On Mystic Lake

On Mystic Lake Page 44

“We’ll make it work this time,” he said softly.

She flinched at the words, and he wondered if he should have phrased it as a question. “Blake—”

He didn’t want to hear what she was going to say. “Whatever happened in Mystic is over, Annie. This is our child you’re carrying. Our child. We have to become a family again. Please give me another chance.”

She didn’t answer, just stared for a long time at his hand on her stomach. Then, unsmiling, she looked away.

Please give me another chance.

Annie closed her eyes. God, how many nights had she lain in her lonely bed, aching to hear those words from him? Yet now they fell against her heart like stones down an empty well. Clattering, bouncing, signifying nothing.

And what had she said to him, all those months ago? I can’t believe you’d throw it all away. We’re a family, Blake, a family.

“Annie—”

“Not now, Blake,” she said in a fragile voice. “Not now.”

She heard him sigh, a tired, disappointed sound that she knew well. He was confused and more than a little angry; he didn’t know how to lose or how to be patient or how to hold his tongue.

“I’ll have to be bedridden, just like with . . . Adrian.” She gazed up at him. “It’s going to take some work on your part. I won’t be able to be good old Annie, taking care of everyone else. For once, you’ll have to put me first.”

“I can do that.”

She wished she could believe it.

“I know it won’t be easy for you to trust me again. I screwed up. . . .”

“A mammoth understatement.”

His voice dropped to a plaintive whisper. “I can’t believe you don’t love me anymore. . . .”

“Neither can I,” she said softly, and it was true. Somewhere, deep inside of her, a shadow of their love had to remain. She’d loved him for twenty years. Certainly that kind of emotion didn’t simply disappear. “I’m trying to believe in what we had, and I pray we can find our way back to love, but I’m not in love with you now. Hell, I don’t even like you much.”

“You will,” he answered with a confidence that set her teeth on edge. He leaned toward her. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Hel-lo Blake. Have you been listening to me? I’m not ready to sleep with you yet . . . besides, Dr. North said it was risky. Remember? Early contractions.”

He looked ridiculously deflated. “Oh, yeah. I just thought, if this is a reconciliation, you should—”

“No more telling me what I should and shouldn’t do, Blake. I’m not the same woman I was before. And I’m scared to death you’re the same damn man.”

“I’m not. Really, I’m not. I’ve grown, too. I know how precious our life was. I won’t make the same mistakes again.”

“I hope not.”

He moved toward her. “You always used to say that the longest journey begins with a single step.”

He was right; it used to be one of her favorite sayings. Now, that kind of optimism felt far, far away.

He was obviously waiting for her to respond, and when she didn’t, he glanced around. “Well, do you want to watch television for a while? I could make some popcorn and hot chocolate—like the old days.”

The old days.

With those simple words, she saw her whole life flash before her eyes. This spring she’d worked to unearth the real Annie, and now Blake wanted to bury her once again beneath the sand of their old patterns. Tomorrow, she knew she would have to make an effort, an honest effort to find her way back to Blake, but tonight, she was too damned tired to start. “No, thanks,” she said quietly. “I think I’ll just go to bed. It’s been a long day. You can sleep in the green guest room. I put fresh sheets on the bed today.”

“Oh. I thought—”

“I know what you thought. It isn’t going to happen.”

She might have laughed at his expression—so confused and crestfallen—but it wasn’t funny. He was her husband, the father of her children, the man she’d vowed to love, honor, and cherish until death parted them, and right now, standing in the living room of the house they’d shared for so many years, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to him.

Blake met Natalie at Customs.

She gave him a big hug, then drew back, looking around. “Where’s Mom?”

“She couldn’t make it. I’ll tell you all about it in the car on the way home.”

“Do you have the Ferrari?”

“What else?”

“Can I drive?”

Blake frowned. “Did someone tell you I’d suffered recent brain damage? I never let—”

“Oh, please, Dad. I haven’t driven in months.”

“This is hardly an argument that helps your cause.”

“Come on, Dad. Pleeeeease.”

He imagined the look on Annie’s face if she heard he’d let Natalie drive. Slowly, he pulled the keys out of his pocket and tossed them in the air. Natalie snagged them in one hand. “Come on, Dad!” She grabbed his hand and dragged him through the terminal. Within moments, they were strapped into the sports car and heading down the freeway for home.

As always, Blake was uneasy around his daughter. He tried to think of something to say to her now, something to break the uncomfortable silence that always stood between them.

She changed his radio station. A hard-edged rock-and-roll song blasted through the speakers.

“Turn that thing down,” he said automatically.

She clicked the music off, then signaled for a turn and jerked into the fast lane, sucking up behind a black Mercedes convertible. Before he had time to tell her what to do, she slowed down and backed off.

“So, Dad, how’s Grandpa Hank?”

“How should I know?”

She glanced at him. “You did go up to Mystic?”

He shifted uncomfortably, thankful when her gaze turned back to the road. He wasn’t good at handling this stuff. It was Annie’s job to put the right spin on their separation. “I . . . was really busy. There was this big case between a rock star and—”

“So, you were really busy,” she said quietly, her hands curled tightly around the wheel, her eyes staring straight ahead.

“Consumed.”

“That must be why you never called me.”

He heard the hurt in her voice and he didn’t know what to say. He’d never heard that tone before, but he wondered suddenly if it had been there all along. “I sent flowers to you every Friday.”

“Yeah. You thought of me long enough to ask your secretary to send flowers every week.”

Blake sighed. He was way out in left field with this one. How could he tell his teenage daughter he’d thrown their family away—and all for a few months of hot sex with a woman who hadn’t been alive when Kennedy was shot.

What was he supposed to tell her? The truth, a lie, or something in between?

Annie would know what to do and say. She’d always guided his relationship with Natalie. She told him subtly, with a look or a touch or a whisper, when to reach out to Natalie and when to pull back.

But he had to say something. Natalie was obviously waiting to hear his explanation. “Your mother’s . . . angry with me. I made a few mistakes, and . . . well . . .”

“You two were separated this spring.” She said it in a dull, monotonous voice, without looking at him.

He winced. “Just a little break, is all. Everything will be fine now.”

“Really? Did you have surgery while I was gone—a personality transplant maybe? Or did you retire? Come on, Dad, how is everything going to get better? You hate being at home.”

He frowned, staring at her stern profile. It was an odd thing for her to say. “That’s not true.”

“Yeah, right. That’s why I have no memories of you until high school.”

He sank deeper into his seat. Maybe this was why he stayed away so much. Annie and Natalie were masters at piling on the guilt. “Everything will be fine, Natalie. You’ll see. Your mom’s . . . going to have a baby.”

“A baby? Oh, my God, how could she not tell me that?” She laughed. “I can’t believe it . . .”

“It’s true. She’s back in bed with this one—just like with Adrian. And she’s going to need our help.”

“Our help?” It was all she said, and he was glad she’d dropped the subject of the separation, but after a while, the silence began to gnaw at him. He kept thinking about that ridiculous little sentence, I have no memories of you. It kept coming back even as he tried to push it away.

He stared out the window at his whole life. Years ago, when Natalie was a pudgy-faced child who talked incessantly, it hadn’t been like this between them. She’d looked at him through adoring eyes.

But somewhere along the way, she’d stopped thinking he’d hung the moon, and for no reason that he could remember now, he’d let it go. He was always so damned busy.

He’d never had much time for her; that was certainly true. But that was Annie’s job, motherhood, and she’d done it so effortlessly that Blake had told himself he wasn’t necessary. His job was to bring home money. And by the time he realized that his daughter had stopped coming to him with her problems—a wiggly tooth, a lost teddy bear—it was too late. By then he barely knew her. One day she was a toothless toddler, and the next, she was off to the mall with a group of girls he didn’t recognize.

Sadly, when he thought about it, he had damn few memories of her, either. Moments, yes; pictures in his mind, certainly. But memories, recollections of time spent together, were almost totally absent.

Annie heard the scream first.

“Mommmm!”

She sat up in bed, fluffing the pillows behind her. “I’m in here, Nana!”

Natalie burst into Annie’s bedroom. Grinning, laughing, she dove onto the big king-size bed and threw her arms around Annie. Blake came in a few moments later and stood beside the bed.

Finally, Natalie drew back. Her beautiful blue eyes were filled with tears, but she was smiling from ear to ear.

Annie drank in the sight of her daughter. “I missed you, Nana,” she whispered.

Natalie cocked her head, eyeing Annie critically. “What happened to your hair?”

“I got it cut.”

“It looks great. We could be sisters.” A look of mock horror crossed her face. “I hope this doesn’t mean you’re going to college with me. . . .”

Annie feigned a hurt look. “I didn’t think you’d mind. I signed up to be your dorm mother.”

Natalie rolled her eyes. “From anyone else’s mother it would be a joke.” She looked at Blake. “You’re not letting her go, are you, Dad?”

Annie looked up at Blake, who was staring down at her. He moved in closer and laid a possessive hand on her shoulder. “I’m trying like hell to keep her at home,” he said evenly.

“Dad tells me you’re pregnant.” A tiny bit of hurt flashed through Natalie’s blue eyes and then was gone. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”