Baby, Come Back (12 page)

The teenager's eyes filled with tears. She wrung her hands and battled to keep them from spilling over. “You're going to kick me out.”

Alice's heart turned over. Sheri expected complete rejection at every turn. “Just because I'm angry doesn't mean I'm going to abandon you. Or stop caring about you. You're still a minor. I'm responsible for your safety and well-being. Anything could have happened.” The image of Tim with the knife filled her head, and she shuddered. “Do you understand?”

“Yes...it's just that...” She shook her head. “I understand.”

“What is it, Sheri? Don't hold back.”

“It's just that, when my parents, you know, got angry, they...” Sheri looked helplessly at Alice, her eyes brimming with tears.

Alice's chest tightened. Sheri's parents became enraged for no reason at all; their anger would turn to violence, and would continue to simmer even after the violent act. No wonder Sheri feared the emotion.

“It's okay to be angry. It's a human emotion. It happens and has to be let out. It's only a problem when it comes out sideways. Or when it has nothing to do with the person it's directed at. Or when the person can't stop being angry. I was angry because you deceived me.” She touched Sheri's hair lightly. “We've talked about it. Now it's over.”

“Miss A., I'm...sorry I tricked you. I won't do it again. You mean...so much to—” The girl drew a shuddering breath. “I wouldn't want to hurt you for anything.”

Alice hugged her, tears stinging her eyes. “You mean a lot to me, too.” She drew away so she could see Sheri's expression. “I take it everything's okay between you and Jeff?”

Joy lit Sheri's eyes. “We're going to get married. That's why he came over. To apologize for the other day and to ask me, you know, to marry him.”

Alice thought of Hayes, of how disappointed he would be. “Does his father know?”

Sheri's smile faded. “I think so. He told Jeff he wouldn't pay for college if we got married. That means no Georgetown.”

“I see.”

“Don't look like that.” Sheri shook her head, distressed. “He'll go to UNO or Southeastern. He's got it all planned.”

“Does he?” Alice drew her eyebrows together in thought. “But how does he feel about it? You're sure it's what he wants?”

“Yes.” Sheri stiffened and took a step away. “I didn't blackmail him into marrying me, if that's what you mean. It was his idea, and he wants to. I asked—to be sure.”

But a decision like this was so much more complicated than that. Alice knew from experience. “I didn't say you blackmailed him, Sheri.”

“The other day you did.” She inched her chin up defensively. “And it's not true.”

Alice's heart went out to her, but she couldn't drop the matter just yet. “I just wanted you to think long and hard about what you wanted. The decision you're making will affect the rest of your life. I want you to be happy. That's all.”

“We will be,” Sheri said fiercely. “We already talked about it. We decided on it.”

Alice forced a smile, unable to fully shake her feeling of unease. “I'm glad for you both.”

Sheri lowered her gaze, her lips curving with pleasure. “Thanks. Miss A.?” She lifted her gaze almost shyly. “Would you...be my bridesmaid? We probably won't, you know, have a real wedding, but even if we go to the courthouse I'll need someone to stand up for me. I'd really like it to be you.”

“I'd love to.”

Sheri beamed. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Goose.” Alice hugged the teenager again. “Now, I think it's time we both went to bed. Tomorrow's work and school.”

Sheri nodded and yawned, as if the very mention of sleep had brought on fatigue. “You're the best, Miss A. Good night.”

“Good night,” Alice repeated, watching the teenager walk to her room. When the girl had closed the door behind her, Alice's thoughts returned to Hayes. Did he know about Jeff and Sheri's plans? Surely he'd discovered Jeff missing when he'd gotten home tonight. Knowing Hayes, he was dealing with his son at this very moment.

She looked at the phone, indecision pulling at her. Should she call him?

She would wait, she decided, flipping off the light. He'd said he would call her tomorrow. That would be soon enough to discuss Sheri and Jeff's engagement with him.

* * *

Hayes didn't call. Morning became afternoon, afternoon evening. Alice glared at the phone for about the billionth time since arriving home from work.

Her day had been a nightmare. She'd talked to the police twice. Tim hadn't been picked up until nearly five. The Hope House faculty had met to discuss the incident, and a student with an uncle on the police force had heard the story and it had spread through the students like wildfire. She'd spent a good part of her day meeting with students, assuring them that she was fine and that they had nothing to fear.

All in all, she'd spent eight hours reliving the incident, every terrifying moment, over and over again.

When she'd gotten home, she'd found Sheri pale and shaken, waiting for her. Sheri, too, had heard about Tim and was extremely upset. During their discussion about the incident Sheri had started feeling nauseated and then went to lie down in her room. Alice had phoned the doctor for advice.

Sheri had confessed that she'd been nauseated a lot, but that she hadn't wanted to tell Dr. Bennett for fear the woman would find something wrong. That confession had prompted another discussion, one about Sheri's health and the baby's, and the importance of absolute honesty with her doctor.

Alice looked at the phone again. Hayes had said to call if she needed anything. But she hadn't called, even though she had needed him badly. Had needed to hold on to him. Had needed his strength. His comfort and support.

She'd needed to know he was there for her.

Frustrated, she swung away from the phone. She'd be damned if she would let him know how much she needed him. How much his silence today had hurt. And if she called him, he would know. He would hear it in her voice.

A knock sound on the door, and she jumped.
Tim.
She stared at the door, gooseflesh racing up her arms, fear closing around her throat like a killer's hands.

Tim had been picked up hours ago, she reminded herself. Even though she knew he couldn't hurt her, she moved hesitantly toward the door. The knock sounded again, this time louder, more insistent. Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, she peeked out the sidelight.

Hayes stood on her front porch, his arms loaded with flowers and bags of takeout.

And he looked exhausted. His hair was tousled either by the wind or his own fingers; he'd removed his jacket and loosened his tie; worry and fatigue were etched around his eyes and mouth.

Her heart turned over, and she unlocked the door and swung it open.

He smiled and moved his gaze slowly over her. “Hey.”

His gaze turned her knees to pudding, and she held tightly to the door frame for support. “Hey.”

“Have you eaten?”

She shook her head, feeling hungry for the first time all day. “Only an apple. Earlier.”

He indicated his loaded arms. “Shrimp po'boys.”

She smiled. “My favorite.”

“And roses. But those aren't to eat.”

She pouted. “Darn. And I had my heart set on them.”

His lips curved. “Well, in that case, I'll eat the sandwiches and you can have the flowers.”

“You're all heart.” She swung the door wider and stepped aside so he could enter.

He looked around. “I brought an extra po'boy for Sheri. Is she here?”

“Asleep. She's not feeling well.” Alice took the flowers and held the bouquet to her nose, willing her heart to stop fluttering. She felt like a silly, breathless teenager. “They smell divine.”

“I thought you could use them. Today must have been rough.”

She swallowed the words that rushed to her lips, the ones about her fears and exhaustion and concern. The ones that would tell him how she'd longed to hear his voice. How she'd waited for his call.

She wouldn't be needy. She wouldn't cling.

She forced a casual smile. “I'm fine. Come in. I'll put the flowers in water.”

He followed her to the kitchen and set the takeout bags on the counter.

“Would you like a beer? There's some in the fridge.”

“Thanks.” He took one from the refrigerator and popped the top. “What a day.”

She angled him a glance. “Bad?”

“Ridiculously so.”

He tipped his head back and drank, and Alice gazed at the arch of his throat, then lowered her eyes to his open collar. She imagined her lips there, imagined the taste, the texture of his skin. She dragged her eyes away, uncomfortably aroused by the simple act.

And by the situation. They had acted out this scenario time and again nine years ago, spent an hour in the evening, after Jeff had gone to bed, talking about their day. He'd talked about the trials and tribulations of being a lawyer, she had amused him with stories from the coffeehouse. She had looked forward to those times.

“I have a client who I suspect is insane.”

She laughed softly and put the roses in the vase, fiddling with them. “That sounds like a bit of an overstatement.”

“You tell me. You're the shrink.”

“‘Counselor.'”

He smiled. “Okay. Counselor. He rants and raves. He wants me to do things that are borderline illegal and definitely unethical. Although he can't give me any specifics, he's certain everybody is out to ruin him, and today he informed me that he has mob connections, and if I can't get things done above the law, he'd seek other methods. What's your professional opinion?”

“He doesn't sound like somebody with a firm grip on reality. And he doesn't sound pleasant to work with.” She carried the flowers to the table, set them in the center, then began gathering the utensils they would need for dinner. “What are you going to do?”

“The firm wanted to take care of him because he's the brother of one of our most important clients. But the senior partners met late this afternoon, and we've decided to suggest he find other representation.”

She took the plates out of the cupboard. “I had no idea corporate law was so exciting.”

Hayes laughed and crossed to stand behind her. “Usually it's deadly dull.” He sifted his fingers through her hair. “But I don't want to talk about work.”

Her hands stilled; her pulse scrambled. “No?”

“No.” He buried his face in her hair. “God, you smell good. Like wildflowers and honey.” He made a sound of pleasure. And pain. “I couldn't stop thinking about you today. About us.”

She breathed deeply through her nose.
Keep it in perspective, Dougherty. This means nothing.

He turned her to face him. “The day was hell. I sat with the partners and imagined you naked, my hands on you. I listened to my crazy client rant and imagined my mouth on yours, our tongues twined. I thought about making love.” He drew her against him, whispering his mouth over her face, her neck. “Did you think about me? Even once?”

Try a million times, Hayes.
Alice lifted her face to his, her heart beating fast, her skin growing almost unbearably warm. “Once. Or twice.”

He laughed softly, the sound thick with arousal. He trailed his fingers across her collarbone, then lower, over her breasts. Their peaks stood at attention, pressing against the light weave of her sweater, begging for another caress.

He answered their plea with his palms, brushing softly across them. Her head fell back; her lips parted. He brought his mouth to hers, stopping when it hovered a fraction above. “Did you think about making love? Did you think about this?” He moved his hands lower still, and she gave a small, strangled moan of pleasure and arched against him.

“No,” she murmured, trembling. “Not once.”

“Liar.” He laughed and pressed her back against the counter. “You should be ashamed.”

She should be. Ashamed that she wanted him so badly. Ashamed that she would throw away everything she knew to be smart and safe, just to be with him. Her heart. Her well-being. Her reputation.

Sheri.
Alice laid her hands against Hayes's chest. The girl slept in the other room, only a matter of feet away. The hour was early; she could still awaken. And come out to find her and Hayes in a passionate clinch.

Alice flattened her hands and pressed. “Hayes...this isn't a good idea. Not now.” She drew in a deep, shaky breath. “Sheri's here. She could...wake up and...and find us.”

He groaned and rested his forehead against hers. Beneath her hand she felt the wild beat of his heart, felt his muscles, tight with strain.

“Are you all right?” she asked softly.

“Hell, no.” He growled in her ear. “I'm in a major amount of pain.”

She laughed, the sound feminine and pleased. “A major amount?”

He captured her hand and brought it to him. “Major.”

She didn't move her hand. “Maybe food will help.”

“Lady...there's only one thing that's going to help.”

He rotated his hips, and she snatched her hand away. “Oh, no, you don't.”

He caught her and dragged her back to his chest. “What if I told you I'm going to die if I don't have you.”

She saw the twinkle of amusement in his eyes and played along. She arched an eyebrow. “I'd tell you that's a very old and tired line.”

“Yeah, but this time it's true.” He pulled her a fraction closer.

“What about it, Dr. Dougherty? Prepared to make a promise you have no intention of keeping?”

She stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, outlining exactly what she would do—later. She pressed her mouth to his. “And that's a promise I look forward to keeping.”

T
he po'boy sandwiches were delicious. On crusty French bread, they were thick with fried shrimp and sloppy with mayonnaise, tomato and lettuce. She and Hayes ate in silence, using the food as a way to ignore the awareness crackling between them.

And as they did, both watched the clock, counting the minutes, silently urging the seconds to tick by at an accelerated pace.

Instead time seemed to crawl.

Alice took a bite of her sandwich, which tasted at once delicious and like cardboard. She found herself gazing at Hayes, watching him eat, her eyes fastened hungrily on his mouth.

And she found him gazing at her the same way, with the same longing, the same hunger.

She pushed away the last of her sandwich and shifted in her seat, arousal clawing at her. “This is agony.”

He, too, pushed away his sandwich. He glanced at the clock. “I'm dying here, Alice.”

“Me, too.” Alice thought of the way she'd pressed her hand against him, and a shudder moved over her. She wanted to do it again. Now. She felt like some sort of wanton woman, some sort of hussy.

She flushed and looked at her hands. “Please, let's talk about something, anything but...you know.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, I know. Boy, do I know.”

Silence stretched between them again. They both glanced at the clock. Hayes cleared his throat. “When's late enough? Ten?”

She swallowed. “Maybe.”

“It's nearly that now.”

“It's nine-twenty.”

“Like I said, it's nearly ten.”

She took a deep breath, feeling as if she were grasping at straws. “How was Jeff this morning?”

Hayes shook his head. “I don't know. He spent the night at his cousin's in Metairie.”

“At his cousin's?” she repeated, frowning.

“They had an out-of-town ball game today, and instead of driving across the causeway in the morning—”

“So you didn't talk to him last night, either?”

“No.” Hayes frowned. “What's going on?”

Dammit. Alice caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She should have called. “Hayes, we need to talk.”

His frown deepened. “Why do I have the feeling I'm not going to like this?”

She wished she could assure him otherwise; instead she jumped right in. “Last night Sheri wasn't in bed when you searched the house for Tim. The door was unlocked because she'd snuck out to meet Jeff and forgotten to relock it.”

Hayes straightened. “Jeff was here?”

“They were parked outside. Around the corner.”

Hayes swore and stood. He crossed to the window above the sink and for long moments stared out at the dark night. “He lied to me,” he said softly, not turning. “I got home and found a message on the machine. He told me he was staying with Stan. Because of the game.” He laughed, the sound hard and laced with self-derision. “I didn't check up on him. I didn't doubt for a second that he was telling me the truth.”

“I'm sorry.”

He swung around to face her. “Why didn't you call me?”

“I thought about it.” She spread her hands. “It was late, and by the time Sheri and I had talked, I figured he was home. Already doing battle with you.”

Hayes swore again. “This situation is getting out of control. I'm worried about him. I'm worried about his grades. In these last months of school he could blow his entire senior year.”

“There's more.” He met her eyes; in his she saw trepidation and resignation. “Jeff asked Sheri to marry him. She accepted.”

“Damn.” Hayes pulled a hand through his hair. “Jeff told me he was going to, but I'd hoped...”

The look on Hayes's face was so bleak Alice had to work to hold back a sound of pain. She stood, crossed to him and cupped his face in her hands. Beneath her palms, his cheeks were rough with the beginnings of a beard. “They love each other so much, Hayes. They want to be together. They have that on their sides. And she's a good girl. A really good person.”

“He's making a mistake,” Hayes said tightly, battling, Alice saw, for control. He covered her hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “They both are. Why can't they see that?”

“Think of this as a beginning, Hayes. Not an end.”

“I wish I could.” He dropped his hands and stepped away from her, turning again to face the black night. After a moment, he looked over his shoulder, meeting her eyes once more. “It's not Sheri. Believe me, Alice, I have nothing against the girl. It's everything else. I wish there was something I could do, some way I could get Jeff to see reason.”

Alice thought of Maggie and Royce, of their devotion to each other, and tears sprang to her eyes. She caught Hayes's hand. “They're going to do this, Hayes. Help them. Try to understand.”

“I don't know if I can.” He curved his fingers around hers. “I'm no good at things like this. At being empathic. Or understanding. For me, there are only good choices and poor choices. Will you help me?”

“If you really want me to.”

“I do.” He pulled her toward him. “I really do.”

She ran the flat of her hands up his chest, curving them around his shoulders. She moistened her lips. “I wish I hadn't brought up Jeff and Sheri. It's spoiled the mood.”

He lowered his mouth to hers, stopping when it hovered only a breath away. “It hasn't spoiled mine.”

She pressed herself against him, her pulse fluttering at his obvious arousal. “No?”

He nipped at her lower lip, mock-growling. “What time is it?”

She smiled against his mouth. “Late enough.”

“Thank...God.” He captured her mouth, kissing her in a fever of need and too long denied desire. She returned his kiss in kind, clinging to him, telling him without words how much she desired him, how much she'd missed him.

With a muffled groan, Hayes swung her into his arms and carried her to her bedroom.

The bed waited, big and soft and yielding. They sank to the mattress, lips still pressed together, neither willing to part for a moment, even to make themselves more comfortable.

Their lovemaking was at once desperate and tender, passionate and languorous. Hayes took a long time loving her, arousing her to a fevered pitch with his hands and mouth, taking long moments to sample soft, perfumed places, ones that begged for his caresses and, after having received them, throbbed in thanks.

Alice arched and sighed, twining her fingers in his hair as he brought her to the brink but not beyond, over and over again. When he finally joined with her, she cried out his name and clutched him to her. She hadn't a doubt that if she died and went to heaven, heaven would be eternity in Hayes's arms.

Hayes held on to her just as tightly, and although he murmured words of passion, not love, she sensed a need in him, an urgency that had nothing to do with passion, a need she'd never sensed in him before.

He needed her.
Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked against them, horrified that he might see. She'd never really felt that he'd needed her before. Twelve years ago he'd ended their relationship and had seemed to go on without pause.

Hope, sweet and sanity stealing, blossomed inside her. Maybe, just maybe, she and Hayes could have that happily-ever-after after all.

She smiled and pressed a kiss to his damp chest. “That was wonderful.”

He tangled his fingers in her hair and tilted her face up to his. “You were wonderful.”

“Was I?”

He kissed her long and hard. “Yes.”

She searched his gaze. “When do you have to go?”

“Soon. I wish I didn't have to, but Jeff is due home soon.” Hayes's expression darkened. “At least according to the information he gave me last night. I found out just how trustworthy that information was.”

She laid a finger against his lips. “Don't. Not now.”

“I'm sorry.” Hayes brushed the dampened tendrils of hair away from her face. “Lord, you're beautiful.”

She flushed with pleasure and snuggled against his chest. “Five more minutes, okay?”

“Not nearly enough.”

“But more than nothing.”

They fell silent. The clock ticked out the five minutes. Just as Alice opened her mouth to ask for five more, the phone rang. They looked at each other, then laughed.

Alice sat up and pulled the blanket to her chin. She checked the clock, noted it was nearly eleven and reached for the phone, picking it up on the third ring. “Hello,” she murmured, her voice still thick with passion.

“Alice...baby, is that you?”

Alice's blood went cold. She recognized the gravelly voice, recognized the slight, alcohol-induced slur. From her past. And her nightmares.

She glanced at Hayes from the corner of her eye. He had climbed out of bed and begun dressing. Why now? she wondered, feeling helpless and trapped. Why had her mother chosen this moment to call, when she was feeling so happy and hopeful, why when Hayes was present and able to overhear and deduce what was going on?

Alice cleared her throat. “Yes, this is Alice Dougherty.”

“Baby, it's me. Your mama. Don't you recognize my voice?”

Alice started to tremble; she squeezed her eyes shut. How could her mother even ask? The sound of her voice played over her senses, calling so strongly she could almost smell the sickly sweet odor of bourbon, feel the sticky wet of sweat on the back of her neck, the burn of fear in the pit of her stomach. And hear the sound of flesh smacking flesh.

You lazy brat...you'll never amount to nothin', you hear me? You'll never be more than a lazy, good fer nothin' little mouse.

Alice curled her fingers tightly around the phone cord. “It's been years.”

“Too long for a mother and daughter to be apart.” Her mother paused, as if waiting for a comment from Alice. When none came, she went on. “You haven't answered my letters.”

“No.” The word came out as a strangled whisper, and Alice cursed it. She wanted to be strong and forthright and confident. Not the frightened little mouse she was now.

“I want to see you.”

Hayes stopped dressing and looked at her. Alice met his eyes, then glanced quickly away. She didn't want him to know about her mother's reemergence in her life. She didn't want to talk about it with him; if she did, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from falling apart.

No emotional complications, she told herself. She couldn't be too needy. She couldn't cling.

“Alice?” her mother repeated. “I want to see you.”

Say no. Tell her you're not interested.
Alice tightened her fingers on the phone cord. “This really isn't a good time. You'll have to call back another. Goodbye.”

She hung up the phone, her heart beating so heavily she could hardly breathe. Disappointment spiraled through her. What had happened to the confident and independent woman she recognized herself to be? She hadn't even had the guts to tell her mother the truth.

Maybe Hayes had been right about her all those years ago. Maybe she hadn't changed as much as she thought. Tears stung the back of her eyes. Maybe she was a fool to think things would work out between them this time around.

“Alice? Is something wrong?”

Alice met Hayes's gaze, fighting to keep her distress and uncertainty from showing. She wouldn't allow him to think she was the girl he'd known all those years ago, even if she'd started to believe she was.

She forced a cocky smile, threw aside the sheet and climbed out of bed. “Not at all. Why do you ask?”

“That call.” He drew his eyebrows together. “You sounded strange.”

“Did I?” She slipped into her robe, her hands trembling so badly she could hardly tie the belt. “I'm tired, that's all.”

He tucked his shirt into his slacks. “Who was it?”

“No one.”

Hayes's hands stilled and he studied her, frowning. “Really? No one?”

Who could blame him for not believing her? “No one” didn't call at eleven p.m. “No one” didn't make her react so strangely. “It was an acquaintance from my past. Someone I didn't part on good terms with. That's all.”

He searched her expression, and it took all her strength to keep from crumbling. “Was it...Stephen?”

“Stephen? My old fiancé?” She shook her head, a smile tugging at her mouth, chasing away some of the unpleasantness of her mother's call. “No. It wasn't even a man. But thanks for thinking so.”

He crossed to her and took her into his arms. “The thought of you even talking to another man makes me crazy with jealousy. The thought of you doing it from your bed at eleven p.m. makes me want to grab you by the hair and drag you off to my cave.”

“Mmm.” She rubbed against him. “I like bringing out the barbarian in you.”

“Save that thought.” He pressed his mouth to hers, then drew regretfully away. “I've got to go. Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.” She resisted the urge to sag against him and smiled brightly instead. “I'll walk you to the door.”

When they reached it, Hayes kissed her, long and hard. Then, with a whispered goodnight, he left. Alice watched him from the doorway, her chest tight and aching. A moment before the dark swallowed him, he stopped and looked over his shoulder at her, his expression quizzical. She blew him a kiss, then drew back into the house and closed the door.

Trembling with a combination of fatigue and hopelessness, she rested her forehead against the door. From outside she heard a motor roar to life, then tires crunch on gravel as Hayes pulled away from the curb.

Gone. Hayes was gone. Alice drew in a deep breath. But only for now, for tonight. She would see him tomorrow or the day after.

But which time would be the one when he left her for good?

The tears she'd fought since hearing her mother's voice built behind her eyes, choking her. The hope that had burned so brightly in her heart only a matter of hours earlier now seemed the musing of an overoptimistic fool.