A Heart Decision

by Laurie Kellogg

  Since the previous day, she’d been deliberately dropping things. Then, that morning, she’d feigned a dizzy spell and shrugged it off when Luke became concerned. If she didn’t give an Oscar winning performance, this plan would never work.

  So far she hadn’t actually lied about anything. She really had gone to a doctor’s appointment that afternoon. She’d visited her gynecologist and had a test—her yearly pap smear. And of course, anyone under the strain she’d been under the last week would have a few headaches.

  And when she’d stood from wiping the egg up from the floor that she’d intentionally spilled that morning, she really had gotten a little dizzy. Although, that undoubtedly came from bending over for a solid thirty seconds and then standing too fast.

  Now came the hard part—getting Luke’s imagination to go where she wanted it to go without blatantly lying to him.

  She smoothed the wrinkles in her denim skirt and pasted a distressed expression on her face as she followed the sounds of the television into the expansive living room.

  “Did you manage okay by yoursel—” She froze in the archway and stared at the room. It looked just like her neighborhood had on Halloween morning when she was a child, after she’d snuck out on Mischief Night to help her brother and Luke TP the trees.

  Luke raised his hands and chuckled. “Don’t blame me, honey. The kids did it.”

  “How’d this happen?”

  “Mopsy dragged a roll of toilet paper out of the powder room, and she and Dusty had a ball decorating the room. I tried to get it away from them, but they’re faster than this wheelchair. They’re lucky I didn’t run them over and turn them into road kill.”

  Scanning the room, she searched for the two little powder puffs and said in her best bad-dog tone, “Where did those naughty puppies go?”

  “I think I scared the fleas off them when I threw my sneaker.” He silenced the television with the remote. “How’d your doctor’s appointment go?”

  Sabrina sobered her features and dramatically turned away. She hated doing this to him, but it was for his own good. Forcing a quiver into her voice, she said, “Let’s just say I’m glad I called off the wedding.”

  He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to face him. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” She pulled her arm away and strode back into the kitchen, summoning up the tears she needed for a convincing performance. All she had to do was think about what the future held for Luke if he was carrying the abnormal gene.

  The motor on his chair hummed as he sped into the kitchen after her. “Well, I do want to talk about it. Now, tell me what you meant by that.”

  “Oh? So you’re allowed to have all the secrets you want, but if I keep anything from—”

  “Sabrina!” he shouted. “Don’t play games with me. I want to know what the doctor said and why you think it’s good that you broke things off with Ben.”

  “Do you think he’d want to marry a woman with a massive brain tumor?”

  Luke stared at her for several seconds before a string of obscenities spewed out of him the likes of which she’d never heard him utter. “Can’t they operate?”

  “What about brain damage? No man wants a babbling invalid as his wife.”

  “He would if he loved her.” Luke pulled her down in his lap and tucked her tear-drenched face in the crook of his neck. “Especially as much as I love you.”

  “You don’t really believe that.” She sniffled. “You thought Mrs. Klausen should stick her husband in a nursing home.”

  “You’re right I did. But this is different.”

  “How? I don’t see any difference.”

  “I don’t know. It just is.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter, anyway.” She swiped at her cheeks. “I don’t have a husband to worry about burdening.”

  “You could if you married me.”

  Sabrina drew back and stared into his eyes. Had he really begun to understand what it felt like to be on the other side of the situation? “You’re asking me to be your wife? Now, after all the times you’ve emphatically refused to consider marriage?”

  “Yes. Please, I love you, Brina.” He cupped her face between his hands. “Let’s make the most of the time we have together.”

  She wanted that more than anything. But not like this—through a lie. “You’re only offering to marry me because you figure I’ll probably croak in a few years.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “No?” She lifted her eyebrows. “Then, if the situation was reversed, you’d still marry me and let me take care of you?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Why not? You want me to believe you love me enough to feed and bathe me, yet you don’t love me enough to let me do the same for you if you were sick?”

  His forehead creased. “How the hell would letting you sacrifice your life and freedom for me be a demonstration of my love for you?”

  This wasn’t working. “Oh, now I get it.” She slid off his lap and crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t believe I love you as deeply as you love me.”

  Luke gazed up at the ceiling and heaved an exasperated huff. “This is a ridiculous discussion. This isn’t about me, damn it.”

  Sabrina stared down at him and rocked back on her heels. “Isn’t it?”

  “No, I’m not the one with a brain tu....” A suspicious glimmer lit his gaze as it narrowed. “There’s not a blessed thing wrong with you except for your cruel, twisted sense of humor, is there?”

  “Before I answer that, I accept your pity-proposal.”

  Luke spun his chair in a hundred and eighty degree turn and steered himself back out of the kitchen. “Consider the offer rescinded.”

  ~*~

  Sabrina knew something. How much? Luke couldn’t tell. But her attempt to torture him by fabricating a set of circumstances so close to his was too obvious to shrug off as coincidence.

  “So I was right.” She stormed after him into the living room. “You only asked me to marry you because you felt sorry for me.”

  No, he’d asked her because he’d felt sorry for himself. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her or of letting complete strangers take care of the woman he loved. No one else would give a rat’s ass that she loved a dozen pickles on her hamburgers or that she kept her radio tuned to an easy listening station.

  How could she claim to love him and scare him that way?

  She held down the short hem on her skirt as she scooped up several wads of toilet paper and threw them in his face. “Who do you think you are? The patron saint of the pitiful?”

  “Un-freaking-believable. You actually have the nerve to be ticked at me after you scare the hell out of me for nothing.”

  “It wasn’t for nothing.” She snatched up the pieces of tissue that had fallen back to the floor. “I was desperate. You can spend your life martyring yourself for everyone else, but God forbid someone who loves you wants to make a sacrifice for good ol’ softhearted Luke.” She waved the toilet paper at him. “It’s just like you to adopt these mangy little pupp—”

  “I came in here to be alone, damn it. If you don’t leave, I swear I’ll get up out of this wheelchair and—”

  “Oh, save your threats.” She shoved him back down as he rose from his seat. “I just want you to answer one question, and then I’ll leave you alone. Have you had the pre-symptomatic testing for Huntington’s, or are you just assuming you’re carrying the abnormal gene?”

  Okay. So she knew it all. He closed his eyes and sighed. In some ways, it was a relief. Now, at least, maybe she would understand. “How’d you find out?”

  “I was emptying the wastebasket in your office yesterday and saw a newsletter. Are you going to answer my question or not?”

  “No.”

  “No, you haven’t had the test? No, you’re not just assuming? Or no, you won’t answer me?”

  “I haven’t been tested.”

  “Why not?”

 
“Because I’m worried about job and insurance discrimination for one thing. Not to mention it’s easier to live in hope I’ll be okay than to live with the certainty I won’t.”

  She stared at him a moment, her mouth agape. “But you could be throwing everything away needlessly. Maybe you aren’t a carrier.”

  Did she think he hadn’t considered that possibility every day of his adult life? That he hadn’t wondered if he was pushing her away for no good reason?

  He dropped his head back and gazed up at the ceiling while he spoke. “Right before my brother died, he confided that he was experiencing some early symptoms. I’m ninety-eight percent sure his overdose was deliberate. Since then, every time I’ve been unable to think of a word, lost my temper, or one of my muscles twitched, I’ve wondered if Nicco had truly been symptomatic or if fear had given him an overactive imagination. He was only eighteen. What was the likelihood he would’ve developed symptoms that young?”

  “So he was never tested?”

  “No. After we lost him, my mom encouraged the rest of us to get screened. The three girls and my brother Joe did, and thank God they’re all fine.”

  “So why didn’t you and the twins get tested?”

  What could he say? That the big bad cop who went skydiving and drove racecars at two hundred miles an hour had a foot-wide yellow streak down his back? Death he could handle. Becoming an invalid was a whole different story.

  “I don’t want to know.” Luke looked away and shrugged one shoulder. “I guess the fifty-fifty odds intimidate me as much as they do Sebastian and Gabe.”

  “And you believe because four or possibly five of your dad’s eight children escaped, statistically, you, Rick, and Gabe are destined to get it?”

  Put like that it sounded fatalistic. However, that was exactly what he dreaded. He knew that every child of an HD carrier had his or her own fifty-fifty chance of inheriting it. But in a larger statistical analysis, including everyone with a family history of the disease, the odds would give him and the twins a sixty-two percent likelihood of testing positive.

  “You’re a hypocrite, Luke. You say it’s easier to hope you’ll be okay, but you’re living your life as if you won’t be. Either have the test or stop living in fear.”

  That was easy for her to say. Sure, the test could tell him whether he’d be able to lead a normal life in five or ten years, but if it proved he wouldn’t, he’d spend every day wondering if it was his last good day.

  “I’m not living in fear. I’m just not willing to make it harder to face, when the time comes, by inflicting myself on a wife and children.”

  Sabrina put her arms around his neck. “Luke, I love you. Whether you’re my husband or not, I’m not going to let you push me away.”

  If she knew how close he was to letting her into his life, she’d never back off. “Damn it, Sabrina, stop it!” he hollered. “You don’t have any idea what it’s like for me. You told me you’d leave me alone if I answered your question.”

  She dropped her mouth open in mock surprise. “My, my, my, what a temper. I guess you really must have it.”

  “Ha-ha. That’s almost as funny as your supposed brain tumor.”

  “Just for the record, I never said I had a tumor.”

  “No, but you certainly led me down the path of insinuation with your little ploy of dropping everything. Don’t think I’m going to forget about that cruel little farce of yours.”

  “I sincerely hope you don’t.”

  He gulped at the predatory gleam in her eyes as she flipped up the armrests on his wheelchair. “Maybe, if you think back to how you felt when you believed I was sick, it’ll make an impression in that hard head of yours.”

  He’d rather eat a plate of worms than think about how helpless and desperate he’d felt. As she hitched up her skirt and straddled his lap, facing him, his traitorous body pardoned her for giving him the scare of his life.

  “Mmmm....” She wiggled against him. “I guess your noggin isn’t the only thing hard on you.”

  “Yeah, well some parts of me are more forgiving than others.” He turned his face away to evade her kiss. “I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work.”

  She scooted back on his thighs and the zipper rasped on his fly as she slid it down. She freed his erection from its tight prison and grinned. “It’s not?” She circled the tip of him with the pad of her finger, and his rigid flesh twitched in response. “It seems to be working fine.”

  Damn her. If he didn’t hold on to his fury, he might do something stupid like asking her to move in with him. Unfortunately, his broken ankle meant he couldn’t simply go out and jog off the intense desire coursing through him.

  “Fine. You want it this way?” He yanked open the buttons on her blouse, scattering them everywhere, and released the front clasp on her bra. Grabbing her breast with his injured hand, he jerked her forward on his lap with his good one. “I could use a hard screw right about now.”

  He shoved the narrow crotch to her panties aside and aligned himself with her. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled her slick heat down on his throbbing erection.”

  “Yes-ssss,” she hissed as he nipped her erect nipples and furiously jammed her aroused body up and down on himself, deeper and harder with every upward thrust of his hips.

  Each time he drove into her, she moaned louder. “Oh, yes. That’s it. Show me how mad you are. Punish me!”

  He’d hoped to burn off the adrenaline she’d started flowing, but her goading and cries of intense pleasure simply opened the floodgates, sending a rush of excitement and energy through him that rivaled the power of Niagara Falls.

  Even after she shuddered and her endless climax squeezed tight around him, he persisted in pumping her body up and down in a mindless frenzy of need—faster and harder. Her arms snaked around his neck while her hungry mouth searched for his.

  “Oh, no. You’re not finished, yet, baby.”

  “Oh, really?” She giggled. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll accuse you of police brutality?”

  Never before had he taken a woman with such primal abandon. But then, no other woman was capable of making his blood boil the way she could.

  Damn her for showing him what it felt like to be on her side of the fence and making it harder to push her away. He didn’t need her causing him to second-guess his life decisions.

  He continued thrusting into her in time with her excited shrieks, making her come not just twice but three times before he finally vented all his rage and frustration. He finished in a fierce orgasm so long and powerful it took the metallic, salty taste in his mouth for him to realize he’d bitten the inside of his lip and drawn blood.

  As he dropped his head back, exhausted, Sabrina snuggled against his chest and whispered into his neck, “I love you, Luke. I’m sorry I upset you, but I couldn’t think of any other way to make you believe I want to be with you, no matter what.”

  Stroking her back, he dotted her face with feather-light kisses. “I understand, Princess. Really, I do. But if you ever do anything like that to me again, so help me, I’ll spank you until—”

  “As much as the idea of that turns me on, I won’t. I promise.”

  If only he could find a way to help her understand how he felt, too.

  Luke lifted his head and noticed the puppies sitting in the doorway looking at them as though they’d watched his and Sabrina’s entire passionate performance. It figured the hairy little voyeurs would choose that moment to show their scraggly faces again.

  “Don’t think I’m going to forgive you two so easily. You can bet you won’t get any dog biscuits from me tonight.”

  CHAPTER 11

  If Sabrina had to choose between Luke’s rage and forgiveness, she’d take his anger any day. At least when he was mad, he spoke to her. Granted, it was in the decibel range just below shouting, but even so, he communicated in some fashion.

  He pushed his empty plate aside after scarfing down two helpings of hamburger s
troganoff and green beans. “I’m sorry I’m not better company tonight.”

  After silently helping her load the dishwasher, he scooted upstairs to his second floor wheelchair. He couldn’t have made it clearer he wanted to be alone if he’d hung a do not disturb sign on his nose.

  Luke’s wrist had healed enough to maneuver the wheels on the manual chair himself. In fact, he’d gotten so self-sufficient, she dreaded the moment he would insist he didn’t need her help any longer.

  With that inevitable heartbreak on her horizon, she threw herself into a cleaning frenzy. Once the smell of disinfectant and lemon oil permeated the entire first floor, she strolled upstairs to coax Luke into joining her in the living room.

  She tapped softly on his study door. “Would you like to watch a movie with me?”

  “I’m reading, Brina. Give me some space, please.”

  She heaved a sigh and wandered into the bedroom to take a shower—alone.

  A wrinkled piece of stationary lying on the bed caught her attention. She picked it up and scanned the letter Luke’s dad had written to Nicco, explaining why he’d ended his life. Evidently, Luke wanted her to read it.

  Dear Nicco,

  I would’ve preferred to let you and the rest of the kids believe my death was an accident, but it’s important that you all know why I ended my life. I had to do it this way so your mom will still get my life insurance, which won’t be a lot, but it should be enough to keep the house and feed all of you.

  Your mother knows I’m sick, but I lied to her about what’s really wrong and the seriousness of it. I couldn’t bear to tell her I’ve possibly condemned her babies to the same hell I’m going through.

  If I’d known I was carrying an abnormal Huntington’s gene when I fell in love with your mom, I don’t know if I could’ve married her. But I can’t regret the best fourteen and a half years any man has ever known or having the eight greatest children ever born.

  I hate myself for not having had the guts to end this before I beat your brother yesterday. I just pray one day he’ll be able to forgive me. I don’t want you kids to remember me as the monster I’ve become.