by Arlene James
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded into the mouthpiece.
“Who is this?” the man on the other end squawked.
“Royce Lawler. Who is this, and I want a name?”
“Huh?”
“You heard me.”
“Lane Gage.”
Merrily hissed at him and reached for the phone as if to take it back from him, but he switched it to the other side, catching it between his shoulder and ear and motioned her away with his good hand.
“How old are you, Lane?” he demanded sternly.
“Huh?”
“I thought all of Merrily’s brothers were older than her.”
“Yeah. So?”
Merrily slid off the desk, tentatively poised and seemingly as uncertain as her brother sounded, anxiety on her face.
“So I’m repeating my original question,” Royce stated reasonably, and then his voice rose. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Merrily isn’t your personal maid. She’s a professional doing a job—for which, I might add, I am paying her handsomely. You want to whine, you do it on your own time, but don’t you dare call your sister here and badger her like this again. Be a man, for Pete’s sake.” With that, he hung up the phone.
Merrily’s glare hit him like a laser beam. “How dare you?”
His jaw dropped. “How dare I? That whiny little jerk was after you to come wash his underwear!”
“He’s my brother!”
Suddenly all his pique at her spoiled brother shifted to her. “I don’t care who he is. He ought to have more pride than to call up his baby sister and demand she come home and launder his underwear! And you ought to have more pride than to let him.”
“Maybe so,” she conceded angrily, “but it’s still my personal business, and you have no right to interfere!”
“Well, excuse the hell out of me. I thought I was paying your salary!”
“You haven’t bought me!” she retorted, and he wondered why the devil she hadn’t displayed that much backbone when talking to her brother.
“I haven’t demanded you wash my shorts, either!”
Merrily sighed and sank back down onto the edge of the desk, all the fight seeming to go out of her. “You don’t understand,” she said miserably. “It’s just that I’m the only girl and the youngest and they all still think of me as a child. Basically they’re just trying to protect me.”
“By insisting you come home and do the laundry?” he asked skeptically. “Come on, Merrily. Enough with the excuses. No professional housemaid would put up with that kind of whining helplessness. They want you home taking care of them, and they’re playing on your relationship to get it. This isn’t about you. It’s about them and how convenient it is for them to have you around.”
“It’s more than that,” she insisted weakly.
Exasperated, Royce just stared at her for a moment, but then he realized what he was seeing and his indignation turned to regret and compassion. Of course she wanted to believe that her brothers demanded she come home from love of her, just as he wanted to believe that his kids loved him no matter what venom their mother poured into their ears. He would not be the one to suggest otherwise.
“Darn right,” he said, taking her hand in his and pulling her closer. When her pretty face came within easy reach, he skimmed his fingertips down her cheek. “They know as well as I do what a sweet, capable, caring woman you are, and they want to be certain you aren’t taken advantage of, but you’re perfectly correct that you aren’t a child. You deserve respect, and you have every right to order your world as you see fit. Don’t let them bully and control you, not even if it’s because they love you.”
She chuckled softly. “Haven’t you learned yet that I don’t let anyone bully me? I may not scream and demand and stomp my foot, but I don’t give in when I know I’m right, either.”
He smiled wryly. Scream and demand and stomp. Merrily didn’t even have an inkling as to what extremes a truly demanding, unreasonable woman might go. His mother didn’t scream or stomp, but she had beat him to a pulp with her demands, seared him with her coldness, cut him out of her heart as cleanly and dispassionately as any surgeon removing a tumor. Pamela, on the other hand, was just plain crazy. Screaming and demanding and stomping represented the barest tip of the iceberg when it came to that woman’s conduct. Merrily couldn’t be more different. He saw that with almost painful clarity.
“Darlin’, do you have any idea how rare and precious you are?”
“Am I?”
Those soft, mossy-green eyes glowed with a warmth that reached right into his chest and squeezed his heart. Unfortunately, it also sent blood surging straight down to his groin. Sighing helplessly, he shoved his fingers into the thick hair at the back of her head, wishing he could let out that ubiquitous ponytail and watch the glossy golden-brown locks tumble sleekly about her face and shoulders.
“You must know that you are. You must.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, and somehow their mouths met, softly at first and then with a deepening ardor over which he seemed to own no control whatsoever. With her simply standing there, bent at the waist, her hands bracketing his head and her mouth pressed to his, the contact ought to have felt slight, minimal, but instead it was as if they melted into each other, blending in some indefinable manner that was new but at the same time wholly natural to him.
Suddenly, in a terrible flash of insight that left him completely bereft, he knew that he’d found a woman unlike any he’d ever known, one who touched something deep inside him. These past couple of weeks living in this house with her, even with this new distance between them, he’d come to know her pretty well. She woke as many intimate needs in him as she tended, but she was as far out of his reach as if he was still married, and she always would be, because Merrily deserved far better than he could give her: a crazy ex-wife, two traumatized kids, a life of constant strife and worry and, yes, even fear, for he shuddered to think what Pamela might do to any woman he came to treasure. Aching with hopelessness, he broke the kiss by bowing his head.
For a moment she stood just as she was, her forehead pressed to his, her hands on his face. Then she straightened a little. “Royce?”
He shook his head, but he didn’t look at her. He didn’t dare look at her. “I won’t do this. It isn’t good. It is isn’t fair.”
“I understand,” she said sadly. “You don’t care for me.”
“I do care for you.”
“But not like…that.”
He looked up then, to find her standing straight, her spine rigid, arms folded protectively beneath her breasts. How could she doubt her attractiveness?
“Of course like that,” he snapped, angry all over again, this time with everyone and everything. “Haven’t you looked in the mirror lately? If you did, you’d understand why I care like that too much.”
“I…I don’t understand.”
“For pity’s sake, Merrily, I want to make love to you! Do you understand that?” He put his hand to his head, regret filling him, so much regret. “You’re driving me crazy! I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t make you any promises, let alone keep them. All I can do is try to keep my hands off you! Do you understand that, Merrily? If you do, you’ll get out of here. Now!”
She whirled and ran. The wastebasket toppled over and spilled its contents. A box of files slid to the floor from atop another. For once Royce did not smile at her clumsiness. How could he when everything he’d ever wanted for himself had just fled him? If she was smart, she’d keep on running.
“I give up,” Dale said, holding aloft two large paper bags emblazoned with the logo and slogan of a certain Chinese restaurant.
For nearly a month now, the two of them had teasingly wrangled over the payoff of their silly bet, and finally he had agreed to do things her way. When he’d called that day to let her know that he’d be bringing over dinner, Merrily had been surprised but pleased. She hoped that it would appease her troubled employer. All along, she’
d suspected that Dale had insisted she go out with him mostly in order to irritate Royce. It was a devilish little game the two men played, needling one another good-naturedly, and Merrily found that she played it rather well herself, but not now, not lately.
“Well, you held out long enough,” she said, trying to sound lighthearted.
“It’s not Pao’s,” he informed her, “but the duck’s better. In fact, it’s the best pressed duck in town. Trust me on this.”
“That’s wonderful,” she replied, not quite able to muster the enthusiasm warranted. Hoping that he hadn’t noticed, she took the bags from him and carried them down the hall to the kitchen. “Smells good.”
He followed right on her heels. “What’s wrong?”
A false smile rose automatically to her face. She aimed it over her shoulder at him. “Nothing. Why?”
Dale lifted a hand to the back of his neck. “Oh, I don’t know. Royce tried to bite my head off over the phone earlier today, and now I’m getting the feeling that I’ve brought food to a wake.”
“Don’t be silly,” she retorted, right off the top of her head. “Who would bring Chinese food to a wake?”
“Besides the Chinese, you mean?”
“Oh.” She placed the bags on the counter. “Of course.”
Dale rocked back on his heels. “So it’s a lead balloon evening, is it? Every joke going down without a single ‘ha’? Every clever quip falling flat? And I spent all afternoon polishing my repartee.”
She gave up the determined smile and turned. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry about what?” Royce asked sharply, hobbling into the room on his crutches.
Dale whirled around. “Hey! You’re on your feet, er, foot.”
His shoulder brushing the wall, Royce moved with painful slowness to the breakfast table where they’d started taking their meals at his insistence. “That,” he grunted, “is obvious.”
“Still in an upbeat mood, I see,” Dale muttered, stepping forward to pull out a chair.
Hopping on one foot, Royce positioned himself in front of the chair and sat. He paired the crutches and leaned them against the table next to him. “What’s going on?” he asked after getting his breath back.
“Just paying off a debt,” Dale replied lightly. “I brought enough for three, by the way.”
Merrily took that as her cue to begin putting out the meal. She brought down tumblers from the cupboard and filled them with iced tea, set them on a tray and carried them to the table while Dale questioned Royce about how he was feeling and got terse responses.
“Sit down, Dale,” she invited softly, but he shook his head.
“No, here, let me help.”
“I can manage,” she insisted, but he was already on his way to the counter for the food. She acquired plates, napkins, knives and forks and returned to the table.
“I can use chopsticks,” Royce snapped when she laid the fork down in front of him.
“With your left hand?” she queried softly.
For a long moment he simply stared at the fork, then he shook his head and muttered, “Sorry.”
“No big deal,” she replied, allowing Dale to pull out a chair for her. He passed her a worried look, which she answered with a slight lift of one shoulder.
A tense meal ensued. Dale did his best to keep up a steady stream of light banter, and Merrily did her best to keep up with him, but it was a real effort and not terribly effective. Finally Royce dropped his fork, pinned Dale with a fulminating look and demanded, “What’s going on? Why are you really here?”
Dale sighed, laid aside his chopsticks, folded his arms against the edge of the table and said, “I spoke to the nanny today.”
Royce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “She wouldn’t let you talk to the kids, though, would she?”
Dale looked him squarely in the eye. “I didn’t call her, Royce. She called me. Out of concern.”
Royce sat back in his chair as if preparing himself for the worst. Instinctively Merrily reached across the table to clasp his hand. “What’s happened?”
Dale licked his lips. “Tammy was sent home from a friend’s house last night sobbing uncontrollably.”
“Ah, God.” Royce laid his head back and turned his palm up beneath Merrily’s hand, squeezing hard. “What was it about?”
Dale shook his head. “She was supposed to spend the night. Her friend’s mom said that they were giggling and playing earlier in the evening but after she put them to bed, she heard Tammy crying. Apparently Tammy wouldn’t or couldn’t tell the woman what was wrong, so she took Tammy home.”
When Royce lifted his head again, tears stood in his eyes. “I’ve got to see her. I’ve just got to. She needs me.”
Dale clamped his jaw, and Merrily knew that worse was coming. “I think even the nanny would agree with that now.”
“That nanny,” Royce went on urgently, “has always been Pamela’s creature. You know that. She must be terribly concerned to call you.”
“Yes, she is,” Dale gritted out, “because Pamela slapped Tammy.”
“Slapped her!” Merrily exclaimed. Royce just stared in horror as his friend quickly went on.
“According to the nanny, Pamela shook Tammy, shouted at her to stop crying, then slapped her and sent her to her room.”
Royce yanked free of Merrily’s hand and brought his fist crashing down on the table, rattling the silverware and making the plates jump. “Damn her! Damn that witch to hell! If I could get my hands on her now, I’d wring her neck! How dare she? How dare she!” His voice broke at the end, and he looked away, whispering, “We have to do something.”
“The nanny has agreed to give me a formal statement,” Dale said. “She assures me that Tammy’s okay for the moment, and she’s coming into my office tomorrow morning right after she drops the kids off at school.”
“School’s started!” Royce exclaimed. Anguish twisted his face. “How could I have forgotten that? I wasn’t there for their first day of school this year.”
“I didn’t want to remind you,” Dale said helplessly.
“You couldn’t have gone anyway,” Merrily reminded him gently.
“But I should have remembered!” Royce insisted.
“Listen to me,” Dale said, his voice suddenly quite stern. “I’m taking the nanny’s statement to the judge. Those kids will be here by the weekend. I swear. By the weekend.”
Royce gulped air and nodded. “Th-thanks.”
“It’s not enough to get them away from her, Royce,” Dale went on in a more subdued tone, “but it’s enough to get them here for visitation. It’s another log on the fire, buddy, and before long Pamela’s going to find her skirts are burning.”
Royce nodded again. “Sure. Okay. Great. But I can’t relax until I see them. I just can’t.” He pushed his plate away and reached for the crutches.
“No,” Merrily said, rising. “Let me get the chair. I don’t want you up for a while. The last thing you need at this point is another fall.”
Sighing, he let his hand fall to his lap. “Whatever. I am feeling pretty beat at the moment.”
Merrily hurried to get the chair. Then together she and Dale pushed Royce into his room. He struggled out of his shirt, collapsed onto the bed and waved them both away, rolling heavily onto his side with his back to them.
“I just want to sleep,” he said. “Finish your dinner and let me be.”
“Do you need something for pain?” Merrily asked.
“Will you just leave me alone!”
His anguish reached out to her, but Dale caught her by the arm as she stepped toward the bed and silently shook his head. Merrily considered for a moment and knew that he was right. What Royce needed most now was a moment to lick his wounds. Nodding, she allowed Dale to lead her from the room.
“I’m worried about him,” Dale said softly once they had closed the bedroom door behind him. “What did the doctor say at his last checkup?”
“Physically he’s
doing fine,” Merrily assured him, “following the doctor’s instructions to the letter, but he’s frustrated and worried about his children.”
“I don’t blame him,” Dale muttered gravely.
They walked quietly side by side down the hall until Merrily asked, “What do you think is wrong with his little girl?”
Dale slid a sharp, wary glance in her direction. “I’m not sure.”
“Do you think she saw her mother push her father down the stairs?”
Dale looked away. “Frankly, I don’t know what else to think.”
“Poor little girl,” Merrily said. “To actually see her mother push her father down a flight of stairs. What torment she must feel.” She glanced over her shoulder at Royce’s bedroom door. “As much as her father, I’d say.”
“Yes,” Dale agreed softly, “as much as her father.”
Merrily shook her head and stepped down into the entry hall. “Why would Pamela do something like that?”
Dale sighed and stepped down beside her. “I couldn’t begin to decipher the workings of that woman’s mind.”
They moved toward the breakfast room. “Doesn’t she know how much he still loves her?”
Dale stopped dead in his tracks at that. “Loves her? Pamela? Where on earth did you get that ridiculous notion?”
“He as much as told me,” Merrily insisted, “not that he had to. It’s pretty obvious.”
Dale’s mouth dropped open. Slowly he began to shake his head. “No. Uh-uh. I can’t imagine what Royce might have said to give you that perverse notion, but believe me, you’ve got it all wrong. Even before he walked in on her with another man she had effectively destroyed his feelings for her with her absurd demands and emotional outbursts.”
Merrily stared at him, feeling as if everything had shifted slightly. “But he said…I don’t remember exactly, something about never being free of her.”
“Because she won’t let go of him!” Dale said insistently. “Merrily, you have no idea what that crazy woman is capable of. It’s as if she holds him responsible for every moment of unhappiness she’s experienced since she met him, even though she can’t seem to be happy no matter what the circumstances.”