slow descent of his mouth. In a dream she felt the light caress of his lips graze hers, and she tasted the flavor of his tongue as it met her own.

  Their mouths parted.

  “I love you. I always have, and I always will.”

  She didn’t want to believe him. She couldn’t let herself. Nevertheless, her fingers came up and curled around his collar, among the tendrils of his hair, and she kissed him back.

  Abruptly he released her. For a long moment she kept her eyes closed. At first because she was too stupefied with pleasure to do otherwise. Then, because she was too mortified to face him.

  When at last she let them flutter open, she found to her surprise that Nick seemed almost as stupefied as she.

  He had been watching her covertly, a look of wonder on his dark face. Then, when she opened her eyes, an impenetrable mask came over his features as if he could not allow himself to believe the emotion he thought he’d read in her languorous expression.

  He grabbed her hand and said in a low harsh tone, “Why don’t we go?”

  When he went to get the car, Amy phoned Triple to make sure he was all right and to give him orders not to get out of bed. Much to her surprise, Lorrie answered.

  Amy felt a deep relief to know her sister was safe.

  “Lorrie, what are you doing at the hospital?” Amy asked gently.

  “I was worried about Triple. You were home...with Nick.”

  Amy knew it wasn’t deliberate, but Lorrie’s soft voice lacerated Amy’s conscience.

  “It isn’t like you think...”

  Silence.

  “Lorrie, I’m sorry.”

  Silence.

  “Please say something,” Amy pleaded. “Can you tell me at least if Triple’s okay?”

  Lorrie hesitated and then began in her weakest voice. “He doesn’t even seem sick. He wants me to take him down to the kitchen so he can complain about his breakfast.”

  “Lorrie, please, you don’t have to worry about Nick. He won’t be around that long. He only came because of Triple. Just don’t let Triple out of your sight. I’m on my way. We can talk when...”

  “I don’t want to talk.”

  The line went dead.

  *

  When Nick and Amy opened the door to Triple’s hospital room, Nick stared in horror at Triple’s empty room.

  Amy felt only mildly dismayed. She should have known Lorrie couldn’t keep Triple here. Lorrie was always putty in the boy’s hands. Even at six, his was a strong, fully-developed personality, and he knew exactly how to turn an adult’s weakness to his own advantage.

  “Looks like our little monster’s been busy,” Amy said, “and I see Lorrie brought him a present from the gift shop.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Look!”

  Amy pointed to the bright bits of blue foil and streamers of white satin ribbon littering the chairs, the floor, and the bed. In one corner a demolished cardboard box lay askew.

  Amy knelt and investigated the torn box. It appeared to have been ripped open by an explosion and then to have belched tiny cars and trucks everywhere.

  Nick picked up a discarded miniature red Porsche that had rolled under the bed and set it on the nightstand beside what was left of a half-eaten cinnamon roll.

  Other than stuffed animals, Triple had never taken the slightest interest in most toys, a fact Lorrie had never been observant enough to have noticed.

  “Where do you think he is?” Nick asked.

  “Wherever he can get into the most trouble the quickest,” Amy said calmly, sinking into a chair and relaxing for the first time in days. “Lorrie has obviously been as careless as usual and turned her back on him. I wish that could have been avoided, but if Triple is strong enough to seek mischief, he’s definitely on the mend.”

  “We’ve got to find him,” Nick said, alarmed. “Anything could happen to him. Night before last he was at death’s door.”

  “Save your concern for the unlucky person Triple decides to pester.”

  “How can you be so sure he’s all right?” Nick demanded.

  “Experience.” At Nick’s blank look of shock, Amy gave a faint smile. “Never mind. Before long, there will be such a hue and cry that the proper authorities will find him.”

  Nick paced the room. At every sound in the hall, he would rush to the door. “I don’t know how you can take this so coolly,” he said.

  “I got used to things like this years ago. You forget Triple is not a typical six-year-old. Believe me, the hapless souls who are forced to participate in his adventures are always anxious to return him.”

  “I can’t just stay here and wa
it. I’ve got to try to find him.”

  “Suit yourself,” Amy said, closing her eyes. “Why don’t you check the kitchen first?”

  Nick hadn’t been gone long when an army of tight-lipped nurses marched purposefully into the room. At the head of this formidable battalion, Triple was being pushed in a wheelchair. His demeanor was as imperious as that of a king being carried on a litter by slaves. He was clearly in charge. In each of his hands he tightly clutched two large jars, as if he considered them treasures of vast worth. Several of the nurses were also carrying jars, which they quickly set down on the nearest window ledge seeming only too happy to be rid of them.

  Although he looked white-faced and thin, Triple’s high-pitched voice rang as exuberantly as usual.

  “Mom, I saw a baby being born!”

  “You should see what he’s done to the kitchen,” said one of the nurses.

  Amy took this information as calmly as she usually did when faced with one of Triple’s adventures. “What were you doing out of your room, dear?”

  “No one told me I was supposed to stay in it, Mom.”

  “You were,” Amy said firmly. “I specifically told your Aunt Lorrie...”

  “She had to make a phone call.”

  Amy removed the jars from his hands so the nurses could help him back to bed. In the jars, gray spongy objects hung suspended in formaldehyde.

  “What are these, anyway?” Amy asked, setting the disgusting jars in the window.

  “Oh, just some tonsils and an appendix a couple of guys had cut out and...”

  “I see,” Amy said. “Where did you get them?”

  “A doctor gave them to me.”

  “Oh, he did.” She helped her son into bed.

  “He said I could have them if I’d promise to stay in my room and look at them. Hey, Mom, was he really supposed to spank the baby and make her scream like that? He turned purple when I asked him that. Mom, did it hurt like that when you had me?”

  Amy reddened. “Let’s not talk about babies right now.”

  “Mom...”

  “Never mind, dear. You’re not nearly as strong as you think you are. Why don’t you lie back and put your head on the pillow?”

  A breathless Nick stumbled into the room. His tie swung from his collar at a rakish angle. A lock of hair fell across his brow. Amy imagined him racing down miles and miles of hospital corridors. Nick looked even more worried than he had when he’d dashed off to find Triple. “I couldn’t find him anywhere.”

  “That’s because I’m right here, Dad,” Triple chirped from the bed.

  “Triple!” Nick gave a shout and ran to his bed. “Are you okay, son?”

  “I saw a baby...”

  “No more about that baby, Triple,” Amy said sternly.

  “Okay, Mom.” Triple grinned so guilelessly that Amy was immediately suspicious of his intentions.

  After the nurses left, Triple lay against the pillow looking pale and exhausted. His eyelids drooped, and sitting beside him quietly, Amy knew he’d soon be asleep.

  “Did you spend the night at home, Dad?” Triple murmured.

  “I slept in your room, son.”

  “My room, huh? Right next to Mom’s?” Triple grinned wanly. “It was almost worth getting sick so we could be a real family.”

  A real family. The thought hovered in Amy’s mind like an elusive, tantalizing dream before it trailed away. Amy’s eyes met Nick’s for a charged moment that seemed an infinity. His eyes were shining with an intense emotion she couldn’t read. Quickly she looked away, determined to break the spell.

  Reluctantly Nick turned back to Triple. “Son, don’t you go having any harebrained ideas about not getting well—just to keep me here.” His voice was husky, and his eyes were disarmingly gentle as they slid from his son’s to Amy’s face. “Nothing anyone can do or say is going to drive me away again.”

  Amy stared at him wordlessly as his hand covered hers. She didn’t pull away as his callused thumb caressed the soft inner flesh of her palm.

  The hospital door opened and closed, allowing a beautiful blonde dressed in white silk, white fur, and white rhinestones to sweep inside on a breath of perfume.

  “Hi, Aunt Lorrie.”

  Lorrie looked ethereal, like a figment from a dream.

  Amy and Nick sprang apart instantly. Amy’s face darkened guiltily. Nick looked annoyed.

  Lorrie ignored Triple’s greeting. She ignored her sister as well. “Hello, Nick,” she said softly, attempting to bridge the awkwardness. “A-Amy...told me you were here.”

  Nick glanced toward Lorrie with a look of cool indifference, and a white-faced Lorrie dropped her eyes.

  Looking back, Nick saw Amy’s stricken expression. She was staring dazedly at him. When the seconds ticked by and no one spoke, Lorrie tried to cover the awkward moment by talking about her acting career. All she did was make Nick more aware that something was wrong.

  For the next half hour, while Lorrie spoke of her latest audition for a television sitcom, Nick was acutely aware of Amy’s subtle change of mood. She seemed tired, drained, depleted, curiously on edge, and he was at a loss to understand why. In the past Amy had always adored her younger sister to a fault and been overly protective of her.

  Amy seemed to retreat within herself. It was almost as if she weren’t there, and he was alone in the room with Lorrie and Triple.

  “Well, it’s time I went. I just had to come by and check on you, Triple,” Lorrie said, patting Triple’s hand and clinging to it. “You know how special you are to me since I’ll never be able...” Lorrie’s voice broke.

  Triple’s eyes were closed. He was pretending to be asleep. Nick, who’d been studying his wife and only half listening, saw Amy whiten with pain.

  “You see, Nick,” Lorrie said. “A few years ago, shortly after you left, I was ill. So ill, I’ll never be able to have a baby of my own. My precious nephew Triple’s all I have.”

  Nick was watching Amy, who looked utterly bleak.

  “I’m sorry,” Nick said.

  Amy pressed her eyes tightly shut and turned away. “I…I think I’ll leave you two to watch Triple for a while,” she said, her low voice curt with repressed pain.

  “I’ll go with you,” Nick offered.

  “No!” Amy turned wildly, refusing to so much as look at either of them. “I have to be alone!” She stumbled toward the door. “You belong here, Nick. With Lorrie and Triple.”

  Nick would have rushed after her, if Lorrie hadn’t stopped him. “Can’t you see she doesn’t want you?”

  “Hell, yes, I see.” He felt impatient, on the verge of something momentous, and Lorrie was deliberately detaining him. “I’ve got to go after her,” he snapped. “I’ve got to find out what’s wrong.”

  “Let her go, Nick,” Lorrie said softly. “Haven’t you hurt her enough?”

  “All I ever wanted to do was love her. Maybe I made a few mistakes along the way...”

  Lorrie blanched.

  She opened her mouth, but he didn’t wait for her reply. “Watch Triple a minute, will you? Only this time do something right for a change and really watch him.” He spun on his heel and was gone.

  Though he searched everywhere, Nick couldn’t find Amy. She had chosen her hiding place too well. Nor could he force her to tell him what was wrong when she returned to Triple’s room hours later.

  It was as if her heart and soul had turned to ice.

  She was colder to Nick than she’d ever been before.

  *

  Amy sat rigidly at her desk, scribbling notes as fast as she could, which wasn’t fast enough because Sebastian was barking orders over the phone at an even faster rate.

  Two uneventful days had passed since Triple had run loose in the hospital. Since that time, Amy and Nick had taken turns staying with him.

  This strategy had been Amy’s idea. She liked it because it served a double purpose. Not only was Triple supervised, but she didn’t have to see Nick except for the few min
utes their shifts overlapped.

  Thus there had been no more sticky moonlit conversations, no more sharing of her kitchen and her morning newspaper with him, and no more having to watch Lorrie and him together.

  Today Triple was coming home from the hospital.

  Today Nick had to leave—for good; before he became firmly entrenched; before he became set on staying forever!

  Nick had gone to pick up Triple from the hospital. Amy had planned to go with him, but Sebastian had called, and Sam had offered to go in her place.

  Sebastian continued shouting in his excitement. “Of all the times for that kid of yours to pull one of his stunts, this is the absolute worst!”

  “I don’t usually defend Triple, but not even he could help getting sick, Sebastian.”

  “Maybe not, but you have to admit drama stalks that kid. I need you, Amy! I don’t know the first thing about running Crackle!”

  Sebastian was upset because he’d followed one of Amy’s hunches and caught two of his key executives embezzling at his potato-chip factory at Long Beach and fired them.

  “It’s your company.”

  “One of many, and one I hired you to take care of. I’ve been here all week. I feel like I’m drowning in potato chips! I can’t give you another day off! You’ve got to be on the premises until you can find someone to replace those two weasels, Beashel and Sheldon. I leave in two days to close that land deal in Australia.”

  “Then you could give me at least one more day. Triple–”

  “Triple’s fine. I checked on him myself yesterday. Nick was there. He and the doctor told me Triple’s recovery verges on the miraculous. Once that kid’s home, he’ll be tearing the place apart in no time.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. Apolonia’s had a relapse and is down with the flu again. She went out in the garden during the storm. Sam’s not up to chasing Triple.”

  “Then let Nick chase him! He’s offered to.”

  “He what?”

  “And I accepted his generous offer–on your behalf, naturally.”

  “Nick’s got a job.”

  “Hell, he can work from your house. He seemed so thrilled, I was touched. So was Triple, for that matter. If you were smart, you’d be thrilled, too. Forgive Nick. Use this opportunity to–”