Trouble Don’t Last Always (7 page)

Adam was the kind of son any parent would be proud of.

Too restless to sit, Eleanor bounded up once again and found herself staring at the back of the house. Light now shone from the window next to Alex’s. Lilly Crawford.

Eleanor hoped in this at least she had made the right decision. At the time there hadn’t been much choice. As much as it hurt her, she had to come to terms with the fact that instead of her presence comforting her son, it had the opposite effect.

Adam had always been the strong one, the dependable one. Like most young men growing up, he had tested the rules and boundaries, but that was as it should be. He had a good head on his shoulders his father had said. How she wished her husband were still with her to lean on, to guide her.

Randolph Wakefield had been a kind, loving father and husband. Losing him so suddenly five years ago had devastated them all. Now this. If Adam’s blindness weren’t horrendous enough, the aftermath was tearing their once-close family apart, and she had absolutely no idea how to make it better.

This wasn’t drinking or drugs or the influence of unsavory people you could discuss with reason. This was something far more insidious and destructive. She didn’t know how to fight, only that she must. Not just for Adam’s sake, but for Kristen’s.

Eleanor’s daughter’s life had been shaken enough when her father died of a sudden heart attack while they were playing tennis. She had seen one man she loved and thought invincible succumb; now the big brother she had come to rely on even more since their father’s death was struggling to survive.

Kristen had never been as outgoing or as strong as Adam. Eleanor knew that if Adam lost his battle it would have disastrous consequences on her daughter. There had to be a way to save her children from more heartache and pain.

The flash of headlights across the sheer curtain caused Eleanor to frown, then smile. Quickly she went to open the door to admit her late-night visitor.

“Hello, Jonathan.”

Jonathan straightened from trying to balance the cardboard box in his hands and ring the lighted doorbell at the same time. “I hope you checked before you opened the door.”

Used to his being protective and cautious where she and Kristen were concerned, Eleanor smiled and stood back for him to enter. “Only a few people know I’m here.”

Stepping across the threshold onto the hardwood floor, Jonathan stared down at Eleanor’s beautiful smiling face, caught as always by her beauty and charm. “Check next time,” he said gruffly.

Leaning over, she sniffed appreciatively. “Is that Marie’s gumbo?”

Realizing he had lost this particular conversation, Jonathan headed for the kitchen. Besides being independent, Eleanor was headstrong. “Kristen said you hadn’t been eating.”

The smile slipped from Eleanor’s face as she followed. “None of us have.”

Setting the cardboard box on the blue-and-white tile counter, he began to take the Styrofoam containers out. “That’s going to change. I got Kristen to eat before I took her to the airport by promising I’d get you to eat.” He reached into the cabinet and took down a soup bowl trimmed with clusters of ripe blueberries, Eleanor’s favorite fruit. “So have a seat.”

Eleanor sat, then propped an elbow on the table, her chin on top of her hand, watching Jonathan move around the small kitchen with such ease and economy of motion. No matter how many times she’d seen him, it always amazed her that a big man could move with such grace and elegance. “Thank you for taking her to the airport. She called to let me know she had made it back safely. Tomorrow she’s going by my house and have my phone calls forwarded to the cottage.”

“She called me, too.”

Eleanor wasn’t surprised. Kristen would know he was concerned. “Where’s your bowl?” she questioned when he set the thick stew in front of her.

“Coming.” True to his word, he dished up another bowl of gumbo, removed the foil from still-warm garlic bread, transferred the tossed salad from the plastic container into a clear bowl, then placed napkins and silverware on the table.

Hands on hips, he studied the table, then snapped his fingers and grinned. Reaching back into the box, he brought out a bottle of chilled chardonnay. “I figured we could both use this.”

Eleanor lifted her glass. She seldom drank strong liquor, but she loved wines and Jonathan knew the ones she liked best. “You always think of everything.”

“I try.” Half-filling her glass, he filled his, then set the bottle on the table.

“I thought you were on call?”

“Traded places with Maxwell for Saturday night.” Jonathan took his seat. “He has a heavy date.”

“You’re a bachelor, too. Don’t you have plans?”

“You know I tried marriage and it didn’t work. Never again.” Head downcast, he spread his napkin across his lap instead of looking at her, afraid she’d see the longing he wasn’t sure he hid very well at times. Friendship was better than nothing.

“I liked Gloria.” Eleanor sipped her wine, then studied Jonathan over the rim of the glass. “I was disappointed it didn’t work out between you two.”

“She’s happy with her podiatrist in Arizona,” he said lightly. The marriage had been doomed from the start. He had been unfair to Gloria by asking her to marry him when he loved another woman. What saved him many sleepless nights was that at the time he hadn’t known it. He wished his ex-wife well.

“I suppose all marriages can’t be as happy as Randolph’s and mine.” Eleanor’s eyes became dreamy. “I considered myself the luckiest woman in the world to have found him.”

Uncomfortable with the conversation and ashamed of his jealousy of the man who had been his best friend, Jonathan cut off a thick slice of bread and placed it on her plate. “Enough talk. Eat before the food gets cold.”

The first taste was delicious, tempting her taste buds with forgotten pleasure. Eleanor closed her eyes and savored the rich flavors. When she opened them again, Jonathan was staring at her strangely. She laughed self-consciously. “What’s the matter?”

Roughly he cleared his throat, then took a bite of gumbo to wash down the knot in his throat. He had to shake his head when it stuck. He reached for his wine and gulped. Thankfully it worked. Now wasn’t the time or the place. “Nothing. It’s just sometimes I find it hard to believe you have grown children. You look the same as you did when the three of us were in med school at Meharry.”

Relaxing, the jittery feeling in her stomach gradually subsiding, Eleanor made a face. “Flatterer. As I remember, you had the silver tongue then also.”

“Didn’t seem to work with you.”

Eleanor’s gaze came up sharply, but Jonathan wore his usual teasing smile. “Randolph and I always knew,” she said softly. “I miss him still. I wish he was here to help me decide what to do.”

“If it’s any help, Eleanor, I’m here. I’ll always be here for you and the children.”

From somewhere she summoned a smile as she reached for his hand. His grasp was strong and steady on top of the hard surface of the table. “Jonathan. I don’t know what we would do without you, and I sincerely hope we never have to find out.”

“You won’t.” Ordering himself to let go of her hand, he picked up his spoon. “Finish your meal. I promised Kristen I’d call her tomorrow with a full accounting.”

Eleanor dipped her spoon into the bowl, then put it down. “It’s difficult to eat when I keep thinking of Adam alone and hurting.”

“Not taking care of yourself is not going to help. And what about Kristen?” Jonathan stared at her across the table. “She needs you, too. By not taking care of yourself, you let them both down.”

Fury flashed in Eleanor’s amber-colored eyes. “You have no right to criticize me.”

“Yes, I do. You’re all they have. You love them more, but that doesn’t negate my love for them or for you.”

The anger rushed out of her as quickly as it had come. She leaned back against the high-backed cushioned chair. “You always could make me angrier than anyone else on the planet.”

“It’s a knack,” Jonathan said mildly. Anger, but never the love he craved so desperately.

Eleanor tore off a piece of bread. “Well, don’t overdo.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.”

“What do you think of Lilly Crawford?”

Seeing Eleanor finally eating, Jonathan gave serious thought to her question. “I don’t know. I wish you’d let me have someone do a check on her. A friend of mine in the police department can trace her through the car registration.”

Eleanor took a sip of wine. “You gave her your word and that meant mine. If she were a criminal, she would have thought of that possibility. I’m going to go on instinct and hold off unless she gives us cause.” She set her glass aside. “Nicole called as soon as she arrived home from the airport. She reiterated her dislike of Ms. Crawford caring for Adam, but as I explained to her, for the time being that’s the way it’s going to be.”

“I don’t think she wants any woman alone with Adam for an extended period of time, as he and Ms. Crawford are bound to be if this works out.”

Eleanor raised perfectly arched eyebrows. She wasn’t offended by his subtle reference to sex. Adam was very much a man. “But Adam isn’t interested in that now.”

Jonathan chuckled. “Spoken like a mother. Every man is interested in that, whether he can see or not.”

Eleanor felt that hot fluttery feeling again and, for the first time in their relationship, wondered about Jonathan’s sex life. She studied Jonathan the way another woman would who might be interested in him as a potential lover, not as a trusted friend of almost forty years.

He was certainly handsome enough, with glossy salt-and-pepper hair at his temples that made him look like the distinguished and successful doctor he was. His unending patience and soft brown eyes had probably comforted countless women in labor. She frowned slightly, remembering his gaze could also be piercing if called for.

The occasion had been shortly after Randolph’s death. One of his associates had become pushy in his attention toward her. Jonathan had been in town on one of many trips from Shreveport to check on them and immediately set the man straight with a few terse words. The odious man had never bothered her again. Jonathan wasn’t a pushover by any stretch of the imagination.

His broad shoulders and wide chest were strong enough to hold and shelter a woman and her problems, but he also had an ingrained goodness that made the entire package appealing. Why hadn’t she noticed before?

“What?” he asked, frowning.

A bit embarrassed, she dipped her spoon into the gumbo. “Woolgathering. Nothing important.”

Jonathan wasn’t so sure. For one precious moment Eleanor had looked at him the way a woman looks at a man she is interested in. He couldn’t have imagined it, but as time passed and she ate her meal, he wasn’t so sure. Perhaps he had seen what he had waited almost forty years to see.

For the first time in memory, Lilly had nothing to do. After Dr. Delacroix left to take Nicole and Kristen to the airport, Mrs. Wakefield had shown her the location of the cottage. Once there, Mrs. Wakefield had given Lilly specific instructions regarding the care of her son, then said they’d talk in the morning.

Lilly had returned to find the double stainless-steel refrigerator and freezer and pantry well stocked, as Mrs. Wakefield had indicated they would be. Lilly had prepared Dr. Wakefield’s dinner and left it outside his door on the table as Mrs. Wakefield had instructed her to do if he didn’t answer. Then she went to her room.

Opening the door to the spacious bedroom done in salmon, slate blue, and yellow, Lilly still found it difficult to believe she was to sleep in the delicate-looking and distinctly feminine room. It was like something out of a dream.

Her fingers trailed down the intricately carved maple headboard that was as tall as she was, the double doors of the mahogany armoire, the pretty bench at the foot of the bed that was covered in the same sunny white-and-yellow fabric as the throw pillows on the bed and on the love seat. Everywhere her eyes touched there was beauty.

When she’d grown tired of looking and touching, she’d unpacked her few clothes and run a bath. She’d felt almost decadent in the white-on-white bathroom and a little impish when she sprinkled in the water some of the bath salts she found on the marble shelf over the immense sunken tub. Sinking into the rose-scented bubbles, she sighed with pleasure, then gasped as the unexpected buoyancy of the water lifted her. She laughed, enjoying the freedom to do so.

She’d played more than she had bathed and enjoyed it, instead of her habit of rushing to finish in case Myron needed her. Getting out, she’d pulled a large white towel from the heated towel rack to dry off. Wealthy people sure knew how to live.

Holding up her faded cotton gown, she could barely distinguish the tiny lilacs on the white background. She glanced at the mound of luxurious bedding. No problems this time distinguishing the plants. Large white hydrangeas were scattered across a ground of luminous yellow on the duvet, shams, and toss pillows. It seemed a shame to wear the old gown.

Grinning, she pulled on the gown and slid beneath the cool cotton sheets to snuggle in comfort. Overhead she caught sight of the detailed scroll around the ceiling of the room and the crystal chandelier. To live here every day, to own all this, had to be the most wonderful thing in the world. For a while, she would enjoy it, too.

The grin slipped from her face as she thought of Dr. Wakefield and the reason she was there. He could no longer see the beautiful house or the well-cared-for grounds. His world was one of darkness.

What if it remained that way?

Scooting down in the bed, Lilly turned over on her side and drew the covers up to her chin. Once she’d thought that her life had to be the most miserable in the world. Today she had learned different.

Mother Crawford had always said if you lived long enough you’d find someone in worse shape. The trick was to keep living.

Leaning over, Lilly cut off the light. Tomorrow she had to be at her best. She no longer thought Dr. Wakefield would harm her physically, but he’d defy her at her every turn. She just had to figure out how to get around him.