Twilight (44 page)

“It’s better to leave it alone.” Rita had been a lifeboat in a rough sea. Cal would give her that. But he didn’t need to prolong it for either of them.

“Better for whom?”

Cal turned.

Reggie’s eyes were earnest—not pleading, but convicting. “She has no rudder but herself. If she makes a mistake, there’s no one to fall back on. She’s alone.”

Cal considered that. Part of him wanted her to regret her actions. Maybe the splinter Reggie mentioned. Rita had been wrong to turn on him, to lose her faith in him. But then, he wasn’t the one she needed faith in. He scratched his neck. “I don’t know, Reg.”

“Then take it from the Big Man. If He urges you—”

“I don’t have quite the pipeline you’ve got.”

Reggie tossed him the ball. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’ve got the same access I do. Just exercise it.”

“In other words, pray about it.” Cal spun the ball by its points.

“That’s right.”

“Then I may as well call her.”

Reggie held out his hands and caught the ball Cal tossed. “Don’t call. Go.”

Cal laughed. “What is it with you and face-to-face.”

“It’s better that way. You can’t hug over the phone.”

Cal went back to the couch and sat down. “I’m not leaving before Suanne’s burgers.”

“You got that right, honey,” she called from the kitchen.

“I suppose you’ve heard the whole thing,” Cal called back.

“Mm-hmm. It’s about time you got up the gumption.”

Cal shoved his fingers into his hair. “Why do I always feel outnumbered here?” But he knew why. Reggie and Suanne were a matched pair. And he? A lone pin waiting to topple.

After lunch, he drove to the center. It had been long enough, now, that the place felt foreign. That was a good thing. He no longer entertained notions of climbing back inside. In fact, the last thing he wanted was to climb those stairs.

He parked the jeep, got out, and took the stairs with purpose, pushing through the front doors. Maybe Reggie was right. Give her the chance to come clean, get this over with, and move on. He checked in with the receptionist, but asked her not to call Rita. It took a little male manipulation, but she succumbed.

He followed the hall to Rita’s office and tapped the door. Before Rita could answer, he opened it himself. “Got a minute for your pet nightmare?”

Rita pressed both palms to her desk with a look that told him he should have let the receptionist announce him. But she composed herself by the time he reached the chair across from her desk. He slouched into it, reminiscent of his once-rebellious form.

“Cal.” Her voice held more than he’d hoped to hear. Reggie was right. He’d left her too long to pay for what she’d done.

“What are you doing Friday?”

Her mouth came together in silence. Her wedge of hair had more gray than he remembered, but it was exactly the same length, her makeup flawless, her nails immaculate. Did she ever let herself go? Spend a day in her pajamas?

“Poker night. I’ve been on a roll. No Rita James to call my bluff.

Regg ie’s all r ight, but Rob’s no competition, and Per r y’s just pathetic.”

She folded her hands purposefully. “It was a mistake to mix personal and professional.”

“Well, we all know you don’t make mistakes, Dr. James.” He saw her stiffen. “Or is it possible, just possible, you’re human like the rest of us?”

“What do you want, Cal?”

“I want you to know there’re no hard feelings. You trusted your professional judgment and acted on it.”

She sat back in her chair, and her features softened. What load had she been carrying? He saw her throat work and thought she’d answer, but then she stood and walked to the window behind the desk. “It wasn’t my professional judgment I acted on. It was personal.”

Cal hadn’t expected that. He shifted in the seat.

“I was so … angry that you could overcome what I couldn’t get you past. That on your own, you’d faced the fear and didn’t need me. I felt so … useless.”

That was an admission he’d never expected. Rita angry that he’d healed? Without her? He stood and walked to her, turned her from the window, and held her. She was thin and hard like a bird with no feathers, too short for his height. Her hair smelled of shampoo. She started to cry.

“It’s all right, Rita.”

She looked up at him, mascara making streaks down her cheekbones. “Sometimes I’m so alone. What am I doing? Do I really make a difference? Or is it all out of my hands, just some random accident when someone recovers. Do I have any purpose at all?”

“Of course you do. You’ve helped too many to deny that. You helped me.”

“Did I?” She looked up accusingly.

“It was all part of the process. I was definitely taking the wrong track. You steered me back.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m here. Don’t you ever feel alone?”

Cal’s stomach clenched. More than he wanted to consider. “Yeah. But maybe it’s supposed to be that way.” God hadn’t gift wrapped Laurie. She’d walked away, gone back to her fairy-tale life. “Maybe it’s so we can serve a greater number in a bigger way. You here, me with the department.”

She dropped her forehead to his chest. “I’m sorry, Cal. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right. Things worked out in spite of you.” He raised her chin and smiled into her wretched features.

She sniffed. “Not totally in spite.”

He quirked a brow.

“I did have a part in funding your program.”

He cupped her face in his hands. “
You
did? You’re the one who got it through committee?”

She pinched her nose with a tissue from her pocket. “I had to do something.” She dabbed the tears beneath her eyes. “At least if you never spoke to me again, I’d know I’d done something to make it right.”

Cal shook his head. “Poor Rita. Trying to carry it all. You and I are two nuts, you know it?”

She tossed the tissue into the trash. “Well, I …”

“There’s an easier way. It’s just that overachievers like us need to be knocked up side of the head to see it.”

She searched his face as though knowing where he was going but not sure she was hearing it from him.

“There’s a function Reggie introduced me to. It’s a little off the wall, but if you want to know how I really recovered, you might find it enlightening.”

“I don’t …”

“Why don’t you let me pick you up, six-thirtyish. Dress casual.” Which meant Rita’s attire would match the others’ Sunday best.

She sniffed. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

He bent and kissed her forehead. “Not too much.”

Driving home, he felt ten pounds lighter. He should have gone to her sooner, should have listened to the other nudges Reggie had given him. He was right as usual. Rita needed a friend.

Laurie applauded with the crowd around her. She glanced at Stuart and smiled. The show had been amazing, a truly original performance as only L.A. or New York could provide. Though the reviews had been scathing, Stuart insisted they’d missed the point. And he was right, of course.

She stood up beside him as the applause swelled and the ovation continued. Diamonds dangled from her ears, his latest gift. They matched the solitaire diamond in the thick gold chain on her throat. There was no one in the crowd more elegantly attired, no couple more eye-catching. Especially Stuart. Laurie saw the envious stares.

Yet as she stood there, loneliness tore a hole inside her. It was happening more frequently, the hollow, futile feeling. Maybe she needed to spend more time with Luke and Maddie. There just didn’t seem to be enough hours in the day. Between Stuart and his mother, she was on more committees, involved in more events and entertainments, than she’d thought possible. The hours she’d put in at Maple’s seemed a vacation. But she didn’t want to think about that dreadful time. How shocked would Wanda Prelane have been to see her there! And Stuart … would he have come and sat in a booth and ordered coffee— She stopped that thought in its tracks.

Stuart caught her elbow. “Ready?”

“Yes.” She gave him a falsely bright smile.

They sidled out between the seats. Keenly aware of the eyes on Stuart, Laurie followed him to the lobby, then out the doors. He gave his receipt to the valet, and she watched the people watching him. He commanded the space around him. No one could look at Stuart Prelane and not think “man of substance,” even if they didn’t know who he was. Unlike Brian, he had always known the ascendancy of the firstborn son. He needed nothing more.

Something shrank inside her. Did he need her? He was solicitous and attentive. He never said he loved her and never asked her in return. Wasn’t that exactly what she wanted? No expectations of a romantic attachment they both knew was impossible. Did he think she would come to love him? Would she? He was everything Brian had been and more. He was too responsible to cheat on her. She would never deal with embarrassment from Stuart Prelane. He could do no wrong. He was perfect.

She shuddered. Maybe through Stuart, she’d attain perfection herself. Or maybe all that she lacked would show that much more. That was her real fear, wasn’t it? Stuart never criticized, never corrected her. But it wasn’t the same acceptance she’d found in only one other place. It was as though he didn’t look deeply enough to notice her flaws. He was satisfied with the surface.

The car arrived and she climbed in. Luke and Maddie would be asleep when they returned, but she needed to see them, even if it was only to look at their sleeping faces all tucked into designer sheets and comforters.

“You’re quiet tonight.” Stuart took his hand from the wheel and rested it on hers.

“Still taking it in, I guess.”

He smiled. “The sign of a true theatre aficionado.”

She smiled back. It was true. She loved the theater, the performances that stirred memories of her own meager attempts in that area, attempts Cal had convinced her to make. Cal. When would the pain lessen? When would she think of him without her chest seizing up and her stomach knotting?

“What is it?”

She startled and turned. “What?”

“You had a pained look.”

She sighed and dropped her gaze to her hands. “Just a memory.” It would be enough. Stuart would think it was Brian she recalled, and he was very careful not to probe there.

He petted her fingers. “You still haven’t given me an answer.”

She looked at his hand, noted its smooth texture on her skin, the long, well-formed fingers. She remembered another hand, sootstained and bleeding. Cal’s hand leading her out of the inferno. “It’s too soon.”

“To make it public, or to know?”

She looked out the window at the city lights flashing by. When she didn’t answer, Stuart let it go, tact embodied. He kissed her at the door and strolled back to the car, his suit coat parting slightly in back as he took the keys from his pocket. He glanced up and waved, then climbed in and drove away.

Laurie closed her eyes and leaned against the doorjamb, then went inside and shut the door behind her. She locked it and set the alarm, then went up the swirling staircase to the bedroom suites that housed her children—their own rooms in the house she and Brian had bought with the down payment that was their wedding gift from the Prelanes.

Luke had thrown his covers to one side. She pulled the sheet free and placed it softly over his form. He stirred and rolled, then settled back in without opening his eyes. Maddie was nestled in a cloud of lavender and cream. One hand cradled her cheek, the other was tucked inside the gray squirrel puppet. Fluffy was lodged between her soft belly and the sheet.

Laurie looked up at the wall shelf filled with stuffed animals. Why those two? Why would she only sleep with those two? She bent and kissed Maddie’s cheek. Maddie’s eyes fluttered, and she reached an arm around Laurie’s neck. “Sleep with me, Mommy.”

Laurie knelt and laid her head on Maddie’s chest.

“All the way.” Maddie shifted over.

Laurie climbed into the bed beside her, as Maddie snuggled close. She lifted the squirrel that had come loose from Maddie’s hand and brought it to her face. It smelled like Cal. She couldn’t say how, just knew that it did. She buried her face in its plush.

“Don’t cry, Mommy,” Maddie murmured, then drifted into soft breathing.