Time to Heal (Harlequin Heartwarming) (13 page)

Jake leaned against the counter, legs crossed at the ankles, watching her fingers fly. “I doubt he has much access to
House Beautiful.
There are lots of indigent families who can barely put food on the table. Magazines are luxuries for those people.”

For a second, she stared at her hands. Then, looking at him, she said quietly, “I sound like such a snob, don’t I?”

Still smiling, he touched the side of her face gently. “The truth?”

She nodded, knowing what was coming.

“You do.”

“I don’t mean to. It’s just that I’ve never met children like this. I’m ashamed to say that until Michael started bringing them home, I hadn’t spent much time thinking about the unfortunate innocents of the world.”

“Then that’s one good thing to come from having Mike with us, hmm?” With his thumb, he traced the line of her surprisingly firm jaw.

“Yes, it is.” She smiled with sudden ruefulness. “Although I could wish he wouldn’t be so generous with my expensive bath sheets.”

Jake looked again at the boys, each wrapped in a luxurious taupe towel, and laughed. “Generous to a fault, isn’t he?”

Rachel studied Jake’s expression as he watched Michael. “But you don’t really think so, do you?”

“Think he’s too generous? No.” He moved away from her, settling once more against the counter. “Truth is, I think he’s a special kid. I suspect he identifies with the friends he brings here. Like Mike, they’ve been dealt a hard hand. But he’s one of the lucky ones, having been taken in by you and me. I think he enjoys giving them a firsthand look at life as they’ve always fantasized it. He gets a kick out of letting them swim in a private pool, plying them with whatever you fix for dinner and showing us off as the perfect couple. He’s got a sweet nature, Mike has. I’m proud of him for it. The world needs more people like him.”

When she remained silent, he looked slightly uneasy, as though uncertain how she would react to his glowing assessment of Michael.

But all she said was, “We’re hardly perfect.”

T
HE NEXT DAY
, she had lunch with Suzanne.

“I’m going to have to do something, Suzy. We can’t go on like this.” With her forefinger, she traced the top of her water glass. “You know what I’m reminded of when I’m at home with Jake?” She pushed the glass aside. “The eye of a hurricane. It’s like we walk on eggs with each other, because to say what we really think or feel would open the door to a storm of anger, hurt and pain. So we both keep everything all bottled up. I’m not sure how much longer I can do that.”

Suzanne shook her head in bewilderment. “I can’t believe this. You and Jake always seemed to have such a solid marriage. You were the perfect wife, mother, homemaker. Can you really just cast all that aside because of a mistake Jake made a hundred years ago?”

“It’s not just that, Suzy. I played the role of perfect wife and mother and homemaker because that’s what I thought marriage was all about. You know how much I wanted a child before I finally got pregnant with Scotty. It wasn’t only that I wanted to have a child to love and care for—I felt it completed me on some very basic level. As a woman, don’t you see? Only when Scotty was gone did I discover that everything I’d cherished had little real substance.”

“I just can’t accept that, Rachel,” Suzy said with quiet intensity, still shaking her head. “You sell
yourself short. Lots of women choose homemaking as a career and find it as fulfilling as any job. Even more fulfilling, sometimes.”

Rachel hardly heard her. She was caught up in trying to put everything in some kind of understandable perspective. “I don’t know, maybe the foundation of our relationship wasn’t what it should have been.”

“What does that mean? You love Jake, he loves you. How can you get a better foundation than that?”

“If he loved me, why did he sleep with another woman?”

“For heaven’s sake, Rachel, what man is perfect?”

“Would you say that if it were Alan?”

Suzy bent her head, rubbing her temple. “I think we’ve had this argument before.”

“You know something?” When Suzy looked up expectantly, Rachel said, “To tell the truth, I think I was probably a real pain to live with back then. I was such a silly twit, Suzy. I wanted everything to be perfect in my marriage—perfect husband with perfect job, perfect home life, perfect pregnancy. Only I didn’t have any of that. I had a good husband, not a perfect one. His job was demanding and dangerous, which was a threat to my perfect home life. To make matters worse, I couldn’t get
pregnant.” She laughed ruefully. “That meant
I
was imperfect.”

“Rachel—”

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s no wonder that Jake strayed, Suzy. The real wonder is that he didn’t make a habit of it.”

“I’m not saying I agree with that assessment, Rachel, but if you see it that way, then why can’t you put it all behind you and get on with your life?”

But Rachel was still knee-deep in self-analysis. “I wouldn’t have needed so much perfection or such a guarantee if I’d had more confidence in myself, Suzy. Don’t you see? And Jake has to take some of the responsibility for that. He wanted me to be a little girl he could take care of. It was a sort of ego trip, making the important decisions in our lives, being the sole breadwinner, encouraging me to lean on him. Even after we left Miami and that job with the DEA, Jake—like the good caretaker he is—set me up in a lovely house here in Tidewater. Of course, he didn’t say all this out loud, but by his actions, he defined the part he wanted me to play. Looking back, I’m not happy that I let myself become relegated to that role.”

“Have you really been so unhappy, Rachel?”

“No. That’s what I’m saying. Not until I lost Scotty. Then I had to face myself, come to terms with who I really was, and I wasn’t anybody, Suzy.
I was Mrs. Jake McAdam. Or the sheriff’s wife. Or Scotty’s mother.” She paused as the waiter collected their salad plates. When he left, she said, “Even then we might have rocked along awhile, but Michael came and it seemed that the fabric of our relationship began to unravel. I’m just not sure who I am or what I want anymore.”

“Rachel, for God’s sake, don’t do anything crazy.”

Rachel sat quietly studying the single rose centerpiece before looking into Suzanne’s eyes. “Ron Campbell is sending me all kinds of signals, Suzy. He wants an affair.”

She watched the consternation that clouded her sister’s face. Rachel was almost amused. Her family must truly think the stress of the past few months had pushed her around the bend. She knew Suzanne longed to launch into the thousand-and-one reasons that an affair was a stupid, ill-conceived, insane thing to do, not to mention the politically explosive effect such an act would have on Jake’s campaign.

Suzanne opened her mouth, but the look on Rachel’s face must have told her something. She finally settled for, “Ron Campbell is a notorious womanizer, Rachel. You wouldn’t be so naive.”

Rachel shrugged. “Apparently the woman Jake slept with wasn’t exactly the soul of virtue.”

Suzanne leaned forward. “So you’re considering
this…this insanity just to get back at him?” she whispered fiercely.

“Ron is charming and attractive. He sees me as someone who can
do
something, Suzy.”

“And I can just imagine what that something is.”

“See? See?” Rachel tossed down her napkin. “Even you don’t think a man would value me for anything but a bed partner, Suzanne.”

“Hang on, Rachel, that’s not what I said!” She leaned forward again. “You’re all mixed up. Tell me you don’t really mean what you’re saying. You are too smart for something like this, I know you are.” The waiter interrupted with their coffee. Suzanne waited with impatience while he placed the cups in front of them.

“I’d like a nickel for every time I’ve fantasized about leaving Alan. But even while I’m thinking it, I know if I had to put my money where my mouth is, I’d choose him all over again every time, warts and all. Jake’s a good man, Rachel. And you’re just as good a woman. You just need a little more time to work this out. Losing Scotty was horrible.
Is
horrible. An ongoing tragedy. It’s knocked you for a loop, understandably. But the two of you can weather it.”

“I don’t know, Suze. Since Michael came—”

“Michael seems to be the catalyst for all this soul-searching, Rachel, but please don’t do any
thing rash.” She reached across the table and squeezed Rachel’s hand. “Please. Promise me.”

Rachel shrugged and smiled faintly. “What’s rash, Suze? I’m not filing for a divorce, at least not today. And I’m not going to sleep with Ron Campbell.”

At least not today.

She didn’t say the words out loud, but from the look on Suzy’s face, she could have.

Suzanne looked at her watch and grimaced. “I have an appointment and I’m already ten minutes late. I’ve got to go, honey.” She stood up. “What’s your schedule for the rest of the day?”

“Back to work, of course.” Rachel put down the tip and collected her purse and credit card. “The day’s only half over.”

“You’re still happy with your job?”

“Yes…”

“But?”

“I think I’d be happier if I could do something where I felt I really made a difference.”

“Such as nursing?”

“No, nothing like that. I like my own field, psychology.”

“Well, maybe you could try the county. You could do social work there. Is that what you’d like?”

“Maybe.” Rachel fell into step beside Suzanne, and they headed for the front door. “I’ve been
thinking about it. There are certainly enough kids out there who need help. I’ve learned that from working in Emergency. I’ve lived long enough with my head buried like an ostrich.”

Suzanne stared at her in surprise. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Yes. About this and other things in my life.”

Suzanne nodded, looked thoughtful. “We’ll talk more later, okay?”

“Okay.” They walked through the door into bright July sunlight. Rachel dug into her purse for her keys. “Say hello to Alan and the kids for me.” She reached up and kissed her sister’s cheek. “And thanks for listening, Suze.”

T
O EVERYONE’S PLEASURE
, there was an uncustomary lull in Emergency after lunch. Monday was usually a very busy day. Patients who’d chosen to avoid a visit to the hospital on the weekend usually lined up early, and the waiting room seldom cleared before nightfall. Why this day should be different, no one could figure out. By the same token, nobody questioned it, and there was an unusual sense of relaxation among the staff, both medical and administrative.

Ron Campbell strolled in about three o’clock.

“Hey, pretty lady.” He held up two cups of coffee. “How about a break?”

The coffee was in covered plastic cups and
probably lukewarm, but Rachel wasn’t feeling particular. She’d spent the past hour discussing the insurance benefits of an elderly patient who’d come in with chest pains. Smiling, she reached to take a cup.

“Uh-uh.” Ron backed out of reach, holding the cups. “First rule of slow Mondays—don’t waste a coffee break at your desk. Come on, let’s go to the waiting lounge, put up our feet and really relax. This has got to be the first Monday in history that it’s unoccupied.”

She laughed and pushed back from her desk. “Sounds good.”

“What? No argument? No excuses? No sweet, shy refusals?” He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise but didn’t waste any time falling into step beside her. “Hold all emergencies,” he called to Helen Falco, who laughed and shook her head.

“I’m only able to do this because we’re having a slow day,” Rachel said, entering the lounge. She walked straight to the television and lowered the sound. When she turned, Ron had closed the door.

“My good luck.” He sat down on a cushioned sofa and patted the space next to him. After a second’s hesitation, Rachel did as he wanted, but she kept a respectable distance between them. Putting the coffee cup in her hand, he sipped from his own then leaned back, fixing her with a teasing look. “I have to grab my moments with you when I can.”

“Except for lunch, I’m at my desk eight hours a day, Mr. Campbell,” she said primly. One step more and she would be flirting, she realized. Rachel stared into her coffee. Was that what she wanted? Was this how it had started between Jake and that woman in Miami?

“I know, under the watchful eyes of Helen Falco—a dragon when it comes to you—and the entire hospital staff.” He reached over and deliberately removed her cup from her hand. “I can’t even make a move outside in the parking lot. Your trusty teenage knight, Michael, might be on patrol.”

Michael. Rachel swallowed and the coffee almost went down the wrong way. If Michael was standing here, would she be doing this? Ron looked deeply into her eyes. “My proposition is still open.”

“Proposition?”

“The job, Rachel. I still want you.”

Here it was, time to put her money where her mouth was. He wasn’t talking about a job. She knew it, and he knew she knew it. Rachel wondered when her heartbeat would start to accelerate. Shouldn’t sexual innuendo from a man other than her husband be exciting? Shouldn’t she be feeling something other than this…this clinical curiosity? Shouldn’t she be thinking that Ron Campbell was a very attractive man—although Jake’s chin
was better, stronger—rather than noticing that his watch was a fake Rolex? Jake wore a practical no-name with a leather band. She blinked. Why was Jake so vividly present in her mind?

She raised her eyes to Ron’s. “My feelings haven’t changed about the job, Ron.”

“I’m not talking about the job, Rachel, and you know it.” He slipped a hand around her waist in a quick, skillful movement. How did he get so close so quickly? she wondered. “I’m talking about this.”

Ron seemed unaware of anything except the thrill of kissing her. Whereas her first and over whelming reaction was refusal. She felt a sense of violation and revulsion. As for sexual excitement, she felt nothing. Not a blessed thing.

What am I doing!

With the thought came the sound of the lounge door opening. Pushing against Ron’s arms, Racheltore away from him, hardly aware of anything except her own stupidity. Dazed with the enormity of what she’d encouraged, or at least failed to discourage, she looked in the direction of the doorway, knowing whoever had opened it would have seen her in Ron Campbell’s arms, would have witnessed the kiss. Would assume that she was a willing partner. Worse, would assume, more
than likely, that kissing Ron was something she indulged in daily. Hourly. Nightly.