Accidentally Yours (6 page)

Kerri shook his arm. “Listen to me,” she said harshly. “You have to fix this. You have no right not to try. It’s your job.” She looked at him more closely. “It’s more than that. It’s your calling. You have the power to save him and you’re not trying. How dare you not have a thousand scientists working day and night to solve this. You have the answers within you. Linda told me you were close before. She said you could do it. We’re talking about children, damn you. My child. My son. He deserves this.”

She spoke with conviction and power. He wanted to turn away, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Maybe he needed this, he thought. Maybe it was his punishment.

“Save him,” she ordered.

“I can’t.”

“You have to. I won’t let him die. And if you don’t care about him, what about the other children who will die because you can’t be bothered? I pray there’s a special place in hell for you. I swear, if there is, I’ll be there, putting more wood on the fire and watching you burn.”

“You don’t understand.”

“You’re right,” she said angrily. “I don’t and I don’t want to. If I had the power to fix my son, I would, but I don’t. So I did the next best thing. I found you. Last I heard you needed twelve million dollars to fund the rest of your research and find a cure. I got you fifteen million, in case the price of miracles had gone up. I will do anything to make this happen. I will sell my soul to the devil or I will stand here and put a gun to your head. I don’t care which. You are going to do this.”

What he remembered most about the explosion was the heat of the fire that followed. Maybe it had been the fires of hell she’d talked about. He’d never experienced such raw power—so uncontrolled and destructive. Much like the disease that ravaged Cody Sullivan’s body.

He looked down at his hands…they were shaking. He looked at the woman standing in front of him, felt her need, her pain and knew he could do nothing.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I can’t.”

He braced himself for the next attack, for the barrage of words. Instead, all the color drained from her face and she swayed slightly as if she were going to faint.

Before he could reach for her to catch her, she turned and ran. He was finally alone.

Feeling very old and so very useless, Abram sank into his chair and cradled his head in his hands.

F
RANKIE TOOK
her latte to a table in the corner. Starbucks was one of the few crowded places where she felt comfortable. She’d never figured out why. Maybe it was the smooth coffee and the jolt of caffeine. Maybe it was the warm motif or the way people who sat in Starbucks were always so calm and sophisticated. Reading the paper, working, listening to music. It made her feel good to be a part of what was happening, even if it was just on the periphery. The Bell Square Starbucks was her favorite.

She sipped her latte and watched the people around her. She was early for her appointment, a habit of hers. She wanted to be able to pick the table, pick the seat. Safety first, she told herself.

She saw Grant come in. He paused, looked around, then walked over to her without getting a coffee. That bugged her. He should get a coffee—that’s what the store was about.

She’d known Grant about two years. They’d met at a rally, when he’d come up and introduced himself. He’d talked about her brother, asking her general
questions. Right away she’d figured out that he wanted to take Nathan down. Grant believed Nathan was his ticket to a real newspaper.

It had taken Frankie a couple of months to decide whether she could trust Grant. It was one thing for her to destroy her brother, but it was another for the world to know about it. People wouldn’t understand—they would think because they were family, she shouldn’t want Nathan punished. But those people hadn’t seen the blood…hadn’t lived through it all.

Once she’d decided to trust him, she’d given him whatever information she could. It hadn’t been much. He’d always pressed her to go see her brother, to find out what was happening in his life, but she’d resisted. She didn’t want to see Nathan or talk to him. She wanted him punished. A few months ago, she’d broken off contact with Grant.

But now things were different. With the newsletter shutting down, she felt pressure. To lose everything and have nothing to show for it wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Nathan had everything and she had nothing.

It hadn’t always been that way, she thought, remembering the time before he’d left. He’d taken care of her. She’d depended on him, but then he’d been gone and she’d been alone.

“Hey, Frankie,” Grant said as he slid into the chair opposite hers. “What’s up?”

She’d phoned him and arranged the meeting. He’d
been surprised to hear from her but more than willing to get together.

His eyes were pale. He was about her height, which made her feel more safe with him. He wasn’t big, like Nathan.

“We’re being shut down,” she told him. “In about a month.”

Grant leaned back in his chair. “So you want to go out with a bang?”

He always used clichés. Not her favorite thing about him. “I want to do something. I don’t know where to look. I thought you would.”

Grant looked at her for a long time. “You know about the towers he wants to build.”

She wrinkled her nose. “They’re awful. Like the rich need more places to live. Do you know how many species will be displaced by his buildings? All so he can have his name fifty stories up.”

She pressed her lips together. If she said much more, she would start to lose control. That was never good. She clenched her hands together on her lap and began counting. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

She kept it up, counting steadily, until she’d downed eighteen sets of four. She inhaled as a calm washed over her.

Grant nodded slowly. “That’s them,” he said. “He wasn’t getting much support, so it didn’t look like he would get the zoning permission he needed. Then he made this donation.”

“To what?”

“Some lab up in Songwood. A scientist there is working on the cure for Gilliar’s Disease.”

“That’s what Daniel died of,” Frankie murmured, not wanting to think about the boy. She’d liked Daniel. It wasn’t his fault that Nathan was his father.

“The timing is suspicious,” Grant told her. “Plus Nathan’s hanging out with this woman. Kerri Sullivan. She’s got a kid with the same problem. He paraded both of them around at a charity event last weekend. There’s something going on. Something that isn’t right. Maybe you could find out what it is.”

“No.” She shook her head. “No. I can’t find that out.”

“You could try.”

“No. I don’t want to see him.”

“It’s the only way.”

“He won’t tell me anything,” she insisted.

“Maybe he doesn’t have to. Maybe you can just look around.”

Nathan’s office? Grant was an idiot. Nathan wasn’t going to leave her alone in his office.

“You can do things I can’t,” Grant continued. “He trusts you.”

Did Nathan? Frankie wondered. Was he that stupid? Probably, she thought. He certainly didn’t see her as a threat.

“Okay,” she told him. “I’ll try to find out something. I’ll go see him.”

“Good.”

“You can stop the towers?”

“I can try,” Grant told her.

“I want them brought down.”

“They haven’t been built yet.”

Maybe not but she pictured them falling and falling. Thinking about the structures crumbling in a pile of dust made her smile.

“Maybe your brother’s involved with that Kerri woman.”

“I don’t think so,” she said absently. “He doesn’t get involved. Doesn’t care.”

He had once, years ago. But then he’d gone away. He’d changed. Nothing touched him. Except maybe Daniel.

Frankie blinked the memories away. All of them. Nathan deserved everything bad he got. He didn’t have the dreams. He didn’t know what it had been like. He’d left her.

“I’ll go to see him,” Frankie told Grant. “I’ll find out what I can and call you.”

She stood and grabbed her coffee, then walked out onto the sidewalk.

It was nearly seventy, on a rare clear day. Frankie let her eyes adjust to the bright light, then she started down the sidewalk, careful to step where she always stepped, not looking left or right, counting, always counting.

Without meaning to, she remembered teaching Daniel to count, first to ten, then to twenty. He’d
been smart. A fast learner. He’d smiled. She remembered that most. How he’d always smiled when he’d seen her. He would run up to her, his arms open. He’d wanted hugs and she’d been happy to give them.

She had loved him. But when Nathan had told her his son was dying, a part of her had been happy. She’d been ashamed then, ashamed of feeling pleasure. But as much as she loved Daniel, she wanted his father to suffer. Daniel’s death had nearly brought her brother to his knees.

She’d gone to the hospital at the end, and had sat with the boy. She had felt her own heart break with the realization that he would be gone soon. Sadness and pleasure.

They had confused her then and they confused her now.

She waited at her bus stop, then boarded and saw her favorite seat was open. She sat exactly in the middle, looking at no one, willing the trip to be over quickly.

Fortunately there wasn’t a lot of traffic. When she was back across the bridge, she got off at her stop and headed for her small apartment.

Once there, she threw out her coffee and walked to the sink. She pumped the smooth, creamy soap onto her hands and began to wash. One, two, three, four. Over and over, eighteen times.

The ritual relaxed her, eased the tightness in her chest until she could breathe again. Until she was clean.

When she was done, she dried her hands on one of her special towels, then walked to the window and looked up at the sky.

It was a beautiful day, she thought wistfully. The kind of day that made her recall what it was like to be normal.

She wasn’t anymore. She knew that. She needed help. A doctor, medication. Someday, she told herself. But not just yet.

She let her gaze drift lower until it landed on another building Nathan owned. Seeing it and the shadow it cast made her angry again. Better to be driven than cured, she told herself. She would destroy Nathan. When he had nothing, maybe she would feel better. Maybe then the blood would go away.

N
ATHAN PARKED
in front of Kerri’s small house. He still didn’t know what the hell he was doing here. He’d gotten a call from Dr. Wallace’s assistant saying there was a problem with the funding, but nothing more. When he’d tried to reach Kerri at work, he’d been told she’d called in sick. A first for her. But she wasn’t answering her phone at home.

Was she sick? Injured? And what had happened to the money he’d sent to the research facility?

He looked at the beat-up car in the driveway. She was home at least. Had something happened with Cody?

If it was the latter, he wanted to be anywhere but here. He was not getting involved with that kid. The smartest thing to do would be to turn around and head back to Seattle. Or maybe the smartest thing would have been not to drive here at all.

“Dammit all to hell,” he muttered as he climbed out of his car and headed up the front walk. He pounded on her door and waited.

Seconds later it opened. Kerri stood in front of him, but not the Kerri he knew.

Her blue eyes were red and swollen, her skin blotchy. She blinked at him, said, “Go away. I can’t do this now,” and started to close the door.

He put a hand up to stop her, then pushed his way inside. “Can’t do what?”

“Whatever it is you want. Go somewhere. Do something. I can’t. This is a bad time.”

He stared at her, taking in the oversize and stained T-shirt and baggy sweats. “You look like crap.”

“Whatever.”

Worse, she looked…broken. He didn’t like the word, but it fit.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She walked to the sofa and collapsed on a flat cushion. “He won’t do it. Dr. Wallace. Linda told me there was a problem, so I went to see him myself. He won’t continue the research. He blames himself for the explosion.”

Nathan must have looked blank because she con
tinued with, “Remember? He was working on a cure and the lab exploded. Something about an electrical problem. I don’t know the exact details but people were killed. The lab was closed and as it was Songwood’s biggest industry, the town began to die.” Tears filled her eyes before spilling down her cheeks. “He was my last hope. I don’t have anywhere else to go. He was going to be my miracle for Cody.”

She hunched over, as if in pain. “I can’t let my son die, but I’m out of options. I spent all last night on the Internet, looking for someone else working on the disease, but there’s nothing new. No hope. It’s the death of hope. Do you know what that feels like?”

He hadn’t realized how much life and power Kerri’s optimism gave her until it was gone.

“How do I tell him?” Kerri asked, not looking at Nathan. “What am I supposed to say? Just kidding about that cure thing, kid? It’s so unfair. It’s wrong. All of it.”

Without thinking, he pulled her to her feet and into his arms.

“Don’t give up,” he murmured, holding her close. “You’re stronger than this.”

“I’m not. I’m having a breakdown. There’s a difference.” She sighed. “It’s hard to be strong. I’m faking it every minute. We’ve been living on borrowed time for years now, and I’ve always known it. I’m not giving up,” she repeated. “I just need a break.”

She didn’t hug him back, but that was okay. He
wanted to offer comfort—something unusual for him, but he was going with it. When she rested her forehead on his shoulder, he felt the hot dampness of her tears.

“I’ve been willing him to stay alive, but I’m afraid I don’t have anything left. I’ve begged, I’ve pleaded, I’ve prayed, I’ve made bargains with God that will get me sent to hell, but I don’t care. I never cared about anything but keeping Cody going. Giving him the strength to hang on.”

She continued to talk, but he couldn’t listen. Not to this. He put his hands on her shoulders and eased her away, then took a step back.

Cody was her life and without him she would have nothing. She would never give up the way he had.

Nathan pushed the ugly truth away, but it refused to budge. It sat there, round and squat, daring him to deny what had happened. That he’d given up. He’d taken the easy road and he’d never been able to forgive himself for it.

“I’ll fix this,” he told her. “I’ll make Dr. Wallace get back to work on finding a cure.”

She wiped her face with her fingers. “How?” she asked, her voice shaking. “Stand over him with a gun pointed at his head? I already thought of that one. It’s not practical on a lot of levels. For one, your arm will get tired. For another, you can’t make someone care. It doesn’t work that way.”

“I’ll beat the crap out of him if necessary,” he
muttered, knowing he would if he had to. “He can’t do this. He took the money.”

She looked at him. “It was a wire transfer, Nathan. You can’t refuse those. But I would suggest you watch your mailbox. I’ll bet he sends it back. Or gives it to someone else.”

“He can’t.”

“How are you going to stop him?”

“I’ll have Jason talk to him.”

“Lawyers can be scary,” she said. “But not scary enough. Besides, Dr. Wallace is old. You can’t beat up an old scientist.”

“If he’s old, it makes my job easier.”

Her mouth quivered slightly. For a second, he thought she was going to smile and started at his sudden need to see her spirits lift.

“I could have Tim do it, but he would be insulted by the lack of challenge,” he said.

She nodded, then began to cry again. She collapsed back on the sofa, sobbing as if her heart would break.

He stood there awkwardly, not sure what he should do. He’d tried hugging and that hadn’t worked. He was out of ideas and desperate.

He went into the kitchen and started opening cupboards. He found plates, glasses and food, but nothing to drink.

“Don’t you have anything to drink?” he yelled. “Vodka? Scotch? Cooking sherry?”

“Stop raiding my kitchen,” she said from the doorway. “No, I don’t have any alcohol.”

“Is it a religious thing?”

Despite the tears, her mouth turned up at the corner. He felt like a hero.

“I can’t afford it,” she said. “Nathan, this is the real world. I think milk is expensive. I’m not going to waste my money on something like vodka.”

“We have to talk about your priorities.” He crossed to the phone and picked it up, then dialed directory assistance. “Yeah. Songwood. The liquor store.”