Time Heals Everything

by Linda Swain

  “And you do that,” Ashton insisted. “All of that and more. I shall call for a new nurse to be sent out today – as soon as you approve of someone, he may begin the exercises in the pool. I swim in the mornings, so when would you like the pool to be set aside for his use?”

  She thought briefly about Ashton’s question, wondering if it could be another of the family activities they could all share together, but found that she rather preferred to keep Anton’s sessions to herself.

  At least for now, she thought. Until we see how much pain Anton will be in during and after this new exercise. Ash hates to see him in any form of discomfort, or having to struggle. After any exercise session, Kat had begun placing damp, heated towels over Anton’s body, and one of his nurses added to the relief that the heat gave his muscles by teaching Kat how to gently massage the exerted areas, but sometimes, after a particularly hard day, Anton would still be in a considerable amount of pain. So maybe it’s a better idea to keep things separate, she thought.

  And so it had begun. Every morning, Kat and Ashton would have breakfast together in their rooms, then he would head to the gymnasium or for a stroll around the grounds, and she would dress for the day. By the time Kat had completed her toilette, Anton was usually finished with his breakfast, and they would sit and talk for a while before Madam Megan would return to fit the youngster with his braces and they would begin the sometimes-torturous process of aiding Anton to walk to his wheelchair.

  Kat had devised this form of exercise herself. Each day, she would have Megan place the chair a little further away, encouraging Anton to walk to it. Some mornings were not good ones; he would manage no more than a few steps before he would stumble and fall into Megan’s arms, and they would have to call for Giles’ help in settling the boy. But other mornings rang with the praises Kat was quick to heap on Anton for showing any improvement, whether they were because he had managed a few more steps on his unwieldy crutches or whether he had managed to walk ten steps on Madam Megan’s arm to reach his wheelchair.

  Kat supplemented the pool exercises with some of the same walking and upper-body exercises she had been doing with Anton before the discovery of the pool, but as her pregnancy progressed, she knew that her own aching legs and back would receive more benefit from the weightlessness of the heated water in the pool than anything would. She enjoyed wading around in the shallow water with Anton, watching as the burly male therapist Ashton had hired, with her approval, encouraged Anton to kick his legs and flail his arms in the warm water.

  Her days were certainly full, Kat thought. And they’re only going to get more so. But despite everything, I’m happy. Every evening she did not have an afternoon rehearsal with Ted, Ashton would escort her, on his arm, to the club, and when he could not arrive with her, he came on his own. He was always there, at his usual table whether she joined him or not, and it warmed Kat’s heart to see him taking such an interest in her career.

  He never enlightened Kat as to the reason of his continual presence. She merely assumed it was to gain pleasure at the sight of his wife’s performance – or, in her darker moods, to reassure himself that she still belonged totally to him.

  In truth, he did it for his own private amusement. During the halcyon days he’d been experiencing with Kat, Ash had been privately amused to watch Nick’s rapid downfall. In the club owner’s desperate search to find someone, anyone, who would replace Kat, Ash found delight in the fact that Nick’s companions changed places as constantly as he changed his ties.

  Even more amusing was his discovery of a betting pool as to which waitress would accompany Nick on any given night. It was enough to make the Frenchman want to howl in delight. Perhaps, if this betting pool ever comes to be more than a jest, I myself shall join in the fun. If it did, he suspected it would be Tim’s doing; out of anyone in the club these days, he seemed to be the closest to Nick.

  Toying with his drink on one particular evening, Ash watched as the stage lights lowered and Katherine took her place on stage, her pregnancy cleverly disguised under a dress the color of mink. Soft sequins gleamed across her shoulders, giving the illusion of a dozen fireflies darting around her. He warmed with desire and delight at the sight of her, his beautiful wife, and as she began to sing, it was then that he realized just how happy that he was and how long it had been since he felt the soul-consuming need for the fine white powder that still remained hidden under lock and key. At last, I have everything about which I dreamed as a young man – but this time, it is no narcotic-induced illusion. It is life, with all the joy and promise that the future can hold.

  Ashton might have been surprised to find that he was not the only one watching as a change stole over someone within the club. Carefully, Nick watched as Ash sat back in his chair. There’s something different about him, lately. He’s content, and I’ll bet a whole night’s profit that he’s not using the dope anymore. He probably hasn’t since learning about Kat’s pregnancy. The fact should have pleased him, but he remained grim. The joke’s on you, Nick thought savagely. That kid isn’t yours; it’s mine. Not that it matters, and if you ever discover the truth, God help you if I find out that it makes any difference. It’s your kid and she’s your wife. The best man won; now make damn sure it stays that way.

  Turning from his whining date, away from the laughing crowd, Nick moved to the quiet sanctuary of his office, shutting and locking the door behind him. Ignoring Tim’s questioning glances, he had breezed roughly past his latest flame, and now stood in his office, looking at the ghostly memories that refused to leave him.

  If he squinted, he could still see Kat sitting at the low table near his desk, swinging her dainty, bare feet. Buddy curled around her discarded shoes. He blinked, surprised to see that Buddy remained even when the haunting memories of Kat had vanished.

  “Oh, hey, mutt,” he greeted, reaching down to scratch the dog’s straggly ears. The stubby tail beat a staccato rhythm on the floor while Nick grinned. The dog had become a mascot of the club in the last weeks, ever since he had run away from Ash’s elegant home. Dropping into his seat behind the desk, Nick only had to wait a few seconds before Buddy immediately jumped into his new master’s lap. It had been the damnedest thing, Nick mused, smiling faintly. It was almost as if history were repeating itself as he remembered how Buddy became a permanent fixture.

  * * * *

  A few weeks before …

  “Buddy, Buddy, I know that you’re in here. Get your fuzzy butt out here so we can go home!”

  Glancing up from his paperwork, Nick jerked to the sound of a familiar voice, his eyes instantly glancing at his desk calendar. Kat wasn’t due in tonight to sing – Madeline was doing her numbers tonight so Kat could stay with that sickly kid of Ash’s. So what in the hell is she doing here?

  He rose to move out to the sound of shrill barking and Kat’s sharp curses. He stood back in the shadows, taking his fill of the sight of her. She looks good, he thought, she looks really good. It had only been a few days since she had told him that the kid in her belly belonged to him, but it seemed as if it had been forever since he had seen her. Slipping from behind the bar while she searched for her obstinate dog, he snapped his fingers sharply, watching as Buddy belly-crawled from under a table. As he leapt into Nick’s arms, Kat whirled sharply around before plopping onto the floor.

  “Buddy . . . Nick, what are you doing with him?”

  “It looks like he’s not used to his new quarters,” he answered coldly, his long fingers stroking the dog. Holding Buddy out to Kat just as Ashton moved to her side, Buddy went instantly from wriggling happily to baring his teeth and snarling. “Hey, cool it,” Nick said quietly, stroking the dog until he settled.

  “Imagine that,” Ashton murmured as he helped Kat to her feet. “Mongrels really do run in packs.”

  “Ash!” Kat snapped, flushing to the roots of her hair. He shrugged as she pulled away. Holding out her arms, Kat once more called coaxingly to her old friend. “Come on, Bud, it’s time for u
s to go home.”

  Happily, the dog had moved to her waiting arms, but the moment she returned to Ash’s side, Buddy growled wildly and when reprimanded, he hopped down and back into Nick’s arms. Nick snorted, amused. “I guess he likes me.”

  It bothered him on some level that the dog didn’t like Ash; in his experience, animals were excellent judges of character, and if the dog loved Kat but hated Ash, Nick had to wonder the reason.

  Once more, Kat reached out for the animal, only to see it snuggle further in Nick’s arms. As I once did, she thought briefly, before allowing her hand to drop.

  “Leave him be,” Ash encouraged softly. “I’ve been thinking about this since you’ve been working with Anton. Now that he is beginning to walk, would it not be better if the dog were kept out of the way? We would not want Anton tripping over him. Who knows what could happen?” Glancing stealthily in Nick’s direction, he hoped the man would be amenable to the suggestion he was about to make, for he had long harboured an intense dislike for the dog, which had been compounded lately by his discovery that Anton had begun slipping him table scraps. “Since the animal seems so fond of Nicholas, why not allow him to stay here? You will still see him when you come to the club, so he will not forget you.”

  “I guess . . .” she began, her voice trailing away with regret.

  “Who could forget you, kid?” Nick added, Buddy barking as if in agreement. “He’s good with me, and you know that I’ll take care of him.” Shifting Buddy in his arms, Nick was aware of Ash staring at him before escorting Kat towards the door. Reluctantly she stopped, pushing gently at Ash’s restraining arm. “See you, Nick. Buddy, you behave . . .” The door had closed then, and they were gone.

  * * * *

  Shaking his head to dispel the memory, Nick reminded himself that he hadn’t come into the office to hash over old memories. He had come to look into Ash’s past. Since catching the sight of bruises on Kat’s arms, he had been mulling over what to do.

  What could he do?

  Legally, there wasn’t much, as long as Kat was Ash’s wife, but he could dig, and once he began, he soon discovered that Ash had some interesting friends in the oddest of places. What was a French aristocrat doing with gunrunners, drug pushers and other unsavory characters?

  The more he dug, the more he found that disturbed him. There was still suspicion concerning the death of his former wife. She had been a healthy woman, and there was no indication of her doctors being concerned about the possibility of her death in childbirth. Not that it was a breeze, Nick was aware of that, and even a healthy woman could have complications.

  Briefly, Kat’s happy face flashed in his mind before he roughly pushed it aside. For now, she was safe as long as she carried that child . . . but Nick couldn’t help but wonder about afterwards. Would Ash once again leave marks on her skin?

  Nick soon discovered that there were very good reasons for Ashton’s appearance in the States, although it was before the trouble in Europe had begun to escalate. Through various means, he had managed to remove most of his valuables and money to America, even taking the kid and Madam Megan safely out of France.

  The newspapers were full of the problems overseas – that Europe was going to hell in a hand basket. Even Nick knew that before long there was to be a war. Not that he cared about some little piss-ant making guttural speeches in Germany. He cared about Kat’s safety, and that had nothing to do with Hitler’s crazy agenda.

  The coroner’s report . . . I have to get my hands on it. If I can, and it shows that her kid damaged her and she died of natural causes, okay, fine. But if she was as messed up and bruised as I saw on Kat . . . I’m going to kill the bastard myself.

  He continued reading about how Ashton’s first wife had been discovered dead in their home a short week after giving birth, found sprawled on the bathroom floor. A nurse who had been employed to oversee both the care of mother and infant had been placed under suspicion after Ash made charges of neglect. An arrest soon followed, but to Nick’s mind, there was something fishy . . . it smelled of a setup.

  What would a woman, especially one who had a potentially difficult labor, one who was supposed to be on bed rest be doing getting out of bed? She was discovered quite a few feet from her bed, but there was no indication of abuse.

  Siting back, Nick chewed on a toothpick. He needed more information, but it could be weeks before he reached anyone to do more digging.

  I wonder if I could find that nurse – she’s done her time by now, and with the situation in France, she’s long since been released.

  It would take calling in some favors, but there were still people around that walked the shady side of the law. Ones that would have more European contacts than he would ever have. Thinking back to his gun running days, Nick found that some of the faces which sprang to mind still had names on the streets, especially in these tension-ridden days leading up to whatever war Europe was planning. Guns were at a premium during uncertain times, and there was a great deal of money to be made in such a trade. Heading back to such a business on his own, would put the club at risk. He was legitimate now and wanted to stay that way. But Nick could still reach his old contacts in that line of work without sullying anyone’s name, and use them to get the information he needed.

  Over the next days, Nick waited impatiently for news, but whenever he saw Kat with Ashton, something twisted inside of him. He watched her as if he were afraid she would vanish if he looked away for even a moment. His sudden scrutiny did not remain unnoticed.

  Ashton took his interest in stride, but in private, he gloated, thinking Nick’s behavior was coming about because of regret. So he took every opportunity he could to make sure that his gestures of affection did not go unrecognized.

  Both men were so busy with their own thoughts that neither noticed someone else becoming aware of Nick’s continued interest in Kat.

  One night after the club had finally closed, Nick made his way up to his apartment, stopping by the door that had once been Kat's. He never went in. It was too painful to face the memories of what they had once shared, surrounded by the little mementos she had left behind.

  Thinking about those times made him pause with his hand on the knob. He frowned, caught between the desire to keep the visions of the past at bay and yet certain that he’d heard something inside, where no one should be. This is stupid, he thought, reaching for the pistol holstered under his jacket. If there is some joker in there, they had better leave, and if there isn’t, then all I’m gonna see are some old clothes and a couple of dust-bunnies. Quietly, he waited for the sound to come again, if it did, he’d go in, and if not, he’d head on his way.

  He counted to ten slowly, his fingers gripping the cold knob.

  Nothing.

  He blew out a tense breath through pursed lips, moving to the sanctuary of his own apartment. His latest squeeze was up there, and for once, he hoped that she was sleeping. The only thing on his mind was shrugging out of his shirt and jacket before grabbing a cool beer.

  Sinking into his favorite chair a few moments later, a smile flickered on Nick’s lips as Buddy leaped into his lap, waiting for his usual pat and a treat. Softly speaking to the dog, Nick was barely aware of his bedroom door opening or even that his latest bed partner had wandered through it.

  As she caught sight of Nick sitting in his chair with that mangy dog on his lap, she rolled her eyes, striking what she thought was a sensual pose. “Well, hello there, handsome. Are you going to join me?”

  Nick’s head turned slowly as he fought to keep the exasperation from showing in his eyes, but he jolted swiftly to his feet, dumping Buddy to the floor, a second later when his brain took note of what his eyes were seeing. “What in the hell do you think that you’re doing?” Nick blazed, starting forward with his hands out. “And where did you get that?” His voice shook with his fury as he came for the simpering blonde.

  “What’s – what’s gotten into you?” She seemed to be trying to melt into the robe she
was wearing, trying to draw its silken cloth over her much wider shoulders.

  The robe was unmistakably one of Kat’s, Nick knew; he’d purchased it for her on their last Christmas together. ”Take that thing off now,” he snarled, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

  “I don’t know what you’re so sore about,” she whimpered, wriggling out of the garment. It took some maneuvering to manage it; Kat had been much smaller than she was. “My things aren’t half as nice and it’s not as if she’s ever going to wear it again. You never buy me nice stuff like this, and I’m your girl now, just as she was.”

  Shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants to avoid using them, Nick’s eyes shot bullets of ice as he glared at her. “Whatever gave you that idea? This dog means more to me than you ever will. I know that you snuck into Kat’s apartment and if I ever catch you in her apartment or touching her things again, you’ll be out on your ass so fast, you won’t know what hit you.” Turning on his heel, he whistled for Buddy before moving to the bedroom, slamming the door hard enough for Tim to look up as he was slipping out the door and into the night air.

  What the hell? Tim waited, pulling back into the shadows as a shape moved down the stairs. Seeing that the shape was the woman with whom Nick had been sleeping, he simply shook his head, watching as she slid out the door. Now, what’s all that about? Was that girl number five? The boss is gonna go through every female in the town and never find one that will replace Kat.

  Thinking of Kat, he took a detour from his usual walk home. There were a few people that he could stop and shoot the bull with on the way, and maybe get some information on Montserrat’s first wife. I know Nick’s sniffing around, so why shouldn’t I help out? The boss isn’t gonna care if I do. What Tim did on his own time was his own business. His boyish good looks and puppy-dog eyes had served him well in his days on the streets, and he had used them more than once to melt hearts and increase drink sales.