The Wish List (20 page)

“Hey, tiger,” she said softly, taking a deep breath and gently tweaking the end of Cory’s nose. “Don’t you worry. We’re going to have a great time tomorrow. Wait and see. Everyone’s coming to celebrate your big day. Why, even Scotty Miller’s father called to say that he would be in town and could come after all. Our house will be hopping—and I’ll bet you get lots of neat presents, too.”

She’d tried to give him everything he’d asked for, and had most likely succeeded since he’d requested so little. But there was one thing she couldn’t give him—the one thing he wanted most.

Somehow she forced herself to resume the party preparations and smile at her son. Tomorrow the house would be filled with people, guests she needed to meet and entertain. This party was meant to cheer Cory up and help her get over Nathan and back into the world. She and Cory were finally going to take the first step and look for the husband and daddy they needed. And this time they would do it right. This time they would make sure they found someone they liked—not someone they loved.

~ ~ ~

Nathan lay in the sweat-soaked darkness, listening to the thudding of his heart. And waiting, waiting for the memories to take hold, the ones he’d pushed away for almost two years.

Visions of Faith intruded, and Nathan groaned, wanting nothing more than to pick up the phone and hear her whisper his name. Just once.

But no. He wasn’t going to contact her, wouldn’t even go near her again. Not while he wasn’t complete and free. Not until he put the past to rest.
If
he could even do that.

Remembering the past would be a risk. It would mean opening himself up to revelations that could break him completely. How much was he willing to risk for the woman he loved?

Silence. Darkness. Mere seconds passed. Then slowly, intentionally, Nathan turned. He picked up the picture of Joanna and Amy he’d left by the side of the bed. He forced himself to look at the moonlit photo and to breathe deeply. The thought of Faith, her eyes soft and swimming with the love that she would eventually conquer and offer to someone else, made Nathan’s blood pound furiously in his veins. Slowly he opened his mind, his heart, and finally, fully summoned the demons of the past, allowing them to rise up around him.

He was awake, never more so, yet this time he didn’t run from the waking nightmares. Instead, he turned and faced them. He saw his Amy, laughing and bright, telling him that she loved him. Joanna, sad with dark, accusing eyes. Joanna telling him that he loved his work more than her, that he was too dedicated to helping other people when he should be helping her. His own arguments that he couldn’t turn away from people in need. Her tears. His regrets that he couldn’t be what she needed and wanted.

Nathan grasped a handful of the bed sheet with each hand. He felt the onslaught of pain inside his heart. Hot pain that intensified and spilled over, running into the night of the accident.

Memories pressed in on him. Darkness. The road lit by eerie lamplight. A sudden roar as a car rushed through the red light, coming at them in a swerving, reckless path. Tires squealing. Trying to turn, spin the wheel, slamming his foot on the accelerator as he pushed to get out of the way of the careening vehicle. Impossible. Impossible. Screams. Joanna’s. Cries in the nightmarish darkness.
His
cries—tears and panic clogging his throat. Then searing physical pain as he reached to help his wife. Metal hot and sharp, twisting against his hands.

He’d gone half crazy, working to save her, to save them. He had fought to get to his child, to claw his way deeper into the wreckage and breathe life into her when it was already draining away. He had called upon all of his training and dredged up every bit of strength he possessed as he struggled to reclaim his wife and daughter.

But none of it mattered. None of it worked. They slipped away. He’d failed.

The pain was too great. Nathan wanted to turn away, to stop remembering, but he forced himself back to that night. Again and again, he saw what had happened. He remembered. He ached.

Remembering was horrific. The scalding images of that night whirled through his consciousness in a repetitive loop, never ending, never changing. His heart raced, hammered, pounded. The ghosts of the past were too near. For hours he struggled, wondering why he didn’t just die from the memories...but he knew why. Because he wasn’t a ghost. He was a man, one who had lived when he’d wanted to die. And because faintly, through the pain, he could see her. Faith. Lovely, sweet, giving Faith.

She was his reason for trying, for hanging on, for fighting, for surviving.

Toward dawn, he slept. Fitfully. And when he woke up, his first thought was not of the wreck, but of Faith. A weight lifted from him. He’d lived through the pain, and faced it head on at last. And while he would never be the same man he had been before the accident, he could remember Joanna and Amy without guilt, and with all the love they deserved.

He accepted the fact that he had tried to save his family. And while it was true that he hadn’t succeeded, it was also true that the accident hadn’t been his fault. He couldn’t have changed the outcome. The other car had been moving too fast.

Nathan sank back into the softness of the rumpled bed. He ran damp palms over the tangled, sweaty sheets.

He had lost on that long ago day, badly. But as the first streaks of light lit the sky, Nathan made peace with his demons.

Finally, with shaking fingers, he picked up the picture again, gazing at the wife and child he’d adored. He held it close, moved his thumb over faces he’d never see again.

As the sun began its trek into the sky, Nathan said farewell to the woman he’d tried to love. He brought the photo close and kissed his daughter goodbye.

He wished Amy could have met Faith. She would have liked Faith. His Faith.

His
Faith...if it wasn’t too late.

He hoped it wasn’t too late.

Rising, he hunted out the smudged crayon-decorated birthday invitation Hannah had picked up and passed on to him. He knew the invitation had been sent without Faith’s knowledge. He hadn’t meant to attend the party, planning to merely send a present and a note.

Now nothing on earth could keep him from the woman and the child he loved. Somehow, someway, he had to convince Faith that he
was
the man on the list, that he was a man she and Cory could count on through eternity and beyond.

~ ~ ~

The house was the same as Nathan remembered, except for the balloons and the big Happy Birthday Cory sign that covered the front door. He pulled the Suburban halfway up the block—as close as he could get with all the other cars parked there. Then, taking a deep breath, he reached for the long, slim package in the back seat. Fumbling with the door handle, he eased his frame out of the car.

Long seconds passed while he stood there. He could hear the sounds of a party going on, people laughing, talking, kids squealing. He listened for Cory’s voice among the squeals, but couldn’t find it.

He had hurt the boy that last day, remembering so clearly the small arms that had hugged him close, practically begging him to stay. Nathan’s own heart gave a painful lurch at the thought, and he promised himself that he would never hurt Cory again. He would never leave him again, if he could help it. If Faith would open her door to him.

Quickly he walked up the path, straining until he heard it. The sound of her voice.

Nathan raised his head instantly and saw that Faith was in the backyard, talking to a handsome, dark-haired man. She handed him a string of bright patio lights as she reached to hang the first one herself. The man smiled at her and pulled the hammer from her hand. He took over the job himself and said something in a low, teasing voice, something Nathan couldn’t make out.

No matter. He saw the smile cross her face and the way she leaned closer to answer. Her hair, honey-toned and soft, brushed the man’s shoulder. Her beautiful hair that Nathan remembered so well. The kind of softness a man wanted to tangle his fingers in as he kissed her, touched her, loved her.

Sucking in his breath, Nathan felt the jealousy, hot and bubbling, boil within his gut. He swallowed hard, forcing himself not to move or do something foolish.

He was here for a reason, and he wouldn’t be able to explain himself if he flattened the nose of one of Faith’s guests.

Nathan ran one hand over his tense jaw and took a few steps closer. He was nearing the gate now. In another minute, he would be inside. He could see her, talk to her.

“Cory, Scotty,” the dark-haired man called, finishing the stringing of the patio lights. “Come here.”

And as Nathan watched, Cory and another little boy, curly-haired like the man, ran up to the adults. Reaching out, the man ruffled the other little boy’s hair and did the same to Cory’s. Then, as Faith called for someone to plug the lights in, he picked up both boys, one in each arm. He held them high so they could see as the red, green and yellow lights came on, glowing in the gathering darkness.

Faith reached out and touched Cory’s arm. She smiled at her son and at the man, who was beaming back at her possessively.

A family, Nathan thought. They looked like a family.

He should leave them alone.

But as he stood there, a present in one hand, the fingers of the other hand bunched tightly, Nathan could almost hear Faith that first day, chastising him for not trying. He took one more step forward. To hell with the man in the yard. There was a woman and a child inside that fence, and he loved them. He couldn’t just walk away.

“Faith, I’ve got to try,” he whispered. He couldn’t give up without a fight. As sure as he’d lived when he might have died, as sure as he loved Faith heart and soul, he couldn’t walk away.

Squaring his shoulders and narrowing his eyes, Nathan arrowed his way straight to the gate, flipping the latch in one quick move. The last time he’d been here, he’d been a patient struggling to retrieve his career. Now he was a man out to win a woman, the only woman that mattered. And nothing—neither man nor monster—had better stand in his way.

~ ~ ~

Faith looked up when Nathan came through the gate. Tall, broad shouldered and imposing, his green-eyed gaze sought her out and pinned her where she stood.

She started to step forward, then stopped, her heart beginning a slow, hard thud that felt as if it would tear her apart.

Unable to speak, she simply stood waiting.

Nathan took a step closer.

Faith tried to breathe. She forced herself to reason with her pounding heart. He was holding a present, a gift for Cory that he would give to her child and then leave, this time forever. It was important to remember that, to kick away from the need to throw herself into Nathan’s arms. She couldn’t do what she wanted and ask Nathan to come back to her and Cory.

Cory. She could hear his voice coming from the other side of the yard where he and Scotty had run off with Mr. Miller. Cory shouldn’t see Nathan. This wasn’t right. She didn’t want her child to end his birthday in tears, even though she knew that
she
was going to do that very thing.

Her thoughts melted her frozen limbs like sunshine on ice. Quickly she moved forward to meet Nathan, to intercede, to stop her son from seeing him.

“Hello, Faith.” Her name flowed from his lips like a husky caress, but of course that was only what she wanted to believe.

“Come inside, Nathan,” she whispered, taking his hand and leading him away from the lights of the backyard.

But as soon as they crossed the threshold of her house, as soon as they were safely locked away from Cory’s view, she dropped his hand quickly, as if she’d found herself holding a still glowing ember.

Faith turned to face him, trying to ignore the mesmerizing heat of his gaze. “Why are you here? You can’t be here,” she told him, forcing herself to cross her arms and harden her features.

A slow smile crossed his lips. He dropped the package on the counter, leaning closer, and she noticed that his long, blond hair was as shaggy as ever, as touchable, as enticing.

She held out her hands as if to fend him off.

Instead he leaned even nearer, ignoring her hands as he brought his lips close to her ear. “I love it when you turn to flame, Faith,” he whispered. “And don’t tell me I can’t be here. I
am
here, as you can see.”

Stepping back to give her room to breathe, Nathan leaned against the doorjamb. He crossed his ankles and his arms, as if he intended to stay that way forever.

“You haven’t answered my question, Nathan.” Faith fought to keep her voice stern, to close her mind to all the wicked things his presence was doing to her nerves. “And I don’t want you here. We’ve said our goodbyes. I don’t want Cory to see you. He can’t see you here, Nathan,” she pleaded, closing her eyes as he shifted and the warm, male scent of him drifted close.

“Faith...” His voice felt like a caress, and she steeled herself against leaning closer. “I couldn’t stay away, though heaven knows I tried. Besides, I promised Cory I wouldn’t forget his birthday. Did you think I’d break my word to him? Do you think so little of me?”

She could sense the moment he moved away from the door frame, felt the second he arrived back at her side. His voice drifted near, slipping over her like warm fingers, pulling at her, hurting her because she knew he would be gone so soon. This was just a moment in time that would be snatched from her any second. She hated knowing it was so easy for him to leave her while it was all she could do not to beg him to hold her.

Faith took a full two steps back from Nathan. She forced herself to look full into his face, wanting him to know how much she wished he would leave. Now.

“Nathan, please, don’t you remember that last night when we said goodbye? Didn’t you see how it was for Cory? Have you forgotten that list? You can hurt him so easily, Nathan. So...please go. Aren’t you worried about hurting him?”

He blinked, and she saw him falter once when she mentioned the list, as if she’d convinced him to go. But then he stepped forward, cupping her chin in his hand as he leaned close.