Romance Me (Boxed Set) (18 page)

The wireless finally connected and he typed
Lisa Morton
into the search engine of his browser. The tiny illuminated circle spun for a second then a bunch of
Lisa Mortans
popped up. A school teacher, stripper, body builder, and even a nun. It seemed everybody had an online presence nowadays.

He cleared the search and typed in,
Lisa Mortan New York City Museum
. He clicked the top line and found some philanthropic article about a man named Mark. The article included a photo of the man, with Lisa standing beside him. They didn’t look happy, more like statues posed for a promotional piece.

He took another swig of his beer, coating his constricting throat with cool hoppy and ale flavors. A man’s equivalent to a woman’s bubble bath, beer was soothing, relaxing, and relieved tension. Of course, he only ever drank one. He’d seen too many marriages destroyed by alcohol and drugs, some of them his own clients. Besides, after that car wreck his junior year, he’d decided to never drink to excess again. Lesson learned, the hard way.

Scrolling down through the web page, he read more about Mark Brenson and his accomplishments, with a short bio about his fiancé, Lisa Mortan. He was her fiancé? Eric thought. He had to have been the one who put that bruise on Lisa’s wrist. He cracked his knuckles and read on, learning critical intel about Lisa, like her place of birth.

Typing
Salt Lake City, Lisa Mortan
into the search bar,
he found the names of her father and mother, which led him to an obituary for her father. Eric dug through the internet for hours, uncovering tidbits and putting the pieces together. Newspaper articles, high school yearbooks, newsletters, and blogs yielded a wealth of information.

His heart tightened at the photo of a little girl with no shoes or socks, her hair matted, standing on a street corner waiting for food from a shelter. No name was listed, but it was her. The same hair and large eyes breached the black and white world of the newspaper article, reaching for his soul. A Vietnam vet who suffered from PTSD after the war, much like Mary Lynn’s dad had. Had Lisa’s father abused her the same way? Had he been a drunk? Had he whipped her with his belt and told her she was nothing?

He couldn’t go through that again.

He shoved the computer from his lap onto the side table and bent over, resting his elbows on his knees. His head throbbed with tension. “How?” he whispered into the night. How did she go from being nearly homeless to an educated woman living in New York City? How had she paid for college?

College?

He yanked the computer back onto his lap and searched for colleges and universities in Salt Lake City. Entering each one in the search bar with her name, he came up empty-handed.

Wait, a girl with no money wouldn’t be able to afford a university.

He typed
Salt Lake City Community College Lisa Mortan
into the search bar and found a link to more of her online footprint over the years. According to the search results, she’d worked full time as well as completed a scholarship project, all while attending school. He also assumed she cared for her father during that time, based on the date of his death and her place of residence. She fought and clawed her way to a senior college, graduating salutatorian.

It wasn’t until her father’s death, though, that she moved to New York City. Based on the dates, she must’ve started dating Mark almost immediately following her father’s death. Had she been lonely, just wanting to find someone? He could understand that. If everything he’d just learned was true, she was the only woman he’d ever met with so much inner strength.

His cell rang with the theme song to
Leave it to Beaver
. Retrieving it from his briefcase, he answered, “Hey, Mom.”

“Hey to you. How you doing?” his mother replied in her sweet, sympathetic tone.

What a loaded question.
“I’m fine,” he lied. The turmoil in his stomach mixed with the beer and lack of food, conjuring something dreadful.

“You should’ve stayed for dinner, instead of having a temper tantrum,” she scolded playfully. “Glad you’ve calmed down. I’ve never seen you so worked up.”

How could he tell her that she’d bulldozed through his ten foot thick emotional dam he’d put up, keeping out pretty, sweet women for the last couple of years, and now all his emotions were flooding out at once?

“It’s okay to move on, son. She’s gone. You deserve to be happy now.”

“It’s not that…” He sighed. “Yes, the guilt’s still there, but it’s more than that.”

“What is it?”

He gulped around the boulder of fear lodged in his throat. “What if I fail her, too?”

“Oh, son,” she sighed. “You didn’t fail Mary Lynn. And even if you had, you can’t spend the rest of your life avoiding love because you don’t want to fail someone else.”

“What about you? I did some digging. Those letters Lisa and I found are from a man prior to when you and Dad married. He lived here in this town, didn’t he?”

Silence.

“What? You’re allowed to dig into my love life, but I can’t ask about yours?” Eric lifted his voice to ensure she caught his teasing tone.

“I…it’s a long story.”

Eric chuckled. “I doubt I’m going to sleep anytime soon.”

A long breath sounded into the receiver. “He was a man I loved dearly before I married your dad.”

Eric braced himself. He’d thought long and hard about whether he wanted to know the answer to his next question. “Based on the dates I saw on those letters, it was only weeks before you married Dad. How did things turn around so fast?”

After a moment, she replied, “He died. In the war.”

The pain in her voice tugged at his heart. He wished he’d waited to ask until he was by her side. She was an amazing mother, who always gave good advice, even when he didn’t want it, who’d comforted him through the years. Now, it was his turn. “I’m so sorry, Mom. Something tells me he was special. Why didn’t you ever mention him before?”

“Your dad and I never spoke about him. Not in all the years we were married. Oh, he was always there, but it pained us both too much to speak of him aloud.”

Eric rubbed the back of his neck and leaned against the wall, eyeing his monochromatic brown living room. “Dad knew him, too?”

“Yes, they were cousins and best friends,” her voice cracked with emotion, but the lawyer in him had to push.

“Mom, the dates…I’m not dumb. You and dad had to marry, didn’t you? I was born seven months or so after your wedding.”

“You knew?” she gasped.

“Of course, since I was, like, twelve.”

“You never said anything,” she replied.

“No. If you wanted me to know, you would’ve talked about it.” He slumped back in his chair, willing himself to ask the question that really mattered. “Mom, is he my biological father? If so, what happened?”

“No.” She chuckled awkwardly. “Wow, that’s the popular conclusion today. Michael was your biological and devoted father. He loved you. Heck, you two are so much alike, it’s not even funny. No, the man who wrote those letters died in the war and I married your father shortly after.”

“You had to marry him because of me, right? Did you ever regret it?” He held his head in his free hand.

“Never.”

Chapter Fourteen

Bright morning sun broke through the grey clouds that had hovered over Lisa’s life for the last week, the golden rays highlighting the sign for Gaylord, Attorney at Law.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her the baby needed food, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat. Not with the eminent confrontation awaiting her.

Glancing at the side street leading toward the center of town, she sighed, her heartwarming at the sight of
Cathy Mitchell
driving past. She could put names to so many faces already. After five years in New York City, she didn’t even know her neighbor’s name.

Taking a deep breath, she shoved her car door open. With determined steps, she marched to the front door.
What if he hates me and it ruins my relationship with Judy?
Of course, it would be far worse if he learned about the baby on his own. Awkward moments and judgmental eyes were better than weeks of deception and lies.

“Excuse me,” a girl spoke from behind.

“Oh, sorry.” Lisa swung the door to the building open, allowing the girl to enter ahead of her then she, too, stepped into the world of ‘Gaylord the attorney.’ A side of Eric she couldn’t picture. Most of the attorneys she knew were evil bloodsuckers that wanted nothing more than money and prestige, at least the ones that were friends with Mark and danced in the same upper class social circles.

A vacant desk stood between Eric’s office and the waiting room. A light perfume fragrance lingered and Lisa was reminded of the woman she’d met the night of the hoe down.

“Are you here to see Mr. Gaylord, ma’am?” the young girl asked her, taking a seat in one of the chairs lining the wall.

“Um…no. I mean, yes. But I don’t have an appointment.”

The distinctive sound of a chair scooting across wood floors echoed into the waiting room from Eric’s office.
Too bad, looks like he’s busy
, she thought with a sigh of relief. Now, she could just leave a message and have him stop by later. Their discussion could wait until lunch.

Before she could slip back out the front door, Eric ambled into the room with a welcoming smile, his navy suit jacket accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist, and she thought he looked good in the blue jeans and flannel he wore while working around the store.

His blue eyes danced between her and the young girl. His smile tightened into a firm line. “Please have a seat in my office,” he said to the girl, lifting his arm to direct her into the room behind him. “I’ll be there momentarily.”

The girl pulled her sleeves over her knuckles. “I…I can come back later.”

“No need. You have an appointment and I’ll just be a moment.” His warm smile spread across his face again and she bowed her head before shuffling into his office.

What could she need an attorney for?
Lisa thought. The girl couldn’t be more than sixteen.

“What’re you doing here?” He closed the distance in two long strides.

“I wanted to talk to you, but I can see you’re busy.” She backed away and headed for the door. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called.”

His hand covered hers as she grabbed the knob. “Wait.” Warm breath caressed the back of her neck and her body erupted in goose bumps. He hooked one of his fingers into hers and tugged her hand free of the handle then turned her around to face him. “You’re right; I can’t talk now, but how about lunch? I have a break at one.”

She managed a nod.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Until one then.”

Every neuron fired at once and her brain turned to mush. She cleared her throat. “One,” she said before she bolted from the office and into her car. Still breathless, she pulled into a parking place in front of the store and rushed inside, managing to maneuver to the back kitchen without knocking anything over.

“I hope you’re ready, dear,” Judy said. “A bus of tourists is in town. I handed out flyers and the coordinator said they’d be here in,” she glanced at her watch, “ten minutes.” Judy grabbed her mug from the counter, pausing before taking a drink as she looked at Lisa. “You look a little pale. You feeling okay?”

“Yeah. I just…I tried to talk to Eric, but he was busy. He said he’d stop by at one for lunch.” Lisa set her purse and keys in the pantry then shut the door. “Judy, I’m so sorry about all this. I hope this doesn’t cause any issues between the two of you.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. You don’t need to be stressing now, either.” Judy gave her a stern, motherly look. ”Have you called Dr. Hendricks yet? You need to start caring for yourself and that little one.”

“No, not yet. I’ll call him today.” Sweat slicked her palms with the thought of facing a doctor when she showed up without a husband.
It doesn’t matter
, she reminded herself. Life wasn’t about her anymore. It was about the baby.

The front bell jingled and a herd of people poured into the little store.

Judy’s eyebrows arched and she wagged her finger. “Don’t you forget, now,” she chided before heading toward the front of the shop.

Lisa smiled and held up her hands in surrender. “I won’t.”

The tourists devoured the antiques, buying nearly every trinket, linen, and knick-knack, anything they could carry onto the bus, not to mention the furniture they were having shipped to their country cabins or beach houses.

“Wow, what a gold mine,” one woman said. “I’ve wanted to decorate our summer cottage with some rustic accents.” She slipped her platinum card from her expensive handbag. Lisa didn’t recognize the name stitched into the leather, but it had to be an up-and-coming designer. This woman was the type that wouldn’t have anything less.

“Hey, you.” A warm hand slipped to the small of Lisa’s back and she glanced up to see Eric’s bright smile. “Mom said y’all were slammed so I brought you a decaf coffee, one raw sugar.”