by Ana E Ross
“Michelle.”
Michelle turned her head to see Precious standing at her door hugging Bradie in her arms. She sat up in the center of the bed and folded her legs under her. She patted the mattress and Precious immediately ran across the floor and scurried up on the bed next to her.
“Do I have to see Grandma Danielle?”
“You came all this way. It would make her feel better to see you.”
“How come I have three grandmas? Everybody else I know has two.”
“Because you are a very special and lucky little girl. Some children have no grandmas at all, but you are blessed to have three who love you a lot.”
Precious sighed, in the same way a confused adult would have done. Michelle’s heart went out to her. She was still so young, so innocent. There was so much pandemonium in the grownup world that her childlike mind didn’t understand. Heck, Michelle didn’t even understand half of it herself.
“Where are your other grandparents?” she asked Precious. “Your mommy’s parents?”
“Daddy says my grandpa died before I was born.”
“What about your grandma?”
She shrugged her tiny shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“You never see her?”
She shook her head. “Daddy says she’s sick and that’s why I can’t see her.”
Oh damn it, Michelle thought, realizing her error. She shouldn’t have asked.
“Can I stay with you until we have to go see Grandma Danielle?”
“Sure, kiddo.”
“Cool. I had fun this afternoon by the pond,” she said with a big smile.
“Me, too.” Michelle smiled, as she tucked a long curl behind the little girl’s ear.
“I liked playing tag bunny with you and Daddy. It was like when Mommy was alive.”
“Oh, yeah? You like being tickled, too?” Before Precious could respond, Michelle pushed her onto her back on the mattress and tickled her tummy mercilessly until Precious screamed.
In the height of her elation, Michelle knew she loved this child as though she were her own.
Precious had stolen a big piece of her heart—a piece she knew she would never ever get back. Her heart was split right down the middle between Erik and his daughter.
How could she have set herself up for such a fall?
***
“What’s the story with you and Michelle?” Philippe asked his son as they sat in a four-season sunroom overlooking the White Mountains.
“There’s no story. She’s Precious’ nanny.”
Philippe chuckled. “It’s in your eyes, Erik. You can’t hide it.”
“What is?” His fists curled around the arms of his chair.
“The passion. You look at Michelle the same way I looked at your mother thirty-eight years ago.”
Erik held his father’s watchful stare. “Your wife is dying and all you can do is talk of passion for another woman.”
Philippe rubbed his palms together then ran them along his thighs.
Erik watched him, his eyes narrowing at the nervous gesture he also made when he felt cornered.
Philippe glanced at his son. “I was in love with your mother, Erik. I don’t want you to ever doubt that. But I loved Danielle, too.”
“So why did you choose Danielle over her?” There was a bitter edge to Erik’s voice that he didn’t even realize he’d been carrying all these years. Or perhaps, he’d just been in denial about the way his father had treated his mother. “Is it because of the race difference?”
“Erik, you really think I’m that narrow-minded?”
“Well—”
“I didn’t choose, Erik. Your mother did. She told me to marry Danielle.”
Erik’s mind clouded with confusion. “Why would my mother tell you to marry Danielle when she was so in love with you? Still is, from what I can tell.”
“I couldn’t choose between them. I couldn’t hurt either one, so I was prepared to walk away from both of them. They understood, but then Danielle got sick. They found a tumor on her brain and gave her three months to live.”
“So my mother encouraged you to marry her.”
“She wanted Danielle’s last days on earth to be happy ones. She said it didn’t make any sense that neither one of them could have me. It was decided that Felicia and I would marry after Danielle passed away.”
“But she didn’t die.”
“No. They, um…” Philippe cleared his throat and ran his palms up and down his thighs again. “They went in and got the tumor. I didn’t know what to do. As Danielle got stronger and healthier, I knew that your mother was the one. I really wanted to be with Felicia, but Danielle—”
“She was your wife. You couldn’t abandon her.”
“I had made my bed. I had to lie in it.”
“But you didn’t stay in it.” Erik stared across the low marble table into the grey and amber eyes he’d inherited.
“What are you asking, Erik? Do you want to know if your mother and I were intimate after I married Danielle?”
“Well, were you?” Erik fired back, not knowing if he really wanted the truth.
His father pinned him with his eyes. “No. I would never do that to Danielle.”
Erik let out the breath he was holding.
“When your mother found out that Danielle couldn’t conceive, she offered her eggs.”
“Why didn’t you just adopt? Hadn’t you put her through enough emotional trauma already? She had to watch you and her best friend live the life she should have had. You made her give up her child and leave her home to start over in a new place. I had to grow up without her. Spending an occasional weekend and a few weeks during the summer with her wasn’t enough, Father. She’s my mother. She carried me and gave birth to me. Not Danielle.”
Philippe tossed his head defiantly. “Look, Erik, we all made what we thought were the best decisions at the time. I can never justify what I asked of your mother. There is just something about a man having his very own child that gives him a degree of pride he can’t gain from raising someone else’s. You should understand. When you look at Precious, you know that your seed created her. You made her happen. She is part of you, flesh of your flesh, blood of your blood, and nothing can ever change that.”
That, Erik understood. Precious was his. A child created out of love. A child he would die for, and kill for. But still, if Cassie had been unable to give him Precious, he couldn’t imagine making a baby with another woman then asking her to give up her child, especially not a woman he was in love with.
“Raising you brought Danielle so much joy, Erik. She and Felicia have always had a deep and lasting friendship that I still don’t understand to this day.” He paused. “Your mother is a remarkable woman for doing what she did. She has sacrificed her entire life for me. How can I not love her? I’ve always loved her and I always will.”
Erik ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to absorb all his father just told him. As a child, he’d overheard whispers among the servants about his mother’s frequent visits to this very house, and how sometimes Danielle would leave her husband and her best friend alone for long hours at a time. Those whispers had spread beyond the walls of his father’s house and had caused his mother to move to Amherst after he was born. He’d carried the shame of the circumstance of his birth all through his childhood and dealt with the gossip within Granite Falls’ elite circle. But according to his father, none of it was true. He’d really been conceived through artificial insemination. There was nothing to be ashamed of anymore. As he watched his father wipe a tear from his cheek, Erik felt his animosity slipping away.
Philippe looked over at his son. “Right after she found out the cancer was back, Danielle insisted that I follow through with our original plan and ask your mother to marry me after she’s gone. She said I would be a fool if I didn’t grasp the opportunity.”
Erik left his seat and sat beside the man who was responsible for the confident individual and successful doctor
he’d become. He rested his hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad we had this talk, Dad. It means a lot to me. I realize now that love isn’t always about getting what you want. It’s about allowing the person you love to be happy, even if it entails sacrificing your own happiness.”
Philippe’s brows arched upward. “You are in love with Michelle, aren’t you?”
“I care deeply for her,” Erik quietly admitted as he rose and shoved his hands into his pockets. “And you are right. If Cassie were still alive, I would probably feel the same way about her. But I doubt very much if I would have asked her to bear my child then take it away from her. In fact, I know I would not have put her through that kind of hurt.”
Philippe sighed. “I’m sorry for the pain you suffered because of our decision, son. Looking back now, I realize that we should have thought about how it would affect you. We can’t change the past. I regret not explaining the situation to you much earlier, but I don’t regret having you. I would do it again just to have you and that precious granddaughter you gave me in my life. I love you that much, son.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”
Michelle and Precious joined them shortly afterwards for some light refreshments. Precious dominated the conversation as she sat on her grandfather’s knee and brought him up to date with her little world. Finally, the nurse announced that Danielle was ready to receive visitors.
As they approached the bedroom, Michelle felt Precious’ fingers tighten around hers. She gave the little girl a reassuring smile.
Philippe was first to arrive at the bedside. He leaned over and kissed his wife on the forehead. Precious was previously informed about the IV needles in Danielle's wrist, and that her face and body were swollen from the treatment she had been receiving for her disease. Philippe had also warned Erik and Michelle that this was not one of Danielle’s better days.
“Danielle, honey. You have visitors.” Philippe spoke in a gentle, patient voice.
He unfurled from the bed, and Michelle had her first glimpse of the pale woman propped up against the white pillows. There was no comparison between the skeletal form on the bed and the beautiful portraits Michelle had seen throughout the house. It was sad to look at her.
“Visitors? What?” came a frail response.
“It’s our son, Erik, and our granddaughter, Precious?” Philippe motioned for them to get closer.
Michelle released Precious’ hand, and the little girl walked cautiously but bravely up to the bed.
Precious stared at Danielle for a short moment then leaned over and hugged her, placing a wet kiss on her cheek. “Hi, Grandma Danielle. I’m Precious.”
“Precious.” Danielle whispered. She struggled, unsuccessfully, to put an arm around Precious when Philippe leaned in to help.
Michelle pressed a hand to her mouth as she took in the heartrending scene, knowing it would be the last time Precious would hug her grandmother.
“I love you, Grandma Danielle. I hope you get better soon. My daddy is a doctor and he can make you better. Right, Daddy?” She gazed up at her father.
The panic in his daughter’s voice and the hope in her eyes tossed Erik back a couple years to the day he buried her mother. He stepped forward and picked her up off the bed. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring Precious here, for her to see Danielle like this with the smell of death heavy in the air. “Take her out,” he said, placing her in the arms of a maid lurking outside the door.
He took a swift glance at Michelle and noticed the tears in her eyes. He marveled that she could feel the pain and loss of a woman she didn’t even know.
He sat on the side of the bed and held Danielle’s frail hand—the hand that had soothed his brow, wiped his tears, and bandaged his bruises for so many years. She’d opened her heart to him, and raised and loved him as her own. Not once did he detect animosity or contempt in those beautiful hazel eyes that now stared vaguely back at him. Like his father said, what was done was done. He brushed back a few strands of wispy hair from her forehead. Her skin felt cool, puffy, and clammy—not warm and soft and plump as he remembered.
He managed to smile. “Hi, Mom. I want you to know that I love you very much. I thank you for opening up your heart and home to me. You were a wonderful mother—the best, and I shall miss you, dearly.” He let the tears roll freely down his cheeks.
“You? Who?” The forehead wrinkled in confusion.
“This is Erik, darling. Felicia’s son.” Philippe stroked the thin layer of blonde hair matted to his wife’s scalp. “You remember Felicia?”
Erik watched as Danielle’s eyes moved beyond his shoulders.
“Fe…le…cia,” he heard her say as her swollen face strained against the wide grin she tried to display.
Erik held his breath when he realized she was staring at Michelle. Felicia and Michelle both had black hair and similar body structure. They were both black. It was easy for a woman in Danielle’s condition to get them confused.
He remembered what his father had told him about the special friendship between Felicia and Danielle. Would Michelle give his mother this last cup of happiness? He knew it was asking too much of her, especially after he’d pretended earlier today that she was his wife. If she didn’t…
“Hello, Danielle. It’s been a while. I hope you haven’t missed me too much.”
Erik let his breath out at the sound of her husky voice. Bless her sweet heart.
Danielle’s eyes twinkled as she forced the words from her lips. “You… love… Erik?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Michelle dropped her gaze to the floor, but she felt all eyes on her. She realized Danielle thought she was speaking to Felicia and the Erik she was referring to was her husband, not her son. Her first thought was to set her straight, but sympathy for the dying woman touched her deeply. Erik had already pretended she was his wife today, so why not pretend she was his mother, too? What could it hurt? Besides, she did love Erik. She could speak the words freely without him knowing the truth in her heart.
She smiled as she met Danielle’s gaze. “Yes, Danielle. I love Erik very much,” she said, a deep sense of longing brewing in her heart.
“You… marry… him.”
“Yes, I’ll marry him, and I’ll try to make him as happy as you made him. I’ll take great care of him, I promise.”
Danielle heaved a weary sigh, slumped into the pillows and closed her eyes. “Tired,” she whispered breathlessly.
Michelle rushed from the room and stumbled blindly toward the guest bedroom, but she hadn’t gotten far before Erik’s hand closed around her arm. He pulled her into a room and closed the door. She stood rigid as she fought to steady her ragged breathing.
“She isn’t lucid, Michelle,” he said in a heavy voice. “She thought she was talking to Felicia.”
“I know.”
Erik turned her around, placed a hand under her chin and searched her face. “Why are you crying?”
She sniffled, not answering.
“Tell me.”
Michelle was sure he understood what had just happened in that room, yet he wanted her to say it again. “I can’t.”
“Tell me,” he whispered in a tormented plea.
“Okay, it’s true. I love you! I don’t care if Danielle thought she was talking to Felicia. I was speaking from my heart. I meant every word. I love you, Erik. I love you, and I want to marry you and have your babies.”
“Oh, Michelle, my sweet, sweet Michelle.” Erik clasped her to him, his heart flipping erratically in his big chest. He felt her hot tears soaking into his shirt, scorching his flesh.
Michelle loved him, and she wanted to have his babies.
He groaned. God, how he wished he could tell her that he loved her, too. But he was not at liberty to do so. He was still battling with guilt, especially after what his mother had told him about Cassie. She had died so cruelly, cut down in the prime of her life. How could he love another woman before he avenged her death?
He was torn between l
oyalty for a dead woman’s memory and the burning passion in his soul for one who was very much alive, and who was now crying in his arms because he couldn’t tell her that he loved her.
Michelle pushed away from him. “I’m sorry.” With trembling fingers, she tried to press the wrinkles from his tear-soaked shirt.
Erik captured her fingers in his hands and held them against his chest. “Michelle, I don’t want you to be sorry. I appreciate your honesty, but you have to understand my predicament. I told you this morning that I’m not ready for this kind of commitment. Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to fully commit again. There are issues I have to resolve, questions I need answered before I can open my heart to another woman. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She gazed at him through teary eyes. “I understand. And I’m sorry. This is a difficult time for you. Your mother is dying. Your daughter is confused, and—”
“I’m the one who’s sorry for pulling you into my topsy-turvy world. It’s very selfish of me. I should have waited before I—”
She placed a finger to his lips and gave him a trembling smile. “I’m not afraid of topsy-turvy. I’ve lived it all my life. Your topsy-turvy world is a lot better than the one I came from. And you couldn’t have pulled me in if I didn’t want to be pulled in, Erik.”
Erik threaded his fingers through her short silky hair then trailed the back of his hand along her cheek. “You’re too good. Too understanding.”
“That’s love.”
“I just need time. That’s all.”
She uttered a shaky laugh. “You have four years and eleven months.”
“God, I hope it doesn’t take that long.” He looked about him and his gaze settled on the bed in the center of the room. He suddenly felt exhausted, both physically and emotionally.