Conflicts of the Heart (27 page)

Apprehension and a noticeable flutter in her chest clouded her thinking as she made her way across the parking lot of the Ramada Inn. The weather had cooled since morning; a breeze ruffled her hair.

Could she contain herself around Patrick and not divulge any information about her chance of settling the contract? Too bad that they couldn’t work a deal before mediation. It seemed such a straightforward thing to do, but unethical, particularly since she felt the way she did about him.

Putting on an air of confidence, she entered the tranquil green and white Sutter Street Bar and Grill. She had no trouble finding Patrick sitting in a corner booth with an iced tea, arms folded on the table, staring off into space. She strolled over.

“Before you say anything--” she took the seat across from him—“I didn't help Teal get signatures for the election.”

“You were reading my thoughts. I got your memo.
Rotten luck for me.” His frown turned to a smile. “I’m glad you weren’t responsible. Thanks, Dana. I was hoping that was the case. Want anything?”

“I'll have one of those.” She nodded at his glass.

He raised his hand and signaled the waitress to bring another tea. “Are we going to make any movement to get this contract settled today?”

Dana glanced down. “Not today.”

“Every moment counts. If I can get a contract, you know my chances in the election will be a lot better.”

“I know. I need time. The board is tough and I can't read them.”

* * *

Patrick couldn’t read her either. She sat in her chic burgundy suit, her hair windblown, an absolute knockout, wearing enough lavender to send his pulse racing. If she knew anything positive or otherwise, she wasn’t saying a word. The heart-rending tenderness that filled her dark liquid eyes added to his confused state of mind. What the hell was he going to do about this woman? Every time he set eyes on her, his heart went out to her, and his loins swelled. An urge to protect her and help her with Michael almost overshadowed his own goals. He couldn’t let anyone or anything interfere with his plans. He’d made a promise and, by God, he would keep it.

“So why the sadness in your eyes?” The concern in his voice came out stronger than he intended. “Something other than work bothering you?”

“You a mind reader too?”

“Yup. I guess my mind should mind its own business.”

Dana smiled. The waitress brought her drink and left. “I'm taking Michael to visit his father this weekend.” Her eyes darkened with emotion.

“Why?”

“A ploy to win.”
She wrung her hands together on the table. Her lower lip quivered.

Her pain, and how much she'd suffered over this new turn of events, was evident.

“Now he may be in trouble, he's using Michael. I know that's all it is, but I can't keep Michael from seeing his father.”

“Have you called your attorney?”

“He said I'd be wise to consider it.”

“If there's anything I can do, please let me help.” His large hand covered both of hers. “Since you're just going to jack around with the mediator, you want to cut our session short?”

“Do you mind?”

“Let's go until six. I'll call it off.” He slapped his forehead with his palm. “I can't believe I'm doing this. I feel like a traitor to myself.” He rolled his eyes. “I knew this was going to happen if we got involved. It's hard being objective.”

“It's not too late to back away. You will soon anyway.”

With both hands, he held hers. “It's not that easy anymore.”

“All you have to do is walk away. Don't look back. Think of me as the enemy.” She paused and smiled. “Like you used to, the way you trained yourself to do.”

Patrick could feel a blush rising up his cheeks. “How is Michael going to get to Palo Alto?”

“We're meeting Joel halfway, at the Casa de Fruta, Friday evening.”

“By yourself?”

“Yes.”

“
That'saterribledrive.Roundtripyou’retalkingovertwo hundred miles.”

“
It's not a bad drive since they improved the highway.”

“How would you feel about my driving you and Michael over?”

“I wonder how Joel would feel seeing me with another man.”

* * *

Friday evening on the highway to Casa de Fruta, the tires on Patrick's Fiat droned like a swarm of angry hornets. Dana had buckled Michael up in the backseat.

“Michael,” Patrick asked, “why did the elephant paint his toenails red?”

Dana turned and watched Michael place a finger on his lips, thinking hard. Unable to figure it out, he just shrugged and tilted his head.

“So he could hide in the cherry tree.”

Michael's large black eyes widened. “Elephants can't cwimb twees.”

“Okay, my jokes stink. How about counting station wagons? Whoever sees one first yells, wagon. The one who sees the most gets a candy bar.”

Dana watched with amusement the way Patrick and Michael played all the way.

When mediation had ended at three that afternoon, no movement had been made, leaving the session hopelessly deadlocked and a possible strike looming ahead. The employees were restless and ready to act. As usual, her superiors weren’t listening to her warnings. For the moment, she had no control over the whole mess. She did what they told her to do.

She chuckled to herself, remembering when Patrick tried to convince her that it’d be all right for him to drive them over to meet him. In a joking way he said, “If it'll make you feel any better, I'll hide in the fruit stand until Joel leaves.” After a hardy laugh, she decided to let him drive them and hide in the fruit stand if he wished.

She spotted the Casa de
Fruta on their descent through Pacheco Pass. A rush of anticipation and dread whirled inside her. She sought to erect a wall of defense against Joel. His reaction to seeing her with another man jolted her. Would he use it against Michael?Patrick reached over and touched her arm.

“
You going to be all right?”

“It shows?”

“Yup.”

Joel might not react. After all, she wasn't a nun. Perhaps she’d built up all the anxiety for nothing. Joel had no right to make determinations about her life or to judge her, but in reality, he controlled her now more than ever. “Still plan to hide in the fruit stand?”

The mere thought of Patrick hiding in the fruit stand gave them cause to laugh. Michael joined in, not understanding why but enjoying the fun. He nodded and broke into a happy smile. She leaned over, reached back behind Patrick’s seat, and tweaked a rosy cheek. She ran her fingers through his curly dark hair.

Patrick signaled, turned right down the ramp, and then made a hard left into the parking lot.

Casa de Fruta had a carnival-like atmosphere. A merry-go-round, a petting zoo, one of the largest fresh fruit and vegetable stands in the area, a wine cellar, and a restaurant lay nestled in the last green valley between the coast and the dry San Joaquin valley.

He pulled into a vacant spot under an elm tree in front of the restrooms, got out and leaned in the window. “I'll stroll around the fruit stand. When the coast is clear, I'll come back.” He ruffled Michael's hair. “Have a good one, son.” He strolled away.

Dana got out of the car and pulled Michael's suitcase from the trunk.

“Hello, Dana,” Joel called out from across the parking lot.

His terse voice sent a chill down her spine. She spun around. He leaned against a steel guard post at the corner of the fruit stand. He had a defiant look on his face, and with his arms locked across his chest as if he owned the world, he had this undeniable attitude of‘screw you and everyone in it’. She couldn’t understand what she had ever seen in him. When they were young and full of hope and dreams, he had been a devoted husband. They worked hard together to succeed. Now that she thought about it, when the doctors diagnosed Michael, Joel started his downward spiral.

When she leaned down to pick up Michael's suitcase, Michael
grabbed for her hand. She braced herself mentally, rose, took a breath, and started moving toward Joel. It was like taking her son across that border to the enemy camp. Her knees buckled, her heart plunged.

She crouched down and hugged Michael. “You be a good boy. Mind Daddy. I'll come for you Sunday afternoon.”

“Don't go.” Michael reached out to throw his arms around her neck. “You come…and Patrick.”

She blocked his hands and gazed into his eyes. “I can't, honey.” How could she explain? He’d never understand. Joel's nasty little plan was working. Joel knew how to get to her. In marriage and divorce, he managed to turn her world into a tornado, swirling in every direction, but the direction she wanted to go.

“Daddy wants to spend some time with you, alone. I'll see you Sunday, and we'll go back home together.”

His cheeks streamed with tears. He didn’t understand their war. Thank God.

Joel glanced toward Patrick's car. “New car?”

“No.
A friend's.”

For a moment, she thought Michael might try to break loose and run back to her. A lump the size of a golf ball formed in her throat. She wanted to grab Michael up in her arms and run back to Patrick's car.

Joel took Michael's hand. “Don't cry, son. Doesn't your mother teach you that’s sissy stuff?”

He squatted down and wiped under Michael's eyes with his thumb. “Come on, Mike. Let's go have some fun together.” He turned, pulling her son away from her. After a few steps, he halted and glanced over his shoulder. “Enjoy your time alone.” He cracked a lascivious smile. “Don't worry about Michael. He's in good hands.”

Michael tugged, trying to pry his hand loose from Joel's. Joel reached down and pulled Michael up, saddling him on his hip. She wanted to scream. Her head pounded. Tears blinded her vision. The next two nights would be miserable wondering how Michael was doing. Was he being fed properly, loved, bathed, played with and talked to? If she hadn’t taken Joel back to court, none of this would be happening. He was winning. Again! The bastard! When she left him, she should have taken her son and disappeared into the night, without a trace. A pair of hands caressed her shoulders from behind. A shiver passed through her.

“It'll be all right, Dana.”

Patrick's voice was tender, filled with empathy. She turned to him. He pulled her into his arms, crushing her against his chest. Not having his daughter, she knew he understood her feelings. She didn’t like the way their kids were torn between two parents one damn bit.

“Let's go,” he whispered. We can stop along the way and have dinner. You can talk it out all the way home.” He smiled down at her. “I'm a good listener.”

“I'll be fine.” Her lips parted in a halfhearted smile. “You have good ears and a nice mouth. I'm glad you talked me into your coming along. I don't know how I would have made it back myself, feeling the way I do.”

Patrick opened her door. “Two days. It'll go fast. I promise. I'm here for you, whenever you need me.”

As wonderful as that sounded, his offer to occupy her time didn’t have the same
impact it

would’ve
had if she weren’t sitting in his car, in the parking lot of Casa de Fruta, knowing her son was being hauled off to Palo Alto by a father who didn’t give two hoots about his well-being.

A veil of blue haze drifted through the green rolling hills and jagged peaks. They sped along in silence. She didn't want to talk. She wanted to stare out the window and forget.

Patrick’s fingers rhythmically tapped the steering wheel to the beat of the music on the radio, deep in thought. This had to be affecting him too.

“I hope this is the right time for this. Probably no time is right.”
Dana straightened, alert to something amiss. “What is it?”

“You’ll never guess who I saw hiding behind the vegetable stand?

Ready for a joke, Dana grinned. “An elephant with red toenails?”

Patrick frowned. “No. I saw Teal.”

A shock wave rumbled through Dana. “What are you talking about?”

He reached over and grabbed her arm. “I couldn't believe my
eyes.”

Dana's head dropped to her chest. “Did she see you?”

“No, but you can bet Joel’s going to tell her that he saw me.”

“My
God. What next?”

Nineteen

It never occurred to Dana that Teal might be involved with Joel. More shudders came when she thought of Teal having any influence over Michael’s future. This put a damper on her weekend alone with Patrick. How could Teal have betrayed her? What had Dana done to deserve betrayal by a friend she’d known most of her life?

Patrick, as hard as he tried, couldn’t assuage her despondency. Time after time, she went to the phone, punched Joel's number, but before he could answer, she hung up. She refused food unless Patrick nagged her to eat. She wore a path in her carpet.