A Mother's Love

by Dawn Stewardson

  He hesitated, telling himself to just let that pass, then found he was saying, “How did you expect it to be?”

  Slowly shaking her head, she said, “Oh, I imagined a whole lot of different scenarios—none of them very realistic. For someone who’s normally logical...”

  She paused, gave him a wan smile, then continued. “In one version you were a veritable ogre who slammed the door in my face. In another, totally the far end of the spectrum, you were relieved to see me. You found being a single parent way too much, and were happy to let me take Robbie home with me.

  “In another— But it’s silly to even tell you about them when, as I said, none of them is realistic.

  “So let’s talk about something else,” she added before he could say a word. “When I phoned you I was calling from the Madison Plains Hospital. I’m now officially a Visiting Consultant there.”

  “Hey, that’s great. I told you they’d be glad to have you. What will you be doing?”

  “Actually, a lot more than I bargained for. They’re missing a psychologist in the pediatrics unit, so I’ll sort of be filling in for her. Which would be fine, except...”

  Natalie hesitated. She’d only mentioned the hospital as a way of changing the subject, and she wasn’t at all sure she should confide in him.

  The more impersonal their relationship remained, the better. Particularly since she was already having trouble dealing with the fact that he was a good man, doing a good job as a parent—and that Robbie was perfectly happy with his life the way it was. Plus, there was still the problem of not knowing whether Hank was honestly prepared to compromise.

  Her fear that he had his lawyer busily at work in the background, trying to pull a fast one on her, certainly hadn’t vanished during the night.

  Yet even though she knew his “reasonable” approach might merely be an act, she couldn’t help feeling terrible about what she was putting him through. Because regardless of whether he was being straight with her or not, he loved Robbie. That was painfully obvious. And—

  “Except what?” he said.

  It took her a moment to backtrack to what she’d been saying. When she did, she looked at him.

  His dark eyes caught her gaze. Held it. And she suddenly wanted to tell him what had happened this morning.

  She didn’t know why. He’d only been making conversation, certainly wouldn’t have been asking out of friendly interest. Not when he had to hate her.

  Even so, the next thing she knew, she was saying, “It wasn’t only Robbie who got me upset. When I arrived here I was already feeling...

  “There’s a little girl named Emma Perez in the hospital, and she and her grandmother have been assigned to me—sort of my special project.”

  She briefly explained about the fire and Emma’s mother and what Cynthia had asked her to do.

  “And when we went to Emma’s room,” she continued, “the moment I saw her I felt something connect between us. You know what I mean? Does that sort of thing ever happen to you?”

  “Now and then.”

  “Well, just after I’d met Emma the grandmother appeared. so since Cynthia wanted me to talk with her, I took her down to the office they gave me to use. And...” She shook her head, feeling awful about that conversation all over again.

  “It was really sad. She kept insisting her daughter would get better. But since all the staff believe she’ll die, nobody had bothered to explain that even if she does survive she’ll never be a healthy woman again. That the damage from the smoke inhalation will leave her an invalid, and the burns she sustained...

  “I tried to get into that, but when I did Señora Perez started crying. And I thought she’d never stop.”

  She turned away from Hank and stared unseeingly at the forest beyond his property, not wanting him to suspect her “assignment” had gotten to her more than she should have let it.

  “Natalie?” he said.

  When she didn’t reply, he tentatively rested his hand on her arm and said, “Look, this mess with Robbie already has you under a lot of emotional stress. So maybe Emma and Señora Perez aren’t the best special project for you.”

  “I know they aren’t,” she admitted. “I realized that as soon as I sat down and started talking with her. But I went to the hospital wanting to help, and I agreed to take this on, and they need someone who speaks Spanish and...

  “I’ll cope with it. I just... They took me by surprise, that’s all.”

  Hank nodded, his chest strangely tight. He could tell how upset she was, and like it or not—and he definitely didn’t like it—he had an almost irresistible urge to fold her into his arms and simply hold her until she got her emotions under control.

  He wasn’t going to, though. He knew it would be a terrible mistake. He just couldn’t let himself start feeling... But then, he was already feeling things for her, wasn’t he?

  He could try pretending otherwise from now till next year, yet the truth was that he’d been aware of one of those instantaneous connections she’d mentioned the first moment he’d seen her on his porch. Oh, maybe he hadn’t been fully conscious of it at the time, but it had existed. And as often as he told himself there really wasn’t any pull between them, every time he looked at her—

  No. Pull or no pull, he was simply not going to do anything foolish when it came to this woman.

  Regardless of anything else, she was the enemy. Period. End of story.

  * * *

  WHEN HANK ARRIVED at the Manhattan North Precinct a little before twelve, Homicide was quieter than usual. A few detectives on the four-to-midnight shift were getting ready to head home, but not many of the guys just coming on had arrived yet.

  His partner had already gotten down to work, though. Travis was sitting at his desk with an open file in front of him.

  “So?” he said, looking up as Hank neared him. “How’s it going?”

  Hank shrugged.

  He didn’t especially want to talk about the “it” he knew Travis was referring to. However, after he’d unloaded on Travis and Celeste the other day he felt obliged to provide an update, so he said, “Audrey got her call and flew to Idaho yesterday. And Natalie’s been spending a little time with Robbie.”

  “How much?”

  “A couple of hours yesterday,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Then today she came by this afternoon and, well, she actually didn’t leave until he went to bed.”

  He stopped there, not volunteering that she’d read Robbie his bedtime story.

  Travis’s expression was already saying he figured Hank was misplaying things.

  Leaning back in his chair, he said, “And you were okay with her being there that long?”

  “It wasn’t what I originally had in mind, but...”

  “But what?”

  “Well, she’d had a rough morning.”

  Travis simply eyed him, until he told himself to just get it over with.

  After he’d finished explaining, Travis said, “So you felt sorry for her and let her stay all that time. Fed her dinner, too, I bet.”

  “The rest of us could hardly eat in front of her, could we? Besides, she helped make it.”

  “Oh, man, don’t you see what she’s doing?”

  Hank knew he wouldn’t enjoy hearing Travis’s theory on that subject so he merely shrugged again—hoping his partner would let it go.

  He didn’t.

  “What does she look like?” he demanded.

  “She’s okay.”

  “Okay. On a scale of one to ten?”

  “A seven,” he lied. “Maybe an eight,” he said when Travis shot him a skeptical glance.

  “Or maybe a nine? Oh, man, Hank, she’s a ten, isn’t she? It’s written all over your face.”

  “Is there a point you want to make?”

  “I’m getting to it. Has she told you exactly what sort of sharing arrangement she has in mind yet?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t you think she should have by now?”
r />   “I guess that isn’t how she wants to play it.”

  “Apparently not.”

  Travis was silent for a few beats, long enough to start Hank hoping he was done before he said, “You know how I think she’s playing it? I think she’s hoping to soften you up before she says another word about it. That she’s trying to make you like her. Then, whatever she asks for won’t seem as bad as if she’d just hit you with it cold.

  “And not only that. She’s figuring that she’ll spend enough time with Robbie to ensure he likes her, too. So if you can’t reach a compromise and some judge ends up asking Robbie how he feels about her...”

  That possibility had already occurred to Hank, of course, which was why he had no intention of letting himself feel anything for Natalie. Or, rather, why he’d started out with that intention.

  The saying about the road to hell being paved with good intentions drifted through his mind.

  Before it had completely drifted on out, Len Espizito strode into the squad room. Most C.O.s never worked the graveyard shift, but Espizito made a point of taking one every so often.

  “I just got a call from St. Luke’s–Roosevelt,” he told them. “There was a shooting at 82nd and First half an hour ago. The vic was DOA when the ambulance reached the hospital, so the case is ours now. You two take it.

  “Oh, and the vic’s brother is a reporter with the Times. So get back to me as soon as you size things up. We can do without any negative press on this one.”

  NATALIE CHECKED THE bedside clock once more. It was past one o’clock and she still hadn’t managed to fall asleep. Her brain hadn’t let her.

  She simply couldn’t stop herself from thinking. About Robbie. And Hank.

  Each time she saw her son, she loved him more. And wanted him back in her life even more desperately. She wouldn’t have believed that was possible, but it was happening.

  And each time she saw Hank, Lord, that was a real problem. The more she saw of him, the less she wanted to do anything that would hurt him. Still, no matter how reasonable she tried to be...

  Tightly closing her eyes, she had another shot at ordering her mind to shut down. But she might as well have told the earth to stop turning. Mere seconds later she was thinking about Hank and Robbie again.

  She’d been surprised when Hank had trailed after her this afternoon—as if he’d actually cared that she was upset. And when he’d rested his hand on her arm, quietly trying to make her feel better...

  He’d succeeded. But his touch had done something else—something alarming. It had suddenly made her aware she was attracted to him.

  Until that moment, she hadn’t recognized the chemistry between them for what it was. It had been so long since she’d met a man who...

  She hadn’t felt even a twinge of attraction in all the time since Carlos had died. But there was something about Hank...

  Those dark good looks, for one thing: his rock-solid jaw, the straight line of his eyebrows, his broad shoulders and the appealing way his hair didn’t quite behave.

  Over the past few days she must have been absently aware of all those things. Yet it was only today, after he’d touched her, that she’d become conscious of how often she was sneaking glances at him. Realized she felt a rush of warmth whenever her gaze met his. Noticed that his smile made her heartbeat accelerate.

  But after years of feeling nothing toward any man, why him? And why here and now, when a complication like that was the last thing she needed?

  She had to remain focused on her goal—unless she wanted her son growing up as little more than a stranger to her. And that meant she simply couldn’t let herself start feeling all liquid and brainless when it came to Hank.

  Because compromising with him was one thing. Giving away more than she had to was something else entirely.

  Rolling over, she scrunched her head into the pillow, almost wishing Hank wasn’t the way he was. Almost wishing he hadn’t invited her to stay for dinner tonight or let her help put Robbie to bed.

  Nothing her imagination had conjured up after she’d read Rodger Spicer’s report had prepared her for the real-life Hank Ballantyne.

  Oh, she still hadn’t entirely ruled out the possibility he wasn’t exactly what he seemed, that he might be trying to orchestrate something behind her back.

  But it struck her as a lot less likely than it had only yesterday. Than it had only this morning, for that matter. Yet even if he was sincerely prepared to compromise, how were they going to work out a sharing arrangement when both of them really wanted to have Robbie full-time? And how was Robbie going to handle whatever—

  The jarring ring of the phone started her pulse racing.

  She fumbled for the receiver in the darkness, thinking it had to be a wrong number. Almost no one knew she was here.

  Then she picked up and a woman said, “Natalie?”

  “Yes?” The voice was somewhat familiar, but she couldn’t—

  “Natalie, it’s Betty Harmand.”

  Something was wrong with Robbie!

  “Natalie, I...I’m afraid I’m having a heart attack.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  NATALIE WRIGGLED INTO her jeans and a sweater while she spoke with the 911 operator. Once he’d promised to dispatch an ambulance to Hank’s, she hurried out to her car.

  Betty had assumed her early symptoms were merely indigestion. As they’d grown worse, she’d explained, she’d tried to reach Hank. And when she’d only gotten his voice mail, she’d phoned the motel.

  Thank heavens Hank had put the number on the fridge. And thank heavens she was a doctor, although Betty really should have called 911 herself. In the very beginning. But people often spent far longer than they should trying to convince themselves nothing was seriously wrong.

  With the full moon making the visibility better than it would normally be, Natalie sped through the night well above the posted limit—only too aware that time was a critical factor. When it came to heart attacks, minutes could mean the difference between life and death.

  As she turned off the highway and onto the road that would take her to Hank’s, she fleetingly wished she had her medical bag along. But it was back in Guatemala.

  If worse came to worst, though, she could do CPR until the paramedics got there. Assuming she didn’t arrive too late.

  That thought in mind, she pressed down even harder on the accelerator.

  When she wheeled into Hank’s driveway, the car was still traveling so fast that it sprayed gravel in every direction.

  She pulled to a stop, scrambled out and ran for the house. The porch light was on and the front door was unlocked.

  “Betty?” she called, yanking it open.

  “Here,” came a faint reply.

  Thank heavens.

  Betty was lying on the living room couch, her face white, her lips bluish, her expression one of raw terror. The almost-empty glass of water on the coffee table undoubtedly meant she’d taken the aspirins Natalie had told her to.

  “How are you doing?” she said, perching beside the woman and checking her pulse.

  It was racing.

  “My chest feels as if something’s crushing it,” Betty whispered. “And those pains in my arm have been getting worse.”

  “Well, just try to take it easy. The ambulance will be here in no time and you’re going to be fine.

  “Really,” she added for emphasis. “Now, what about your family? Is there someone I should call?”

  “My son. And daughter. Numbers in my wallet.”

  “Good. I’ll...” She paused, listened for a few seconds and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “There’s the ambulance,” she said. “Can you hear the siren?”

  Its wail grew rapidly louder, then she could see the lights flashing down the road. The shrill sound died as the vehicle turned into the driveway.

  “I’ll go let them in.”

  She gave Betty’s hand a reassuring squeeze before starting toward the door. Just as she reached it, Robbie app
eared from his bedroom.

  He looked confused and half-asleep, but when he said, “Where’s Daddy?” he seemed wide-awake—frightened.

  “Your daddy’s at work, darling. And everything’s okay. Don’t worry.”

  She scooped him up into her arms, then opened the door to the paramedics with their gurney and gestured them in the direction of the living room.

  “Mrs. Harmand isn’t feeling well,” she explained to Robbie. “So these men are taking her to the hospital. But she’ll be all right.

  “And so will you,” she added as he wrapped his arms around her neck and buried his face against her shoulder.

  She carried him into the living room, where the paramedics were already strapping their patient onto the gurney.

  “Betty, do you want us to ride in the ambulance with you? Or follow in my car?”

  “Thanks, but just phone my kids.”

  “Sure. And you are going to be fine.” She gave the woman’s hand another squeeze, then the two men began wheeling her toward the door.

  * * *

  THERE WAS A CORRELATION between a full moon and the city being even crazier than usual.

  Scientific types sometimes claimed statistics didn’t back that up, but Hank knew it was fact. All cops did. All emergency room staff, as well. And tonight was no exception.

  The woman who’d called in the shooting at 82nd and First had heard the shots from her apartment. According to her, when she’d looked out to see what was happening, there’d been at least a dozen people in the vicinity. But the first-response officers hadn’t turned up a soul who admitted actually seeing the shooting. Or the shooter.

  Hank and Travis assigned some uniforms to do a door-to-door of all the apartments with windows overlooking the street. Then they made a few more notes. After that, Hank called Espizito, as requested, and brought him up to speed.

  “So we’ve done as much as we can for the time being,” he concluded. “The crime-scene techs won’t be finished until morning, and we’ll see what they get. But now we’re heading for Little Italy. We haven’t been able to catch up with our prime suspect in the Lowenstein case, and we hear he sometimes hangs out in a bar down there.”