A stabbing pain radiated through Olivia’s heart. She pressed her palm against her chest to stave the ache as she processed Hudson’s profession of love, mingled with his goodbye.
Hudson blinked as his head fell back against the wood. After a moment, he dug his fingers into his dark, knotted hair, grabbing handfuls. “I had hoped that someday … maybe … we could … but … I can’t do this again.”
She lifted her lead-like head at the spark of hope she thought he offered. “Are you saying you love me?”
“Do you really need to ask?”
She remembered the story about his great-grandfather’s gifts of love, and how the right woman should recognize them. Olivia realized that by misreading Hudson’s offerings, she had failed the test twice—then and now. Her bottom lip began to quiver. “Something changed during those last few weeks. The programming was complete, and you had customers lined up. Then you were gone so much and distracted when you were near. Jeff felt it too. We figured we had served our purposes and were about to be cast aside. Jeff offered me a safe place to land.”
Hudson’s hands covered his face and then dropped. “Of course he did. Because of me. I wasn’t pulling back from you, I was winding up meetings and negotiations, building a future for us.” He shook his head. “Maybe I seemed distracted … by my fear. I was terrified, because everything I’d worked for meant nothing if I couldn’t have it with you. I was gone that night because I drove here to pick up a b— … something I made for you before I went to …” He groaned loudly and kicked at the doorjamb, splintering the wood. “It doesn’t matter where I was.”
He leaned back against the jamb and slid to a crouch. “When I got back to the apartment, I found Jeff’s note. I assumed you two were already off … celebrating your marriage.” The words came out like a curse. “One night, Liv. If you had only trusted in me for one more night.”
All the air rushed from her lungs at the revelation. Neither of them spoke. Neither moved. Hurt hung in the room like bitter smoke.
He stood and kicked at the debris on the floor. “If you need the words, here they are. I loved you before I met you, from the moment you slipped through the library doors. You were so beautiful and frightened that first day. I watched you tug your hair as you scanned the room, looking for the computer stations, and then you flipped a strand over your shoulder and smiled. From that moment, I was a goner.”
Melancholy filled his voice. “When Jeff got a scholarship to play at the University of Washington, he asked me to defer mine at MIT to help him make the transition. I consented, but I regretted that decision all summer until you walked in that fall. I arranged that study group and gave up MIT just to stay near you. And we were good together, or so I thought.”
“We were,” Olivia said softly.
“You believed in my dream and provided a sounding board for my ideas. That’s all they would have been without you. But Jeff …” Hudson gave one sad laugh and shook his head. “Jeff was only a mediocre college athlete, but he was one heck of a pitch man who could sell a line. I just never figured it would be to you. And you bought it on that night of all nights.”
Olivia pressed her hands over her ears. “Stop. Please just stop, Hudson. It wasn’t a one-night stand. You’re picking my marriage apart.”
The words stopped him cold. “I’m sorry.” He took a step back into the doorway. “This thing between us … it’s … powerful. It made me soar, but it also leveled me. No one else has that effect on me, but I can’t afford to take that risk again. I need to go.”
Olivia didn’t understand what Hudson meant about a risk, but it didn’t matter. Hudson did, and that was that. The finality of this goodbye was crushing. “I’ll be out of the house tomorrow, and I’ll turn in my notice to Ethan.”
“Don’t … please don’t let this bleed any further. Move when you’re well. And the job is yours. You’ve earned it and Ethan depends on you.” He blew out a rush of air and shook his head. “Jeff was your husband, and you’re loyal to his memory. I’m going to respect that. I won’t bother you again.”
Olivia rose and hobbled over to Hudson, but he shrank back when she reached for his arm. The pair were as tentative as shy teens with one another, standing apart, exploring every curve and feature on one another’s face as if storing final images that would need to last forever. She moved to him, and he groaned a weak protest as she pressed her forehead to his. Tears fell as his arms slipped around her. She felt Hudson’s frame shake against hers until she could neither swallow nor speak beyond the lump growing in her throat.
As bittersweet seconds ticked by, she took in his musky scent, cataloguing the feel of his stubble as it brushed against her cheek and the hardness of his chest as she pressed deeper into his warmth. Her hands slipped up, combing through his tangled mop of hair, clutching it in her fingers. Her head moved to his muscled shoulder, and his bent down, cradling her in the crook of his neck. They stood there, cramming a lifetime of squandered love into a few brief, haunted moments. His mouth brushed her cheek, sending shudders throughout her body; then, inch by inch, they found her parted lips. His hands framed her face, preventing her retreat, but she made no effort to withdraw, because this was the kiss she had dreamed of on lonely nights when Jeff—
Jeff—her body stiffened. The three short months since his death rewound in seconds, reminding her that she was a widow—and before that… a wife. A wife who loved another man! That was the source of her guilt. It was the truth that hobbled her. Jeff had not been the lone cause of their failed marriage. She had never stopped loving Hudson, and that guilt had cankered her heart, leaving her unable to love Jeff and unworthy to give herself to Hudson now.
Hudson pulled back, and she dropped her eyes to avoid him, but not in time ignore the depth of his pain. His hands slid down her arms and to his sides, leaving a chill over every inch of skin his touch abandoned. He stepped back, a fractured remnant of the man she knew.
Her voice was husky as she said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
Shoulders rounded, his steps heavy, Hudson turned and walked out the door. Olivia watched numbly as his car drove away, knowing that this time he would not return.
Chapter Thirteen
He wanted to crush the accelerator to the floorboard and steer for the nearest tree. All logic and reason had fled, and for a few minutes, he didn’t care about anything, least of all himself.
Like some heaven-sent beacon, Alejandra’s distinctive ring sounded, but Hudson ignored it. Undeterred, she called back four times. He was ready to toss the phone out the car window when he saw her image come up on his screen. Her glasses were pulled down the nose of her elegant, portly face, and she eyed Hudson as if she were aware of his dark thoughts.
As hard as he tried to ignore the old memories, they returned—images of Alejandra’s worried face hovering over him or sitting by his bedside with cold cloths and broth or of her delivering medicine and clean linen to him and Pepper while little ones clung to her hem. He took the call through the Bluetooth.
“Hudson—”
Her motherly “I-told-you-so” tone irritated him from the get-go, and he didn’t make much of an effort to play nice in return. “How soon can a company jet land in Portland?”
“A company jet?”
He knew the extravagant request signaled trouble. “How soon, Alejandra?”
“I-I don’t know,” she stammered, her increased Spanish intonations signaling her worry. “You didn’t order one, so other execs are using them to transport investors this week.”
“Then lease one ASAP. I’m on my way to the Portland airport now. Just text me the name of the carrier and when.”
Her voice softened with worry. “I take it things didn’t go well.”
“Do you want me to admit you were right about me and Liv?”
“I truly did want things to work out for you two, Hudson. If I didn’t say it clearly, I’m sorry. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. You know that.”
&
nbsp; He did know that, and once again, Alejandra was reaping the bitter harvest of another rejection by Olivia. “I don’t want to see or speak to or be recognized by anyone. Just get me a private jet and send me to Japan. I need to get back to work. I’m days late for that technology summit in Tokyo.”
“Okay.” Her worry seemed to intensify. “I’ll be back in touch in a few. And Hudson, I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Thanks,” he muttered into the speaker. “And what were you calling about?”
“Nothing. It can wait.”
“Don’t coddle me. It’ll be good to get my mind back on work.”
“None of it’s good news.”
His jaw tightened and released. “Go ahead. What happened?”
“The rebels attacked the orphanage again.”
The news of the attack on Mother Thomasine’s orphanage in the Ivory Coast was like a splash of cold water. Hudson sat up and focused on the problem. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No, but they took everything.”
“When?”
“Two days ago. Should I send more supplies?”
“Whatever Mother asks for and nothing more. We don’t want to give the rebels a reason to return. What else?”
“The pump trial failed.”
His shoulders rounded again. “How badly?”
“They collected a liter of clean water and then it died. You’ll have a report in your inbox this evening.”
He smacked the steering wheel and cheered. “A liter, Alejandra? That means the concept works. We just need to refine it!”
“Then God bless that liter of water if it can make you smile, my friend.”
Chapter Fourteen
Olivia found her phone face down on the coffee table the next morning, next to the sofa where she had spent the night. On the screen was a long list of missed calls, all of them from Laurel. Olivia needed a moment to fully awaken, but reminders of the previous evening’s pain returned. She wanted to shut the world out, but silence would send Laurel racing from Portland to Olivia’s door to check on her, which would necessitate a rehashing of the very twenty-four hours she was trying to forget.
She sent a text.
Laurel, got your message. Thanks for calling. I’m home. Chat soon. O
“I’m here.”
Still achy, she clomped to the door and opened it. The women headed to the sofa for a complete retelling of the ups and hades-level downs of the previous day. When the tale was told, Laurel moved beside Olivia on the sofa and patted her own shoulder. Olivia accepted the invitation, laying her head there.
“I’m so sorry. I knew Hudson loved you as soon as I saw the two of you in this house.”
“It doesn’t matter now. I don’t deserve him. I blamed him, and then Jeff for my unhappiness, and I realized something ugly yesterday, Laurel. Jeff wasn’t the only one who failed our marriage. I married Jeff, but I never stopped loving Hudson. What kind of person does that make me?”
Laurel reached a hand up to stroke Olivia’s hair. “Don’t you think Jeff knew how Hudson felt about you?”
“He must have. Hudson said Jeff betrayed him.”
“And Jeff had to have known how you felt about Hudson.”
“Hudson and I were together every possible minute, until the last few weeks of school.” Olivia lifted her head to look at Laurel. “I think he was planning to propose to me the very night he found out Jeff and I had eloped. I ruined everything. I’m a train wreck.”
“Or Jeff swooped in and pulled a fast one. Would you have accepted Jeff’s proposal if Hudson hadn’t been AWOL?”
“I can’t pin this on Hudson. This was my choice. My mistake.”
“But did Jeff feed your insecurities?”
“He first mentioned a change in Hudson about a week before the night he came on to me. I had noticed an increase in Hudson’s absence, but I hadn’t said anything until Jeff suggested that he was throwing us to the curb. We fed one another’s insecurities, and we were both wrong.”
“It all seems pretty calculated.”
Olivia’s shoulders dropped again. “Jeff may have been a lousy friend, but he wouldn’t be the first guy to pull an end run against a rival. I’m the one who said yes, and now whatever chance Hudson and I may have had is lost. He can’t keep getting bludgeoned by my problems.”
“I still say those feelings are still there. When you’re ready, you should contact him again.”
They sat there, listening to the gulls’ cries and the voices of vacationers below.
“I’m sorry for bulldozing you into the hike and the drive yesterday. Some friend, right?”
Laurel smiled and squeezed her hand. “When’s the last time you had something to eat?”
“Hudson fixed me some soup last night.”
Laurel lifted Olivia’s head and stood, signaling the end of her friend’s wallow. “Then you need to eat and take a shower.”
Olivia waved her off. “Just go. I’m going back to bed.”
“No, you’re not. Shower and get dressed, because you’re coming with me.” When Olivia shot her a “no way” look, Laurel replied, “I didn’t want to tell you this before, but I’ve got a lead on that safe deposit key of yours.”
“You do?” Olivia straightened and scooted to the edge of the sofa.
“I was helping my parents sort through some old documents, and I saw their original mortgage. It was issued by Beaverton Valley Bank and Trust.”
Olivia thought back to the letters on the deposit box key. “BVB&T!”
“Exactly! The mortgage changed hands several times, and the bank was sold at least once. It’s now part of the big Charter Bank Group, but originally, the bank was owned locally. And get this. Dad said there were a few branches back in the day, and one of them was in Hillsboro.”
“Is that significant?”
“I think so. On the day of our picnic, Jeff said when he left us he was going to see his banker at the Charter Bank in Hillsboro. Plus, it’s where we all grew up, so his parents might have banked there. It’s a long shot, but I think we should try.”
Both tellers at the small community bank were helping other clients. When a young teller with a name badge that read “Lynn” was free, she called Olivia and Laurel over to her window and asked, “Can I help you?”
Olivia removed the key from its old envelope and slid it across the counter. “Could you tell me if this is one of your safe deposit box keys?”
Lynn picked it up and examined it. “I think it is.” Her gaze shifted to the envelope. “But our sleeves don’t look like that.”
Olivia’s heart sank.
“But then, I’ve only been here a few months. I could ask the bank manager. She’s been working at this branch for over twenty years.”
“Thank you. That would be great.”
Olivia and Laurel watched Lynn head to a glass door in the back of the bank, where she knocked and entered. After a few seconds, she returned. “Mrs. Bristol says it’s ours, and that it must have been assigned way back before we merged with Charter.”
Olivia beamed at Laurel, who gave a silent cheer. “Can we get into the box, please?”
A voice from behind them called out, “Just a minute, please.”
Lynn rushed up to make introductions. “Mrs. Bristol, these are the ladies who own that key I showed you.”
The fifty-ish woman eyed Olivia and Laurel. “May I ask who owns it?”
“I do,” answered Olivia. “Rather, it was my husband’s. He was killed in an accident a few months ago. His name was Jeff McAllister.”
“May I see some ID, please?”
The lines along the woman’s brow eased and then reappeared after seeing Olivia’s license. “Mrs. McAllister, I’m very sorry for your loss, but I’m afraid I can’t allow you to see the contents of that box. Your husband may have had a key to it, but he was not the owner, and I’m not at liberty to disclose who is. But, you are not the only person interested in those contents. A man named Larry Brewster was loit
ering in the parking lot the other day. He accosted Miss Cromwell here for information regarding your husband’s accounts. I had to call the police.”
The blood drained from Olivia’s face at the mention of her despicable former attorney. “He accosted you?” she asked Lynn.
“He offered me five hundred dollars for information on all of Mr. McAllister’s accounts. When I refused, he grabbed my arm, but I broke free and told Mrs. Bristol.”
“I am so sorry.”
“Do you know this man?” asked Mrs. Bristol.
Olivia hedged. “He was our attorney. I found him on the Internet, but I fired him some time ago. Did you say that Jeff has open accounts here?”
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more than that. You’ll need to contact the owners of the deposit box.”
Laurel looked crestfallen, but Olivia was not dismayed. She had a good idea who the owners had to be.
Chapter Fifteen
After saying goodbye to Laurel, Olivia placed a call to Susan. There was no answer, so she left a message, wondering if there would be a reply. Even if Susan knew about the deposit box, she had no loyalty to Olivia. No reason to answer her many questions.
The next two hours passed with Olivia curled in a ball on the sofa, rehearsing aloud her final conversations with Jeff and Hudson. Jeff was becoming an enigma to her as increasing mystery further clouded memories of their strained marriage. She tried to reclaim some thread of goodness from that relationship. One scene kept returning to her—the morning-after image of Jeff emerging from their bridal suite’s bathroom red-eyed and bleary as if he’d been crying. His face was twisted in utter dismay. Was it because of guilt? Hudson’s final conversation replayed.
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