Bringing Bella Back Page 8

  James smiled. Maybe the gambit to begin was a little hard-to-get of his own.

  Even if it killed him.

  Which it just might.

  But he’d always liked a challenge. And he’d never met one quite like Bella, past or present.

  Chapter Ten

  “Bella,” Luisa called from outside her door. “You have a visitor.”

  Bella. Jane tensed. She should be changing her name, but she wasn’t ready yet.

  “A handsome young man, that one. A little shy, I think.”

  “Luisa, I can’t.”

  “Can’t what?” The doorknob rattled. Began to turn. “Cannot spare a moment for someone who has done nothing to hurt you? He only asks for a moment.”

  “But—” Jane closed her eyes. Swallowed. Luisa was right. The boy had done nothing to her. None of them had.

  Then Luisa stood there in the afternoon’s golden light. “He tells me, this one, with his pretty manners, that he understands that you do not recognize him. That he must return to college and he would simply like a moment to be with you, after all the worry they have been through.”

  To refuse would be churlish. Cowardly. “Do you think I was a weak woman…before?”

  “Oh, no. You are passion. Life. One does not seize the reins as you have if one is accustomed to being cosseted.”

  “How can you say that?” But Jane grinned. “And don’t give me that palmistry nonsense again.”

  “Very well.” Luisa sniffed. “I know what I know. Now, where will you meet with him, this Cameron?”

  Jane glanced around her but felt the call of the sun. “Outside. In the garden.”

  “Or what will one day be a garden, if Dr. Sam does not undo all your hard work?”

  A chill ran through her. Luisa assumed she would leave with them, these strangers. Go…home. The one she didn’t remember.

  Jane halted, then forced herself to continue.

  Hoping that something, someone, would prove to be the key that would open the lock. Once in the garden, she glanced around for her visitor, but not seeing him, sank to her knees and began weeding to still her nerves.

  “Mom? Uh, I mean, um—I don’t—”

  Grasping a weed, she settled back on her heels. Spotted him towering over her, shifting on his feet.

  “I’m sorry.” He held out his palms. “I don’t mean to make you feel bad. I don’t know what to call you.”

  So earnest. So worried and…young.

  He would not hurt her.

  She stood. Smiled as she hungrily scanned his features, tried to see the baby in the man. “But I am your mother, right?”

  “Yeah.” His shoulders relaxed.

  “So you should call me that. It’s not—” She gestured futilely back toward the village. “That wasn’t about me not wanting you. It was just…”

  “Too much.”

  She smiled. “Yes.” He could use a hug, she thought, but the one she would offer was not a mother’s. Wouldn’t that hurt worse? So she fell back on some notion of hospitality she didn’t recall learning. “Would you like something to drink?” Then she frowned. “All I have is tea.”

  “Iced tea would be great.”

  “I—all I have is herbal tea. I’m sorry. Maybe Luisa would—”

  “Herbal tea is just fine.” In his firm tone, she glimpsed hints of the man he would become. He pointed behind her. “It’s good to see you gardening again.”

  “He—your father. He said I had big ones. Did all the work.”

  “Worked harder than any hired hand, Grandpa says.”

  “Grandpa? My—” Why hadn’t she felt it, that she had parents alive?

  “No, Dad’s dad. Your—” He shuffled his feet. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be telling you.”

  “Whatever the truth is. I have to start somewhere. Begin as—”

  “You mean to continue,” he finished.

  Her eyes widened. “Why do you say that?”

  “You only repeated it to me and Cele about a thousand times in our lives. We might as well have it tattooed on our foreheads.”

  How incredible. Another piece that had made it through the darkness. “But then you’d only notice it in the mirror. I was thinking on the backs of your hands.”

  His gaze cut to hers, his face lighting up. “You made a joke. I’ve missed that.”

  “I joke around? Why did I quit?”

  “You’ve been working long hours since I left home, I think.”

  “Are you in college?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “And flight school, thanks to you.”

  “Me?”

  “Dad was after me to join the business, but Cele’s more suited to that. You argued my case better than any lawyer. I mean, he’s right that if I’m not in the military, I miss out on the best part of flying, but—”

  She touched his arm, this good-hearted boy, and both of them faltered. “I’m sorry.” She withdrew.

  “No. That’s not why—” His face crumpled. “I know I’m not supposed to push you, but—” He wiped his arm across his eyes. “I never wanted to hug you so much in my life.”

  Maybe she didn’t recollect their past, but she cared about him already, this boy who might have been the baby she’d dreamed of. Longed for. Bella opened her arms and embraced him.

  His head collapsed on her shoulder, and his frame shook.

  She swayed side to side, as though he were still a baby. A small tune threaded its way through her, and she began to hum.

  His embrace nearly crushed her then. “You sang that to me, every night until I got too big.”

  She reared back. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” Hope and love and fear tangled in his gaze.

  Tense and uncertain, Jane froze for a second, then she touched his cheek and continued singing, her voice gaining strength. She cradled the back of his head and urged him down.

  He folded into her, this gangly, sweet boy, and she was prepared to stand there as long as he was willing, soaking up the warmth of love she could feel, even if she couldn’t recall it. She mourned for the black hole that separated baby from young man and prayed that someday she would regain it all, everything that had been stolen from her.

  When slowly he straightened, he wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and she had the notion that she’d witnessed him doing that more than once. “Here,” she said, grasping his hand, drawing him into the apartment. “Let’s get you a tissue.”

  He sniffed. “I’d use my shirttail. It drove you nuts.”

  Had she ever possessed the luxury of worrying over such foolish things? “Well, now I don’t care.” She glanced back. “But since Luisa does the laundry, let’s cut her a break.” She smiled.

  When he smiled back, the sun couldn’t begin to compete.

  “Cele is dying to visit. Can I bring her?”

  “May I.” She halted. Blinked.

  His grin widened. “You sound like a mom. Mine, to be exact.”

  She owed him honesty. “Cameron, I shouldn’t get your hopes up. I want badly to be the mother you remember, but I’m just winging it right now.”

  He nodded, but he refused to let her spoil his cheer, this sunny boy she was happy was hers. “I’m a good pilot. Winging it is my life.”

  She sat down, exhausted from the accumulated emotion. “Do you think that your sister would mind if I took a little nap first? I don’t wish to hurt her, but I’m just—”

  His eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I forgot you’ve been hurt. Here—why don’t you get into bed, and I’ll just sit here and watch over you while—”

  She grabbed his hand. “It’s okay.” How lovely that the man had raised a boy who was a protector, too. She would have to speak to the man again, as well.

  But not yet.

  “Come on.” As though he were the adult and she the child, Cameron led her to the bed and urged her down, then tenderly covered her with a quilt.

  She surrendered to his care. All the sta
rch had gone out of her suddenly. “Don’t wait, please. Just need to be…” Alone, she thought as she drifted off. She craved some space to heal, to try to understand all that had happened.

  But part of her longed to beg him to stay.

  “I’m going back,” Cele said, as evening approached.

  James disconnected his call. “I’ve got us rooms in Rifle. It’s the closest town with a motel, though heaven knows what kind of accommodations they are.”

  “No, I mean I’m going home.”

  James frowned. Her face was set and pale. “You haven’t seen your mother yet.”

  “I’ve seen enough.” He recognized that stubborn set of jaw.

  Inwardly, he sighed. They’d been through a lot in Cele’s early days. Abandoned as a baby, then left in an orphanage in Romania, she’d been hard to connect with at first, then clingy.

  But once Cele understood that she was theirs and vice versa, that she truly belonged, well…look out. She had a mulish streak a mile wide, and it was worse when she was hurt.

  His prickly darling required some handling. She and Bella had survived her teens, but just barely. Bella was warm and generous and open—but she had a stubborn streak of her own.

  “She’ll wake up soon,” he promised. “Then you’ll be the first one she wants to talk to.”

  “No,” she said quietly. Too quietly. “Cam already was.”

  Lord save me from mother-daughter dynamics. But he couldn’t miss the streak of pain.

  “Honey, Cam’s easy. He’s a goof. If you had to deal with any of us and you were scared, who would you choose?”

  “But she doesn’t even know Cam,” she cried. “She doesn’t remember any of us. She has no idea he’s easy, and she still picked him.” She whirled away, but not before he spotted the too-bright eyes.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t understand. He, too, had felt the sting of Bella’s fear. More like a slap, though. A blow, straight to the center of his chest. How could she not sense, deep inside, what they meant to each other? The unbreakable bond?

  “Hey,” he said quietly, offering up his arms.

  She faced him, blinking rapidly. “I hate this.” With a delicate sniff, a brush at her eyes. “I just want Mama back.”

  “Me, too, sweetheart.” Once again, he offered, and this time, she accepted the comfort. Clung to him. He rested his head on her hair, though he had to bend low. “You do what you have to, Cele. If this is too much, you can certainly go, and I’ll keep you posted.” He leaned back. “I’m going to ask you to stand in for me for a while, anyway.”

  Her head whipped up. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Her eyes shone. “But—”

  “No buts. We’ll tag-team them, my girl. I trust you, and you’re smart as they come. We’ll talk every day.”

  At that moment, she seemed very young to him, and he wondered if he was making a mistake, throwing her to the wolves, even part-time. “You think I’m ready?”

  “Others won’t, Cele. I’m not telling you it will be easy, but you’re ready to make your move. The next generation of Parkers steps up to the plate.”

  “But what about Mama?”

  “Give things another day, won’t you? She’s been through a lot. I bet tomorrow will be a different story, and she needs all of us. Go to her and explain why you’re leaving—don’t just run.”

  Irritation flared, replaced by a smile. “Parkers don’t run when things get tough.”

  He winked. “That’s my girl.”

  “Okay.” A big sigh. “All right. So…” She was already planning, he could tell. “I’ll get my laptop, and we’ll start outlining what has to be done, what I should send to you, the issues that have to be addressed—”

  James couldn’t help his chuckle.

  “What?” She turned. But then she smiled, too. “Your busy bee, huh, Daddy?”

  He rumpled her hair affectionately. “Parker’s Ridge better batten down the hatches. Storm Cele is fixing to make landfall.”

  She gave him a quick hug, then, in an instant, was out the door.

  But Bella did not wake up refreshed. She didn’t wake up at all, though that damn Dr. Sam, the self-appointed gatekeeper, said she was fine, only sleeping.

  James went over Cele’s lists with her. Counseled an uncertain Cam, though he was sure of little himself. They ate one more meal in the diner, lingered for a while, then finally, there was no choice but to go. To put nearly fifty miles between them and the woman they had traveled so far to claim.

  As he slouched on the bed in his solitary room, he absently clicked cable channels but registered nothing on the screen. Idly, he cataloged the amenities of the so-called Red Crown Inn, which, he’d been assured, boasted the finest of accommodations for a hundred miles.

  The room was huge, in the manner of a bygone day. There was easily space for a second king-size bed beside the one he occupied. The cabbage-rose drapes in hues of salmon and pale green complemented the dark green carpet—and all smelled of someone’s heavy hand at floral room spray, which didn’t do much to cover the darker scents of forty years or so of cigarettes and mildew and the unique fragrance of time.

  The place was less sterile than the usual chain hotel, down-home in its own manner, but altogether miserable.

  And he was a snob. Bella had said that, more than once.

  “You don’t stray out of your comfort zone much, do you, rich boy?” Bella, naked, lay on a quilt in a forest clearing where he’d taken her on a hike when he’d brought her home to meet his parents.

  He was torn between throwing the edge of the quilt over her, lest someone should happen by, and jumping her bones. Again. And they’d only been there half an hour.

  “I do things,” he protested.

  Mischief sparkled as she popped a grape in her mouth, then slipped it between her lips and into his, slick and slightly warm from her on the outside, chilled when he bit down. “What, besides shock the living daylights out of your parents by showing up with me?”

  “They weren’t shocked. They were—” He lost his train of thought as she wrapped her fingers around him.

  “Don’t kid a kidder. They’re horrified.” She grinned as she slowly squeezed, then trailed her fingers upward. “They’re just too mannerly to admit it.”

  James blinked to clear his brain. She did this, mesmerized him with sex, partly out of fun but also, he was discovering, to afford herself an edge when she felt insecure.

  He swept her fingers away and levered himself over her in one swift motion. “I’m the heir. And they’re good parents. They only want the best for me.” He bent to her then, sliding his tongue down her throat.

  A little pleasure hum emerged. “And they’re positive that’s not me. That I won’t fit in here.”

  He’d already fastened his mouth on her nipple, so he didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he concentrated on making certain she felt his devotion. When he’d reduced her to jelly, he lifted his head. “Honey, you fit in everywhere—and nowhere. That’s what I love about you—one thing, anyway. You are one of a kind. I’m crazy about you.”

  It wasn’t often that you could catch Bella off-guard. Her life, with its revolving relatives, interspersed with months when her mother’s craziness would subside, had both toughened her and freed her. Orphaned her and deprived her. Bella had learned to flaunt her uniqueness before others could reject her for it.

  But she had the most tender heart he’d ever encountered. Why no one else had discovered that, he could not imagine.

  That understanding was his gift to her, along with the one he wanted to grant now, instead of waiting as he’d planned, until they graduated: the knowledge that he would protect that tender heart for the rest of his life. Give it a home, so that she would be rootless no longer.

  “You just like how I am in bed,” she said. “Some girls mistake great sex for love, but not me.”

  He barely resisted the urge to don his pants. But that was what she was after, to gain dis
tance. To protect herself. She was a walking contradiction, the wild, free, crazy woman and the starved-for-love girl.

  She needed him, he realized. And he wanted to be there for her. Always.

  “You’re full of it,” he said, then charged ahead, though it was not the romantic proposal he’d always assumed he’d make. “Marry me.”

  Her eyes popped wide. “What?” She scrambled upward. “Are you insane?”

  “No. I’m in love with you.”

  “James, you can’t—” she spluttered. “The very idea is absurd.”

  He might have chosen to be insulted, reacted in knee-jerk hurt, if he hadn’t noticed how frightened she was. Yet how she yearned.

  He got right in her face. “Double-dog dare you.” He was amazed at himself, at how he could be so frivolous, so unconcerned about how correct she was. His family would go berserk.

  “It makes no sense.” Her voice was almost pleading. “We make no sense.”

  But, in an unusual moment of piercing insight, he recognized how much she yearned to be argued out of her stance.

  He could soothe her with sex, but that was her tactic. For the first time in his life, James had no illusions, was not safely blind, cradled in the lovely picture his parents had painted.

  To grant them due credit, they were honestly happy—with each other, their lives, the future they anticipated. He admired that. Had thought he wanted that.

  Until Bella blew through his life like a blue norther, and rendered his world unfathomable without her.

  Honesty was his only angle. “I’m a stick in the mud. You’re a butterfly. I won’t deny either.” He felt ridiculous, kneeling buck naked before her, but intuition told him that they had to slough off both their protective shields. He grasped her hands between his, though in another time, they’d be laughing themselves silly at this Victorian pose.

  “Even a butterfly gets tired of floating sometimes.” Before she could protest that she wasn’t tired or she didn’t need rescuing, he bared his own soul. “And an old brown stick should have color in its life, or it’s just dying wood.”