Love Remains (31 page)

The pain and vulnerability in her voice wouldn’t allow him to let it rest, though. “I’d really like to know what it is.”

Zarah set her spoon down—he hadn’t seen her take a bite of the soup yet—and folded her hands against the edge of the table. “Last week, I told you I haven’t dated because I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I remember.” Right after that, she’d said she was glad he’d wised up and walked away. He needed to tell her what really happened. But he’d let her have her say first.

“Bobby, I never expected you to come back into my life. I hoped
and prayed for a time that you would, but then, after a lot of therapy, I put that behind me. I moved on with my life.”

“So you’re saying that you don’t want a relationship with me because—what?—it would cause you to regress or something?”

Tears welled in Zarah’s eyes. What was going on here?

“No, that’s not it at all. I don’t want a relationship with you because I don’t want to cause you pain and suffering.”

“You said that last week, and I’m still not sure—”

“Stop. Please. Just let me say this.” Zarah took a deep breath and dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her napkin. “I think it would be better for you in the long run if you move on from me, if you look for love somewhere else.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Who was she to tell him he shouldn’t love her?

“Bobby, I don’t want to break your heart when I die in a couple of years.”

Chapter 22

B
y the time Bobby finished signing all the paperwork, his hand cramped and the profit he had made on his condo in Los Angeles was gone. But he had his own place now, and could schedule the movers to bring his stuff as soon as he got back from Quantico.

He shook hands with the mortgage broker and gladly accepted the keys to his new place from the real estate agent. Though he really needed to get back to work, anticipation ran too high. Instead of driving northwest of downtown, he drove south, used the key card to get into the gated parking lot, and found what was now his very own detached two-car garage. He pulled up to the door and used the touch pad beside it to activate the electronic opener. Nice and clean; not even any oil spots on the sealed-concrete floor.

He didn’t have all day to admire the garage. Closing the door behind him, he crossed the driveway to the nearest entrance into the building. The elevator opened as soon as he punched the call button; and when he stepped out onto the fourth floor, a sense of excitement bubbled in his chest. The only thing that would have made this perfect would be Zarah at his side.

Zarah. He shook his head. His heart still ached over her fear that she might one day develop the same cancer her mother and sister had.
The revelation last night had taken him so completely by surprise, he had not known how to react. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure Zarah had taken his consternation the wrong way, from the haste of her departure shortly thereafter.

He’d have to figure out some way to make it up to her. Once they both got back from DC, once he closed the case, he would figure out how to reassure her it didn’t matter.

Empty of the previous owners’ furniture and decor, the condo seemed even more spacious than he remembered. As promised, two garage door openers sat on the near end of the kitchen counter. Even though he’d just done the final walk-through a couple of days ago, seeing it now with the keys in his possession made him like it all the more.

He could not wait to see Zarah’s reaction to it.

He stood in the middle of the living room and looked through the rounded wall of windows past his balcony to the panoramic view of midtown and downtown Nashville. His view—even if, structurally, he couldn’t knock down the wall in the kitchen to see it. Nevertheless, it was his home.

As soon as he walked back into his office twenty minutes later, Chase appeared at the door.

“How did it go?” Chase leaned on the doorjamb.

Bobby held up the keys still in his hand. “It’s all mine.”

“Congratulations. Be sure to call me when you’re ready to have people come over to help move the furniture and unpack boxes. I’ll be sure to avoid your phone call.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve done this often enough—and have so few things—that I don’t usually invite anyone over until everything is unpacked and the place is ready to be seen.” Bobby tossed the keys into his desk drawer and moaned at the sight of his in-box, with several new, thick files piled on top of what had already been overflowing the plastic tray. He picked up the top file and started flipping through it.

“So, Sunday. Do you want me to come pick you up so we only have to deal with one car at the airport?”

Tossing the file containing background information on one of the senators onto his desk, Bobby sank into his chair. “Naw, my grandparents already offered to drop me off. Besides, Green Hills is way out of your way. Thanks for the offer though.”

“If you change your mind, just let me know.” Chase nodded toward the stacks of files on Bobby’s desk. “I’ll let you get back to it then.”

“Thanks for that.” Bobby rolled his eyes.

Chase’s laughter lingered behind when he left.

Bobby reached for the five new files still sitting in his in-box and spread them out side by side atop the other clutter already on his desk. A few years ago, a sting operation had been conducted to uncover a group of senators who had been taking bribes as well as violating other ethics regulations. Since then, files had been kept on all of the state’s elected officials. In a way, it made Bobby’s job easier because he didn’t have to start the research from scratch. In a way it made it harder because he didn’t know which files were up-to-date and which had not been touched in a while. But it was a good starting point.

Bobby dived into the work, wanting to get through as much as he could before the Quantico trip. He was well into the fourth file and a second legal pad when his cell phone rang.

“Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

“Just wondering if you’re still planning to come over for supper tonight. I wanted to wait until I knew you were on your way before ordering the food, but I wanted to make sure you were actually coming since you’re not here yet.” His mother’s voice held a note of amusement.

Bobby looked at his watch, shocked to find that it was almost six thirty. Using the legal pad as a placeholder, he closed the folder. “I’m leaving right now. Order me a couple extra egg rolls, please.”

“Oh, I’m ordering a dozen. Whatever you and your dad don’t eat tonight, he’ll eat for breakfast tomorrow. We’ll see you in a little bit.”

Bobby returned the phone to the holster on his belt, rolled his sleeves down, buttoned the cuffs, and shrugged into his suit coat. If
he had been able to think about anything other than the house closing this morning, he might have thrown a change of clothes in the car. Now he didn’t even have time to run by Mamm and Greedad’s house to change into something more comfortable.

One advantage of having lost track of time—rush hour traffic had almost dissipated by the time he hit the interstate in downtown. He lucked into a parking space not too far from the midrise building just off Division Street. The concierge at the front desk greeted him with an air of friendly snobbishness. Bobby kept his smile to himself until the elevator doors closed. The man needed to go to Los Angeles if he wanted to intimidate guests the way they did out there.

The hallway and the building’s top floor had such good soundproofing, Bobby couldn’t hear himself breathe. It was actually kind of creepy. He didn’t mind so much the occasional sound of neighbors coming and going, even though he was pretty sure with his corner unit, farthest from the main stairs and elevator, he wouldn’t hear much. Here, he couldn’t even hear the doorbell when he pressed the button beside his parents’ door.

But it must have rung—his mother flung open the door and pulled him inside, drawing him into a hug.

“So good to see you.” Mom ushered him into the enormous, luxurious condominium.

Bobby squeezed his mom’s shoulder. “You act like you haven’t seen me in months. It’s only been a little more than a week.”

“Yeah, well I still haven’t gotten over not getting to see you for a couple years back when you were in the army. Or when you were hiding out in California.”

“I wasn’t hiding out. I was working.” He’d been making something of himself before he came back to face everyone who’d only known him as the kid who had to enlist in the army instead of go to jail—for something he hadn’t actually done.

“You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. How did the closing go?”

“Just like a closing should go. No problems. Went by and looked at the place.”

“Can’t wait to see it. When you get ready to decorate, call me, and we’ll go shopping.”

“Beth, leave the boy alone.” Andrew “Tank” Patterson joined them in the entryway. He shook his son’s hand and squeezed his shoulder. For a man almost sixty years old, Tank Patterson could have passed for much younger. So could Bobby’s mother.

He would never be able to make up for the pain he had caused them when he, along with two of his friends—the judge’s son and the mayor’s son—had been arrested after the other two boys decided to rob a convenience store while they were all three out one night. Mom and Dad had warned him that those boys were no good. But because they were the captains of the football team, Bobby had thought it better to stay on their good side rather than to cross them.

Even though his parents had believed him when he told them he wasn’t involved in the robbery, the fact that he had lied to them about where he was going and whom he was going with had hurt them deeply. And the fact that the mayor’s son and the judge’s son had not only blamed it on Bobby but also gotten off scot-free had hurt him deeply.

“When is the food going to get here? I’m starved.” Dad shoved Bobby in the back to propel him into the grand, wide-open living space. The huge, flat-panel TV was tuned to one of the sports channels. Though the TV was muted, it only took one glance to figure out his father had been watching a show previewing the professional football games coming up on Sunday.

Bobby asked his mom about the dog show they’d attended in New York and used the time to try to transition his brain from work mode to family mode. After about fifteen minutes, their phone beeped twice. Dad told the concierge to send the delivery guy up. A few minutes later, the three of them stood in the pristine, mostly unused kitchen, opening boxes to determine what was what. Mom had ordered enough
food for at least six people—well, six normal people. But she knew her husband and son well. He and Dad could put away a lot of food.

At Mom’s request, Bobby and his dad pulled down several serving dishes which she proceeded to dump the food into. It took a couple trips to get it all to the dining room table, which Mom had already set with some of her nicer plates and flatware.

After Dad asked the blessing, they all dived in with relish. In the middle of serving a heaping spoonful of Szechuan beef onto his plate, the inevitable question came up.

“Have you met anyone special at the singles’ group?”

Rather than the exasperated look he wanted to respond with to his mother’s question, Bobby figured he might as well go ahead and tell them everything. “Do y’all remember back when I was stationed in New Mexico and I mentioned I’d gone out on a couple of dates?”

His parents both nodded.

“Well, I wasn’t entirely forthcoming.” He told them the full story of meeting Zarah, secretly dating her, all the way up through his buying an engagement ring for her.

“Why didn’t you tell us any of this?”

The hurt tone in his mother’s voice knifed through his chest. “Because I didn’t want you to tell me I was too young to be thinking about getting married. Even though I loved her and was certain we were destined to be together, I was worried that if something happened and it didn’t work out, I would’ve disappointed you once again.”

Dad reached over and rested his hand on Bobby’s shoulder. “Son, you know there is nothing you can do that would make us stop loving you.”

Emotion pressed at the back of Bobby’s throat. “I know. But I was twenty years old then and still trying to figure things out for myself.” He finished the story, including his doubts about what General Mitchell had told him.

“What happened to this girl? Have you heard from her?” Mom’s eyes looked suspiciously moist.

“Actually, she’s one of the leaders of the singles’ group at Acklen
Avenue Fellowship.” He told them about running into her at the cookout at Patrick’s house and everything that had happened since then.

“Mom, she said something last night that I wasn’t sure how to respond to. Her mom died of ovarian cancer when she was eight, and her sister was diagnosed with it seven years ago. Zarah told me one of the reasons she has shied away from relationships since we broke up is because she’s afraid that if she’s diagnosed with cancer, it’ll cause too much pain for the person she’s with.”

“Sounds to me like she might be more afraid the person she’s with will leave her and cause
her
pain if that happens.” Dad reached for the bowl of fried rice and glopped more onto his plate.