The Man From Her Past (6 page)

“The same thing that changed us all.”

She licked her lips, so dry they were cracking. “My life wasn’t my own. There was the investigation, and even after that pig took the plea agreement, I felt everyone staring at me. All the time. You, barely able to share breathing space. My father, fighting to look me in the eye. Living here was like struggling each day through a thick bubble. Then, when I learned Hope was coming, I had to leave.”

“Because you felt freer elsewhere?”

“Everything was easier where no one knew anything about me.” She pulled the lid off her father’s cup. “I’d better get water.”

“It’s over here.” The nurses had shown him a machine that dispensed ice and water yesterday. He took the cup.

“You’ve got to stop helping me, Van. My family isn’t your problem.”

He filled the cup, anyway. “I let you down then, and I still don’t know what I’m doing, but I want to do the right thing for you and me this time, Cass.”

“Stop calling me that.”

He took her arm. “And for Hope.” If she asked what he meant, he was sunk. But they had to start somewhere. “I’m sorry for crowding you. Freedom, back in Washington, must look good.” He handed her the cup. “I’ll go away if you say that’s what you really want.” He waited until she faced him. “But I don’t believe you do.”

She didn’t take a second to think. “You’re wrong.” She meant it. Her tone was all relief. He felt sick. Offering her hand, she was Hope greeting Beth this morning. “And thank you again for everything you did for Dad—and the house. Of course, I can’t repay you.”

“You just did. You made me believe I’m a stranger to you.” Funny—she’d been saying it for almost twenty-four hours. “I should have believed you last night.”

A
STRANGER
? Van had been her only lover, the man she’d hoped to have children with. The man she hadn’t trusted to love her. And as he walked away, straight and masculine in jeans and a black sweater, he was more the man she’d loved than he’d ever been.

She could remember watching him across the skating rink, wanting him as if they hadn’t made love just moments before they’d come to skate. She’d been so proud to be his wife. Her friends had lusted for his lean, lanky frame, and they’d told her in high school she just liked him because he was an older guy and because her father liked him so much.

She knew the day he’d finally opened his eyes and seen her. It had been the Christmas season then, too. Van and her father had spent a week with the bank’s auditors. She’d made them a late dinner, and she’d served them both. After she’d squeezed her father’s shoulder, filling his glass with tea, it had been natural to do the same for Van.

He’d caught her hand as if it had burned him, and he’d looked into her eyes with the awareness she’d dreamed of seeing. Later that night, he’d met her under the mistletoe. That had been their beginning.

She wrapped her arms around her waist.

Saying goodbye again hurt unbearably.

“Mrs. Haddon?”

How appropriate that someone should call her that now, after five years. She turned to meet the man coming down the hall. “Dr. Baxter,” she said. His face was vaguely familiar, but she had to read his name badge. “My name is Warne. Cassie Warne.”

“Call me Lang. I remember you, Cassie. Let’s talk about your father.”

Ah, the truth at last, in plain language, instead of couched carefully to keep from hurting her. She’d faced all kinds of truth, but she dreaded hearing what the future held for her father. Without thinking, she glanced over her shoulder for Van.

H
E WENT HOME
and tried to work. He had his own problems—a client’s bank account that had flattened over the past year, two major clients who were as stunned as he that he’d made a wrong choice on their behalves, and new business he was in the middle of recruiting.

About three o’clock, he realized he’d stranded Cassie at the hospital without transportation. He thought about calling, but she’d convinced him it was sick to be so Johnny-on-the-spot. He’d rather drive back to the hospital. If she’d already left, he’d look in on Leo.

Before he went, he made a few calls, including one to answer questions for a prospective customer. While he glanced at the clock he found Hope creeping into his mind. How was she doing with Beth, a relative stranger? He didn’t call.

None of his business.

Back at the hospital, he ran into Lang Baxter outside the break room on Leo’s floor.

“How’s the patient?” Van asked.

“Better. His daughter’s worked a couple of miracles. They were talking about her mother when I last checked in. Let me say they were reminiscing about Victoria. I think Leo may come back some, once he’s home in familiar surroundings.”

Van nodded, aware at last that he had been a temporary Band-Aid for Leo. “That’s a big improvement.”

“More than I hoped for.” Lang dug a pack of gum from his pocket and offered it.

“No, thanks.”

“You didn’t tell me Cassie’d dumped your name.”

Lang’s curiosity was a bucket of cold water. Their footsteps echoed on the white-and-black tile as Van got a grip on anger that surprised him. “You didn’t say that to her?”

“I called her Mrs. Haddon at first. She didn’t recognize me.” He unwrapped his gum and popped it into his mouth. “What happened? Did she blame you for not being home that time—”

Good God. She’d been right about living in a town where everyone took a proprietary interest.

“Don’t talk to her about that.”

“I won’t, but it’s been a long time. No one ever understood why she left.”

This conversation again. He turned, stopping the doctor. “I appreciate your care for Leo.”

“Van, I’m sorry. I just asked because we couldn’t figure out why she disappeared.”

“No one needs to understand. It isn’t anyone else’s business.” Even asking might hurt Cassie.

He turned and there she was, at her father’s open door with his cup in her hand again. She stared from him to the doctor, her face flushed, a blotch of red on each high cheekbone.

“He wants more water,” she said, and brushed past both of them.

“Oh, man. I’d better apologize,” Lang said. “My wife calls me a gossip all the time. I thought she was nuts.”

He went after Cassie. Van almost followed, but he was a new man, the one she wanted. He left her to deal with Lang on her own and he went to visit her father. Leo looked up from his bed.

“Van, I’m feeling a little better this morning.”

Van managed not to check his watch. Time passing wasn’t as important as knowing the faces of the people who loved you. “I’m glad. You think seeing Cassie did the trick?”

“I never thought she’d come. How did she know where I was?”

“I called her. You had her phone number.”

“I always kept it. She didn’t want me to call, but I kept thinking who knew when I might need to?”

“You should have called one of us a long time ago.”

“Yeah—I’ve got a little pneumonia.” Leo breathed, as if he were testing his lung capacity. “But the doctor says I’m not going to die like Victoria.”

Van glossed over the mention of Victoria. No need to dwell on hurtful memories. “When do you get to go home?”

“In a few days,” Cassie said behind him. “Lang says he needs to stay until his lungs are clear.”

“Good.” Van expected her to be angry, but she looked empty. “I came back because I remembered I’d left you without a ride home.”

“I can take a cab,” she said.

“One of the two in town?”

“There are two now?” she asked, a brittle laugh in her voice.

“Are you two getting back together?”

“No, Dad.” She lowered her head to hide behind her hair, an old habit.

“Van’s a good guy.”

“He always was.” She set her father’s water on the tray beside him. “But I don’t live here anymore, and it’s a long way to Washington.”

“I live here, Cass.”

She didn’t answer, but Leo sounded so calm, so much like his old self, Van felt as if he were intruding. They didn’t need him now. He reached for the door just as a nurse brought in a tray of bad-smelling food.

“Dinnertime, Mr. Warne.”

“Cassie, I’ll be out here.”

“It smells like the stuff I used to feed my cat,” Leo said.

He might have lost his memory and his manners, but his spunk was coming back.

“Wait, Van.”

Cassie’s voice startled them. He turned. “What’s wrong?”

She nodded at the nurse. “Dad, we’ll be back in just a second.”

“Don’t go too far, Cass.”

“I won’t. Eat a little of your dinner.”

He eyed it with distaste. The nurse popped all the lids. “Cat food, huh? Eat enough and maybe you’ll get strong as a cat and we’ll be able to let you go home.”

“All right, but as I recall, the Constitution forbids cruel and unusual punishment.”

Van held the door for Cassie. She touched his waist with her hand, only to pull him with her, but his muscles twitched at the shock of the contact.

“It’s what she said about Dad going home,” Cassie said.

“You don’t want him there?”

“Will you listen before you jump to conclusions? Obviously, I want him to come home and get better, and then I’ll have to figure out what to do for the future. But first, I have to tell him about Hope.”

“Do you need help?” He must be some kind of a fool.

“I know I told you to go away, but you were the only one who could talk him off that bridge.” She looked down, but then brushed his arm, the way she used to when she was too young and too shy to admit she was attracted to him. “Tom came by today and told me what happened that night. I didn’t realize how bad he was.”

“It’s all right. Don’t thank me again.” He moved away so she couldn’t touch him, either. “I love him, too.”

She clearly decided to get to the point. “I’m afraid if I tell Dad about Hope, he’ll get worse again.”

“I’ll stay.” And he’d try not to feel like her knight in shining armor. He peered at her father through the small glass slit in the door. “What did Lang say about his condition?”

“They ran all kinds of scans and blood work. He’s not sure if it’s early dementia or Alzheimer’s.” The rest poured out. “The compulsive behavior is like I read—some sort of comfort—but Dad’s already improved today. Lang thinks that’ll continue as long as I’m around and Dad can stay in the house.” Her voice cracked.

Despite the fact that he was just an ex, he put his arm around her. She leaned, enough to reassure him he wasn’t forcing comfort on her.

“It’s just that he’s been so afraid of this, ever since his mother died.”

“It might not be that bad. Wait for the tests to come back. He was in such bad shape he might recover dramatically with a steady diet of good food and care.”

“Lang said that, too.”

“What else?”

“That we can try several medications, that I might want to get a nurse in later.”

He tightened his arm. She didn’t want to stay here. Of course, home nurses probably worked in Washington, too. “Don’t worry about that yet. He’ll improve.”

“Thanks, Van.” Her soft face meant more than her words. “I’ve been kind of nuts since I got here, and I’m sorry. I’m not just saying that to persuade you, but will you come back in with me in case he needs you?”

He nodded and then followed her back into the room, cautioning himself to stay out of their family matters unless Leo actually wanted him.

The nurse patted Cassie’s shoulder. “He’s doing better with each hour,” she said on her way out.

“I hope so.”

Leo looked up from a dish of potato soup. “I could use a steak. Remember the steaks at Ellen’s, Van?” He waved Cassie back into her chair with a drippy spoon. “We used to treat our clients.” He grinned. “Or maybe the bank was treating us. Either way, those were meals I’ll always remember.”

“Dad,” Cassie said, “I need to tell you about someone who’ll be at home when we go back.”

“Van, you mean? I remember Van. I’m not totally—” He twirled the spoon in a circle next to his temple.

Cassie reached up to clean soup that had dribbled onto his shoulder. “Not Van. Remember he and I were divorced several years ago.”

“Now that was a mistake.”

“Dad, can you let me talk? Will you listen to me?”

“I’m listening.” He took more soup. “Someone else is at our house. Not a new guy?”

She shook her head, scrunching the folds of his sheets in her fists. “I have a daughter, Dad. A little girl named Hope.”

His mouth opened and the spoon slipped out of his fingers and clattered to the tray. He stared from her to Van.

“You had a—you—neither of you told me?”

Naturally, he assumed Van was Hope’s father. His troubled mind didn’t allow him to think Cassie might have met someone else. She swung around to stare at Van. He went closer, naturally protective of her. Leo wasn’t thrilled they might have had a child. How would he react—more importantly, how would he treat Cassie—when she told him the whole truth?

“Go on,” Leo said.

Cassie turned back to her father. “Dad, she’s not—I mean Van’s not—” She stood. “Hope—”

“Is so young she doesn’t understand about me and the divorce.”

Cassie spun back to him, upset. Van shook his head. She’d asked him to help. This was the best he could do. He wouldn’t let her father hurt her again. And if she could choose what to tell Leo, she wouldn’t want him to suffer, thinking that animal had left her with a child.

Or so he told himself.

Maybe he didn’t want anyone to know.

Breathing heavily, Cassie stared at him, anger glittering in her eyes, but it dissipated when she looked at her father.

“This is easier,” Van said.

“I don’t like it.”

“You’re the one who said it wasn’t the worst thing people could think. Especially your father.”

“What’s going on?” Leo asked. “What are you two talking about?”

Cassie closed her eyes and then opened them. She seemed to reach her decision with an effort. “We haven’t told Hope about Van, so I don’t want you to tell her, either, Dad. I’ll explain when she’s old enough to get it.”

“I’m pretty old,” Leo said.

“You see everything in black and white. Hope is a shades-of-gray situation for Van and me. She was born after the divorce. She’s never met Van.”

“I can’t believe you’d ignore your own child,” Leo said to Van.

This was the price he’d pay for protecting Cassie. He could only stare his accusers down, starting with her father. “I was wrong,” he said. He’d been wrong to give up.

“Van, I need some water. Come with me.”

They were barely outside the door when she grabbed him by the shirt. “What the hell are we thinking?”

How much he liked the warmth of her hand against his stomach. “That he might not be able to deal with the truth. That he might accidentally tell someone else and then it’d be all over town.” Temper flared in her eyes. “Not,” he said, “because anyone here would blame you or Hope for what happened, but they’d ply you and Leo with sympathy. No one knows why you left or Leo became a hermit. Hope is a perfect doorway into your lives.”

“My daughter is not a conversation starter.” She pulled him even closer, barely glancing at the orderly who eyed her rough hand on his shirt. “I’m thinking of Trey Lockwood and the people who handle your business at the bank and your nephew, Eli. How many of them are going to believe you’re the kind of man who’d let me walk away, pregnant? Who wouldn’t try to find out the truth?”

“I didn’t,” he said, his shame a suit of nails.

She closed her mouth, breathing hard. She dismissed his bitter confession with an even more painful it-doesn’t-matter gesture. “Stop trying to manage my life, Van. I thought you realized—”

“I understand everything you’ve said to me, but it’s better that people think I’m her father. You know it.”

She did, but she obviously didn’t like it. “Not my father. Do you think he’ll suddenly get well enough to hear the truth? Who knows what makes sense to him? Or what he even understands, but I can’t—I won’t—lie to him. He is still my father—and Van, he loves you.”