Call it Love

by Kress, Alyssa

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Kate was waiting for them in the busy hall before the admissions desk. Her hands were clasped and her face drawn. She looked like she'd aged about ten years since the last time Cookie had seen her.

  "Mother." Chess went up and took her hands. "Where is he? What happened?"

  "I— They've got him in a bed down the hall. The doctors are looking at him now." Her face twisted. "He was beaten. Mugged, they think. A policeman found him unconscious in Washington Park."

  Only a clench of Chess's jaw betrayed what he thought of all this. "You stay here," he instructed his mother. He looked over her head at Cookie, silently asking her to take care of the older woman. "I'll go find out what's going on."

  Cookie took Kate in her arms and watched as Chess walked down the hall. He moved with businesslike authority. There were definitely times when all that male arrogance had its uses. She was sure he'd be back very soon with some report, after first making sure that Alex was being cared for.

  "Oh, Cookie I don't know what to do." Kate put a hand up to her trembling lips. "This is all my fault."

  "Oh, Kate, love. Of course it's not your fault. And everything's going to be fine." Cookie used the words to reassure herself as well as Kate. Meanwhile, she saw Chess disappear behind one of the green curtains that cordoned off sections of the ER ward.

  "It's my fault," Kate said again. Tears seeped from her eyes.

  "Come on. Let's sit down." If Kate hadn't been in such a state, Cookie would have had the luxury of being the one to fall apart. As it was, she remained calm and sturdy. Chess needed that from her. "Chess will be back in a few minutes. He'll tell us what's going on."

  It was fifteen minutes before Chess came back. During those fifteen minutes, Cookie forcibly pushed away the morbid imaginings that tried to take over. A great relief blossomed through her as she saw Chess, wearing a small, reassuring smile, walking down the hall toward them.

  "He's going to be okay," Chess announced, coming to a stance before the two seated women. "At first they thought there might be some internal bleeding, but the X-rays are clean. He can go home after they finish stitching up a few cuts and get his blood pressure back to normal."

  "Thank God." Cookie closed her eyes. "Can we see him?"

  "I don't see why not." Chess looked at Kate. "Mother? Did you hear me? He's going to be all right." He put a hand on her shoulder.

  Kate shrugged off his touch and glared at him. "What do you mean, it's all right? Of course it's not all right. Nothing is all right. You're as bad as— You have no concept."

  Chess stared at her, his face going completely blank.

  "Come on. Let's go see for ourselves." If Cookie weren't certain Kate was hysterical, she would have throttled the woman. As it was, she judged it best simply to separate her from Chess.

  Still looking blank, he stared after them as they walked away.

  Damn, Cookie thought.

  Alex was half sitting and half lying on a hospital bed. His face was turned away from the green-smocked doctor who was stitching a gash in his left forearm. A rather spectacular red bruise spread over the cheekbone of the side of the face that they could see.

  "Oh, baby," Kate moaned, rushing up.

  "Steady, now," the doctor warned.

  "It's okay," Alex said, though whether to the doctor or to Kate was unclear. His tone was dismissive, but he put his good arm around his mother's waist as she drew his head against her breast.

  Since he wasn't wearing anything above the bedsheet at his waist, Cookie could see another painful-looking bruise across one shoulder, more cuts on the left side of his torso, and assorted other red blotches. He'd obviously been worked over rather well.

  "Thanks for coming." Alex's voice was tight as he pulled away from his mother's embrace.

  "Well, of course we would come," Kate expostulated. "Sweetie, are you all right?"

  "I'm fine. I mean, I feel like hell, but I'm okay." He winced. "Geez, Mom, I'm really sorry about this."

  "Heavens. There's no need to apologize. This wasn't your fault."

  The doctor looked up. "All done here. Now you sit back and relax. Give us a normal blood pressure and you can go home." The young doctor gave a close regard to Cookie and her hastily applied evening gown before he left their curtained area.

  Alex's gaze took up where the doctor had left off. "Looks like I got everybody out of bed."

  Realizing she must look rather rumpled, Cookie perched on the edge of his cot. "Nothing like a little excitement to get the weekend started off right."

  "Uh-huh." Alex's gaze riveted to her right shoulder.

  Cookie automatically put a hand there and found that her bra strap was exposed and hopelessly twisted. Unable to untwist it, she shoved the curled part down her back. "Do you remember anything that happened?"

  Alex immediately shook his head. "The only thing I remember is waking up with a couple policemen standing above me."

  "Did the police take a statement?" Kate wanted to know.

  "There was nothing to say." Alex's tone grew sharp. He must have been in pain.

  "You mean they aren't going to search for whoever did this to you?" Kate was aghast.

  Alex shrugged, lowering his eyes. "Ma, they can't search for a phantom. I didn't see anything. Don't remember anything."

  "But you must at least remember where you were when it happened, what time it was," Kate insisted.

  Alex shook his head. "Please, Mom."

  "He's tired," Cookie quickly broke in. "Maybe he'll remember better in the morning."

  Alex shot her a brief, grateful look.

  "I'm going to find a nurse," Kate decided. She was back to her old, forceful self. "We need to get you out of here." She flipped the green curtain aside and marched out.

  Time enough for another day, Cookie decided, to find out why Kate had used Chess as a punching bag. Meanwhile, she and Alex were alone.

  "So," Alex said, regarding Cookie's black dress. "You must not have gone to work tonight."

  "I took the night off. Chess and I had that television interview to do, and then we went to a Fragrance Foundation dinner."

  Alex pressed his lips together. "Sounds like the deep freeze is off."

  Cookie blushed. She hadn't confided the reason for the deep freeze in the first place, so it would have been awkward to explain when and why she'd ended it. "It's better this way," she lamely replied.

  Alex didn't have a chance to answer before Chess stuck his head around the curtain. Coming in again in order to avoid his mother who was now back out there? Meanwhile, Cookie now noticed that instead of fastening his shirt, he'd simply tucked the two sides to lie closed across his chest. "Everything seems squared away here." He nodded at Alex. "You're okay, right?"

  Cookie turned to find Alex regarding Chess with keen intensity. "I'm fine," he coldly returned.

  Chess paused a beat. "Good. Then I'll take Cookie home."

  Alex's eyes briefly blazed. "I guess I can't stop you."

  Chess halted in the process of helping Cookie stand from the bed. He gave Alex a meaningful stare. "We'll talk, you and I, tomorrow."

  Alex shrugged. "Great."

  Cookie gave Alex a last, bewildered glance before Chess pulled her from the room. Here Chess was, acting the concerned man of the family, seeing to everyone's needs. In return, both Kate and Alex were treating him like a pariah.

  His car was parked in the turnaround before the emergency room doors. Cookie pushed the passenger door closed even as Chess tried to open it.

  "Listen to me," she said earnestly. She put one hand up to his cheek. "You did good."

  A muscle under his cheek moved.

  "Kate was—out of her mind, so she blew up at you. It wasn't personal."

  "Is that so?" There was enough sarcasm in his voice to sink a ship.

  "She was depending on you. She called you, didn't she? Not anybody else. It was only when you came that she allowed herself to break down. Because she knew it was
safe then. She knew you were in control." Cookie gave him a small smile. "You're always in control."

  "Huh!" He turned his head, so that her hand slipped into his hair.

  "Well," Cookie continued, conspiratorial. "We'll keep the truth as a secret between you and me. You, uh, do lose control now and then."

  He slid her an unreadable look.

  "Come on." Determined, Cookie smiled. "Let's go home."

  He did not smile back, but he did open the car door so she could get in.

  ~~~

  This was all Bernard's fault. Kate played the refrain repeatedly in her head as she drove Alex home from the hospital. Then as she helped him get his sore body undressed and into bed, the idea jangled discordantly in her head. Bernard Korman was behind this. He had to be.

  Once Alex got into bed, she stood in the open doorway, watching him close his eyes. Her baby, her precious baby—she'd almost lost him.

  Bernard must have arranged Alex's beating out of anger and for revenge. Everything he'd done since first calling her after David's death had been done for one purpose only: to obtain Chess. He'd stolen the ad campaign—his protests otherwise were obviously lies. He'd begun a friendship with her—all a manipulation. When neither of those had worked, he'd cooked up this dastardly scheme.

  She would get Korman for this.

  After making sure that Alex was settled and truly asleep, Kate closed the door and softly tiptoed down the hall to the kitchen. She picked her car keys out of the glass bowl on the counter and quietly let herself into the garage.

  The digital clock in her Mercedes read three thirty a.m. That didn't bother her. She'd be sure to find him at home. Better yet, she'd rouse him from sleep; he'd be drowsy and vulnerable. She could surprise the truth out of him. And then— And then— Kate wasn't exactly sure what she'd do then. Murder him, perhaps.

  Bernard lived in a brightly colored Victorian townhouse, one of the "painted ladies" of San Francisco. She knew the address because he'd often invited her there though she'd never taken him up on it. Huh! She was certainly glad of that now.

  Kate pulled her car into the driveway and parked it in front of the narrow garage. She seemed the only person awake and about. The sound of her car door slamming sounded terribly loud in the night.

  It took three rousing rounds on the doorbell to bring Korman down to the door. He was wearing white silk pajamas underneath a knee-length black robe. His silver hair was messed and his eyes sleepy. They widened considerably, however, upon finding Kate on his doorstep.

  "My God, Kate! What is this?"

  "I think you know," she hissed and stalked directly past his astonished self and into the house.

  "Kate?" Bernard closed the front door and turned to follow her into his living room. "What are you talking about?"

  She was so angry even her face felt hot. "So you want to play dumb?" Around her, she gathered a vague impression of a room tastefully decorated in a style reminiscent of the late nineteenth century.

  "I am feeling rather stupid," Korman admitted. His hands were deep in the pockets of his robe, his forehead creased. "It's three o'clock in the morning."

  "Indeed it is," Kate retorted. "Is that surprising? Did you tell your hired goons to finish their business earlier?"

  "My—?"

  "It is entirely possible they did follow your instructions. There's no telling how long Alex was unconscious before they found him."

  "Alex unconscious?" Bernard's concern sharpened. "Good God, Kate. Did something happen to Alex?"

  "How could you?" Kate asked, losing her composure. "How could you?"

  "Kate." Bernard walked up and took hold of her shoulders. "I do not know what you are talking about. Tell me. Is he okay? What happened?"

  Tears spilled out of her eyes and burned on her cheeks. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the worry in Korman's face. "He's at home asleep. No thanks to you."

  "Don't be ridiculous. You know I didn't have anything to do with hurting your son. Is he in one piece? What the hell happened. Tell me!"

  The stark command of his voice startled her and she opened her eyes again. "He got beaten up. Mugged, the police say. Badly bruised and fifteen stitches in his arm. They didn't have to operate, though. No internal injuries." Her tears were freely flowing now.

  Bernard bent his knees to look into her face. "You don't seriously think I would have done something like that."

  Kate turned her chin to the side. She really did not want to meet his gaze. "Who else— Who else hates me?" Her throat and chest were so tight she could barely breathe, let alone speak.

  "I don't hate you." His grip on her shoulders relaxed. "Oh, Kate. You didn't knock on my door to accuse me of beating up your son."

  "I—I—did, too." But something inside her seemed to break when he claimed not to hate her.

  "I don't think so." From the corner of her eye, she could see he was studying her face. "That was just your excuse."

  She kept her face to the side, feeling stiff, red-eyed, and miserable. "An excuse for—for what?"

  "What you really wanted was to see me. To let me comfort you."

  Kate made a rude noise but didn't protest when Bernard drew her toward him.

  "You really came so I could hold you like this." Bernard wrapped his arms around her. "Isn't that right?"

  Was it? She could smell the clean, detergent smell of his robe, feel the silk of his pajama lapel against her cheek. There wasn't enough sarcasm left in her to say a word. Besides, his embrace did feel...rather comforting.

  "You wanted me to hold you and tell you that everything is going to be all right." One of his strong arms smoothed up and down her back. "You wanted to tell me how hard it is to be all alone when something like this happens, how frightening. You wanted to tell me how much you miss David at times like these. You wanted to tell me how guilty you feel. Hush!"

  He held her head tightly to his chest as she flinched. "All parents feel guilty when our children are hurt. It's perfectly natural."

  "I do miss David," Kate admitted softly. At the same time, the pain was less with Bernard holding her. It was still there but only an ache. Not that biting thing that had struck her in the emergency room while she'd been waiting all alone.

  "Hush." Bernard continued to stroke her. "Let me do what you came for. Let me hold you."

  She hushed. She let him hold her. Somewhere nearby Bernard must have had a grandfather clock. She could hear it ticking. Slowly, gradually, the peace and silence of the room and the night began to seep in to her.

  Alex was okay. He'd been hurt, but he would recover. And Korman was right. Now that she was here, she was no longer alone. He was right about another thing. She had made up a story that he'd been behind Alex's beating. An excuse, something to give her the right to rush over here in the wee hours of the morning.

  She released a deep sigh. "I'm sorry."

  "I'm glad you came." He paused. "Alex is all right now?"

  She nodded, something he could probably feel rather than see since her head was against his chest. "I didn't leave until he was sleeping soundly."

  "Good."

  It was nice to lean against Bernard. His body was solid and strong. Had he felt this solid all those years ago when she'd allowed him too much intimacy?

  She honestly couldn't remember. It was difficult now to think of this man as the same impetuous young fellow who'd convinced her to sneak kisses with him in the baseball field at school. Now he was the elegant gentleman who shared drinks with her of an evening, who quietly let her tell him of the pain of grief and loss, who smiled at his own foibles with the grace of maturity. This was the man she'd sought tonight when she needed companionship.

  And he was a man who was most definitely getting aroused beneath the silk of his pajamas.

  "So Alex is safe and asleep." His lips brushed the top of her ear. "What about us? What should we do?"

  She didn't pretend to misunderstand him. She'd done enough pretending tonight. "I can't."


  He nuzzled the side of her head. "I thought that might be another reason you came."

  "No." She closed her eyes. Had it? She'd been so angry when she'd left the house, shaking with it. But now all she felt was a weakening longing. It had been so long since she'd had a man's arms around her, since she'd had the hot comfort of physical intimacy. But even if Bernard had not harmed Alex—never would have—he and she were still at odds over Chess. "I have to get back."

  Bernard didn't miss a beat. "I'll come with you."

  Kate's head came up sharply. "No."

  A flicker of pain passed behind his eyes. "If you're worried about Chess—? Don't. I've lived with your decision this long. And I can be gone before Alex wakes up." He paused. "If that's the way you want it."

  The air in the room instantly became heavy as their gazes locked. These were the first intricate steps of intrigue. Kate recognized them from long ago. And they never led to anything good.

  But her body felt soft with want for him.

  "No," Kate said. But she wasn't as smart or far-seeing as all that. "Not tonight," she added. "Not my house. Alex would know."

  A light ignited behind Bernard's sea-green eyes. "Tomorrow, then. Instead of the Atelier, you come here."

  It was wrong, and it was dangerous. If anyone found out... Chess— "All right," Kate agreed, her voice husky, her heart already beating with want. "As long as Alex is okay. Tomorrow. Here."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Chess had to hand it to Cookie. As she rushed into the house ahead of him, rubbing her hands over her bare arms, she was clearly determined to pretend everything was copasetic, that nothing had changed since they'd left the house for the hospital.

  "I'm starving," she announced, twirling to face him in the foyer with an impish smile.

  Ah, how much more mundane—and domestic—could she get? To talk about food. Too bad he wasn't in the mood. With a quirk at one corner of his mouth, Chess stalked toward her. "So am I."

  "No, no, no. Not for that." Cookie giggled as he backed her up against the wall.

  Unfortunate. After getting rejected by both his mother and his half-brother at the hospital, Chess felt the need to stake a claim somewhere. In bed with Cookie might have done the job.