Accidentally Yours (14 page)

“Hi,” she said when she saw him.

Her smile was bright and friendly, as if she didn’t know about the disease obviously ravaging her body. Cancer, he would guess.

“Hi.”

“This is Fred.” She held out her bear. “I got him for my birthday. I’m seven.”

“Fred is a very handsome bear. He’s kind of big.”

“I know. I’ll grow into him.”

Her confidence made him ache. Would she grow into her bear?

She waved and kept walking. Nathan watched her and knew that Kerri was right. He should have made a difference after Daniel had died. He should have used his son’s death to create something more significant than grief and emptiness.

He walked outside and pulled out his cell phone. Less than a minute later he had Dr. Wallace on the phone.

“Do you need anything else?” Nathan asked. “Money? Equipment?”

“Mr. King, you’ve already been more than generous.”

“I don’t care about that. Is it enough?”

Wallace cleared his throat. “Well, another five
hundred thousand would be most helpful. We could add another researcher and purchase more—”

“It’s done,” Nathan told him. “The money will be transferred today. Anything else?”

“Not right now.” Wallace sounded stunned.

“If that changes, let me know. You have my direct number, don’t you?”

“Yes. Ah, thank you. This will make a difference.”

“If there’s anything else, let me know.”

“I will.”

Nathan hung up.

It was so little—practically meaningless. But it was all he had to offer—money. What did that say about him?

He went back inside and found Kerri talking to the doctor.

“It’s a clean break,” the man was saying. “Cody slipped and the bone snapped. It should heal. Not that it will be any stronger when it does. Ms. Sullivan, you have to prepare yourself for more episodes like this. Gilliar’s Disease is progressive.”

The doctor wasn’t a large man, but Kerri looked small next to him. It was as if she were shrinking, unable to bear the news about Cody.

Nathan crossed to her and put his arm around her. He expected her to pull away, but she didn’t.

“We don’t have to set the break,” the doctor continued. “We’ll put on a cast and he’ll be ready to go. You’ll have his regular doctor follow up?”

She nodded.

The doctor left. Kerri sucked in a breath. “I’m okay. I just need a minute.” But as she spoke, tears filled her eyes.

“It’s happening,” she whispered. “It’s happening and I can’t make it stop. He’s going to get worse. I would do anything to make it go away. I would be sick instead of him, but I can’t. There’s nothing I can do.”

Tears flowed faster and faster. Nathan pulled her close and held her, wishing he could take some of her pain.

Tears turned into sobs. Her body shook.

“I can’t do this,” she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I can’t be strong. It hurts too much. I don’t have it in me.”

“Sure you do.”

“I’m faking it.”

“Does it matter if you’re the only one who knows you’re faking it?”

“You know.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

She looked up at him, her face blotchy, her eyes red. “Why are you so nice to me?”

“Not a clue.”

“You feel sorry for me.”

“Not in the way you mean.”

She was beautiful and he wanted to hold on a lot longer. But this was Kerri—all mouth and bravado.
The weakness would pass and then she would be back in his face, holding the world at bay by sheer force of will.

She swallowed. “He’s dying. I know he’s dying.”

Her words were like a sucker punch to the gut. “Kerri…”

“I’m dying, too. Watching him. Knowing what’s ahead.” She held out her hands, turning them over, as if examining them. “I can’t do anything. Do you know how useless that makes me feel? How ridiculous and stupid? I’m his mother. He’s a part of me, of my blood and bone and I can’t make him better.”

“I know.”

She curled her hands into fists and hit him on the chest. “Fix it, dammit. Fix it right now. Make me strong.”

She hit him again and again. He let her, then caught her as she collapsed against him.

“I can’t,” she whispered through the tears. “I just can’t.”

He held her close and rocked her, feeling her pain, remembering his own. Knowing the futility of anger.

He kept her close, willing his strength into her, knowing it wouldn’t help. That in the end, she had to find what she needed inside herself.

At last the tears slowed. She drew in a breath and stepped back.

“I said some awful things to you,” she murmured.

“Maybe I needed to hear them.”

She sniffed. “You really confuse me.” She used her sleeve to blot her face. “I look terrible, don’t I?”

“You’re a little puffy.”

“I have to go wash my face and attempt to hide the breakdown. I don’t like Cody to see me upset.”

“Wonder Mom doesn’t cry?”

“Something like that.” She squared her shoulders. “I’ll be a couple of minutes. Can you go sit with him?”

“Sure.”

She sniffed again. “Thank you for not freaking out. I didn’t mean to lose it.”

He wanted to tell her that she couldn’t be strong all the time—no one could. That she was dying as much as Cody, just in a different way. But she already knew all that.

“I’ve seen worse,” he told her.

She laughed. “Don’t challenge me. I won’t believe you.” She raised herself up on tiptoe and pressed her mouth to his. “Thank you.”

He watched her walk away, then headed for the E.R., where he found Cody in a bed, flipping channels.

“Still waiting for your cast?” he asked.

Cody nodded. “The break’s really clean. It doesn’t hurt that much. Is my mom okay?”

There was worry in the boy’s voice.

“She’s great,” Nathan told him. “Being Wonder Mom gives her superpowers.”

Cody rolled his eyes. “She’s not really Wonder
Mom. She has the costume and she wears it sometimes. But it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’m not so sure about that. She believes and faith is a tricky thing. Sometimes it makes all the difference in the world.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. Don’t underestimate the power of believing. Your mom believes in you.”

“She tells me all the time that I’m going to get better. Sometimes I sort of believe her.”

“I believe her.”

Cody looked at him. “For real?”

“Your mother can do anything and you’re the most important person in her life. You have some powerful mojo surrounding you.”

Cody laughed. “What’s mojo?”

“Magic. More than magic. It’s strength and will combined with magic.”

“In one of the Harry Potter books, Harry finds out he lived because his mother loved him so much, he couldn’t be killed by a bad spell. Is it like that?”

“Yes, but bigger.”

“Sweet.” Cody shifted on the bed, wincing slightly as he moved his leg. “The game’s still on. Want to watch?”

It took Nathan a second to realize the boy had made room for him.

Slowly, carefully, so as not to jar the mattress or
the child on it, he settled next to Cody. The kid leaned against him.

He was small and defenseless, Nathan thought, his throat unexpectedly tight. He faced a long, torturous battle with courage and grace. The odds were against him, but he had his mother on his side. Maybe, just maybe, everything would work out.

Nathan put his arm around Cody. “The game would be great.”

“I
FEEL LIKE AN IDIOT
,”
Nathan grumbled. “I don’t have time for this.”

“I think we all should take time out of our day to be adored,” Kerri told him, trying not to laugh at his obvious discomfort. “I would have thought you, more than most, would appreciate the thrill of being worshipped.”

“I never wanted a parade.”

“All hail Nathan King,” she teased. “I wonder if the crowd will throw flowers. You might be offered young virgins. It’s hard to say what a grateful people will do.”

His gaze narrowed. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not interested in young virgins.”

“How about old ones?”

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I’m not.” She grinned. “It’s just a small-town parade in your honor. How horrible could it be?”

“This would be a whole lot easier if you didn’t enjoy mocking me so much.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” She smoothed the front
of his well-tailored suit. “For what it’s worth, you look very worship-worthy.”

“You’re still mocking me.”

She didn’t have much choice. Teasing him kept them at an emotional distance that was a whole lot safer for her peace of mind. She and Nathan had been through too much in too short a time. The emotional ups and downs left her feeling exposed and vulnerable. She didn’t know if she wanted to throw herself in his arms and beg him to keep her safe, or just rip off his clothes and have her way with him. Neither option was especially smart.

Cody rolled into the room. “Hey, Nathan. You ready for the parade?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Her son grinned. “They’ll be cheering. That’s sweet.”

“Then you go without me.”

Cody grinned. “Mom won’t let me.”

“You already have plenty of ego,” she told him. “You don’t need to be the center of attention any more than you are.”

She walked over and smoothed his hair. “Are you ready?”

Cody looked at Nathan. “Women,” he said.

“Tell me about it,” Nathan said.

Kerri looked between the two of them. “I’m a whole lot more than just
women,
” she said, wondering when they’d connected.

Cody sighed heavily. “See what I have to deal with?”

Kerri glared at him. “Let’s be clear. I don’t care how big you get—I can still take you.”

“Not with this,” Cody said, motioning to his cast.

“Want to bet?”

“Oh, Mo-om. You know I love you.”

“I’ve heard rumors.” She turned to Nathan. “We should probably go. We don’t want to be late.”

If only they could skip the event altogether, Nathan thought grimly.

Cody led the way to the limo waiting in front of the house. “Mom, was Dad ever in any parades? You know, for Veterans Day?”

“Once, I think,” Kerri said. “It wasn’t his thing. The dress uniform was really hot. He didn’t like to do showy things.”

“Because he was a real soldier?”

Kerri smiled at him. “He was. Serving his country was important to him. He wanted to keep us safe.”

Nathan had never thought much about the man who had been Kerri’s late husband and Cody’s father. The man who had died too young, never knowing he was going to have a son.

What would have been different if Brian Sullivan had lived? Kerri wouldn’t have had to deal with Cody’s illness on her own. He was sure she would have appreciated the support. She wouldn’t have come looking for him, or his help. Or would she?
Would she still have blackmailed him and would he have let her?

He didn’t have any answers, so he told himself it didn’t matter. He wasn’t in competition with a dead man and even if Brian were still alive, he, Nathan would win. He always won.

T
HE STAGING AREA
for the parade was a small park at the edge of town. There were less than a dozen floats, each cheesier than the one in front of it. They had obviously been pulled out of storage and hastily decorated, the fresh flowers and draped fabric not totally covering the St. Patrick’s Day decorations. There were three open cars and the high school marching band, led by color guard, cheerleaders and some girl with a baton.

“This is not happening,” Nathan muttered.

“It’s not the Rose Parade, but it will be fun,” Kerri told him.

“It’s humiliating.”

“They spelled your name right on the big banner. That’s something.”

“You need higher standards.”

“You need to loosen up and have fun. When was the last time someone held a party in your honor?”

“I could go my whole life and not miss it.”

“Now you don’t have to.”

She led the way over to the convertibles. Each of them had a banner proclaiming Nathan King Day In
Songwood, which was a lot of text for a small area. It meant the font was small and probably unreadable from more than ten feet away.

Just then, some kid with a camera came up and snapped his picture.

“For the local paper,” Kerri said. “We want the moment immortalized.”

“I’m having my doubts about that. Lately the press isn’t my friend.”

“We’re going to change all that. Today you are the star. All of Songwood wants you to bask in the glow of our gratitude.”

“Spare me.”

He opened the back door of the car, while Cody locked his wheelchair into place. The boy stood. Nathan bent down and grabbed him, then carefully set him in the car.

“How’s the leg?” he asked, lightly touching the cast.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Cody told him.

Nathan wondered if that was true or if the kid was just being brave.

Cody had gotten to him. Kerri had been right—he’d done his best to ignore the boy, but he hadn’t done a good enough job. Which meant when Cody died, Nathan was going to be reliving Daniel’s death. Something he would have walked through fire to avoid.

When the kid was in place, Nathan held out his hand to help Kerri into the car. Her skin was warm to
the touch, her body a temptation he didn’t want to resist.

Too many complications, he told himself. He should be smart enough to know that. But the truth was, if she offered, he wouldn’t say no.

“C
OME
ON
,” Linda said, taking Abram by the hand and tugging him out of the lab. “The parade will be here any minute.”

“I don’t have time for parades,” he grumbled, even as he went with her. “I have important work.”

“I know, but you also need to get out and see the world you’re saving. Ten minutes won’t make a difference.”

They emerged into the warm, sunny day. Most of the staff was lined up on the main street in front of the lab. He could hear music from the marching band and see several teenagers holding a large banner reading Nathan King Appreciation Day.

“He called me a few days ago,” Abram said absently. “Offering more money.”

“I hope you took it.”

“I did.”

“More equipment will help, as will more researchers.”

If only it were a matter of money, he thought. Then the problem would already be solved. They would…

He glanced down and saw that Linda still held his
hand. She was watching the approaching parade and he wondered if she noticed.

He told himself it meant nothing even as he enjoyed the feel of her skin against his.

“Thank you for agreeing to come back,” he told her.

She looked at him then, her eyes bright with humor and caring and something that made him think about her as much more than just his assistant.

“This is where I’ve always wanted to be,” she told him. “I thought you knew.”

He hadn’t, but he did now.

K
ERRI ADJUSTED
the tiny microphone clipped to her collar. “This is weird,” she whispered. “Do I have to have the microphone? It’s making me really self-conscious.”

Tina, a pretty redhead in a designer suit and power high heels, smiled. “We want to make the experience as real as possible. That’s what media training is about. You need to be able to deal with the nerves, the lights, the camera and the unexpected questions. Remember to relax. You know the material. You don’t have to answer the question if you don’t want to. There’s no law. You have a message—that’s what’s most important.”

Kerri wished she had note cards, because currently she couldn’t remember anything about the message. Helping? Healing? She felt her palms getting damp.

“I’m not going to panic,” she murmured quietly. “This is me—panic free. I’m calm and serene.”

Tina looked at her. “You’re also miked. Keep the chanting to yourself at a minimum unless you want the whole country to know about it.”

“Right.” She knew that. “Ah, this is local, right? We’re not really talking about the whole country.”

“Your interview is with the local affiliate, but if it’s interesting enough, it could be picked up nationally.”

Kerri’s chest tightened. Nausea rose in her throat, nearly gagging her.

“I might have to pass out,” she said, hoping she either passed out
or
vomited. She’d seen enough medical shows to know doing both at the same time was risky, not to mention disgusting.

Tina settled across from her. “We’re going to start now. Remember, the interviewer isn’t your friend. It’s his or her job to make you think you’re friends so you say things you didn’t plan on saying, but the reality is you want different things. You want to get out your message and the interviewer wants a great story. Are you ready?”

Kerri nodded. She did her best to ignore the camera, the flipping of her stomach, the bright lights and the burning need to hyperventilate.

Tina smiled. “Kerri, thanks so much for agreeing to this interview. You find yourself in what I’m guessing is a very uncomfortable situation.”

Kerri opened her mouth, then closed it. Don’t answer the question before it’s asked, she reminded herself. She smiled.

Tina raised her eyebrows, then nodded. “So, you blackmailed Nathan King into giving you fifteen million dollars for your dying son. How did that happen?”

Kerri drew in a breath. “Nathan donated money to a medical research facility working on finding a way to cure and prevent Gilliar’s Disease. It’s a horrible, painful sickness that’s devastating for both the children and their families. As a parent, there’s nothing I can do to stop my son’s disease from progressing. It’s beyond helplessness. I would take the disease myself if I could. I hate what’s happening and I can’t stop it.”

Tina stared at her. “Excellent. You’ve made me the bad guy and all of America wants to send you flowers.”

“I’d rather they donated the money to find a cure.”

“Good point. Okay, let’s try another question. Nathan King seems to be using you and your son to shore up his questionable reputation so he can build a high-rise condo complex the average American could never afford to live in. Do you mind being used to line his pockets and rape the environment?”

Kerri laughed. “Shouldn’t that be rape and pillage the environment? No one is going to ask that.”

“They may. How will you answer?”

Kerri didn’t have a clue. Then she remembered
that she was supposed to stay on message. “I don’t know anything about Mr. King’s business interests. I’m a single mom who makes her living as a hairdresser in a small town. My goal is to be a good mother, raise my son right and keep him from dying. There’s not much time for anything else in my day.”

“Are you sleeping with Nathan King?”

“Could you ask a more tacky question?”

Tina hesitated. “Okay—that’s not what we talked about, but I like it. Make sure you’re feeling outraged. It gives your answer more emotion.”

“I am outraged. It’s no one’s business and not the point.”

“People are interested.”

“Let them get their own guy.”

Tina grinned. “You’re going to do just fine.”

“I hope so.”

She owed Nathan and she wanted to pay him back. The irony was she also wanted to sleep with him. Which meant if the question was whether she wanted to go bed with Nathan, outrage was going to be a little difficult to come by.

F
RANKIE SIPPED
her latte and counted silently. One, two, three, four. The numbers soothed her as they always did. They allowed her to breathe slowly, evenly, bringing her heart rate down.

There was comfort in the familiar. Comfort in the ritual.

When she was done, she glanced at her watch, knowing that Grant wasn’t late, that she had been early. She couldn’t help herself. Being early mattered, even though it meant waiting.

She arranged the three napkins she’d taken and sipped her drink. Anger burned at the edges of her consciousness, like a sense of dread she couldn’t escape.

It hadn’t worked. The story hadn’t hurt Nathan nearly enough. Sure, people had wanted to talk about what a rich bastard he was and how he should be stopped, but no one had done anything. No one had stepped forward to make it happen. Worse, he was back in the papers, but in a good way. Just that morning there had been pictures of him at some stupid parade in Songwood. He’d been smiling. Happy. He didn’t deserve to be happy.

She frowned as she remembered the article itself. How he’d been so charming and self-deprecating about Nathan King Appreciation Day. Like he was embarrassed. Like he didn’t love every minute of the attention. She hated him. Hated him. Hated him.

Her chest tightened and she started counting again. She’d just finished the first set of numbers when Grant walked into the Starbucks and crossed to where she was seated.

“You should buy something,” she told him. “It’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“I don’t like their coffee,” he said as he sat down
across from her and smiled. “It’s good to see you, Frankie. You look nice.”

She blinked at him. What did he mean by that? What did he want? She didn’t look nice—she looked the same. Nothing was different.

“It’s not working,” she said. “People aren’t mad enough at Nathan. It was a good story, but no one cares. We have to make them care. I have information on the sound, on what’s happening there. Statistics. Do you know how many species of plants and marine life are dying out every year? The Black Oystercatcher is living on borrowed time. There are maybe ten Island Marble butterflies left. All this matters,” she told him.