Wild Honey (16 page)

Movie-star handsome arid radiating maleness like a huge neon sign, McLean was the sexiest piece of testosteroneladen flesh she’d ever laid eyes on. Even minus her fears about Matt, it was no wonder Randi wanted to keep him at a distance. A man like this was way out of Randi’s league. If, she amended, her sister even had a league where men were concerned. But she’d have been alert to the dangerous male animal implicit in every inch of the man.

Then he turned, giving Jill a tired smile, and she found herself quickly reassessing. There was an undeniable sense of decency, of basic human kindness, in the tired lines of his face. Yes, and sensitivity lurking in the blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. Intelligent eyes, she realized at once.

“Y’all got here pretty quickly,” Travis said. “No trouble with the roads, I reckon?” He’d managed to get the phone number from Randi before they arrived at the hospital, and he’d called Jill at once. “Have you seen Randi yet? Or Matt?”

“No,” Jill said, “but we spoke to the pediatrician on duty, and he seems to think Matt’s out of danger, thank God.”

Travis nodded. “A urinary infection, which spiked a high night fever.” He smiled softly at both of them. “Don’t y’all worry now. We got him here in time.”

“We’re about to go on up to the room,” David said, “but we wanted to see you first and thank you.”

“No thanks necessary. Matt’s my…my flesh and blood, and even if he wasn’t, I’d have done what I could to help. You’d have done the same.”

“I’d have tried,” David said with a wry smile, “but I hardly have your expertise. I understand you have a medical background.”

“Uh…yeah.” Travis glanced away from David’s curious gaze.

A nurse entered the waiting room, crisp in her white uniform. “Miss Terhune?”

Jill turned, nodded.

“Doctor says you can go up now.”

Jill and David both moved, and the nurse added, “Sorry, but the rules say only two visitors at a time. And his mother’s already there. Been at the bedside the whole time, you know.”

“You go on, sweetheart,” David said, putting a gentle hand on Jill’s shoulder. “I can—”

“Uh, David?” Travis’s voice turned both Jill and David toward him. “I was wonderin’,” he said, “if I might have a few words with your fiancée—” he looked questioningly at Jill “—if it’s all right with you, that is?”

Jill nodded. She’d been hoping to talk to McLean. “You go up first, honey,” she said to David. “I don’t mind. Just tell Randi I’ll be along shortly, okay?”

David hesitated a moment, searching her face. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he nodded and followed the nurse.

“Mr. McLean—” Jill began the moment the door shut behind them.

“It’s Travis,” he told her. “We all share too much to be formal with each other. Uh, it’s Jill, right?”

She smiled a nod at him. “But look, Travis, despite what you told David, we all owe you a deep debt of gratitude. No,” she added when he shook his head and began to wave this away. “It’s clear, even from the little you told us, that if you hadn’t helped…”

She choked back a sob, and Travis handed her his handkerchief, waiting patiently while she regained control.

“Well,” she said at length, “I wanted you to know we’re grateful, that’s all. Matt’s your flesh and blood, but he’s ours, too, and we love him to blazes.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, a tender smile on his face, “me, too.”

She raised teary eyes to meet his gaze. “What you did was done for your son, but it gave us the miracle of
two
lives that might’ve been lost, Travis. I…I don’t think Randi could’ve survived. You see, Matt’s her whole world. She’d never be the same if anything happened to him.”

He nodded solemnly.

“I don’t know how we can ever repay you,” she went on. “Still, there must be
something.”

He started to wave her words away again, then stopped. He eyed her steadily for several seconds before he spoke. “Okay, Jill,” he said, and the blue eyes were grim as they met hers. “There is somethin’ you can do.”

“Name it.”

“You can tell me why your sister’s afraid of men.”

J
ILL DIGESTED
Travis’s words in stunned silence. This was the last thing she’d expected. Her mind raced as she tried to form a reply.

Her first instinct was to tell him it was none of his business. The truth, because it wasn’t anyone’s business but Randi’s. And Randi was loath to discuss it with anyone, even her own sister. Jill would be betraying a confidence, the magnitude of which even Randi couldn’t see—or face.

Yet that was just the problem. Randi needed to unlock the door to her past, needed to face it. Because if she didn’t, Jill was certain she’d never find the happiness she herself had found by confronting her past and going beyond it.

Could Travis McLean be the key to unlocking that door? His question said he was aware of a problem, which was a wonder in itself; Randi had never let a man get closeenough to sense even that much. Had the bond they shared through Matt broken down some of her sister’s carefully erected barriers? Or was it more basic than that? Was there something in the man himself that inspired trust, inspiredRandi to let him inside, if only a little?

Taking a deep breath, Jill decided to do some careful probing. “Tell me something, Travis. Why is it important for you to know this? I mean, I assume it’s important or you wouldn’t ask. You didn’t want any other compensation for what you’ve done.”

“Smart lady,” he said, a flash of approval in his eyes.

“Huh,” she said with a grin, “no one ever accused my folks of raising dummies.”

He smiled, then his face sobered. “It’s important for two reasons. The first is Matt. Never doubt this, Jill. It was only weeks ago I learned I had a son. But I love the kid more than anything in the world. What happens to him, his welfare, is major with me. So I can’t help worryin’ if his mother’s…problem won’t leak over onto him.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I understand, but I don’t think you need to be concerned. Matt’s a happy normal child. Surely you’ve seen that. Randi’s got good instincts. They’ve translated into excellent parenting skills. Thanks mostly, I think, to our folks, who were wonderful parents.” She paused. “I’m not a bit worried, Travis, so I don’t think you need be, either. After all, I ought to know. I’m closer to Randi and Matt than anyone. Now, what’s your other reason?”

He was silent for a moment, digesting what she’d said. Matt did seem normal and happy, and Jill certainly didn’t appear concerned. Still…

Deciding to keep his mind—and options—open with regard to Matt, he pondered how best to answer her question. To phrase something he’d only begun to try to fathom himself.

“My other reason,” he said slowly, feeling his way carefully through uncharted waters, “has to do with Randi. Of course, I don’t know your sister all that well…” He thought of that day in the parking lot, when Randi had told him she refused to discuss her reasons for having a child by the means she’d chosen. “Though not for lack of tryin’,” he added wryly.

“Still, there’s somethin’—” he plowed a hand through his hair and heaved a sigh “—hell, I’m not even sure why, but…there’s somethin’ about your sister, Jill. And I’m not just talkin’ ‘bout her bein’ Matt’s mother here. It’s more
than that. There’s somethin’ ‘bout Randi that makes me give a damn ‘bout what happens to her, y’know?”

Again Jill nodded. She believed that. Travis had begun to care for Randi, perhaps more than he knew. Or was willing to admit even to himself.

She ran her gaze over his face, its lines of fatigue, a testament to a long sleepless night filled with stress. To what he’d endured as he raced through a hurricane to reach this place, knowing Matt’s life hung in the balance. To the hours he’d kept vigil, awaiting word of his son’s condition.

Travis McLean, she decided, was a good decent man who cared deeply about the child he’d fathered. And who, perhaps, cared more than a little about that child’s mother. And maybe, just maybe, he’d prove to be something more. Maybe Randi’s chance for a normal life, for genuine happiness, was finally within the realm of possibility.

Praying she wasn’t being fanciful or, worse, making a grave mistake, she placed a hand lightly on his arm. “C’mon, sit with me. I think there’s a story you ought to hear.” She gestured to a set of chairs.

“Once,” she began when they were seated, “there were two little girls…”

And so, not without difficulty, she told him. Not all of the story, but the part she felt free to reveal. A story of two frightened young girls, newly orphaned, then stalked by the stepfather into whose care they’d been innocently left. The story of how that responsibility was monstrously abused. Of how this left the older girl a victim of sexual abuse, the younger, badly frightened and forever wary of men.

More than this official version of the tale, she didn’t reveal; it wasn’t hers to tell. But she clearly implied that, through the trauma of having been stalked and of having witnessed her older sister’s plight, the younger child was just as much a victim, and just as badly hurt.

“In some ways, Travis,” she concluded, fighting tears as she switched at last to the first person, “my sister suffered
more than I did. She…she’s only two years younger, b-but when you’re a kid, two years can make a big difference. Randi, oh, God, Randi was the b-baby, and I’d always kind of looked out for her—with Mom and Dad’s backup. But with our parents gone, and me…me…” She swallowed, unable to finish.

“With your folks gone and you a helpless victim,” Travis said grimly as he handed her his handkerchief, “she felt the rug had been ripped out from under her. You both suddenly had no one to turn to. No one to protect you. It must’ve been hell.”

Jill blew her nose and nodded, watching him carefully for his reaction. He sat across from her, leaning forward, feet widespread, elbows on his knees. A casual enough pose. Until she noted the hands he held clasped in front of him. They were white at the knuckles.

At length he raised his head, and she saw his eyes. She flinched at the look in them, even knowing it wasn’t directed at her.

“I knew somethin’ was wrong,” he said tightly, trying to contain a red haze of rage that fogged his brain. Rage that made him want to bring back the piece of human slime who’d done this thing. For the unmitigated satisfaction of killing the bastard, slowly, oh, so very slowly, and without pity.
Get a grip, McLean. It all happened a long time ago, and your anger won’t help Randi or Jill. Or Matt, either.

“I just didn’t have any idea what it could be,” he went on. “I—I’ve never had any experience with this sort of thing.”

“Most decent people haven’t,” she said quietly, “or think they haven’t.”

He shot her a quizzical glance.

“The sexual abuse of children,” she said wearily, “is more common in our society than most of us think. The victims, sadly, are the least likely to talk. And sometimes, even when they do, they’re not believed. If our stepfather
hadn’t been killed in that car accident, I might never’ve come forward. Who’d believe me? I used to think. It would be his word against mine.

“You see, he’d threatened me about that, about my telling anyone,” she said tautly. “He said no one would take a kid’s word over an adult’s. Especially when that adult was an upstanding pillar of the community, which was the disguise he wore, by the way. Went to church every Sunday, attended PTA meetings, volunteered to drive our local senior citizens around. Yeah, a real model citizen.”

Travis was still trying to eradicate the visions her story had conjured up in his mind. Having the bastard painted with detailed strokes didn’t help.

“But you did get someone to believe you,” he said. “And you eventually got counselin’?”

“Yes, thank God.” She told him about the school guidance counselor and then about Dr. Martin. “Two wonderful compassionate women, Travis. Not to mention the support we had from our dear aunt Tess. We were very lucky.”

He gave a brief nod, met her eyes. “But I don’t get it, Jill. I mean,
you
seem to’ve come outta this thing okay. That is, I’m assumin’ so, since you’re gettin’ married. David seems a decent guy. A blind man could tell y’all love each other.”

“You’ve got
that
right,” she said with a grin, then quickly sobered. “I told you we were lucky in the support we had in the aftermath of what happened. But what I didn’t mention was, perhaps, where we were luckiest of all.”

“And that was…?”

“In the same thing that gave Randi her good parenting skills. The positive relationship we had with our parents, particularly, our father—our biological father. Dr. Martin certainly felt it paved the way for my healthy relationship with David. Though it did take long hours of counseling to erase the effects of…of the other.”

Travis dipped his head and nodded, thoughtful. Finally he raised it and met her gaze. “But what about Randi? Why hasn’t she…”

“Why hasn’t she come out of this thing okay?”

This time his nod was grim.

She paused, debating how to explain without betraying the ultimate confidence, the one even Randi couldn’t acknowledge. “Because,” she said at length, “when Dr. Martin pronounced me ready and able to get on with my life, to put the trauma behind me, Randi assumed she was equally okay. She left counseling when I did, despite Carol’s urgings that she remain. Said if I was okay, she was okay, and that was that. She never went back.”

Travis smothered a curse. “But that’s like two people who begin takin’ swimmin’ lessons together, with the slower learner quittin’ and declarin’ himself a swimmer just because the other is. Hell, people don’t progress at the same rate.”

She sighed. “Try telling that to a certain blonde we both know.”

He stifled an obscenity. “Of all the stubborn shortsighted—”

“Miss Terhune?” The nurse approached. “Your fiancé asked me to tell you it’s your turn now. Your sister would like to see you.”

“Yes, of course,” said Jill, rising. “Please tell them I’m on my way up.”

The woman turned and left. Travis rose to walk Jill to the door, stopping her there with a hand on the shoulder. “Thanks, Jill, for tellin’ me. I know that it wasn’t easy for you. Specially considerin’ how…well, how slightly you know me.”

She gave him a wry smile. “Just don’t make me regret it. Outside of counseling, I’ve trusted no one else but David with this confidence.”

“I won’t abuse that trust,” he said, meeting her gaze with a sincerity she couldn’t doubt.

“No, I don’t think you will,” she returned slowly. “Besides, you’re Matt’s father, and I do know this—you love him.”

“Thanks for that,” he replied with a crooked smile. “Oh, speakin’ of confidences, you won’t tell Randi I know, okay?”

She pondered this for a moment. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

He nodded. He didn’t know where he was going from here—he had a lot to think about—but Randi was skittish enough without feeling vulnerable to him on that score. And he did know he wanted to be a part of Matt’s life; he couldn’t risk it.

Brightening, he gave Jill a playful punch on the arm. “Hey, lady, you’re okay in my book.”

She grinned. “Same to you, fella.”

Then he sobered. “Jill, before you go, I want you to know one more thing.”

“Shoot”

He reached into a pocket and withdrew a card. “My unlisted phone number, as well as the number where I can be reached at work,” he told her. “If Matt ever needs me, I’m a phone call away. Promise you won’t hesitate to make that call if it’s needed?”

She took the card. “I promise,” she said solemnly, and the two shook hands. Then she was gone, leaving Travis alone with all he’d learned.

Alone, and more shaken than he’d let on.

R
ANDI LOOKED OUT
the window of David’s Volvo, gazing absently at the uprooted trees and other debris they passed. A lot of damage had been left in Alphonse’s wake. Beside her in his car seat, Matt made Donald Duck noises as he played with a couple of brightly colored Disney figures. He
sounded normal, right as rain, and he was. Completely recovered, and they were taking him home.

So why was she feeling out of sorts? She and Matt had come through the worst kind of nightmare together. They’d survived it. Of course, if it hadn’t been for Trav—

Her mind tripped on the name, prompting a scowl. That was it, of course. Travis, damn him. Why had he left the hospital so abruptly? Without seeing her, without even saying goodbye.

She couldn’t understand it. As soon as Matt was out of danger, she’d inquired about Travis. She’d learned from Jill and David that he’d stayed in the waiting room all night, until he’d been assured Matt was okay. And then, the next thing she knew, he was gone.

Gone. Just like that. Lord, she hadn’t even had a chance to thank him, although she knew Jill and David had. But that wasn’t the point.
He saved Matt’s life,
she thought, gazing with another surge of relief at her son.
And possibly mine, or at least my sanity.

Travis had been like an anchor through that long horrible night. She’d wanted to see him,
talk
to him! The fact that he’d left so abruptly…

Face it, Terhune. It hurts.

Okay, she’d face it. It hurt. Especially after she’d learned he’d come by to check on Matt before he left. She’d been sleeping, finally giving in to her exhaustion and stretching out on that cot they’d put in Matt’s room. Had his behavior been deliberate? Had he wanted to say goodbye to his son but not to her?

“Travis was here; Mom!” Matt had announced the next morning. “I was kinda sleepy, but I saw him. He said to get well real soon, ‘n’ then he told me about his new puppy. His name’s ‘Lysses, ‘n’ Travis said he had to go ‘cause he had to feed ‘Lysses. Wow, a puppy!”

They were the first words her son had spoken on awaking, and she’d wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
A long speech like that! He was definitely on the mend. And she
had
laughed when his next words were “I’m hungry!”

Well, in pediatrics,
she thought,
we always used to say kids are made of rubber. They bounce back. From illness, even from disappointment.

Returning her gaze to the window, Randi wondered why the same wasn’t true of adults.