"You don’t really think that makes up for it, do you?"
"No, but it’s a start. And I want that so badly, my dear. A fresh start." He sat up. "Do you want to talk about Michael?"
Miranda pulled the sheets closer around her. "No. There’s nothing to say."
"I think there is." He studied her face and moved in closer. "I want you to tell me what happened with Michael the night after the benefit."
Miranda turned away. "Leave it alone. It doesn’t matter."
"I knew what it was called with Joanna and Tom. I know what it’s called with you and Michael."
She squeezed her eyes shut. This wasn’t a place anyone was allowed. "It wasn’t like that," she said quietly.
"Richard told me that you were using a cane the night after the benefit. For two weeks. You couldn’t leave the house easily." She was shaking her head. "He hurt you."
"It wasn’t like that," she whispered.
"Did he force himself on you?"
"I didn’t say no," she said.
"That isn’t what I asked."
She hugged her knees around her chest. "I loved him."
"I know," he said gently. "I know that you loved him. And that’s what made it worse."
"Please!" She buried her face in her hands and cried. Alex put her arms around her and held her until she fell asleep. But he had no idea just what he had touched. And he never would.
CHAPTER 27
Michael got to the gym at six-forty-five and was still there at nine. "Michael, I don’t think you want to put any more weight on this," his trainer warned after he upped the machine to two hundred twenty pounds for the chest press.
"Just spot me, okay?" Michael replied tersely.
"Good morning, Michael," Alex said cheerily just as Michael began to press the weight up.
Michael considered Alex’s faint but satisfied smile. He wanted to punch it off his face. "Help me up," Michael said, not taking his eyes off of Alex. He sat up and turned to his trainer. "I think we should take a little break, okay?"
"See you in ten."
Once the trainer was gone, Michael turned to Alex. "Sorry, I don’t think the aqua aerobics class starts until twelve here."
Alex shrugged. "You’d be surprised at what I’m capable of, even at my age."
Michael stood up. "There is nothing you could do that would surprise me, but I’ve got to say, even I wouldn’t have guessed what you’d do to Richard’s family. There’s something." He wiped his face with a towel and sipped his water. Alex didn’t show a trace of shame or remorse. "What do you want?"
"Believe it or not, I came by to thank you."
"Thank me? For what?"
Alex smiled. "For last night. You have no idea how helpful you were."
Michael was filled with disgust. "Excuse me?" There was that feeling Michael had always had when he was younger, as if he needed to jump out of his skin. He still didn’t know what it was.
"This week was...very difficult," Alex said. "It’s rare I have things blow up in my face. But that persistent detective—he did a much better job than I let on. If you could have seen the look on Miranda’s face...I really didn’t know if she was ever going to speak to me again."
"It’s been said before—you’re a lucky bastard."
"I really am," Alex seemed to marvel. "Because it was you. Whatever you said to her when she saw you, whatever you said to her last night—she was pretty broken. Maybe you saw that." Michael glared in silence. "Hmm. Of course you did. Because you were watching her like a hawk. Just as you always did.
"But then do you know what she said to me? It’s amazing, really. She said she didn’t want to be unfair to me." He smiled as if it were a joke only Michael would get. "As if she would somehow be using me if she came to me last night."
"I don’t believe you," Michael said, holding himself back from strangling Alex. "She didn’t want you last night."
"You think I’m lying?" Alex winked. "How many details would you like?"
"Shut up!" Michael sprang up. Alex stepped back but kept smiling.
"Go on. You know you want to."
"Don’t you dare talk about her that way!" Michael shook. His trainer came back into the room, but Michael shook his head. The man turned back around. "That you would talk about her like that after you...you’re a worse monster than anyone else knows." He felt his own heart beating hard and fast. "If she did come to you last night, she wasn’t thinking about you." Alex’s face didn’t change at all. Michael narrowed his eyes. "But you know that, don’t you? And you knew that last night."
"What do I care who she’s thinking about?"
"How pathetic and desperate are you?" Michael felt as if something was becoming clear, but he wasn’t sure what it was. "You don’t care if she wants me while she’s with you?"
"The last part is the whole point, kiddo. She’s with me. And she’ll stay with me."
"You’re nothing but a user."
"Do you still want to hit me?" Alex crossed his arms. "Tell you what? I’ll make it easy for you. I won’t move. You can take your shot. Take as many as you want. Because when you’re done, she’s never going to want to look at you again. You’ll show her what you are, what you always have been."
There was the clarity. "You don’t love her," Michael said. "She is just another pretty little thing in your big, expensive, empty house. If you did love her, you wouldn’t try to trick her into thinking you’re me." He closed his mouth like he was tasting something sour. "I’ve got your number, old man. I always have."
"Maybe so," Alex said solemnly. "But what does it really matter? Because she can’t be with you. You can’t give her the family she wants. I can."
Now Michael laughed. "You’re right as usual. Because the fact that we share one grandparent—one out of seven—that is much worse than being with you, a man old enough to be a grandfather to her children. And I guess it doesn’t bother you that if you hadn’t screwed up so badly that she’d be calling you Dad?"
"I can’t change everything," Alex said coldly.
"Then maybe you should be more careful when you’re playing with other people’s lives."
Alex smirked. "Thanks for the advice." He left, and the trainer came back in.
"Everything alright?"
"Punching bag. Now," Michael growled. They walked into the sparring room, and Michael attacked the bag as if it were Alex’s face.
~~~
Michael exhausted himself at the gym. He threw his keys on the side table. He couldn’t think of anything but how beautiful Miranda looked at the theater the night before, and that Alex was sitting with her. He closed his eyes and could see Miranda from her recent visit. He opened his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. He was glad he didn’t have anything harder than orange juice right now.
He grabbed his phone. He said anytime.
Five minutes later, he was connected to Doctor Tobias Welker in London. "Michael, good to hear from you. How is everything?"
"Not so well," Michael sighed. "A lot has happened in the last few days."
"Did you see your ex-wife?"
"You could say that." Michael briefly detailed their first encounter and then seeing her at the gym and the theater.
"Michael, we’ve talked about this," the doctor said firmly. "Your manipulations are not going to be a strong foundation for any relationships you re-establish."
"I just wanted to see her so badly," Michael said. He was glad the doctor couldn’t look at his face.
"Then why not just reach out to her?"
"I...I was afraid she’d tell me to leave her alone. I don’t think I could hear that again."
There was a brief silence. "Is there something else?"
Michael sighed. "I didn’t want to see her with him."
"By him, you mean Alex?"
"Yes. But that didn’t work out too well either. I saw him with her anyway, and then I saw him alone today. He came to gloat. He doesn’t love her and he knows she doesn’t love him, b
ut he’s with her anyway." Michael scoffed. "I’m glad she’s got her own therapist."
"Really? Perhaps this other doctor can recommend someone. Because while I don’t mind taking your calls, I think eventually you’re going to need someone you can see on a regular basis."
"You mean I can’t see him too?" Michael asked drily.
"I think the recommendations there don’t favor that."
"I suppose Miranda might actually have a good reason to call me a stalker if I did that. Plus, he’s also seeing Jessie."
"Jessie…" The doctor was silent for a moment. "Your cousin’s cousin? Your ex-wife’s close friend?"
"Yes?"
"That’s also...unusual. What is this doctor’s name?"
"Let me see." What had Richard said? "Wolfe—I think. Something with an A—"
"Andreas Wolfe?" the doctor interrupted.
"Yes, Andreas Wolfe—that was it. You know him?"
"Michael, how long has your ex-wife been seeing him?"
"I’m not sure—I think a week or less."
"And what about her friend?"
"Oh, I don’t know. Richard said she had to switch. I think it’s been a couple of months."
"Do you know...any of his methods?" A pause. "Michael...how is she progressing? I realize you might not be a good judge, but how does she seem?"
"I’m an even poorer judge than usual since I haven’t actually seen her since I got back. She isn’t a fan of mine."
"Oh, yes. Of course." The doctor was silent for a moment before he continued. "I’m very concerned. Andreas Wolfe was one of the most respected men in our profession a few years ago. Much of his research was insightful, some of it even ground-breaking. I actually considered him a friend. But..." He paused. "About three years ago, he took on a patient—a very special case, he said, but he didn’t want to go into too much detail. He cleared out all of his other work so he could be exclusive to this one case. I think he may even have moved in with him. Intense work, to say the least.
"I spoke to him sporadically during this period. At first, he was energized by his work. He felt like he was making some very important breakthroughs. But as time progressed, he became increasingly pessimistic. At first he thought he’d hit a wall, but then he seemed to feel like it was the patient. There was only so much he could do. The last time I spoke to him, he told me that he was going to end his professional relationship with the patient, and he seemed to be dreading it.
"A few days later, there was a news report that he had been a car accident. Horrible. The patient had been in the car with him, and he died. I don’t know if Andreas had had an opportunity to end it or not at that point.
"The accident left Andreas very scarred. He needed substantial surgery afterward. But it was more than that. He changed. He seemed to have no interest in resuming his practice, though he had a line of old patients waiting for him. He wouldn’t take any visitors either—only on the phone, or preferably email. And then he left for the States." The doctor sighed. "And I’ve heard some very unorthodox stories. While details were vague, I would have to say that most of it was uncalled for."
Michael sat up straight. He remembered what had struck him as odd the night before. "Doctor Welker, do you have a picture of Doctor Wolfe? Better yet, do you have a picture of his patient?"
CHAPTER 28
Miranda walked into the office at eight-thirty. Emily was heads down with Carlos, who’d finally completed his documentation. They waved to Miranda, who went into the kitchen to get some coffee.
Richard came in behind her. "Slumming today?"
Miranda put the sugar in her coffee. "Yeah, I don’t think I could face the café today—at least, not the current musical selections."
"Excuse me?"
"Never mind. Did Michael call you?" she asked as casually as she could.
Richard tried to keep the same light tone for her sake. "I called him—I visited him, actually."
"Good," she said, going for the milk. "I know you’ll need someone to talk to. I mean, you can talk to me, always, but you and Michael have a special relationship, and he’s family, so of course he should call you. But it’s fine that you called him." Richard smiled a bit as he watched her stir her coffee. "Now you can both talk to each other. About whatever you need to talk about." She sipped her coffee.
Richard folded his arms. "I know you saw him, too."
"When did you talk to him?"
"Two days ago."
"Oh, okay."
"When was the last time you saw him?"
"Last night." She took another sip. "At the play."
"Camelot? I had no idea he was interested at all in musicals."
"He’s always had a nice voice," Miranda said softly.
"True," Richard said. "Did you talk?"
"Just a little bit. You know, before, between, after."
"After?"
"At the end of the play. Right before I left."
Richard sucked his cheeks a bit. "Did you leave alone?"
"No," she said. Another sip.
"Miranda, have you lost your mind?" he asked at last.
"He still wants to marry me."
Richard blinked. "Of course he does. Is that what you want?"
"It’s not going to work with Michael, you know."
"So if not Michael, by necessity Alex?"
"Fine, how about you marry me? I mean, it looks like you’re on the market now."
"What happens if you stay single?"
"Then I am never going to stop thinking about him," she said as she looked at her coffee. "I am never going to be free of him."
"You really think another person is going to change that?"
Miranda looked up at Richard and sighed. "Okay, next subject. How is Jessie? I didn’t see her much yesterday."
"Jessie’s angry," Richard said, though his expression didn’t change. "She’s still mad about everything, including my screw up."
"That seems like a good sign, don’t you think? Did she see Doctor Wolfe?"
"She did. I think she’s going in again at eleven. She rather likes the idea of replacing Professor Hazlett’s class with this." Richard twisted his lip. "What do you think of him?"
"Me? Well, I’ve only had two sessions with him, but so far...I don’t know. He seems to take a much stronger point of view than I thought a therapist would." She shrugged. "Maybe I’m just being defensive because I’m hearing myself say all these things and I get to hear how crazy it sounds after all. What do you think?"
"I haven’t actually had the pleasure yet, but Jessie seems to like him. It’s just that...yesterday she was very aggressive with me."
"I don’t think you can blame that on the therapist."
"No, I suppose not. Would be nice though. But...she was very defensive about Tom. She insisted that I didn’t know what I was talking about. She accused me of making everything up."
"Maybe Jessie likes the idea of at least one good parent. Speaking of which, how is your mother?"
"I don’t know."
"Richard—"
"This doesn’t change anything."
"She’s your mother."
"And he was my father."
Miranda was too tired to fight at that moment. "Alright then. What about Zainab?"
Richard sighed and put his head on the wall behind him. "She took her stuff."
"I did notice that. Have you spoken to her?"
"What would I say?"
"An apology would be a good start."
"I don’t know what to apologize for. Is it that I didn’t marry her, or that I didn’t break up with her?"
"You tell me."
"I don’t know." He shook his head. "I don’t deserve her."
Then Miranda smiled. "You know Richard, of everyone I know, I never expected that you would have to say that. Because the Richard I know is caring and honest. He’d never just fall into something like this—not without thinking about it."
Same thing that Emily had said. "What’s your point
?"
"I know what you did, and you know what you did. And we both know that you can still fix it." She squeezed his arm, then left.
~~~
Lucy was on her way out to her ten o’clock board meeting when she heard a knock on the door. She assumed it was a delivery man, but her assistant showed Richard in. Lucy smiled. She gave her bag to her assistant. "Please put this in the car." She paused. "And perhaps you should call the chairman’s secretary and tell her that I’m running late."
Richard stayed where he was. "Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your busy schedule."
"It’s not a problem," Lucy said. "They’ll have quorum without me."
"But your vote usually carries so much weight, doesn’t it?"
"I think I can be spared. But you—you’re the one who’s been so busy lately. Your company—so much responsibility." She touched her watch. "But you’ve always handled your responsibilities so well. Your responsibilities—and everyone else’s."
Richard’s expression didn’t change. "I’m sorry, this was a mistake." He turned to walk away.
"Richard, please don’t go," Lucy said. He felt her hand on his arm and turned around. She felt a pang when she saw the bitterness on his face. No one else ever noticed it. Perhaps they thought it was something else. Or maybe it was only for her. Maybe that was a start. "I think we need to talk."
"That’s just the thing, Mom. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say right now."
"You must be very angry with me."
"It’s past angry, Mom. And disappointed—that doesn’t work either."
"I hope you’re wrong about that, son. Because you’re entitled to both." Her eyes didn’t waver. "I never knew that you knew."
"I’m not stupid, Mother. I’ve always known."
She squeezed his arm. "You’re not stupid at all. You...you’re the spitting image of your father, of course. And you’re kind like he was, and you have much the same interests. I was always so impressed by that. But you’re not like him otherwise. He always needed to see the best in people; that’s how he was able to love them. Spoiled little Annabelle, domineering Gerald. But you’re like me. You see what’s right in front of you, and you stay. You love things even when they’re not everything you wish they were."
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