Another Love, page 20
Newman started at the beginning, when Timmy had nearly died, and continued to chronicle in graphic detail each operation and therapy regimen Timmy had endured over the past three and a half years. Blake shuddered.
“Basically, I’m going to go in and do more nerve grafts in his left leg. The orthopedic team will graft more bone and replace some of the hardware in his right ankle, if they find the leg is viable. If not, they’ll amputate it just above the site where we initially reattached the severed right ankle and foot. We’ll do the procedures on both legs simultaneously, to reduce the time under anesthesia. The operations will be long, but they aren’t particularly risky in terms of life and death.”
Newman’s explanation made Blake shudder. “How many more operations will Timmy have to endure before he’s as good as he’s going to get?”
Blake watched the expression in Newman’s deep brown eyes. The doubt he saw there increased his apprehension. “I asked you a question.”
“I’m hopeful that this surgery will be the last on Tim’s left leg.”
“How about the other one?”
“That depends on what the orthopedists decide. If they believe the leg can be saved, long-term, they’ll have to go in periodically until Tim is grown, or until they change their minds. He’ll need more nerve grafts as well. On the other hand, if they amputate, that should be the last surgery Timmy will need.”
What a choice! “I didn’t know his leg was that damaged,” he ground out, knowing he sounded like a blithering idiot.
Newman shrugged. “Timmy’s legs were both nearly severed in the accident. But the right foot and ankle were crushed as well. From just below the knee to the toes, that leg is a hodgepodge of hardware. No nerves or muscle to speak of. In my opinion, Tim will never be able to use it fully.”
“You recommend…amputation?” The word stuck on Blake’s tongue.
“Yes. If they go that route, Tim could be mobile in just a few months with an intelligent prosthesis. If not, he will be wheelchair bound at least most of the time, with a nonfunctional natural leg that will require frequent surgical lengthening. That decision, though, won’t be entirely mine. The orthopedic surgeons are deferring judgment until they open up the ankle and take another look.”
Feeling poleaxed, Blake bid Newman farewell and drove home, wondering how in hell Erin had lived with Timmy’s uncertain future and constant pain for all this time. How did she manage the brave face she always showed her son?
Hell, he didn’t even know what he should be hoping for. If Timmy were consulted, would he opt for losing part of himself to gain faster and surer mobility and freedom from pain? As he pulled into the curving driveway, Blake let out his frustration in several virulent blasphemies and Anglo-Saxon oaths he hadn’t uttered since the day Glenna died.
Once inside, he put on a smile and went looking for Erin. If anyone needed distraction, she must. He intended to let her know he was and that he would be beside her, no matter what.
“What’s that?” he asked when he found her at the table in the sitting room where they’d celebrated Jamie’s one-month birthday, a jumble of boxes and papers strewn over the tabletop. Apparently she’d found her own way of keeping her mind off Timmy’s surgery.
Erin returned his smile. “These are a bunch of old family pictures. Sandy’s going to wear our mother’s wedding gown, so Greg asked if I could find a picture for him to give the florist. He’s a thoughtful man, wanting to surprise Sandy with a bouquet that looks like Mom’s did.”
“Uh-huh.” Blake pulled out a chair and sat down. “May I help?” He needed to concentrate on something, anything except the worries his visit with Timmy’s doctor had fed more than alleviated.
“Here, you can look through this box.” She used a rag to dust off a tattered shoe box before dumping its contents on the table.
Blake sorted through snapshots of Erin and Sandy at various stages, and of the pleasant-looking couple who must have been their parents. Realization of the other loss Erin had suffered hit him when he found the formal photo of a smiling bride and groom. “I think I found it. Here, take a look.” The faded image showed a dark, rugged-looking groom in an ill-fitting black tux, and a delicate looking bride wearing a simple white gown that emphasized her tiny waist and full breasts.
“Did you wear her dress, too?” Suddenly Blake wondered what Bill had looked like, whether Erin sometimes thought of him when they were making love. An emotion very much like jealousy threatened to erupt, but he fought it down.
She laughed. “I’d never have fit into it. I’m at least five or six inches taller than Mom was. Besides, the dress is velvet, and I got married in the summertime.”
Both times. But Blake doubted she thought of the sad little ceremony they’d had as a wedding. He hadn’t thought of it as one at the time, but each day he was feeling more like her husband, wanting more of Erin than he’d imagined he ever would.
Obviously looking for something specific, she rooted through the pictures he’d found. “Look, Blake, here’s Mom’s bouquet. The flowers aren’t orchids. They’re poinsettias.”
Blake looked at the photo, apparently taken at a reception where the bouquet formed a centerpiece on a lace-covered tablecloth. Sprigs of holly decorated a tiered cake and candlesticks that held skinny, red candles. “They must have had a Christmas wedding.”
“Christmas Eve. Daddy used to call Mom his little Christmas rose. Someday I’ll get all these pictures arranged in albums. Here, help me put them back in the boxes for now. But leave that picture out. I’ll take it to Greg.”
Blake sat there, staring at the picture. “Erin, this is really pretty, but…”
“You don’t like it.” She sounded hurt.
He chose his words carefully. “It’s beautiful. Except, what color dresses are Sandy’s attendants going to be wearing?”
“Royal blue.”
Blake breathed a sigh of relief. “Then if I were you, I’d tell Greg to have the florist use white poinsettias. Otherwise the color scheme will be remind people of the Stars and Stripes.”
Erin laughed, a joyous sound that lifted his spirits. “You’re right. Unless there’s some kind of big flower that’s blue?”
“None I can think of. Why couldn’t they reverse the colors?”
“You mean, use white poinsettias—or orchids? And tiny blue flowers around them?”
“Yeah. That would work. Be sure and tell Greg, though, or he’s likely to have the florist make up a bouquet exactly like the one your mother had.” Blake had no doubt that Greg would, if he thought it would please Sandy. He could just imagine what Mom Sadie would say if he did. “Are they coming over tonight?”
“No. Sandy called. She and Greg want us to come to his place for dinner. Do you mind?”
“Should I?”
“Sandy’s making dinner, she said, and I’m afraid cooking isn’t among her finer talents.” Erin shrugged.
“We survived my efforts in the kitchen out at Possum Kingdom. I’m sure your sister’s masterpiece won’t kill us.” He stood, then bent to brush his lips across Erin’s cheek. “Should I go change?”
Erin’s gaze settled for a minute on his crotch, and he wished for a minute that they could forget about eating and spend the evening in bed. “You can if you want to, but Sandy doesn’t do fancy. I’m going to wear what I have on.”
Erin had on a soft, chic jumpsuit they’d found at Saks earlier in the week while doing the shopping he’d hoped would distract them after they’d met jointly with Timmy’s surgical team. He loved the way the soft, off-white wool hugged her body and made her look sexy as hell, yet still elegant and ladylike. “Are you wearing that teddy I picked out, too?” he asked, fighting down the urge to strip it off her and see for himself.
When she nodded, he got a whiff of that perfume that turned him six ways from Sunday. “Be good and I’ll show you later,” she whispered. “If you’re going to change, you’d better hurry. We’re supposed to be there at eight. I’ll go check on Jamie.”
* * * * *
“Erin looked happy tonight,” Sandy said to Greg later, after their guests had left.
“Yes, she did. So do you.” He pulled her against him and nibbled gently at on her earlobe.
“I’m glad we asked her to plan our wedding. If she weren’t so busy, all she’d be doing is worrying about Timmy. Greg, stop it. Shana’s upstairs.”
He turned her around and dropped a kiss on her cute little nose. “And it’s Ms. Watson’s night off, so I can’t even go home with you tonight. Full-time fatherhood has its drawbacks. I wish to hell I didn’t have to wait four more weeks before we can stroll upstairs to bed in front of God and everyone.”
She looked up at him, happiness shining in her eyes. “Behave, darling.” She patted his shoulder like she might pet a friendly but troublesome mutt. “At least one of us has to act like an adult instead of a horny teenager. Besides, we still have some addresses to copy down for the calligrapher.”
Greg let out an exaggerated moan. “Okay.” He stuffed his hand in his pants pocket and felt the picture Erin had slipped to him earlier. He made a mental note to drop it by the florist’s tomorrow, between hospital rounds and office hours.
“Why don’t we just write out the damn invitations ourselves?” he asked as he finished copying what seemed like the thousandth name from his mom’s dog-eared address book onto a white index card.
“Just because.”
“Because, why?”
“Because you write like a doctor,” Sandy said, a saucy grin on her face.
Greg shook his head. “You’re making me print. If the calligrapher can read the cards, certainly the mailman could read the addresses if I printed them on envelopes.”
Sandy tossed her head back and laughed out loud. “Quit griping and let’s get this done. Don’t you want our invitations to be pretty? And uniform-looking?”
Greg couldn’t see the point of fussing over putting names on envelopes that everyone would toss in the trash. But he really didn’t mind, since Sandy had quit making noises about canceling their plans. The past week, since he’d grounded Shana, had been peaceful.
Sandy and his daughter must have come to some kind of truce this afternoon. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know exactly what went on, but he noticed during dinner that the two managed to tolerate each other’s company without bloodshed.
“Get busy! I’ve filled out twice as many cards as you.” Sandy picked up her cards and set them on top of his much smaller stack.
“Okay.” He had to know, but he hated to risk opening up barely closed wounds. “Did you ask Shana if she’d like to be a bridesmaid?” he asked, reaching out and taking Sandy’s hand.
“I asked. She said no. But she did agree to come to the wedding.”
Why couldn’t his kid be a little angel like Timmy? “Her not coming was never an option. I’ll talk to her again.” Damn it, why couldn’t his daughter give in and wish them well?
“Greg, don’t. You’ll just back her into a corner, and she’ll have to rebel. Let it go. I promised I’d take her shopping for a really special dress, one she can wear to the wedding and maybe later to a dance at school.”
“Are you okay with that?”
“Yes. Shana and I are starting to come to an understanding…but we’re nowhere close to being friends. Probably won’t be for a long time yet. It’s too much for us to expect her to set aside all her fear and hostility at once.”
He took Sandy’s hand and toyed with the sparkling diamond he’d thought for a while she’d be tossing back in his face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Damn it, Greg would give anything not to be coming to her with the baggage of two broken marriages and a troubled, sullen child.
“You haven’t done anything to be sorry for.” Setting the cards into a neat stack, she got up and moved behind him, her talented fingers kneading the tense muscles of his neck and shoulders. “I love you and you love me, and don’t you ever forget it.” She bent and dropped a series of wet, arousing kisses between his collar and his hairline.
“I won’t. Don’t you ever forget it either.” Greg leaned back and let her magic fingers lull away the tension. “By the way, your dinner was great,” he murmured, knowing how hard she’d worked to fix that practically inedible meal.
“You don’t have to lie.” Sandy stopped her sensual massaging and faced him, hands on hips. “I know I can’t cook worth beans. But I’ll learn. Maybe your mother…”
“Honey, I don’t care if you burn water trying to make coffee. We’ll just get Mrs. Watson to fix some stuff and leave it for us to warm up on her days off. Or maybe I’ll have to make a standing date to take you out two days a week. Would you like that?”
Sandy pouted, but Greg saw the sparkle in her eyes. “I want to be a good wife. A good mother.”
“You will be. You’re already the best thing that ever happened to me. The best office manager I’ve ever had. The best lover. And in four weeks, you’re going to be the best little wife in Texas.”
“Really?”
Greg stood and took her in his arms, cupping her breasts and grinding his cock against her flat abdomen. “Really. Now you’d better get your gorgeous little tush out of here before I decide to hell with protecting my kid from the facts of life and drag you off to bed. Hell, I’m ready to try out that new couch in the living room. What do you say?”
“I say we’d better wait. What if Shana decided to come downstairs for a snack?”
He held up his hands and groaned. “You’re right, damn it. Go on, get out of here while I still can let you go.”
“Good night, darling.” She stood on tiptoe and gave him a long, hard kiss. “I made sure to book you a free lunch hour tomorrow. What say we try out one of your examining rooms?”
Chapter Nineteen
“Who was that?” Blake pulled his head out from under a pillow and stared at the digital clock on the nightstand in Erin’s room. “It’s just seven o’clock.”
“Sandy.”
“What did she want? To be sure we’d survived getting our stomachs pumped?” he grumbled.
“Blake! For all you know, I can’t cook either.” Erin agreed with his assessment of the charred casserole they’d choked down earlier, but she needed to defend her sister.
“At least you don’t try to cook.”
Erin laughed. “Actually, I’m a pretty good cook. Mom taught me. I guess I neglected Sandy’s education, though.”
“What are you going to do today?” Blake rolled to the edge of the bed and dragged himself upright.
Stretching, Erin tried to shake the cobwebs out of her fuzzy brain. “I thought I’d spend the morning with Timmy and Jamie. The caterer’s coming over at noon so we can go over the menu. How about you?”
“I’ll be in court this morning. If you’d like, I can have Sharon reschedule some appointments and spend the afternoon with you and the kids.”
“You don’t need to. I appreciate the extra time you’ve been making for us lately, but there’s no reason for you to disrupt your routine at work.”
“Yeah, honey. There is.”
Actually, Erin didn’t know how she’d have survived since the doctors had scheduled Timmy’s surgery, if she hadn’t had Blake practically glued to her side. Whether they rode the horses, took care of details for Greg and Sandy’s wedding, or just sat inside and watched old movies when the weather turned rainy and cool, Blake had been there for her. At night, she loved the way he held her for hours after they made slow, hot love.
It bothered her that Blake slept so fitfully when he shared her bed in the room where he’d lived in with Glenna for so long. It obviously held memories he hadn’t been able to sweep away by having the room stripped down to bare walls. Still he lay beside her each night, holding her long after she went to sleep. Realizing how being there for her taxed Blake’s endurance, Erin appreciated his kindness all the more.
Chapter Twenty
Glenna’s Ghost
It had been a long time since Glenna visited Blake’s office.
Since she’d popped in on Erin when they first arrived at Possum Kingdom, Glenna had pretty much sat back and watched Erin and Blake’s relationship develop. Even though she drew the line at checking out how they were progressing in a physical way, she concluded from the way Erin glowed that they were getting on just fine in her bedroom, where Blake had been spending most of his nights.
She had no doubt, either, that Erin was deeply in love with Blake. How could she not be? Her Blake was nothing if not lovable.
Blake was the one she worried about. It hurt to see his beautiful eyes still cloud with grief sometimes when he was deep in thought. And it bothered her that he could want Erin as much as he obviously did but still withhold his heart.
I’m going to give it back to him.
And that was why she was here, to jar him into realizing what he had now was so much more than what he’d lost—so much more than her. Clutching a paper bag in her hand, she crossed the room and stopped in front of Blake’s cluttered desk.
Seeing the empty spot on his credenza hurt. Every time she’d come in here when she was alive, Glenna had begged him to let her swap that picture of her in her wedding gown for a newer, less formal shot. But he’d been adamant about that particular portrait, so it had stayed.
Maybe he’d finally started to get on with his life and put it away. Then she remembered. When she’d looked in on him here just days after her funeral, seeing him suffering and wanting baby Jamie’s life destroyed, the picture had already been gone, along with everything in the master suite at home that had apparently reminded him too much of her.
“Just as well.” Glenna set a brand-new, brushed silver frame in the place where Blake used to keep her wedding portrait. “These go better in here, anyway.”
She took a moment to stare at the enlargement. It was her favorite of some photos Blake had captured of his new family at Possum Kingdom. Erin, Timmy and Jamie lay stretched out on a blanket under a tree, looking happy but tired out from a long day’s play. This was the kind of family Blake deserved—the kind she hadn’t been able to give him.
