"Thank you."
"For what."
"Everything." She turned to face him. "I lived with Keith for a long time. I became comfortable in our love, and I didn't bother much with makeup or hair. When he died, the little vanity I had completely disappeared, and I didn't care. But when I saw Keith last night getting into that car with Serena, I felt abandoned and used and really, really ugly." She took a breath and offered him a shaky smile. "Thanks for making me take another look. I don't think the supermodels need to be worried about me honing in on their territory, but it wasn't as bad as I feared."
"You don't need makeup, Maggie. You're real. Believe me, it's a lot more appealing. I went to bed with an actress one night, and the next morning half her face was on the pillow. It scared the hell out of me."
Maggie grinned. "You're making that up."
"It was that bad. And did I tell you about the time I thought I was getting my hands on two of the biggest hooters I had ever seen in my life, only to find out she was wearing one of those miracle bras?"
Maggie laughed at his disgruntled expression. "Poor baby. Unfortunately, with me, what you see is pretty much what you get."
"So when do I get it?"
She punched him on the arm. "We're supposed to be tracking down Serena. Remember?"
"We could always wait here until they come back. I'm sure we could find a way to make use of our time."
She was sure they could find more than one way. But how could she concentrate on Jeremy when her mind was on Keith?
Jeremy cleared his throat. "I sense a rejection coming."
"Not a rejection, exactly."
"You want to go wine tasting, don't you?"
"I want to find Serena and Keith." She walked over to the dresser and grabbed her purse. "I need to confront them face to face."
"Okay," he said with a nod, eyeing her large bag. "But you don't have a weapon in there, do you?"
"Only enough crayons to color her to death."
"Crayons?" he asked in surprise. "Why would you have crayons?"
"Uh." She searched desperately for an answer. "Sometimes I volunteer—at a school, a preschool, where they color a lot, with crayons, lots and lots of crayons." She pulled open the door. "Shouldn't we go?"
He sent her an odd look. "Sure. But..." He walked over to her. "After we solve the mystery of Keith and Serena, we'll solve the mystery of Maggie.”
"There is no mystery."
"Every time you lie, you push your hair behind your ear."
Maggie caught herself doing just that. "It's just a habit.”
"That's what I intend to find out, Maggie, all of your habits, especially the bad ones."
Maggie dug her hands into the pockets of her blue jeans. "I don't have any bad habits."
"Your left eye also twitches when you lie.”
"Oh, it does not." But Maggie couldn't help glancing in the mirror just to make sure.
Chapter Seventeen
Lisa put a stamp on the last wedding invitation and set it in the box with a sense of finality. She could not procrastinate any longer. She had to mail the invitations before she changed her mind. Not that she planned on changing her mind, she told herself firmly.
She stood up and glanced out the kitchen window at the empty driveway. It was past one o'clock and Nick hadn't returned. He probably loved the idea of making her wait for the fax, just because it was from Raymond.
A small smile curved her lips. Nick was jealous. She saw the green fire in his eyes every time she said Raymond's name. Maybe she ought to say it more often just to torture him. Of course, then he'd probably start saying, Suzanne. Her smile turned into a frown.
She opened her soft leather briefcase and pulled out a notepad, determined to concentrate on work. Roxy would be dropped off after band practice, which ended around four-thirty, and Nick would pick up Dylan from baseball practice around five. As long as Mary Bea slept, Lisa could work. She could forget about Nick and his taunts and his kisses.
With a sigh, she unconsciously touched her fingers to her lips. It shocked her to think she still wanted Nick. Eight years ago, she'd hated him. When she'd left San Diego and started her new life, she'd managed to shove him completely out of her mind, with a ruthlessness that was probably the one thing that had kept her going. Not that she'd ever really forgotten him. Too many nights he'd invaded her dreams.
Think about cereal, she told herself as she pulled out the advertisement that Monty Friedman had run with his previous agency, and studied it. She listed three good points and three negative points. Then she stared at her pad of paper and tried to think of a catchy slogan.
Nothing came to mind. She began brainstorming evocative, powerful words that would create an image in the reader's mind. Mother Nature. Healthy. Satisfying. Great taste. No fat. Your kids will love it. Yeah, right. Nobody believed that one anymore.
Her pulse jumped at the sound of a car in the driveway. Nick was back. Her suddenly racing heart made a mockery of her pretended disinterest in the man. But it was just lust, chemistry, not love.
When Nick entered the kitchen, she focused her attention on her work.
Nick tossed a bunch of papers onto the table, careless of where they landed. "There you go. Love notes from lover boy."
"Gee, thanks," she said, as she straightened the papers into a pile. "You're a real peach."
"And you're a real pain in the ass."
"I see your mood hasn't improved. Why don't you go back to work?"
Nick sprawled into the chair across from her. "I'm hungry. Did you eat?"
"I made vegetable soup." She tipped her head to the pot on the stove.
His expression lightened. "Can I have some?"
"You want soup made by a pain in the--"
He reluctantly smiled. "I take it back. Please, may I have some soup, oh, darling, wonderful Lisa?"
"Help yourself," she said ignoring his charming smile.
Nick filled a bowl, then returned to the table, eating quietly while she read through the faxes.
They made little sense to her. She was too acutely aware of Nick to concentrate. Every nerve ending in her body felt like it was on fire. Nick sat so close, barely a foot away. She could touch him if she wanted to. She could probably kiss him if she wanted to.
Think about cereal, she told herself again.
"So what's all that about?" Nick asked, waving his hand toward the work spread out in front of her.
"Cereal, breakfast bars and whole-grain breads. It's very healthy."
"If it's not, I'm sure you'll convince me." He pushed his empty bowl to one side. "What's the worst thing you've ever had to advertise?”
"The worst thing?" She thought for a moment. "Bug killers. We did a Cinderella campaign featuring a roach coach. Send your roaches off to the ball in this coach and they won't come back at midnight."
Nick burst out laughing. "No way. That was you? I remember those commercials."
"It was better with the music and the visuals."
"You sold me. I actually bought one of those roach coaches, and it worked." He sat back in his chair. "I'm impressed.”
"Food certainly improved your mood.”
Before he could reply, they were interrupted by a piercing scream. She jumped up and raced toward the door, colliding with Nick in the doorway. She broke free, then ran up the stairs, Nick following behind her.
Mary Bea wasn't just moaning now, she was crying full force, clutching her stomach and moving her legs in a desperate manner, as if she were trying to crawl out of her own skin.
Nick took one look at Mary Bea and paled. "This can't be normal."
"It hurts," Mary Bea screamed.
Lisa gathered her into her arms. "It's okay, honey. Where—where does it hurt?"
"My stomach. Make it stop. Please make it stop."
Lisa stared at the little girl, feeling completely overwhelmed and panicked. She couldn't make the pain stop. She couldn't help Mary Bea any more than she could help... "Oh, God.
I can't do this," she said, looking at Nick, her breathing coming in ragged gasps as anxiety took over her mind and her body.
"You can do it. You can," Nick repeated forcefully.
"What if I screw up again? Maggie should never have left her children with me."
"Get a grip, Lisa. We've got more important things to deal with than your insecurity," Nick said sharply.
Lisa bristled with anger, directed both at herself and at him. But Nick was right. Lifting her chin, she said. "Call the doctor, Nick. His number is on the dresser in Maggie's room."
Nick disappeared, and Mary Bea threw her arms around Lisa's neck, burying her face in Lisa's chest.
"It's okay, honey," she told Mary Bea. "We're going to make you feel better as soon as we can."
"The nurse wants to know if the pain is in the stomach or the abdomen," Nick said, returning to the room with the phone.
Lisa adjusted Mary Bea so she could gently touch the girl's stomach. "Does it hurt here?" she asked Mary Bea, pressing slightly on the upper stomach.
Mary Bea whimpered slightly. Lisa ran her hand down lower on the right side. "How about here?"
Mary Bea screamed as if Lisa had cut her with a knife.
"Her abdomen," Nick said into the phone, retreating to the doorway so he could hear the nurse's advice over Mary Bea's screams. "Right side." He listened for a moment than looked at Lisa. "Does she have a temp?"
"An hour ago it was still one hundred."
Nick relayed that information to the nurse. "Has she thrown up?"
"Only the one time, a few hours ago. But tell her the pain has been going on for hours,"
Once again, Nick repeated her comments. He waited, then put a hand over the phone. "She's checking with the doctor."
Lisa felt like every second they waited was an eternity, when in reality it was probably just a few moments.
"Don't go. Don't leave me," Mary Bea moaned as Lisa tried to settle her more comfortably on the pillows.
"I'm not going anywhere. I will not leave you, not for one second."
"Do you promise?" Mary Bea asked, her eyes filled with fear.
Lisa couldn't find the words. Could she promise to stay? What if Mary Bea got worse? What if it turned out to be like the last time? Wasn't this exactly why she didn't want to have children, so she wouldn't have to face these situations, wouldn't have to make a terrifying dash to the hospital, wouldn't have to be afraid that someone she loved, someone who counted on her to protect them, was going to die?
But Mary Bea was not going to die. She was a healthy little girl with a stomachache. Lisa tried to convince herself that's all it was, but deep down she knew it was more than that.
"The doctor said to take her to the Emergency Room at Children's Hospital," Nick said a moment later. "She might have appendicitis.
Fear slammed into her like an onrushing wave. But she couldn't let it knock her down. She drew in a sharp breath. "Okay, we're going to take you to see the doctor, honey.”
Mary Bea nodded through her tears. "You're coming with me?"
"Yes. Uncle Nick is going to carry you down to the car, and I'm going to grab the information your mother left us.”
* * *
Nick drove as quickly as possible to the hospital in San Diego. Fortunately, it was the middle of the afternoon and they didn't hit much traffic. Mary Bea cried uncontrollably, gasping for breath at times, her face turning red and wet and sticky from tears and sweat. Lisa tried to comfort her as best she could, all the while, terrifying images of the past running through her mind.
She once again heard her baby's cry. Then the silence. Nick had convinced her that Robin had gone to sleep—at last. He'd asked her to come to bed. She could see him, sitting there in bed, his bare chest, his hand reaching out to her, desire in his eyes. They'd made love with a hunger that came from not getting enough of each other since the birth of their child. When she'd checked on Robin an hour later, the baby had looked so still, so peaceful.
Too peaceful, too still.
Robin lay on her stomach, her face turned to the side, one cheek pressed against the mattress. Her dark hair lay sweaty and matted against her small head. One of her little fists was pressed to her mouth as if she had shoved it against her lips to stop her own cries.
Lisa remembered bending over, trying to catch the sound of Robin's breath, watching her back to see if it was moving, convincing herself that it would be okay. But she couldn't see or hear anything, so she'd poked the baby with her finger, a nasty little poke, she still thought, cruel to wake a child up just to see if she was breathing.
Robin hadn't woken up. She hadn't opened her eyes or cried.
That's when she'd screamed, a piercing, anguished scream. Nick had run into the room in a panic, asking her what the hell was wrong. Lisa closed her eyes against the memories, the pain.
She could still hear the siren on the ambulance, still see those two hulking men pounding on her tiny baby's chest. She could feel Nick's arm restraining her from running forward in a desperate attempt to blow her own breath into Robin's body.
"Oh, God!" she said out loud. "It feels like the last time we made this trip."
"It's not the same, Lisa," Nick said tightly, his fingers gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline.
She wanted to believe him, but she knew how little power they had. She hadn't prayed in eight years. Today, she inwardly cried out for help. Please God, don't take Mary Bea, too.
Nick pulled into the parking lot outside the Emergency Room. Lisa carried Mary Bea inside. They filled out forms and within minutes were on their way to an exam room.
Lisa tried to lay Mary Bea down on the table, but the little girl refused to let go.
"It's okay," the nurse said. "It might be easier if you just hold her for the moment. I understand her mother is away."
"Yes. I'm her aunt, and this is her uncle."
Nick couldn't believe how calmly Lisa said the words, tying them together the way they used to be—aunt and uncle, husband and wife. He knew Mary Bea's illness was taking its toll on Lisa, that she was reliving the past, because he was right there with her. But this time would be different.
The nurse took Mary's Bea temperature, jotted down something in a chart and then said the doctor would be in soon.
As they waited, Lisa spoke to Mary Bea in a soothing voice, stroking her hair, and comforting her as best she could. Nick wished for the hundredth time that he'd told Maggie that Mary Bea was sick when she'd called earlier. Then she would be here now, holding her daughter. Not that Lisa wasn't doing a damn good job considering how scared she was. But Mary Bea needed her mother.
He paced around the small room. "Where is the damn doctor?"
Lisa simply shrugged.
"I feel so damn helpless," he muttered.
"Me, too," she said quietly.
The door finally opened, and the doctor entered. He was in his early thirties and wore an outrageous red tie with puppies all over it. He smiled at Mary Bea.
"You've got a bad tummy ache, I hear," he said kindly.
Mary Bea blinked away some tears and stared at the doctor. "Hurts."
"I bet it does." He squatted so he could look into Mary Bea's eyes. "I need you to do me a big favor. I want you to lie down on the table over here so I can see where it hurts."
"No. I want Aunt Lisa." Mary Bea hugged Lisa more tightly.
"Well, Aunt Lisa will stand right next to you and squeeze your hand really, really tight. What do you think of my puppies?" He flicked his tie in front of her.
"Silly tie," Mary Bea said.
"Really? I have one with hamburgers on it, too. And I have one with the Little Mermaid. I bet you like the Little Mermaid."
Mary Bea's arms loosened as the doctor talked, and Nick could hardly believe his eyes when the doctor lifted Mary Bea out of Lisa's arms and laid her down on the table. As promised, Lisa took Mary Bea's hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
The doctor continued to talk about cartoons
and movies and dolls. He seemed to know quite a bit about little girls. First, he checked Mary Bea's throat, ears and glands, then worked his way down to her chest and stomach and, finally, the abdomen. He carefully avoided the right side, starting with the left, pressing gently here and there, and asking if it hurt.
He slowly worked his way over to the right side, and as soon as he did so, Mary Bea shrieked, her eyes suddenly wild with pain. The doctor eased up, but continued the examination for another very long minute.
Nick had to force himself not to drag the man away from Mary Bea, He knew the examination had to be done, but he couldn't stand to see his niece in so much pain.
Finally, the doctor finished. "We need to run a few tests, but I believe she has appendicitis, and should have her appendix removed."
Nick swallowed hard. "Is surgery absolutely necessary?"
"We should know within the next half hour."
* * *
An hour later Mary Bea was in surgery and Nick and Lisa had been relegated to another waiting room. They stared at each other for a long moment and then Nick opened his arms. Lisa didn't need any further encouragement. She slipped her hands around his waist and buried her face in the curve of his neck. The sweetly familiar embrace almost undid him. His emotions threatened to spill out, love, anger, fear, regret racing through his body. She'd been his wife, his lover, his best friend and then somehow his enemy.
Lisa lifted her head, her face pale, her eyes tense. "I can't believe we're here again, standing in a hospital, wondering, waiting... I didn't think I'd ever be in this position again."
"You did good."
"I was trying to hold it together for Mary Bea."
"You succeeded."
"After a shaky start."
"You found your feet pretty quickly."
She gave him a long look, then slipped out of his arms. "You were good, too, Nick. I'm glad you were with me." She sat down in a hard chair. "Now, we wait."
He sat down next to her and stretched out his legs. "At least we know what we're dealing with this time."
"Yeah. Mary Bea can live a long, happy life without her appendix." She glanced down at her watch, and then grabbed her cell phone to see if Maggie had called, but there were no messages. "I really wish your sister was here."
Summer Reads Box Set, Books 4-6 Page 22