Once and Again
But Tina was nothing if not tenacious. “How long have you been in love with her, Nick?”
He’d denied her accusation vehemently. He’d even believed his denials. He never would have married Tina if he’d been in love with anyone else. Yes, he and Jess had a past—but it was in the past. Tina was his future.
For six months after that showdown, they’d continued to try to make their marriage work. In the end, Tina had walked out, and Nick had been relieved when she’d left. Although he’d refused to admit that he could still have feelings for Jessica, he’d realized that he hadn’t loved his wife the way she’d needed to be loved.
The most bizarre part of their breakup was that, after the fact, Tina had encouraged him to go to New York, to find Jessica and resolve whatever was unresolved between them.
Nick had done so, just to prove her wrong. To prove that there wasn’t anything unresolved between him and Jess—that they were simply former lovers who’d each gone their own way.
But when he’d tracked her down at Dawson, Murray & Neale, he’d found her in a conference with another lawyer. A man who looked as if he’d been born in his Armani suit—smooth, polished, professional. Nick hated him on sight. Even more so when Jessica introduced him as Steven Garrison—her husband.
He’d offered stilted congratulations to the happy couple, then excused himself on the pretext of having to get to a meeting, his reason for being in the city. He drove back to Pinehurst, convinced that the only thing left between him and Jess was history.
It was the last time he’d seen her.
Until today.
But now she was back, also divorced, and he was having a hard time remembering all the things that had gone wrong between them, all the reasons they were so obviously wrong for each other. Instead, all he could think about was how right everything had been when they were together.
He dumped the rest of his coffee down the drain, set his mug in the dishwasher, and headed out to his Explorer.
He’d promised to help Brian out with football practice this afternoon, hoping it would distract them both from their worries about Caleb. Nick hoped it would also make him forget about Jessica’s return.
But as he headed toward the high school, he knew he was kidding himself. Nothing except Caleb’s waking up would alleviate his concerns about his nephew. And as much as he enjoyed working with the team, he couldn’t expect one afternoon on a football field to accomplish what eighteen years had failed to do—banish thoughts of Jessica Harding from his mind.
Chapter Three
Kristin stood in front of the window overlooking the hospital courtyard, staring down at the colorful and unoccupied playground equipment. She could all too easily picture Caleb climbing the rope ladder to the top of the slide or fearlessly hanging upside down on the monkey bars. It was what he should be doing—running and jumping and laughing.
Instead he was fighting for his life, and she didn’t know how to help him. All she could do was wait.
It seemed as though she’d been waiting forever, even though she knew it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes since they’d taken Caleb away. Another CT scan, the orderly had explained, wheeling her child out of the room with brisk efficiency.
It seemed that everyone who worked here was brisk and efficient. The doctors, the nurses, even the janitorial staff. They moved through the narrow halls with an air of authority, a sense of purpose. While she hovered uncertainly on the periphery, waiting for someone, anyone, to tell her what the hell was going on.
And when she finally managed to catch someone’s attention, the response would inevitably be a sympathetic smile, maybe a reassuring hand on her arm, and answers to her questions that somehow didn’t give her any information at all.
Another X-ray.
But why?
What possible purpose would it serve?
How many times did they need to poke and prod at her baby before they finally figured out what was wrong?
Kristin wished she could have gone with him, just to hold his hand. She didn’t want him to be afraid; she didn’t want to admit that she was. Not just afraid, but terrified.
But she refused to give in to the fear. She had to stay strong, for Brian, for Jacob and Katie, and especially for Caleb. If there was any consolation at all, it was that her son had no idea what was happening. He couldn’t see the needles and tubes and wires that made him look more like a dysfunctional robotic toy than the lively seven-year-old boy she knew him to be.
She glanced again at the clock on the wall, at the red hand that moved with agonizing slowness around its face. It was one of the strangest things about hospitals, she’d always thought, the way time seemed to stand still inside its walls while the world outside continued to function at a breakneck pace.
Twenty-one minutes.
And still she waited.
On the other side of the small room, Brian paced.
Restlessly, relentlessly.
Her husband had never been a patient person.
“I hate this,” he said, his terse words punctuating the heavy silence like a bright flash of light through a thick fog. “The waiting.”
Kristin nodded. She hated it, too, she was just more accustomed to it.
In fact, she’d practically made a career of waiting. She started her mornings early, then waited for the rest of her family to wake up so she could make their breakfast and see them off to work and school. Then she waited for the kids to come home again so she could take them to swimming lessons or basketball practice or art class. Everyone was in such a hurry these days—everyone but Kristin.
While Brian and Jacob and Katie and Caleb were rushing through their lives, Kristin was waiting.
And she hated it.
Finally the door swung open and Caleb’s bed was steered back into the room.
She pushed off of the ledge, tentative flutters of hope stirring in her belly.
Please be awake. Please be awake. Please—
His eyes were still closed.
The flutters died, sinking like dead weight into the depths of her soul.
Kristin forced a smile for the benefit of a child who didn’t even see her and lowered the rail on the side of the bed to take his hand. The one without the intravenous tube.
“Where’s the doctor?” Brian demanded of the departing orderly.
“Doctor Marshall will be in to see you as soon as he’s reviewed the test results,” he said, then exited the room.
Brian resumed his pacing.
Kristin could understand his agitation. They were both upset, under a lot of strain.
She squeezed Caleb’s hand gently, held her breath.
His fingers remained motionless.
She exhaled shakily, felt the sting of tears. Tears of anger and frustration. Tears of guilt.
She closed her eyes and leaned down to press a soft kiss to his pale cheek.
I’m so sorry, baby. So sorry.
But apologies were useless. Caleb needed more than her tears and regrets. He needed a miracle.
“I’m going to find the doctor before I head out to practice,” Brian told her.
“Okay.” There was no point in arguing. He would do what he needed to, and so would she.
But she hated being alone almost as much as she hated the waiting. Because when she was alone she couldn’t block out the negative thoughts that went through her mind: what if the swelling in Caleb’s brain didn’t go down? What if he didn’t come out of the coma? What if he suffered permanent brain damage? What if he—
No, she refused to even complete that thought.
Instead, she reached toward the pile of books that Katie had brought to the hospital. Katie, who at fifteen still thought of her little brother as a big pain in the butt, had sorted through all of Caleb’s things, carefully selecting his favorite books and toys, to provide him with as many familiar things as possible in case—when—he woke up.
She picked up the first book and began to read.
Jessica paused outside of Caleb’s hospital room, the top of the paper take-out bag crumpled in her fist, and listened to the soft, even rhythm of Kristin’s voice. She hesitated, not wanting to interrupt if Caleb had other visitors, but as Kristin’s monologue continued without interruption, she realized her friend wasn’t talking, but reading. She couldn’t hear the words, only the steady reassuring murmur of her voice.
Her heart broke for Kristin. When Jess had miscarried late in her second month of pregnancy, she’d been devastated. It was as though she’d lost a part of herself that could never be replaced, a vital piece without which she could never be complete. Even now, so many years later, she felt the pang of the loss, the emptiness that couldn’t be filled.
She knew it would be a million times worse for a mother to lose a child with whom she’d already bonded. A child she’d carried inside her own body for nine months and birthed and nurtured at her breast. A child she’d soothed when he cut his first tooth, whose hand she’d held when he’d taken his first steps, a child for whom she’d cried tears of pride and joy and sadness when he’d gone off to his first day of kindergarten.
Jess knew Kristin had done all of these things because she’d told her about them in her letters. Jess had loved reading about each and every one of Kristin and Brian’s children and had shared in the experiences vicariously.
Listening to her now, Jess imagined it was a favorite story she was reading. A book she’d enjoyed with each of her children through the years, the pages worn from countless turning, the pictures forever imprinted in their minds.
She heard a softly spoken, “The end,” and a weary sigh before Kristin asked her son, “Shall we read it one more time, or have you had enough of the nut-brown hares?”
“I bet Caleb wouldn’t mind if his mom took a break for dinner,” Jess suggested, stepping into the room.
Kristin glanced up, surprise and gratitude evident in her tired eyes. “I didn’t expect you’d be back tonight.”
“I thought you might be hungry.”
“Not really.”
The response was what Jess had expected. “You should eat anyway.”
Kristin sighed again. “I know. I just can’t stomach the thought of food right now.”
“It’s pasta—from Mama Leone’s.”
“Caleb’s favorite,” her friend said softly.
“It used to be yours, too.” She handed the bag to Kristin, then moved around to the other side of the bed and gently kissed Caleb’s cheek. “We’ll get you some Mama Leone’s as soon as these tubes are gone,” she promised him.
When she looked up again, she saw Kristin staring at her, her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“For the pasta?”
Kristin shook her head. “For not pretending he isn’t here.”
A single tear slipped onto her cheek and she turned away, busying herself with the unpacking of dinner. “There have been people in and out of here all day,” she said. “Neighbors, friends from church, parents of Caleb’s classmates. So many of them came to see me and Brian, to express their sympathy, offer their prayers. And so many of them refused to look at Caleb, as if his condition is contagious and tragedy might bleed into their perfect lives.”
“I’m sure it’s not intentional,” she said gently.
“I know. I’m just pissed off at everyone right now.”
“I’d guess that’s normal.”
Kristin laughed shortly. “Nothing about this is normal, but we’re doing the best we can under the circumstances.” She began scooping angel-hair primavera onto two paper plates.
“Where’s Brian?”
She thought she heard Kristin sigh. “He had to go to football practice.”
“Oh.” She accepted the plate and fork her friend passed to her.
“It’s hard for him to be here,” Kristin said, just a little defensively. “To see Caleb like this.”
“I don’t imagine it’s easy for anyone,” Jess said gently.
“No, but it helps Brian to go through the motions of a normal day.”
She only nodded.
Kristin picked up a fork and twirled it in the pasta, set it down again without eating. “I thought the medication they’re giving him would have taken effect,” she admitted. “That he’d be awake by now.”
“It’s after eight o’clock,” Jess said. “If he was awake, wouldn’t you be telling him to close his eyes and get some sleep?”
Her friend managed a smile. “Yeah, I probably would.” She toyed with a slice of red pepper. “Or maybe not. Right now I’d be so thrilled, I’d let him stay up until midnight if he wanted.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, as if imagining the happy event. Then her eyes flew open. “I’m a horrible mother. I didn’t even ask about Jake and Katie, if they had dinner.”
“You’re a wonderful mother,” Jess said. “And they were ordering pizza when I left.”
“I feel like I’m falling down on the job, but I can’t seem to think about anyone but Caleb right now.”
“They understand why you need to be here. And they seem pretty self-sufficient anyway.”
“Yeah, they are that.” There was pride, and a hint of sadness, in her voice.
“Since they obviously don’t need a babysitter,” Jess continued, “I was wondering if there was some other way I could help you out, something I could do for you.”
“That isn’t necessary.”
“I want to help, Kristin.”
“Why?”
“Because I hope being here now can somehow make up for neglecting our friendship for so many years.”
Kristin was quiet for a moment. “I sometimes wondered if you were too busy to realize you were neglecting it.”
“No,” Jess admitted. “I knew.”
Kristin nodded.
“I’m sorry—for so many things.”
She set her plate aside. “Some of my earliest and happiest memories are of times we spent together. When you moved to New York, I didn’t worry that we’d drift apart because I believed we were too close to ever let anything come between us.
“But eighteen years is a long time, and a handful of visits and occasional phone calls aren’t enough to sustain the kind of connection we once shared.”
“I know,” Jess agreed.
“I missed you,” Kristin said softly. “For a long time, I missed you. And then, somewhere along the line, I got used to you being gone.”
She could only nod, her throat too tight to speak. It was her own fault, Jess knew that. She’d made the choice to decline Kristin’s invitations to come home. She’d had her reasons, of course, but eighteen years ago those reasons had been too painful to share with anyone, even her best friend.
Now she thought she could probably talk about it and not fall to pieces. Maybe. But now wasn’t about making excuses and explanations for what had happened so many years before. Now was about being here for Kristin, if she would let her.
“I really want to stay mad at you,” Kristin said, “but I just don’t have the energy right now.”
It wasn’t forgiveness, but it was a start.
“Do you really want to help?”
“Of course,” Jess said quickly.
Her friend hesitated, as if reluctant to ask anything of her, as if she expected her to refuse.
“For the past few months I’ve been working in Nick’s office, just a few hours a day, answering phones and filing orders.”
Uh-oh. Like a runaway train, Jess could see where this was going but had no idea how to stop it. She could only brace herself and wait for the inevitable collision.
“Obviously I won’t be able to be there for the next couple of days, and I hate to leave him in the lurch.”
“I, uh, I really don’t have any experience with that kind of work.”
“Of course,” Kristin said coolly. “You’d have a secretary of your own for such things.”
Jess sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“Just that Nick might prefer to hire someone from a temp agency—someone who would know what they were doing.”
“He tried that when his secretary went off on maternity leave, but the agency has a policy against sending staff to residential premises. That’s why I’ve been helping him out.”
“I don’t know,” Jess said uneasily.
“It’s not rocket science, Jessica. I’m sure someone with two college degrees can figure it out.”
It was a challenge, and probably the last opportunity Kristin would be willing to give her to make amends. As much as Jess wanted to limit her interactions with Nick, she couldn’t refuse her friend’s request.
“Then I’ll try to figure it out.”
It was almost nine-thirty when Jessica left the hospital. Despite the circumstances of her visit, she’d enjoyed sitting and talking with Kristin. Their conversation had been a little strained, but not nearly as uncomfortable as she’d expected given the tension she’d felt between them earlier that day. At least, not until Kristin had maneuvered Jess into helping out in Nick’s office.
It wasn’t that she had any objection to the type of work—it was the idea of being close to Nick that made her uneasy. In fact, everything about Nick made her uneasy. She didn’t want to believe that she still had unresolved feelings for him—not after so many years had passed.
But even hours after their confrontation earlier that day, she was still unsettled. She decided to walk off her restless energy.
She set out without any particular destination in mind, yet when she found herself following the well-worn path through the trees at the back of Kristin and Brian’s property, she’d known it was inevitable that she’d end up here. The pull of the memories was simply too strong to resist.
The wrought-iron bench on the bank of the creek had been there for as long as she could remember. She ran a hand over the curved back, the metal cool and smooth beneath her palm. She lowered herself onto the seat, folded her knees against her chest, wrapped her arms around them. Then she tipped her head back to look at the sky and finally let herself remember.
She’d charmed an unopened bottle of champagne out of the bartender and slipped through the back of the tent into the darkness. It was only after she’d made her way down to the creek that Jess realized she’d forgotten a glass. She decided it didn’t matter—she could just as easily drink a toast to her best friend without one.
It was harder than she’d anticipated to work the cork out of the bottle, but at last it gave way with a satisfying “pop.” She heard a slight rustle of leaves as it sailed into the trees, and was grateful there had been no witnesses to her struggling ineptitude. There was no one around at all—the bride and groom had gone long ago, the rest of the guests shortly after.
But Jess wasn’t ready to go home. Not yet.
She stood on the edge of the mossy bank, under the light of the moon and the stars, and took a sip of champagne directly from the bottle. The bubbles danced on her tongue, tickled her throat. She’d decided, after the single glass she’d had with dinner, that she quite liked champagne and didn’t understand why it was typically reserved for special occasions.
She took another sip and tried to remember how many times she’d sat in this very spot with her best friend, sharing hopes and dreams for their future. But with Kristin and Brian’s wedding, their lives had taken different directions, and the realization made Jessica’s heart sigh. Even as she was looking forward to new opportunities, she couldn’t help but mourn the childhood she was leaving behind.
She heard another rustling in the leaves, and her heart skipped a beat before it started pumping again, just a little stronger and faster than before. Because she knew, even before she turned to see him step through the trees, that it was Nick. Just as she knew that whatever her purported reasons for coming out here, she’d really been waiting for him.
“I thought everyone had gone,” he said.
“Almost everyone.”
He eyed the bottle in her hand. “Where’d you get that?”
“The bartender.”
“You’re underage, Jess.”
“If my best friend’s old enough to get married, surely I’m entitled to have a drink at her wedding.”
“A drink, maybe,” he agreed, deftly removing the bottle from her grasp. “Not a dozen.”
She pouted. “Go away, Nick.”
He studied her for a long moment, his gaze dark and inscrutable. “I should,” he said at last.
“Then do it. You certainly didn’t have any trouble ignoring me earlier tonight.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that you danced with almost every woman at the reception tonight—except me.”
His gaze shifted guiltily. “I think that’s a slight exaggeration.”
She shook her head. She knew, because she hadn’t been able to tear her eyes off of him all night, hadn’t stopped hoping he would turn to her, take her in his arms. Just a dance—that was all she’d wanted. An innocent memory to lock away in her heart and take with her when she was gone.
But he’d denied her that. And now he was refusing to even acknowledge the slight.
“Every one except Barb Kenner, who was attached at the hip to her new fiancé, your Aunt Helen, who can barely walk because of her arthritis, and me.”
“It wasn’t a deliberate oversight.”
“Wasn’t it?”
He scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. “Hell, I don’t know, Jess. Maybe it was.”
She felt the sting of tears at the back of her eyes and cursed the fact that Nick had always been painfully honest with her.
“Do you want the truth?” he asked.
She swallowed, not sure if her bruised heart could survive another beating tonight. “Maybe not.”
“Coward.”
She lifted her chin so that she could glare at him.
He chuckled. “You’re so predictable.”
“And you’re such an ass.”
Nick took a step closer, traced a finger along the top of her dress, over the swell of her breasts. She sucked in a breath as her skin heated, burned, in response to his touch. The last traces of amusement in his eyes faded, gave way to something deeper. Something that both thrilled and terrified her.
“The truth is—” he dropped his hand away, took a careful step back “—from the moment I saw you standing at the back of the church in this dress, all I could think about was how much I wanted to get you out of it.”
“How—” She needed to take a breath, because the way he was looking at her—as he’d never looked at her before—had sucked all of the air from her lungs. “That doesn’t explain why you didn’t want to dance with me.”
“I didn’t want to dance with anyone else,” he said. “But I knew that if I touched you, if I held you in my arms, I wouldn’t be able to let you go.”
“Oh.”
His lips curved into a wry smile. “Yeah.”
She moistened her suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue, saw that the subconscious action had his gaze zeroing in on her mouth. Her heart hammered in her chest. “Dance with me now, Nick.”
He shook his head. “Have you heard anything I’ve said?”
“Every word.”
She breached the distance he’d deliberately put between them, flattened her hands against his chest. She could feel the beat of his heart, as strong and fast as her own, beneath her palms, and it emboldened her.
“Dance with me,” she said again.
As if of their own volition, his arms came around her, drew her nearer. Even as her mind warned that she was playing a dangerous game, her body melted against his. She closed her eyes, her mind spinning, her heart singing, as she swayed in the darkness of the night with him to the music of gurgling water and chirping crickets.
His hands skimmed up her back, and down again. The slow seduction of his touch made her yearn, tremble. She shifted closer, and felt the press of something hard against her belly. This evidence of his arousal didn’t surprise her as much as the answering, aching heat that pulsed deep inside her.
He dipped his head and pressed his lips to her throat. She sighed his name as the heat of desire escalated to burning need. His tongue stroked over her collarbone, fleeting, teasing caresses. Her hands gripped his shoulders tighter as the world seemed to tilt crazily beneath her.