Coming Home (31 page)

Evelyn stared at the doctor for a long minute and then finally found the courage to ask what she’d wanted to ask since their first meeting. “How do you know Lucian? I mean, aside from being his personal physician? How did you meet?”

She smiled. “I’m shocked you waited this long to ask. I’m Shamus’s sister.”

Evelyn’s mouth drooped open like a trout. “But your last name’s Sheffield.”

“Yes, and I’m happily divorced, but I was married when I got my MD. I’ve known Lucian since he was a baby and spent most of my adult years torturing him for all the ways he used to torture me when I was a girl.”

“I see it now . . . in the set of your eyes and your smile.”

“Well, I look more like my mother. Shamus gets his curls and freckles from my father.”

“How come you weren’t at his party the other week?”

“I was here. That reminds me, I may break Lucian’s other arm for buying Shamus that death trap. Now, let me look at your ankle.”

Evelyn lifted her leg and winced under the weight of her sneaker. The doctor’s cool hands gently probed. “That’s quite a sprain you have there. How about I wrap it for you?”

Evelyn nodded and the doctor left for a moment. The silence was too much. Her mother’s face, unblinking eyes, haunted her every thought.

“Okay, this should do,” Dr. Sheffield said as she returned to the room. “I’ll show you how to wrap it and if you keep it elevated for—Oh, Evelyn . . .” She tossed the bandage aside and Evelyn was suddenly wrapped up in the doctor’s arms as sobs racked her body.

“I did everything I could and it still wasn’t enough,” she cried. “Everything! I was never enough, never a reason for her to stop killing herself. Why wasn’t I good enough?
Why?”

“Shh. Oh, honey, your mother’s death has nothing to do with anything you did or didn’t do. She was an addict. But that long, painful journey she always took alone is over, and now she’s finally found some peace.”

Evelyn cried beyond countable minutes. It hurt to love her mother from the time she was young. There were no selfless whispers of hope breathed to her in sleep. No encouraging expectations or coddling during the moments she was too weak. It was always the wrong way, her doing for her mother who loved her heroin—
always—
a little bit more than she loved her daughter.

The doctor’s hair smelled of berries. Her embrace was a warm pillow wrapped around Evelyn’s fragile heart. Once she got her sobs under control, Dr. Sheffield produced a damp cloth and washed the grime from her face as if she were a small child. Deft fingers with cherry-painted nails wrapped her ankle.

Just as the doctor clasped the small metal clip to hold the brace in place, Lucian returned.

“What happened to your leg?” he snapped, attempting to get up and slumping back into the wheelchair.

“Easy there,” the nurse, pressing a hand into Lucian’s shoulder, said.

He glared at her and Dr. Sheffield stood. “It’s just a sprain, Lucian. She’ll be fine. How did the x-rays go?”

The nurse and the doctor went over the x-rays. Lucian’s arm needed to be set. Everything was done in an uninterrupted blur of one event after another. Scout held Lucian’s good hand and never took her eyes off their intertwined fingers. It was long past dark when Dugan showed up and they were permitted to leave.

Lucian had three badly bruised ribs, a broken radius, a dislocated shoulder, and several lacerations on the shoulder that took the brunt of the impact when he fell. His temple was bruised, but he was not concussed. His lip was split, but the bleeding had stopped and there was no need for stitches. They wheeled him out because there was some rule about being wheeled out if you were wheeled in. She’d hobbled behind him until Lucian insisted she ride on his lap.

When they got to the limo, he shut her inside for a moment to talk to Dugan. Typically, she would have objected to being left out, but she was simply too tired to complain. By the time they reached the hotel, they were both dead on their feet. They made quite a spectacle, walking through the lobby, her limping along, him holding his ribs, as his casted wrist lay cradled in a sling over the only remaining shred of his dress shirt.

They walked into the bedroom without turning on a single light. Neither of them seemed interested in catching their reflection by chance. Silently, they assisted each other with their clothing until they were both naked.

She pulled back the covers and helped him in. Gingerly, she padded around the bed to her side. When she climbed in, he drew her close with his uninjured arm, and she pulled the covers over their tired bodies. And then they slept for what felt like days.

Chapter 18

Breaking Out

The curtains remained drawn, so there was no telling what time it was. Evelyn had woken at some point and stumbled into the shower. Beads of moisture spattered over the tile told her Lucian had done the same. She’d slept so deeply she hadn’t heard him wake. Once the filth—what could be washed away—from the day before was cleansed from her skin, she climbed back into bed and slept.

Her dreams were a cruel kaleidoscope of her past. Distilled images of Pearl in places she’d never been. Every dream ended the same. Her mother’s face turning to her, mouth gaping, eyes unblinking, and Evelyn woke up choking on dust that wasn’t there.

They were her dreams. Her nightmares were worse. In her nightmares Lucian didn’t wake up. His eyes were dull and flat. She couldn’t get to him. She ran, but her legs were anchored with muscles made of wet sand. In one dream she caught up to him, but it was too late, he was tying off his arm and she observed helplessly, screaming, as the fluid flushed through the needle into his veins.

Each time she thought she could save him, and each time she was either too weak or too late. It was such a dream that woke her up. She curled into herself, sobbing softly into the pillows.

“Hey.” Lucian’s voice was a whisper in the dark. It curled around her like a caress and chased away the confusing cobwebs of sleep. He eased her to her back and kissed her softly. “It’s okay.”

He drew her close and soothed her, brushing his palm over her back and calming her tears. Would he be mortified to know she wasn’t crying over Pearl, but over her irrational fears of losing him? She was a bad daughter.

His mouth teased over hers and he looked at her with those beautiful dark eyes. “Better?”

She nodded.

“Some deliveries came for you while you slept. Dugan brought them up.”

Had he been up and about? She assumed he only showered. “Deliveries of what?”

“How about you use the bathroom and then come see. I have bagels and some French toast. It’s probably cold by now. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

She gripped his arm and he frowned. She needed to make sure he understood. “Lucian?”

“Yes?”

“I
love
you.”

“I love you too, Evelyn.”

He didn’t get it. Seeing him fall made her realize just how much she needed him. This was different than before. This was irrevocable. This was to the depths of her soul, with a thread tying her to him that sewed her so tight she nearly puckered inside out. This was forever.

She’d show him. She’d show him and eventually he’d understand, everything had changed.

When she emerged from the bathroom, she hobbled to the common area. Her ankle was a constant reminder of everything that happened the day before. The scent of flowers had her breathing deeply. She turned the corner and gasped. Arrangements of stunning blooms and sprays covered every surface. “What is all this?”

“Your friends are sending their condolences.”

“I . . . I don’t have any friends.”

He gave her a strange look, lips pulled to the side and his brows bending in a sort of question mark. “Sure you do. Don’t be silly. Eat something and I’ll help you read the cards. A lot of them are in cursive.”

“Because they don’t know I can’t read, because they don’t know me. Lucian, who sent all this and why?”

His head tilted like he didn’t understand her confusion. “They’re from people who care about you, Evelyn. These cards were written with one thought. They all hope you’re doing okay. There wasn’t room for thoughts about script or anything else. Trust me, they were all sent out of love.”

Lucian was the only person to ever give her flowers. Now she was being bombarded with them. The sentiment was unfamiliar and slightly embarrassing. She didn’t want people to worry about her.

He brushed a hand over her knee peeking through the slit in her robe. Her fingers picked at the French toast as he plucked a card from a spray of yellow roses. There were still flecks of dirt under her nails and she lost her appetite.

“This one is from Antoinette and Shamus.
Evelyn, it is with great sympathy for your loss that our heavy hearts are quiet today. May the love of those closest to you hold you tight and get you through.”

He plucked up another card from a vase of tulips. “This is from Dugan.
Ms. Evelyn, It is only because you are so brave that I know you will get through this difficult time. Have the courage to cry and know that you are loved by many. If there’s anything I may do to help, I’m always near. D.”

Her lips trembled. They were from friends. Friends she never realized she had. Lucian read one card after another. There were flowers from Seth, Lucian’s assistant; Patrice and the girls at the salon; Raphael and the others who worked in the kitchen of the hotel; Tamara, her old general manager; Nick, from Clemons; Parker; Isadora; Dr. Sheffield; Jason, her tutor; several people Lucian introduced her to at events; and even one bouquet from Slade Bishop. She never felt so much affection and care.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed. “This is . . . incredible. How did they all know?”

“You’ve been sleeping for nearly two days. I had to let people know where I was and that I’d be unavailable for some time.”

“Why?”

“Evelyn, you just lost your mother. There’s no way I’d leave you at a time like this.”

“Lucian, where
is
Pearl? Dugan said—”

“Don’t worry about the details. A private service is scheduled for tomorrow. The arrangements are handled. I don’t want you to stress about any of that.”

“What kind of service? Like a funeral?” Her people didn’t have funerals. If they were lucky, someone identified them at the county morgue.

“Of course.”

More flowers came throughout the day. Evelyn remained quiet. She felt like an outsider looking in. The dragon had finally swallowed Pearl whole and Evelyn, selfishly, existed without purpose.

A nagging urge for motion teased at her nerves all day. She should be moving, thinking, going, but all she could manage was breathing. They watched a movie and when Lucian’s wrist started bothering him, she forced him to take the prescribed pain medicine Dr. Sheffield had provided. He was a terrible patient.

Her head rested upon his shoulder as he softly twirled the ends of her hair. Her foot was elevated on a delicate little pillow, and suddenly it was all funny. A jagged giggle escaped her throat and turned into a hiccup, which evolved to a full-on belly laugh.

Lucian twisted as much as his bruised ribs would allow and gave her a questioning look. “You okay?”

Covering her face with her palms, her skin heated. Why was she laughing? “I’m sorry. I know it isn’t funny. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

His expression slowly lifted with cautious concern. She was losing it. Her sides ached as giggles prattled from her mouth like champagne bubbles rising to the top. Sighing, she tried to get hold of herself, but the sigh burst into more inappropriate laughter.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be laughing. Look at us. We’re a mess and my mom’s funeral is tomorrow. I think . . . I’m nervous.”

“Don’t apologize. Sometimes we just need to laugh. What are you nervous about?”

“I don’t know. Nothing. Everything. I don’t know what to do now.”

His brow knit. Soft purple flesh darkened and she sobered. He was hurt. Her laughter fell away like autumn leaves lost in the wind. She was hysterical.

“No one expects you to
do
anything, Evelyn. We all just want to see you get through this.”

“And then what?” she scoffed. “Then what, Lucian? I’ve never allowed myself to truly think outside of protecting Pearl. I’ve never left the city other than to visit the estate with you. I’ve never thought more than a day or two ahead. I don’t know how to let go of the weight that’s been on my shoulders since I was born.”

His dark eyes blinked as though he were contemplating her outburst. Soft, sooty lashes, too pretty for a man, guarded those dark eyes that saw so much in her when the rest of the world merely looked through her. “Do you remember when I told you about the time I went to the circus?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me a memory from your childhood, a time that you were happy.”

She stilled. Images of hardship and empty, faded memories skated through her mind. “I don’t have any.”

“There has to be something,” he said quietly, waiting for her to offer up some vivid recollection of happier times.

She wanted to give him that. Needed to ease his mind before that sympathetic look in his eyes turned to pity. Should she make something up? He’d know if she were lying.

The truth was, the only happiness she ever felt was linked to him. The first time she slept on a real bed, the first time she ever properly bathed, her first fulfilling meal, all things most people took for granted she had never known until meeting him.

Then she thought of something. “When I was little . . .” she said quietly. “I must have been very young. I could walk and I was talking, so I guess I was around four or five. We were standing in a field, or it looked like a field to me at the time. I don’t really remember what buildings were around. I just remember the sky.”

His head cocked. “Why the sky?”

“It was a faded blue I’d never seen before, dull and cold. I’d never seen it like that before. The air had a strange metallic scent to it, not like the tang of rain or the heaviness before a storm. This was different, lighter. Pearl was there, but she must have been preoccupied because I only recall her presence, nothing about what she was doing.

“There was this unfamiliar current, like a soft whisper that gets your attention faster than any scream. I looked up and the sky was swabbed with white cotton. The clouds were soft but impenetrable, and there was an eddy of gray just above us. I thought if I found a branch long enough I could pop those bloated gray billows. And then something amazing happened.”

“What?”

“Soft, drifting flakes began to fall from the sky. It was like God was sprinkling the world with sifted sugar. What I saw as ominous suddenly became enchanted. I watched them fall, each one taking a slow journey down to Earth, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. It wasn’t rain. It wasn’t ash. It smelled pure and looked so pretty. I should’ve been scared, but I wasn’t. When one landed on my arm I gasped. Ice in the shape of a star. I called my mom, but it melted before she saw.

“I was too young to conceive how something so small and delicate could amount to something so . . . consuming. I realized, over time, that snow was like a blanket of white death for people without shelter, but in that moment it was just magic being sprinkled from the sky.”

They were silent for a long moment. “You’ve never left the city.” It was a statement. He knew she hadn’t other than their short trips to his country home. “I want to show you things, Evelyn. I want to see that look in your eyes like when you saw your first snowfall. I want to be there for all your firsts.”

“You have been,” she whispered.

He nodded. “I want to be there for all of them. There are so many more.”

“I haven’t done much. I could never stray far because Pearl always pulled me back. She was the anchor I carried. It’s scary letting her go. Sad, like a balloon cut from its string. I’m afraid I’ll just float away.”

His fingers twined with hers. “I won’t let you.”

She snuggled into his side. The movie was over and neither of them seemed to care. He had a nick on his knuckle from the fall. She lifted his strong hand and kissed it. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She thought about the snow. It was the first peaceful memory she’d had in days. After several quiet minutes, Lucian asked, “If you could go anywhere, see anything, what would you want to see?”

Her world had always been so small, the mote in the eye of a giant. Lucian’s world was limitless.
He
was the giant.

She wanted to experience everything, but never dared to hope for more than she was due. Perhaps she was owed something great. “I’d like to see the ocean.”

He smiled. “Then that’s where we’ll start. I think we need to get away for a while. Your lessons will be here when you return.”

For the first time she agreed with him. Her lessons would be there. She could take a break and return to her education. “What about your job?”

“That’s the glory of being the boss. I can leave whenever I want. Tomorrow, after the funeral, we’ll run away, just the two of us. And we won’t stop until the ocean’s at our toes.”

Something warm unfurled inside of her. Maybe it was love. Maybe it was hope. But it was comforting and exciting and big. It was the tingle she felt in her heart whenever she was around Lucian.

***

It seemed appropriate that it rained the day Evelyn said good-bye to her mother. Tears from heaven clung to the tinted glass of the limo as they drove out of the city. Evelyn hadn’t asked where they were going. She hadn’t said much of anything since waking up that morning.

Funerals were something she’d only seen from afar, cars snaking through crowded city streets, people dressed in colors of mourning. She wasn’t sure why people celebrated death, or perhaps they were celebrating life. Pearl hadn’t lived a life of greatness and she hoped it would all be over soon.

Lucian seemed to think this was something she needed. Maybe he was right. Her world was small, filled with only a handful of people. Pearl had been there from the beginning, and losing her was like saying good-bye to a part of herself.

When they arrived at the estate, Evelyn was confused. Lucian didn’t offer explanations. He simply held her hand and gave her a comforting squeeze from time to time.

Dugan parked the car and greeted them with a somber nod. Other cars lined the long drive, and she hesitated when she realized they wouldn’t be alone. Lucian’s strength enveloped her as he guided her into the house.

Lucy, dressed in her maid’s uniform, but with a black armband, opened the door and softly whispered her condolences. Evelyn’s shoes clicked over the marble tile and the silence struck her as odd. She knew they weren’t alone.

Beneath her sleeveless black wrap dress, her skin prickled. She didn’t want to see Pearl again. Her mother’s lifeless eyes had haunted her for days, and Evelyn just wanted to forget. They approached a set of French pocket doors that led to another den, and Lucian turned to her.