Thin Ice (34 page)

You say we're not compatible, but you miss me when I'm gone.

You say your son needs stability, but you've raised him to accept your own erratic schedule—"

Her fist thumped the earth beside her. “That's different! I'm not gone for days at a time."

"Sales reps travel too, Emily. A hel of a lot more than I do. So do pilots, truckers and most corporate execs. Do you see them forgoing relationships and families just because they're on the road most of the week? Or weeks, even months at a time. Think of the military, Emily."

She didn't answer. He sighed wearily. “Wil you look at me, please?” he asked quietly.

"I'd rather not."

She'd rather not? He wanted to shake her.

"I think you should leave, Eric. Robbie wil be home soon."

Robbie wasn't due home for at least another hour and they both knew it. “Not unless you look at me, first."

"There's no point, Eric."

"Bulshit! If you're dumping me for no good reason the least you can do is look me in the eye while you do it."

She only stared forward. Something glinted in the neighbor's yard again, but Eric was too focused on Emily to give it any attention.

“I'm waiting, Emily. You look me in the eye and tel me you don't think we have a prayer of making this work and I'l be out of here so fast you won't have time to blink."

He waited. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

"One look, Emily. That's al it'l take.” He meant it. He'd had about al he could take of her tap dancing on his heart.

Slowly, she rose to her feet and turned to face him. Eric felt as if he'd been hit with a sledgehammer. “My God.” He was on his feet and reaching for her automaticaly. Emily stepped back, shaking her head, her eyes dul and lifeless.

"Don't."

Rage roared inside him, rage that someone would dare lay a hand on her. “Who did this to you?"

She looked at her flowers, cutting off his view of her bruised cheek and split lip. “One of my patients got out of hand."

She was lying. He knew it as surely as he knew how many points he'd scored last night. If Emily had been hurt on the job, Sarah would have told him. Warned him. “Try again."

Her eyes jerked back to his, and when he saw her fear he knew.

This wasn't about conflicting schedules and domestic stability. This was about something deeper. Something he didn't understand. But he damned wel would before this nightmare was over. He scanned her body, saw the bruises on her upper left arm, the scrapes on her knees. With renewed horror, he realized someone hadn't just hit her

—they'd attacked her.

What she'd been trying to tel him suddenly slammed home. She'd needed him and he'd been gone. She'd come to depend on him, but in the end she'd had to deal with the terror of a physical attack and its ugly emotional aftermath alone.

"Emily...” He reached for her again, but she shook her head, her eyes tormented. Helplessly, Eric curled his hands into fists, his rage at her attacker returning. Whoever it was, he would find the sonafabitch and make him pay. Dearly. Not only had the bastard hurt Emily, he'd violated her sense of safety, and made her lose faith in him. “Who did this to you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"The hel it doesn't. Sarah knows, doesn't she?"

Emily shook her head, but the fear in her eyes grew. Eric got a very Emily shook her head, but the fear in her eyes grew. Eric got a very uneasy feeling. “Does this have something to do with me? Sweet Jesus, did the bastard attack you because he has a grudge against

—"

"Eric, please. Robbie wil be home soon, and—"

"Forget Robbie. I want to know who attacked you and why."

"So you can do what?” she snapped.

"So I can hunt the sonofabitch down—"

"And do what? Smash his face in? Break his hands and knees?"

"It's a start."

She shook her head, her eyes dark with pain. “Violence isn't the answer, Eric."

"No, but it can be a pretty persuasive tactic at times."

"Do you realy believe that?"

"Absolutely. Some people won't listen to anything less."

"Then we have nothing more to say to each other."

The finality in her words rang in his ears like a death knel. Faced with the conviction in her voice that had been missing before, Eric knew he'd made a mistake. A huge one. This was Emily, not one of knew he'd made a mistake. A huge one. This was Emily, not one of the guys. Emily didn't subscribe to the law of the jungle, where respect generaly boiled down to violence. An eye for an eye only meant more pain and suffering to her.

He reached up to touch her face in apology. “Emily—"

She stepped back, her eyes misty, yet undeniably determined.

“Please go, Eric."

His every instinct screamed at him to stay, to fight for her, but that would mean fighting Emily. That he could not do. Not when he raged inside and she looked as if she were about to shatter.

"Al right,” he said quietly. “I'l go. But this isn't over. Not by a long shot."

Emily watched him walk away and wanted to die. He'd reacted to seeing Ryan's brutal handiwork just as she'd prayed he wouldn't.

With barely controled fury. If she'd identified her attacker, Eric would have made mincemeat out of Ryan before the day was done.

And then where would they be?

Eric would be pacing a jail cel and she'd be pacing the floor, waiting to be served with a custody suit. Miguel Sandoval had insisted otherwise, but Emily knew Ryan wasn't one to give up that easily. If she puled Eric into this, Ryan wouldn't hesitate to use him against her. He'd swear up and down Eric had come after him to coerce him into staying away from Robbie, then launch a mud-slinging campaign to rival that of a presidential race. Eric's past slinging campaign to rival that of a presidential race. Eric's past would be dredged up for public consumption, her own would be distorted and smeared across the papers, and her innocent son would be emotionaly scarred for life.

She was stil working in the yard when Robbie burst through the back door. “Mom! Mom!"

"Over here, sweetheart, I'm trimming the azaleas."

"What's going on?” he asked, coming up on her right side.

She glanced over at him and smiled. “Nothing. Why?"

"How come you're home?"

She sent him a dry look. “Use your eyes, big guy. I've been busy."

"You mean Eric's not coming for dinner?"

She stiled. “No. Why would you think that?"

"Then why'd you buy roses?"

"Roses?"

"The ones on the kitchen table."

"Oh, those.” She faked a nonchalant shrug. “I don't know, I just ...

thought they were pretty."

"Are you sure no one's coming for dinner?"

Enough was enough. She sent him a stern sideways look. “Very sure, Robbie. Now may we drop the subject?"

"You mean we're making ravioli? Just us?"

She laughed, finaly understanding. Robbie adored her homemade ravioli. “Yep, a whole pot ful. Just the two of us. But you'l have to help me stuff them if you want some. They're not made yet."

"Al right! Home made! Wow, Mom, this is the best surprise, ever."

"That's because you're the best son, ever,” she said, and gave him a big hug.

He puled back with a huge grin. “Wait ‘til I tel Glen. His mom always gets the frozen kind."

"Blech,” Emily said, knowing it was expected of her, and feeling more carefree than she had in almost twenty-four hours.

Robbie's grin vanished. “What happened to your face?"

Emily sobered. Her face. She'd been so upset about Eric, she'd forgotten to go inside and re-apply the make up she'd scrubbed off upon returning home that morning. “I, uh, had a little trouble with a patient,” she said, borrowing the lie she'd told Eric.

"He knocked you down, too?"

Robbie stared at her scraped knees, eyes hurt and disbelieving, lips trembling. He looked as if he might cry, then began to quiver the way he did before he erupted in tears.

Emily put a firm hand on one skinny shoulder, tilted his chin up.

“Yes. But a big policeman came and took him away, and I'm fine, so we won't worry about it any more, okay?"

He didn't look convinced. “Okay."

Feeling like a fraud, she smiled brightly. “Wash your hands while I put the shears away. We have some ravioli to make."

She entered the house a few minutes later to find Eric's roses lying neglected on the kitchen table. She swalowed hard and reached for them. With fingers that trembled she tore the tissue and pushed it apart.

They were exquisite. Tiny, gently blossoming sweetheart roses. A dozen of them. Al perfect. Al pale pink. She brought one to her nose, inhaled ... and felt her heart break.

Dinner was a subdued affair, but not for the reasons Emily had expected. She'd intended to soften Robbie up with his favorite meal, then sit down and have a serious talk about his father. She hadn't expected it to go wel. His reaction could be anything from deep disappointment to wide-eyed disbelief to outright fury that deep disappointment to wide-eyed disbelief to outright fury that she'd lied to him al these years.

But that was irrelevant now that she'd given in to Ryan's demands.

She tried not to think about how cowardly that made her feel as she concentrated on coaxing a smile from her dispirited son. She tried several times, in vain. He would look at her cheek, his sweet face tightening, then plug away at whatever task she'd assigned him.

When she finaly lowered the stuffed ravioli into the boiling water, she said silent prayer of thanks that the ordeal was almost over.

"Mom?"

"What, honey?” He was speaking to her again. A good sign.

"Are you gonna be a doctor forever?"

She paused in stirring the sauce. “Probably."

When he didn't say anything else, she looked over to where he stood at the counter playing with leftover pasta dough. “What else would you like me to be?"

He shrugged. “I don't know. Just something where you don't have to work al the time."

"Honey, I have to work."

"Glen's mom stays home."

She also serves her children frozen ravioli. “That's because Glen's She also serves her children frozen ravioli. “That's because Glen's dad goes to work to pay the bils."

"Why can't we have a dad to pay the bils? Then you could stay home like Glen's mom."

"Things aren't that simple, sweetheart."

"I bet Eric would be our dad if we asked him."

Emily went stil, then turned around slowly. “Where did you get that idea?” she asked. She could strangle whoever planted it in his fertile little mind.

"He likes us."

So the idea was apparently his own. That made things even harder.

“Yes, wel he's not going to be around much longer. When the season ends, he's going home.” Robbie looked crushed. Emily felt cruel and insensitive. But she had to nip this dangerous line of thought in the bud.

The buzzer sounded behind her. Grateful for the distraction, Emily strained the pasta and prepared their plates, while Robbie puled the salad from the refrigerator and poured them each a glass of milk.

The rest of the meal was uneventful, even pleasant, as Emily asked Robbie about his rocket ship presentation that morning. After dinner they left the dishes and played computer games until it was time for Robbie's bath. It wasn't until after she'd checked his ears to make Robbie's bath. It wasn't until after she'd checked his ears to make sure they were thoroughly dry and tucked him in for the night that she discovered the true reason for his earlier line of questioning.

Lying between his Batman sheets—teeth brushed, face scrubbed, hair stil damp—he looked up at her with sad, serious eyes and said, “Think about what I said, okay, Mom?"

"What was that? You've said plenty tonight, Tiger.” She smiled and brushed back a lock of his hair.

"About asking Eric to be our dad so you can stay home."

Her hand stiled. “Robbie..."

"Please? I don't want you to get hurt anymore, Mom."

Emily did the dishes with tears in her eyes.

When the kitchen was spotless, she brewed a cup of chamomile tea, sat at the table, and stared into the steam.

The grandfather clock in the hal chimed eleven. Emily's heart contracted. Eleven was the time Eric usualy caled, game night or no. Her tears weled anew as she stared at his roses. If he caled, she'd have to reject him again.

It might have been different if he were someone she was planning a future with, someone who would stand beside her and fight for Robbie if Ryan did indeed attempt to carry through with his threats.

But Eric was leaving come summer, and she couldn't risk her son's safety and security for a man who was just passing through, no matter how much she loved him.

The telephone rang. She groaned in despair, knowing it was Eric.

Where was she supposed to find the strength to convince him it was over? She let it ring twice more before she remembered Robbie was asleep upstairs and answered it before it woke him.

"You saw him again. I hope it was for the last time."

Emily's blood turned to ice. “How did you get this number?"

Ryan laughed. “Connections, baby. I know where you live, who your friends are, who Robbie's friends are, where he goes to school, where he plays—"

"No!” The word was torn from her before she could stop it, the image of Ryan approaching Robbie on a playground unbearable.

"There's no need to shout, Emily. I've no intention of stealing the boy out from under your nose.” His chuckle was dry, amused, letting her know he was enjoying himself. “Not when I can have my lawyer do it for me, nice and legal."