Let Me Love You Again (An Echoes of the Heart Novel Book 2) (12 page)

“What did you say the little girl’s name was?” He set the kettle on the stove, his ears ringing. His hand shook as he turned the burner on high.

“Camille. Just like—”

“Selena’s favorite flowers.”

Oliver covered his heart with his palm. His tattoo felt like it was burning through the material of his T-shirt.

He hadn’t smelled camellias in years until that morning. A row of them grew between his parents’ backyard and Mrs. Rosenthal’s, and Selena had loved their blooms. Once they’d started dating, Oliver had given her a camellia every morning there was one to give.

She’d named her child after the fragile blossom that would always remind him of her. Of them. Of the perfect year they’d spent loving each other.

“I’m so sorry, Oliver . . .”
she’d said that morning.
“For everything.”

For running from him again? For ending things so destructively seven years ago—because she was incapable of loving and trusting anyone, even him? Or was she sorry for something more? Something impossible for him to believe.

Except more pieces were snapping into place while his mother stayed silent, letting him work things out for himself.

“Wait just a damn minute.” He redid the simple math Marsha evidently already had.

Jesus.

The kettle whistled, slicing through his shock and punching his headache to DEFCON 1. How long had he been standing there, staring blind, his world narrowing to one crucial detail?

“How old do you think Selena’s daughter is?”

Marsha stepped in front of him and took care of the coffee. “A lot closer to six, maybe a little older.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Which means Camille would have been conceived—”

“Seven years ago . . .” Oliver glanced toward the living room, where good-natured bedlam continued. “Is anyone else wondering the same thing?”

“Joe and me. Maybe Travis, but he wouldn’t cause trouble for anyone unless he was sure.”

Anyone . . . “You mean for Brad and—”

Dru burst through the doorway.

“What’s the holdup?” she asked.

Blonde and tall, she was as beautiful as ever, even with worry dragging at the gorgeous smile she flashed their mother. She had a sniffling Teddy perched on her hip, his red hair spiking in the back from his nap.

“Oh my God,” she gushed. “Is the coffee ready? Is it decaf? Count me in. But we’ve got to get this party started. The kitchen crew needs me at the Whip. And Travis wants to check in on Dad before he heads to the station for his night shift.”

“Let’s do it, then.” Marsha poured a mug of coffee, black, and walked it over to Dru, exchanging it for Teddy. “Hey there, big boy,” she cooed.

The toddler beamed at her, besotted, and then over her shoulder at Oliver, as Marsha walked him away from the bomb she’d just detonated in Oliver’s life.

“You okay?” Dru asked.

Oliver realized his mouth was hanging open.

“Sure,” he managed.

I just might be a father.

Or an uncle.

Which would make you a stepmother, if your fiancé knocked up the girl of my dreams when we were teenagers.

He pulled his sister into his arms for the first time since rolling into town.

“God.” The rightness of home washed through him again, crowding out the rest. It was the first chance they’d had to be alone. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Dru hugged him back.

She made a happy, watery sound, half laugh, half cry. “I can’t believe you’re back. We’ve missed you.
I’ve
missed you.”

“Me too.” He made himself set her away.

“Yes.” She punched his shoulder. “I could tell how often you thought of us, with all the letters and phone calls and attempts to stay in touch.”

Oliver tousled her bangs like he used to, when she’d been five inches shorter but just as sassy. He rewarded her next punch with a satisfying grunt. He deserved it. He didn’t have a clue how to explain the distance, his need for it.

“I just wanted . . .” He’d wanted
here
to be right for all of them. He still did. He looked out the kitchen window at the Rosenthals’ empty backyard. “I’m really sorry, Dru.”

Dru hugged him again. “No apologies. Not between us. I understand. Really. Brad does, too. He told me a little about the hospital. Sounds like it was brutal. No one blames you for wanting to be somewhere else all these years. What happened, it was horrible. I felt responsible for it for years.”

Shocked, Oliver sputtered, “Why the hell would you think any of this was your fault?”

“I’m the one who got Brad to admit he’d slept with Selena. I was so mad. I had such a crush on him. I wasn’t thinking about what it would do to you if the rumors were true. I refused to believe Brad when he said it just happened. That it meant nothing. I needed company in my pity party. So I found you and tattled.”

“It was a long time ago, and you were hurting, Dru.”

“I was the reason you two fought and you got yourself in trouble again. If I’d just stayed out of it . . .”

“You couldn’t have.” And he couldn’t take the tears in her eyes. “You cared too much about everyone to just let it go. I’m the one who made Selena feel like she had no one on her side. I might as well have driven her into Brad’s arms.”

Dru winced at the image.

“None of this is your fault,” he insisted. “You got hurt because of me.” And it might not be over yet. “
I’m
sorry.”

Dru cocked her head to the side. She’d always been sneaky good at reading him.

“You were in love with Selena,” she said, “even after she broke up with you.”

He nodded.

“And now . . . ?” She blew on her coffee, took a sip.

“And now . . .” If Camille turned out to be Brad’s, how would Dru and her fiancé weather the shock? “You’re engaged. I’m happy for you, kiddo.”

Dru’s smile was just shy of believing him. “Brad said Travis had to drag you into the cafeteria this morning. Don’t be an asshat, Oliver. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“I shook your guy’s hand. We cleared the air. It’s all good.” Or so Oliver had thought.

Dru took another sip of the coffee he wanted to drown himself in. But even decaf had enough stimulant in it to affect him. Then she smacked the back of his head with her palm, like when they’d bickered as kids.

“Hey! Careful, brat.” He lifted his half-empty water bottle to douse her. “Payback’s a bit—”

“Knock it off, you two.” A scowling Travis reappeared in the kitchen doorway. “Kill each other on your own time. Mom’s talking with the kids.”

The quiet in the other room registered. Blessed peace reigned for the first time since the kids had commandeered the house. Oliver’s gut clenched.

“Right,” he said.

Joe. Angioplasty. Keeping things at home on an even keel for his parents and for kids who’d already survived more insecurity and loss than anyone should have to.

He’d help his family through this. He’d deal with Selena, if there was anything to deal with. He’d deal with any fallout for Dru and Brad. His
take care of things at home
project list was growing by leaps and bounds. But the kids came first. It was Marsha and Joe’s mantra. And for as long as Oliver was back, it was his now, too.

Travis ducked into the living room. Dru held back.

“I can understand your work being a priority,” she said. “But don’t let being messed up about Selena or Brad or anything else take you away from us again. Not until you absolutely have to go. Promise?”

Oliver smiled down at her, not used to it yet. “You grew up while I was gone.”

“I got my dream come true.” She kissed his cheek. “Gives a girl clarity. I got cuter, too. I’ll give you a pass for not noticing. But
that’s one you owe me. I’ll collect, if I’m ever in the mood to be particularly bratty.”

“
If?
”

He hooked an arm around her, the old and the new and the somewhere in between feeling right in that moment. They followed Travis into the circle of Marsha’s soft, steady voice.

“Joe’s going to be laid up for a while longer,” she was saying, holding Teddy in her lap and surrounded by the younger kids, Lisa and Fin and Boris, who’d piled on the sofa next to her. “He needs a procedure tonight the doctors are saying will take time for him to recover from. Which means I’ll need you older kids”—she looked at Shandra and Gabe, who each had taken over one of the chairs beside the couch—“to help pick up some of the slack around here. And you’ve all met Oliver by now, right?”

Marsha smiled at him, like he was the best part of her day. Then she smiled down at Teddy the same way and bounced him in her lap. The blue slipcover on the oversized couch used to be red. She’d sewn the new one, no doubt, like all the others.

“Oliver’s going to be staying here at night, in Joe’s and my room, while I’m at the hospital with Dad.” She sounded exhausted, no matter how upbeat she kept things. “I’ll have my phone with me. If you need something important leave a message and I’ll try to check regularly. I can’t keep it on when I’m in CICU. But for now, for everyday stuff, Oliver’s taking the lead. Travis and Dru will be around as much as possible. I know you’re just meeting Oliver for the first time, but he’s family. He’s been where you are. And Joe and I are so grateful that he’s home. The family’s lucky to have him, just like we’re lucky we have the rest of you kids.”

Like they’d be lucky to have Camille, too, her lingering glance toward Oliver seemed to say.

Or was it his conscience working overtime? Because the part of him itching to escape back to the all-consuming job he’d built his life around was already looking for ways to justify
not
forcing the issue of Camille’s paternity. Except he wasn’t alone in this decision. This was Bellevue Lane, not his cutthroat, transient business world.

He took in the somber faces of the kids circled quietly around Marsha, almost like she was about to read them a story. To someone else they might look like a mismatched litter of cast-off lives. Instead, Oliver saw a thriving family. Because of Marsha and Joe’s determination to love and heal as many children as they possibly could.

Travis stepped to his other side, completing a united front for their younger brothers and sisters to see.

“You’re all worried,” Marsha said. Love filled her voice and fisted in Oliver’s throat. “I know. I’m worried, too. I don’t like the sound of things like surgery and more tests and Dad having to stay away from the family. I don’t like my Joe being sick, and how worried he is about all of us. But I’m grateful. Because I’m not going through this alone. Neither is your dad, even though we can’t get you younger ones in to see him yet. We’re a family. No one’s going through this alone.”

Just like Oliver steering clear of Selena the rest of the time he was in town was no longer his choice alone to make. He hugged his sister closer. He would do what was best for his family.

Marsha smiled at him, as if she’d read his mind.

“Whatever we have to face,” she promised, “everything’s going to be just fine, as long as we face it together.”

Chapter Nine

“Thanks for coming in again today,” Kristen Hemmings Beaumont said, bright and early the next morning. “We’ve really put you through your paces the last couple of months. Can you believe it’s almost summer?”