His Ordinary Life (12 page)

The elevator shuddered to a stop, and the doors hissed open after a hushed ding. He dropped the beeper off at the nurse’s station and went to Blake’s room.

In the chair by the bed, Barbara dozed, her head tilted to one side. Even in sleep, a frown wrinkled her forehead. Del dropped to his haunches by the chair, his gaze locked on her face. His heart aching in his chest, he reached for her, stroking his thumb over her wrist.

Barbara stirred with the sleepy smile he knew so well. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

She straightened, his hand falling from hers. With a yawn, she brushed her hair back. “What time is it?”

“A little after twelve.” He rubbed his mouth. “You look worn-out.”

“It’s been a long week and it’s not over,” she murmured, rolling her head in a slow circle. Stretching, she rotated her shoulders. She leaned forward, caressing the back of Blake’s fingers. “He’ll be all right, won’t he? Tell me he’ll be all right.”

“He’s strong. He’ll be just fine.”

Her gaze remained on their son and Del watched her, wishing he still had the right to touch her. He missed her, and tonight the need to have her close pounded in him. He pushed to his feet.

“You should get some rest.” He eyed Blake’s monitors. His heart rate remained steady and strong. “I’ll sit with him. Why don’t you go to the waiting area and stretch out on one of the couches? You’d be more comfortable.”

She shook her head. “Thank you, but I really don’t want to leave him.”

“Whatever you want.” Del pulled up a chair and settled in to help her wait through the night, to help her watch over their son. He didn’t plan on leaving, either.

“Go home. Get something to eat. Take a nap.”

Barbara stared up at Del, one of his arms blocking the door to Blake’s room. His face set in stubborn lines, he stared back at her. Lord, she
hated
that look—hated it on him as badly as she’d hated it on each of their children during their two-year-old years.

She set her own jaw and pushed her words out between clenched teeth. “I am
not
leaving.”

He smiled, the bright sales smile she hated even worse than his obstinate expression, and reached for her elbow. “Yes, you are.”

“Del.” She adopted the same tone she employed with her students when they were less than cooperative. “I’m staying.”

His eyebrows rose and a genuine grin curved his mouth. “You’re using your teacher voice on me?”

Realizing he was ushering her toward the elevator, she pulled her arm free of his gentle hold. “I don’t want to go.”

He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Barb, he’s sleeping. You heard Jay. His vitals are good, there’s no sign of infection or bleeding and he’ll probably sleep most of the day. The nurses are checking him every fifteen minutes and those monitors are hooked up to computers at the desk. I’ll stay with him. Nothing’s going to happen in the time it takes you to run home and—”

“What if it does?” She blinked away sudden tears. “Look what happened—”

“Stop.” He cupped her face in his hands, thumbs caressing her cheekbones. “You’re not going to do him any good if you exhaust yourself and end up sick, too. Go home, Barb.”

The idea of a long, hot shower did appeal. “What about you?”

“I’ll wait until you get back. Or if Mama comes by, which we both know she will, I might run out to Tick’s for a quick shower.” He frowned and dropped his hands. “I’ll have to come by and get my things.”

“Okay.” She nodded, suppressing a pang at the idea of not having him in the house anymore. “If I’m not there, the extra key is—”

“Under the fire extinguisher in the shed.”

She smiled. “Right.”

He leaned over her shoulder and pushed the elevator button. The maleness of him wafted around her, and her stomach tightened. Her lashes swept down and warmth whispered along her skin as he moved away. She opened her eyes to find him looking at her.

He smoothed her hair back. “I’ll call you if anything does happen. I promise.”

The elevator door opened. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Take your time.”

Outside, the clear morning air wrapped her in a moist embrace. She glanced around the parking lot, looking for her 4-Runner, which Del’s younger brother Chuck had been kind enough to retrieve and drop off for her. The truck sat in a spot near the hospital entrance, and stifling a yawn, she hurried through the crosswalk to the parking lot.

“Barb?”

At the sound of Tori’s voice, the tense muscles in Barbara’s nape tightened further. Why couldn’t she have made it to the car before Tori saw her? The wish brought a spurt of shame with it. Tori was a genuinely good person, but her sister-in-law always seemed to be weighing her and finding her wanting.

Barbara turned, a reluctant smile on her lips. “Good morning.”

Tori approached, glossy walnut-brown hair bouncing against her bright pink blouse. “How’s Blake?”

“He’s stable and doing well, according to Jay.” Barbara sent up a small prayer for that blessing. “He’s sleeping and I’m going to run home for a shower.”

Tori glanced toward the hospital. “Is Del still here?”

Barbara nodded. “He’s offered to stay with Blake while I ran home and then—”

“Of course he did,” Tori said, her polite smile slipping.

“Excuse me?”

Sifting her fingers through her long tresses, Tori shook her head. “We’re talking about Del. Of course he offered to stay while you went home.”

“I don’t understand what you’re getting at.” Barbara pulled her keys from her purse, blaming the fine tremors attacking her on exhaustion.

Tori’s expression turned skeptical. “He’d do anything for you and his initial instinct is to always put you first.”

She didn’t have the patience this morning. “Whatever. I’m going home.”

“You really don’t see it, do you?” Tori’s voice gentled.

Enough. Barbara turned back, hating the way her voice trembled when she spoke. “No, Tori, I really don’t see it. He
left
me, remember? Left our children. That was his
instinct
. And you call that putting us first?”

“Did you ever stop to ask yourself, or him, why?”

I don’t want a divorce. I never did.

He claimed he’d gone because he believed she didn’t want him anymore. She’d begun to see the lack of communication between them, but could the gulf, the misunderstandings, have been that large?

She brushed her bangs to the side and gave Tori a challenging look. “So tell me what you see.”

Surprise flickered across Tori’s face. “I see him sacrificing his wants and needs for yours. I see him putting in God knows how many hours to make sure you and the children still have everything you need.”

Like money could make up for his presence. Barbara narrowed her eyes. “Maybe he just really wanted out and he’s soothing his conscience.”

Tori crossed her arms over her chest. “Which one of you has a college degree?”

“What does that have to do with anything? He makes more than I do—”

“That’s not what I mean.” Tori fixed her with a steady look. “Let me tell you what I see. He feels guilty because he thinks he ruined your life by getting you pregnant. He worked his tail off so you could stay home with the kids when they were little. When you wanted to go back to school and get your degree, he found a way to pay for it so y’all didn’t go into debt with student loans
and
he worked his schedule around so he could be with the kids when you were in class.”

“You want me to feel guilty for getting an education?” Barbara asked. He’d wanted her to go back, had said how proud of her he was, talked about how her education would benefit all of them.

“Of course not.” Tori rolled her eyes. “You asked what I saw, and I’m telling you. I see a man who put his own dreams on hold to make yours come true, and when he finally wanted to do something for himself, you were ready to divorce him.”

Barbara couldn’t help the incredulous laugh. “
That
is so untrue.”

“Who saw a lawyer first?”

“I did, but—”

“Do you really think he wanted that job badly enough to end your marriage, Barb? Come on, you’re more intelligent than that. It’s just easier to blame him for what went wrong. Maybe you should ask yourself why you felt the need to file so quickly.”

This time, she forced out a light laugh. “You really take the counselor stuff seriously, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” Tori said, her voice quiet and holding an incredible gentleness now. “And I really wish the two of you had gotten counseling before you separated. Maybe if you had, there would have been a lot less hurt all the way around.”

“Do you really wish that, Tori?” She was too tired to play games. “I thought you were thrilled to have me out of his life.”

“You’re the mother of his children. You’ll
never
be out of his life.” Tori’s words held a wry note. “Besides, he’s crazy about you, and I want him to be happy. If you make him happy, more power to you.”

“Thanks.” Barbara shook her head, the dull pain of exhaustion at her temples getting worse. “If we’re finished here, I’m going home to freshen up.”

“Go ahead. I’m just going to check in on Blake before I go to work.”

Barbara was several parking spots away when Tori called after her. Turning, Barbara found the younger woman looking at her, one hand a shield against the early morning sun. “Barb, if it means anything, I want you to be happy, too.”

Hands wrapped around the cup, Del stared into his cold coffee. With a weary sigh, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. The soft steady beep of Blake’s heart monitor seeped into his consciousness, soothing him.

The chair next to him creaked and he jumped, glancing up as Tick dropped into the vinyl seat.

“How is he?” Tick whispered. He still wore the same clothes as the night before and a thin layer of stubble shadowed his jaw and chin.

“He should be okay.” Del leaned over and set the cup on the rolling tray table by the wall. “Unless there are complications, he’ll be here a week or so.”

“That’s good.”

Del frowned at the tension lines bracketing Tick’s mouth. “Bad call?”

“You could say that.” Tick passed a hand over his nape. “Barbara around?”

“Sent her home to shower and get some rest.”

Tick nodded and pulled a plastic bag from his pocket. He handed it to Del. “Recognize that?”

Del studied the pocketknife inside, a silver oval with the initials L.E.C. set into the worn wood sides. He turned it, remembering how many times he’d seen it between his father’s fingers, between his own, between Blake’s.

“It’s Daddy’s. I gave it to Blake when he turned sixteen.” He slanted a quizzical look at his brother. “Where’d you get it?”

“Found it in the weeds at the cemetery.”

“I wonder if he even knows it’s gone.” His head jerked up. “You found it
where
?”

“The cemetery.”

“Which cemetery?”

Tick glanced away. “The abandoned one on Bainbridge River Road, where somebody dumped the body of a fifteen-year-old girl.”

Del looked at the plastic-encased knife in his hand again, finally noticing the yellow evidence label on the bag. “But why—”

“What size shoe does Blake wear?”

“I don’t know.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken his son shopping for shoes. That task was always one Barbara handled. He shrugged, confusion gripping his mind. “He can wear my shoes, but they’re a little big on him. Ten and a half maybe? You’d have to ask Barb.”

Hands clasped together, Tick leaned forward, his face intent. “I need you to tell me
everything
he said about Monday night.”

“He didn’t say anything. I can’t get—” He bit the words off, foreboding slamming into him. “Tick, what’s going on? What are you getting at?”

Rubbing his jaw, Tick muttered a curse. “Look, Del, I have a body that’s been out there for two or three days. I have footprints all over the place. And I find
that
”—he shoved a finger at the bag—“on the scene. I need to talk to Blake.”

The pieces merged into an ugly picture. Del watched his brother, choosing his words carefully. “As a witness. You think he knows something.”

“Yeah, I think he knows something.” His thumbs moving in small circles together, Tick swallowed hard enough that Del could see his throat work. Nervous. His normally calm, unflappable brother was as nervous as a virgin in a roadside bar.

Del suppressed a shudder. Tick was thinking like a cop, Del knew, and he was looking at Blake as more than a witness.

He was looking at him as a suspect.

It’s just easier to blame him for what went wrong. Maybe you should ask yourself why you felt the need to file so quickly.

Tori’s words stayed with Barbara on the drive home and during a long, luxuriously hot shower. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she had cast herself in the victim’s role, with Del as the villain in their separation.
He
had left,
he
had moved on.

What was her role in the breakup? Sticking her head beneath the spray to wash the shampoo from her hair, she dredged up the painful memory of that last morning and tried to look at it through his eyes. He’d brought up the investigations job again, something he’d wanted to talk about more and more. She’d been caught up in first-year teaching and she’d brushed off his interest as a passing fancy.

Pushing her wet hair back from her face, she focused on the picture of him in her mind—damp hair slicked away from his face, a towel around his waist, a fleck of toothpaste on his mouth, frustration gleaming in his brown eyes. She closed her eyes, zeroing in on the details. What had she said?

It’s not practical. Besides, we don’t always get what we want, do we, Del?

The idea of moving to Atlanta, uprooting the children, giving up her hard-won first teaching position—it hadn’t seemed practical. Looking back, practicality should have been the least of her concerns.
I see a man who put his own dreams on hold to make yours come true.

What had she done?

On some level, had she been trying to punish him, to make him pay for the loss of her teenage hopes for her future? She remembered the way the bitter words had tumbled from her during their conversation in the kitchen and the shocked pain as it bloomed in his eyes.

Oh, God, maybe Tori was right. Maybe she’d avoided taking responsibility for her own choices by blaming him, resenting him, slowly cutting him out of her life.

Switching off the water, she swallowed the sob clawing her throat. Wrapped up in her own plans for the future and her bitterness over the past, she’d left him long before he’d moved out.

How on earth could she make up for that? What if it was too late?

She stepped from the shower and reached for a towel, burying her wet face in its plushness. The realization of her own responsibility for their split cut deep.

I want you back.

Lord help her, she wanted him, too.

She wanted her husband back, the father who wrestled with remorse because he’d hurt his daughters, the man who held their son’s hand with unspeakable gentleness. The lover who stared at her with eyes dark and deep enough to disappear in.

And she’d cut him so badly.

Chest tight, she reached for her robe, the rich terry doing little to warm her. She rehung the towel and left the bathroom. Despite her weariness, she’d never rest, not with her mind torn between worry for Blake and going over and over the past. She’d settle for coffee and some clean clothes, then she’d head back to the hospital.

In minutes, the aroma of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. She reached into the cabinet over the stove for a mug. A key turned in the door, and she fumbled the mug, barely catching it before it tumbled to the tile countertop. Clutching the cup, she stared as Del stepped into the room.

The long night showed on him, his features drawn, his clothes wrinkled. One corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked half-smile, but his chocolate gaze remained serious. “Hey. I’ve got good news.”

She couldn’t make her fingers set the mug down. “What?”

“Your son is demanding food.”

A nervous laugh bubbled in her throat. “That’s normal. He’s awake?”

He nodded. “Long enough to ask for breakfast and speak to Mama. Then he drifted back off. She’s going to stay with him until one of us gets there.”

“That’s good.” She bit her lip and put the mug down. She gestured at the coffee pot. “I just made that. Want some?”

“No, thanks. I’m on my way to Tick’s. I just stopped by to get my things and talk to you a minute.” He rubbed a hand down his thigh.

She turned toward the pot, needing something to do with her hands so she wouldn’t be tempted to grab for him. “Are you sure? I could—”

“Barb, we need to talk.” The quiet words near her ear made her jump. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

His deep voice vibrated through her. She turned to find him so close she could see the stubble on his jaw, the fine pores in his skin. His lashes dipped, and he swallowed, the muscles in his throat working. The scent of him surrounded her, and she closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. She swayed and rested her hands on his arms. Muscles contracted under her touch.

He tensed and made a move to pull away. Barbara opened her eyes, tightening her hold. “Del, wait.”

Del froze. The gentle touch made him forget everything but her. She slid her hands up his arms, over his shoulders and neck to cup his jaw. The imprint of her fingertips seared him. He’d waited so long to have her touch on him again, and he was afraid to move, afraid of losing the small contact.

“I’ve missed you,” she said, her voice husky, breathless, the way she’d sounded in the past when he’d kissed her.

There was something he was supposed to tell her, but damn if he could remember his own name when she looked at him like that, her blue eyes slumberous and glowing. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“Do you remember when we used to drive out to the lime mine and toss the sleeping bags on the back of your truck?” Her wistful voice wrapped around him. She traced the line of his chin.

“How could I forget?” A smile tugged at his mouth. He’d told her everything back then, staring up at endless stars, their fingers intertwined.

“When did we stop talking?”

“I don’t know.” He cupped the back of her head, sifting through her damp hair. “Maybe we didn’t stop talking so much as we stopped listening.”

She touched his mouth, outlining his lips. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Eyes closed, she shook her head. “For not listening when you tried to tell me about Atlanta, how important it was to you.”

“Baby, you don’t—”

Leaning up, Barbara covered his mouth with hers, cutting off his words, and he was lost, drowning in sensations he’d starved for the last few months.

She cradled his face, her lips teasing the corner of his. The clean essence of her surrounded him, a mingling of citrus, soap and woman. When she eased her tongue over his bottom lip, he hardened. A groan rumbled from deep in his throat.

“Barb,” he whispered, and as his mouth parted, she darted her tongue inside. At the taste of her, his knees threatened to give. He reached for her, gripping her waist and pulling her closer. Her body aligned with his, fit him with the same perfection as always. “God, I’ve missed you.”

He muttered the words into her mouth, sliding his hands lower to cup her bottom and lift her against him. She moaned and wound her legs around his thighs, the counter supporting her weight. Holding his shoulders, she urged him even closer and sucked his lower lip into her mouth, nipping him lightly. The sensation of pleasure-pain shot to his groin and he rocked into her.

With a rough laugh, he rested his palms on the counter on either side of her. Her head tilted back under his kisses, she tugged his shirt from his jeans. “Take it off.”

“Baby, you know where this is headed,” he murmured between kisses, her fingers leaving trails of fire on his skin. “Are you sure?”

“Take it
off
, Del.” She shoved the shirt up, helping him shrug out of it. Once it hit the floor, she fanned her hands over his chest, shaping the muscles, tracing the line of his ribcage. She ran a single finger along the scar bisecting his left pec, and he closed his eyes. Over the years, she’d done the same thing countless times, but this once, the simple caress brought tears to his eyes. She pressed a kiss there and he moaned, swaying closer. This wasn’t really happening. In a second, he’d wake up and find it was simply another dream.

He bent his head, seeking the curve of her neck with his mouth, tangling his fingers in the plush robe, pushing the edges aside so he could find her curves. A breathy sigh escaping her, she arched into his touch. The pulsing fire in him burned hotter. He trailed his lips to the hollow of her throat, her pulse beating against his mouth.

He cupped her breasts, her skin still damp from the shower, and nuzzled her shoulder while he brushed his thumbs across her tightening nipples. Her head fell back, a little moan purring in her throat. God, everything she did was the hottest thing he’d ever experienced.

“You’re so beautiful.” He muttered the words against her skin. “Sexy.” His mouth caressed the slope of her cleavage. “Perfect.”

“Hardly.” The word escaped her on a husky laugh. She clutched his hair and massaged his scalp. He swallowed, a groan building in him. “Childbirth and nursing three babies don’t add up to perfect.”

“My babies.” He circled a hardened nipple with his tongue, drowning in her gasp of pleasure. “
Our
babies.” He flicked his thumbnail over her dampened skin. “You’ve always been perfect to me.”

Using her hold on his hair, she pulled his head up and took his mouth again in the slowest, sexiest kiss of his life. With his palms, he worshipped the line of her body—her breasts, the indentation of her waist, the flare of her hips. The muscles of her stomach jumped against his hand when he stroked his knuckles across her smooth skin. The blonde curls below were soft and damp, and when his fingers found her, she moaned into his mouth. Already hot and slick, she pushed into his touch.

She gripped his shoulders and slid her mouth from his. “Oh, you feel so good.”

He buried his face against her neck, kissing her there, loving the feel of her rubbing his shoulders and back. She knew what he liked—strong, firm caresses, long sweeping strokes of her fingers, the occasional sting of her teeth and nails on him—and he was burning up with what she did to him.

She skimmed his sides with her short nails and ventured beneath the waistband of his jeans, almost but not quite touching him where he needed it most. She brushed him with one finger and he bucked, groaning.

“Del,” she whispered, and he lifted his head. Gripping the counter’s edge with white-knuckled hands, he stared at the wanton picture of her, damp hair tousled, eyes dilated with passion, robe open exposing rounded breasts with rosy, hard nipples, his tan dark against her paler skin. She didn’t smile and a hard knot settled in his chest. Lord, she was going to tell him to stop. The dream was over.

She touched him, curving her hands to his rib cage, thumbs rubbing down the spasming muscles of his stomach, stopping at his jeans. With a slow motion and a teasing smile, she popped the button loose on his fly. He was going to explode, then and there from nothing more than that minx-like smirk and the anticipation of her touching him. Even slower, she slid down his zipper. The jeans slipped on his hips, and one fingertip crept into the band of his briefs.

Explode, hell. He was going to die from the expectancy, but, Lord, what a way to spend his last moments. She pushed the briefs down, stroking him, and he gasped, knees ready to buckle. “Baby, you’re killing me.”

Still caressing him, she wrapped her legs around his hips once more. She kissed him, dancing her tongue along his lips.

“I want you,” she moaned into his mouth. “Inside me.”

Sliding his hands under her thighs, he lifted her against him, ready to carry her off to bed. “No.” She tightened her legs around him, positioning him at the entrance to her hot, wet core. “Here. Right now.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” he growled, pushing forward in a slow, smooth movement. She sheathed him, her satisfied moan mingling with his harsh groan. Tugging at his hair again, she pulled his mouth to hers. He thrust into her, marveling at this Barbara, who didn’t wait for him to take the lead, but knew what she wanted and went after it. As much as he’d adored that other woman, the one who’d accepted his lovemaking, he loved this one.

Loved.
Even with pleasure flaming through his body, the cold hard knot grew in his chest. In the past, she’d have been murmuring how much she loved him as he thrust into her body. Now, she sighed of wanting him, of how he made her feel. It wasn’t enough. Even as she tightened around him, moaning his name with her climax, even as his own body reacted, an orgasm exploding through him, he craved those words from her again.

She rested a cheek against his chest, and he trembled, struggling to catch his breath. Throat aching, he closed his eyes.

“Del?” She raised her head, the softness of her hair brushing against his chin.

He lifted heavy lids to find her looking up at him, a slight frown drawing her brows together over troubled blue eyes. Forcing a smile, he pulled her robe close about her. He brushed her hair back and tucked it behind her ear. “You’re incredible.”

Her gaze cleared, and she hugged his hips with her knees. “So are you.”

He cupped her face and lowered his head to kiss her. She opened her mouth to him, and renewed arousal stirred in him. Breaking the kiss, he nuzzled the hollow beneath her ear. “You always smell so good.”

She tilted her head back, allowing him better access. “Del?”