Authors: Janelle Taylor

Watching Amanda (27 page)

BOOK: Watching Amanda

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She heard him blowing, then laughing. “I'm huffing and puffing, darling. And here I come.”

CHAPTER 28

Ethan's head was pounding, and the rushing in his ears was making him dizzier than he already was.
Where the hell am I?
he wondered, and then he tried to bolt upright, but the pain in his ribs, and the sudden sharp pain on his head kept him down.

No, something else was keeping him down. Something pressing against him. Ethan tried to open his eyes, but one was caked shut. He peered with the other. A huge silver can was lying on its side against him. A garbage can. He tried to shove it, but it was full and heavy. He braced himself, then pushed with all his might, and it clunked heavily to the ground beside his stomach.

He tried to sit up again, but he could barely move.
Get up, man. You have to get up. Get up!
Wincing in pain, he forced himself to sit up and reached for his cell phone. Gone.

Amanda!

Ethan tried again to pry open his eye, and he realized it was caked shut with his own blood, which was all over his hands. His jacket was also probably covered, but it was too dark to see. Ethan suddenly remembered the brick against his head and almost fell back down to a prone position, but he grabbed a garbage can, and this time was grateful that it was full to support his weight.

I'm up. Okay. Take a breath and grab onto the rails lining the garbage and move.
He winced with every movement of his ribs. Where was he? he wondered again, looking around for a landmark. He realized he was right on Amanda's block, at the building next door, in their garbage section. He just had to go a few yards down Seventy-fourth Street.
Go. Go. Go
, he told himself.
Fight through the pain.

Who the hell had hit him? When he first came to he had no idea. Then he remembered the voice of his attacker: Paul Swinwood.

Adrenaline burst through him and he staggered to the brownstone as quickly as he could. No one was on the street. At the stoop to the brownstone, he heard banging. Like someone kicking in a door.

Amanda!

He knew she'd used the safety latch at the front door, so there was no way he'd get in. He went around to the back and used his key and slipped in as quietly as he could. He could hear Tommy screaming. Amanda yelling, “Stop. Please!” And Paul laughing and kicking. “I'd say one more good kick and this door is going down, baby,” Paul said. There was murder in his voice. Ethan recognized the tone from his own recent brush with death.

He raced up the stairs as fast as he could, grabbing his bat from under the couch on the way. It would serve him better than a knife.
Okay, Black, here's the plan. Distract him. Let him come after you. You'll provide the cover for Amanda to escape with Tommy. And then it all comes down to what weapon he has. If he has a knife, you have a chance. If he has a gun, you're dead.

The door to the bedroom flew open and Amanda screamed at the top of her lungs. She came rushing at Paul with the chair and bashed him right in the face with one of the legs. He screamed and went flying backward.

Ethan came running into the room with the bat raised. “Ethan!” she screamed.

Paul was on the floor, his hand to his eye. Blood dripped down his face. He looked up at Ethan, his expression dazed but murderous.

“Get Tommy and run!” Ethan shouted. “Now!” He stood a foot from Paul, the bat at the ready.

Amanda grabbed Tommy and ran, but Paul grabbed her leg. She clutched Tommy tightly against her chest and screamed, praying she wouldn't fall, praying if she did that she could protect Tommy's head.

Ethan wacked Paul with the bat. “Let her go, you son of a bitch!”

Paul screamed and cursed, his hand going slack long enough for Amanda to rush away. She flew down the stairs and fumbled with the chain latch on the front door. Finally she was out and gasping for breath, then ran next door and banged on door, screaming for her neighbors to call the police. No one was home.

She could see a few figures dimly in surrounding windows. “Help!” she screamed. She dropped to her knees, clutching Tommy tightly against her. The cool air seemed to actually calm Tommy down, and he stopped crying.

Finally, a woman came around the corner and headed up the block toward her. She was talking on a cell phone. Amanda bolted to her feet and rushed toward her. “Please call the police! Tell them there's an intruder with a gun at West Seventy-fourth and Central Park. The intruder is the blonde man. Hurry, please!”

The woman looked scared out of her mind. She hung up on whoever she was talking to and punched in 911 and said what Amanda told her to.

Sagging with relief, Amanda raced back to the brownstone and crouched beside a parked car. A crowd of people had formed and a young man asked if she was all right and if the police had been called. She nodded, and he handed her his wool coat. Another woman took off her coat, removed her cardigan sweater, and handed the sweater to Amanda. “Put this on the baby,” the woman said. “Those fleece booties might not be warm enough.” Amanda mouthed a thank you and wrapped Tommy in the sweater.

She strained to hear anything coming from inside the brownstone. There were sounds of breaking glass. Thuds. Yelling.

And then the sirens obliterated all other noise.

Please let Ethan be all right
, she prayed.
Please.

Two police cars pulled up, and as the cops were racing up the stairs, a gunshot was fired. Then another. The cops raced in, their guns drawn.

Amanda stood motionless on the street, a crowd of people around her.

An ambulance pulled up and EMS workers carried a stretcher inside. A moment later, a body was removed from the brownstone, covered with a sheet.

Who, who, who, who?
Amanda thought wildly.
Who is it?

She couldn't take it. Her legs gave out. She dropped to her knees, careful to keep Tommy safe.

“Amanda.”

She jumped up at the sound of his voice. Ethan stood at the top of the stoop, battered and bruised, but very much alive.

After three hours in the police station, Amanda and Ethan were free to leave. They were told not to go back to the brownstone for at least a week, since it was a crime scene.

“I never plan to step foot in that place again,” Amanda said.

Ethan nodded. “I don't blame you.”

George Harris, who'd been called in to verify who Ethan was, and the details of the will that solidified Paul's motive, since he was no longer able to speak for himself, held up a hand. “This is quite a conundrum. Nothing in the terms of the will set forth by William covers police-mandated abandonment of the premises.”

“Couldn't she do the rest of the thirty days after the brownstone's no longer a crime scene?” a detective threw out.

“I have no interest in doing the rest of the thirty days,” Amanda said. “I'm never going into that brownstone again.”

“But, Amanda,” the attorney said. “If we can't agree to something to fulfill the terms of the will, I'm afraid you'd be forfeiting.”

“Fine with me,” she said.

“Amanda, do you realize what you'd be giving up?” the attorney asked.

She nodded. “Bad memories?”

“I'll give you a few days to reconsider, Amanda,” Harris said. “Once the police determine it's no longer a crime scene and you're free to move back in, we'll revisit this discussion.” He snapped shut his briefcase. “Again, I'm very sorry for all this tragedy. This could not have been what your father wanted for you.”

“No,” Amanda said. “I'm sure it wasn't.”

But I think I know what was, she suddenly realized. I think my father wanted Ethan for me.

She glanced at him. He sat on an uncomfortable chair, wincing in pain. He'd been looked over and declared in good enough shape to give his statement, but he was clearly in a lot of pain. When they were released from the precinct, they'd go to the nearest hospital.

She couldn't think beyond that.

They chose a hotel downtown for what was left of the night, far away from the brownstone, far away from Central Park, far away from the East River promenade where Ethan had met William Sedgwick, and far away from anything the city held in memory for either one of them. Their room was small and cozy, with a king-sized bed with a puffy down comforter and lots of pillows, a crib, and a coffee maker, which Amanda knew she'd make good use of in the morning.

As for right then, they needed to sleep. In each other's arms.

And they did.

CHAPTER 29

“So does this mean the brownstone goes back to William's estate?” Olivia's mother asked.

“Mom!” Olivia hissed, her cheeks turning pink. “I can't believe you. I cannot believe you.”

“Don't talk to your mother that way!” Ivy's mother snapped. “It's a reasonable question.”

“Mother!” Ivy said, her own cheeks turning red.

Amanda shook her head and smiled at her sisters and they smiled back. Amanda, along with her sisters and their mothers were gathered again in the same conference room they'd sat in weeks ago, this time for the rereading of the will now that Amanda had officially forfeited rights to the brownstone. A week had passed since that terrible night when Paul had been killed by his own bullet that had richocheted off the dresser and hit him in the heart.

“Amanda,” Olivia said. “Are you sure you're even up to this? You've been through so much.”

Ivy nodded. “We can put this off for another week or two. There's no reason to do this now. You and that darling little boy of yours deserve a nice warm vacation somewhere.”

“Don't be silly,” Ivy's mother said. “Of course we should do this now. We need to know what becomes of the brownstone now that Amanda's out of the equation.”

“Mom,” Ivy said, “please.”

“No, it's okay,” Amanda said. “I want to do this. I want to get it over with so that I can move on with my life.”

George Harris walked into the room. “Good morning, ladies. I'll get right to business.” He opened his briefcase and withdrew a sheaf of papers. “This is an amendment to the last will and testament of William Sedgwick, to be put into effect upon the negation of the terms of the will as originally stated.”

Dana and Candace leaned forward, waiting. Amanda had never seen them look so excited. Olivia and Ivy, on the other hand, appeared mortified at how their mothers were behaving.

George Harris cleared his throat. “Should Amanda veer from the rules beyond the acceptable number of slip-ups, please refer to the following amendment as pertains to the brownstone. In the event that Amanda does not fulfill my last wishes, the brownstone is to be left entirely to Ethan Black. Should anyone inheriting from this will attempt to contest this amendment, their inheritances shall become null and void.”

Dana and Candace were speechless. Too stunned to begin complaining. Olivia and Ivy laughed.

“Well, I'd say Dad handled that quite well,” Olivia said, winking at Amanda.

Ivy nodded. “It's almost like he worried that some crazy would come out of the woodwork because of greed. So if Amanda forfeited for whatever reason, but most likely out of fear, the man he handpicked to safeguard her would win the brownstone for her. From what I've heard about Ethan, I have no doubt he'll sign the deed right back to you.”

Amanda took a deep breath. She wasn't about to tell her sisters that she didn't want the brownstone and never planned to step foot in it again. Her sisters had their own inheritances coming to them, and there was no reason that her own experience had to mar theirs. No one in their father's life had tried to harm her; someone from her own past had taken that prize.

Anyway, the summer house in Maine was modest, as was the place in New Jersey. Whichever property went to which sister wouldn't bring out any psychos. Neither house was worth all that much. Perhaps their father had something else in store for Olivia and Ivy?

“Well I find this appalling,” Olivia's mother said. “Now a multi-million-dollar brownstone goes out of the family to some stranger? George, how do I contest?”

“According to the amendment, if an inheriting party or any member of her family contests, that person's inheritance is null and void.”

“That basâ” Ivy's mother barked, then caught herself.

“Good day, Ladies,” the attorney said, standing.

“Just tell me one thing, Mr. Harris,” Amanda asked. “What was the point of the rules? What difference would it make, for example, if I went in the white bedroom?”

The man shrugged. “I guess we'll never know. There's nothing in the will or your father's papers that explains his choices.”

“So they were just completely arbitrary?” she asked. “I just don't get it. Why put Ethan to all that troubâ”

Ah. She stopped talking and sat back, understanding dawning. Her father had set her up. And he'd set Ethan up. He'd set them up, literally. For some reason, he wanted them together.

You chose the right man, Dad. Unfortunately, you're not going to get the result you clearly hoped for, but you did choose well. I fell in love. Madly, deeply, truly in love. How you managed that when you never even knew me is pretty impressive.

Ethan would be going home today. He'd agreed to stay in the city until after today's meeting. There was no way he could have driven such a long distance in his condition before now anyway. And so in a matter of hours he would getting back in his car and driving hundreds of miles away from her. Away from Tommy. Away from his memories.

The attorney smiled at Amanda. Clearly he too thought her father was trying to matchmake. He nodded his chin at the women in the room, then left.

“So there's nothing we can do,” Ivy's mother asked Olivia's mother, her expression resigned.

“Unless you want to deny me what my father may have left me,” Ivy said to her mother. “And you don't want to do anything that might cut me out of the will, right?”

“Of course not, baby!” the woman said. “We'll just wait and see what you get on your wedding day, sweetie.”

Ivy smiled and sent Amanda a private wink. “I'd better get going. I'm meeting Declan to shop for wedding rings!”

“Have fun,” Amanda said, hugging Ivy good-bye.

Olivia also embraced Ivy and then said she needed to head out as well. “I've got a nightmare of a meeting with my publisher and my deputy editor,” Olivia said. “Something is brewing at the magazine. I am not looking forward to this afternoon at all.”

Olivia's mother mock shivered. “Women's magazines are so cutthroat. I don't know how you manage to deal with all those dragon lady types.”

The three sisters laughed.

“What in the world is so funny?” Candace Hearn demanded, her hands on her hips.

Amanda, Olivia, and Ivy looked at each other and laughed again.

“How about a quick cup of coffee at the Starbucks downstairs?” Olivia suggested. “The magazine can wait.”

Ivy bit her lip. “One quick cup,” she said. “After all I'll have Declan waiting for me for the rest of my life, right?”

“Men do not like to be kept waiting, Ivy Sedgwick!” her mother warned as she freshened her frosty lipstick.

Ivy smiled and the three Sedgwick sisters shook their heads good-naturedly and put on their coats and gloves. And after Ivy and Olivia bid good-bye to their frowning mothers, depositing a kiss on their respective cheeks, Amanda was never more surprised when her sisters stood on either side of her and then linked an arm through her own.

“Are we ready?” she asked them.

“We're ready,” they said in unison.

When Amanda returned to the hotel, Ethan was still sleeping. His ribs were still bandaged and would be for weeks to come. He had stitches in his head. A gash, where the brick had slashed his cheek, was just beginning to heal.

He'd saved her life and her son's life. And no matter what happened, even if he really did just up and leave today, she would always be grateful.

Amanda hoped he'd wake up while she was here. She wanted to tell him about his new inheritance, and then she wanted to arrange to have the portrait of her father delivered to Clara's apartment before she headed to Queens to pick up Tommy from Lettie's. She was excited about seeing her old neighborhood. She wasn't planning on moving back there; she still wasn't entirely sure where she would go, but she knew that she would land on her feet. She would get a new job, even if she had to plaster the city's hotels with her resume. Or maybe she'd apply to nursing school and take out loans and worry about paying them later for the rest of her life.

It turned out that Willa Anderson was in nursing school. Amanda had called her yesterday and introduced herself and asked if they could meet in a Starbucks to talk. Willa had been happy to come. Apparently, her mother had been delusional and claimed affairs with everyone from the president to Brad Pitt. Though no one doubted she had actually slept with William Sedgwickâhis reputation as a relentless womanizer left no doubtâhe had slept with her mother after his vasectomy, which he had proven with a court-ordered subpoena of his medical records to her aunt and uncle who'd raised her after her mother's death. He'd submitted to a paternity test so there would be no doubt, and he was proven not to be the father of Willa Anderson. Willa had grown up thinking that her mother had been in love when she died, and though it was tragic, that had always given her comfort. Amanda gave her the note William had left in the drawer of the white room, and it brought tears to Willa's eyes. Apparently no one had even believed Karen when she'd said that William had seduced her one day in the white bedroom.

And suddenly Amanda had realized that perhaps her father had felt terribly guilty about Karen's suicide and wanted the next woman who slept there to be honored in marriage, unlike Karen.

Amanda had walked home from her meeting with Willa feeling the weight of the world had been lifted off her heart. She had been dreading visiting Willa, hearing another story of a broken heart and dashed hopes, but instead Willa had seen the positive aspects of her mother's love for William. And in turn, that had allowed Amanda to walk away from this chapter of her life on a good note.

She would never look into her father's life again. She would never wonder why he hadn't loved her. She would accept that he was who he was and that his own limitations had cost him dearly.

She had a son to raise. She knew she would tell Tommy that his father had died when he was less than a year old and that they hadn't married, but that she had loved him very much once.

Ethan stirred and opened his eyes, those beautiful dark eyes. “How was the meeting?”

“In the event that I don't fulfill the terms of the will for whatever reason, guess who the brownstone goes to?”

“Your sisters split it,” he said.

She shook her head. “It goes to you.”

“What?” he barked. “Me?”

She shrugged. “And this amendment to the will can't be contested or my sisters forfeit their inheritances.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do with a brownstone in New York City?” he said. “What was William thinking? I'll just sign it over to you. You can sell it. You'll be set for life.”

“I'm already set for life,” she told him. “I can always find a job and a place to live. I don't want the brownstone. You know that.”

“Well what am I supposed to do with it? I don't mean to sound like a jerk, but I don't need the brownstone or the money. I've got plenty already.”

“I know what you could do with it,” she said with a smile.

He listened as she spoke, not saying a word until she was done. And then he held out his arms and she went into them gently so she wouldn't hurt his ribs.

Ethan signed the papers at Harris's office, officially donating use of the brownstone to the Children's Center, a beloved organization in New York that offered free counseling to children and teenagers. There was a center downtown, but now there would be one uptown as well.

Ethan stood in the center of the living room of the brownstone, which looked remarkably different without the portrait. Without that huge painting of the patriarch and his children, which now hung in Clara Mott's living room, the brownstone now felt free of a past and ready for a future.

“I know why you brought me here, William,” Ethan said to the air in the room. “And it wasn't just about matchmaking or about making me face my past now that I'd had three years to heal. You must have seen something in me and seen something in Amanda and known that we belong together. Despite not knowing your daughter, you knew her very well. I don't know how you managed that, but you did. Because I love her with all my heart. And I love Tommy too. I love him as though he were my own. And if Amanda will have me, I want to take her home to that land of earth and sky and water and forest and make her happy for the rest of her life.”

When Ethan turned around to go, Amanda stood there, Tommy in his stroller.

“I'll have you,” she said, smiling. “I love you too,” she said, tears pooling in her eyes.

“Come with me, Amanda. We'll live in the cabin until we build our dream house a little closer to civilization. You have to come, or I can't go.”

BOOK: Watching Amanda

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