“We’re not. She has enough going on. Leave her alone.”
His friend’s frustration was obvious and Nathan knew why. Without Kerri, there wasn’t much of a story to tell. But he wouldn’t ask her to speak on his behalf. Not now.
If pressed, he would explain that it was because Cody had gone into a wheelchair, but he knew it was more than that. It was because of what she’d said. Of how she’d blamed him for what had happened to her son.
He knew her accusations were irrational. There was no bargaining with fate or God or any other source of power. Cody had survived because his body had been better equipped to deal with the disease. That was it. But Kerri didn’t get that, and he knew there was no way in hell he could change her mind.
“I don’t want her involved,” he told Jason.
The door to the conference room burst open and Kerri walked inside. “Sorry I’m late. There was traffic.”
“Too late,” Jason murmured.
Nathan glared at her. “You called her?”
“Yesterday. I assumed you’d want her here.”
“I didn’t.”
Kerri glanced between them. “Don’t all welcome me at once. It goes to my head and then I’m impossible to deal with for the whole rest of the day.”
Nathan pushed to his feet. “You should be at work.”
“It’s Monday. My day off. Why aren’t you more excited to see me? I can fix this.”
He remembered when she’d first dared to confront him and he’d vowed to crush her like the insignificant bug she was. A hairdresser with no money fighting him?
But she’d won with relative ease and he was a fool if he ignored what she brought to the table now.
“I didn’t want you to have to deal with this.”
She smiled. “I told you, I’m tough. Don’t worry, Nathan. I’ll save you.”
“I don’t need saving.”
“We all need saving.”
She took her place at the conference table and glanced around expectantly. “So, where are we with this?”
She was a kitten trying to protect a shark. He should have thrown her out. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He wanted her there, at his side, defending him. Not because he needed it but because of what it meant.
Ridiculous. Next he would be telling himself he cared about her.
He didn’t get involved. He’d learned that lesson a long time ago. He was a soulless bastard who cared for no one more than himself. Winning was everything. At any price.
He would use Kerri because it made sense. Because it would let him get what he wanted. At the end of the day, success was all that mattered.
“IT’S JUST NOT FAIR,” Kerri said as she followed Nathan into his condo and gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Your entire life is one great view after the other. At your office, at your lawyer’s office, at home. It must be a serious drag to go to a restaurant or pick up your dry cleaning.”
“Maybe the ordinary world makes me appreciate this.”
“Do you get used to it?” she asked. “Do you start to take it for granted?”
“Sometimes. Then I remember what I started with.”
Nothing. The same as her. Only he’d done a lot more with his time and energy.
She eyed the cream-colored sofa. “I don’t suppose that’s a nice easy-to-clean microfiber.”
“I have no idea.”
She touched it. “Nope. Ultrasuede. Very plush.” She carefully brushed off her skirt before sitting down. The last thing she wanted was to leave behind a stain.
He took the oversize chair opposite the sofa. There was a glass table in between them—an elegant, almost hard curve in a metal frame. There were abstracts on the wall, a neutral rug over hardwood floors and the view.
The expanse of sky and city dominated the room.
“You live here,” she said, gesturing to the room. “I live in my two-bedroom rental. We both started with nothing. What makes where we are so different?”
“I wanted success I could measure in terms of money. You didn’t.”
He’d spoken quickly, as if he hadn’t had to think about the answer.
“As easy as that?” she asked.
“I had a college scholarship. That was an advantage.”
“Did you want to go to college?”
“Yes. I knew it was a way out.”
“I was never much into school,” she admitted.
“What did you want?”
She considered the question. At eighteen she’d been mourning the loss of her grandmother and wrestling with the idea that she was truly alone in the world. The future had seemed dark and scary. She’d been so afraid.
“I wanted to belong,” she told him. “I wanted to be a part of something. I wanted a family.”
“Which you got.”
“What did you want?”
“Money, power, a portfolio.”
Which he had. “Is that it?” she asked. “The only difference is our goals?”
“Mostly. Determination and luck play a part. Money isn’t important to you.”
“It is when I don’t have enough to pay the bills. I really appreciate your buying Cody the electric wheelchair, but I wish I’d been able to afford it myself.”
“You want enough money to live on and pay the bills. I want it all.”
“You don’t care that you’re alone?”
“No. I don’t need people the way you do.”
And she didn’t need money the way he did.
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. His expression was intense. “Kerri, when you decided you wanted fifteen million dollars for Dr. Wallace’s research, you got it. How long was it from finding out what was required to get him going again to handing him a check?”
“I don’t know. Six weeks, maybe. Seven.”
“Fifteen million is a lot of money. You found a way because it was important. You’re determined and resourceful. If being rich mattered to you, you’d be rich. You just don’t care that much about material things.”
He made it sound so simple. She supposed he was right—she didn’t need a specific type of car. Just one that worked. She wasn’t into designer labels; clothes weren’t really her thing.
“I care about Cody,” she pointed out. “If you believe I can create fifteen million dollars when it means everything to me, why can’t you believe I can will my son to stay alive?”
“It’s not the same.”
It was to her, but she didn’t want to fight about it anymore. “I’m glad Jason’s putting a plan together.”
“It’s going to be a tough fight.”
“We’ll win.”
“You sound confident,” he said.
“I am.”
“This isn’t your battle.”
She smiled. “Sure it is. You own me. Remember?”
His dark eyes flared with something she couldn’t identify, although she felt a distinct quiver low in her belly.
They weren’t going there again, she reminded herself. Look what had happened last time. Was she willing to risk something else awful happening to Cody?
“I’m in this all the way,” she said to distract herself from the lingering attraction she felt.
“I’ll let Jason know. How’s Cody?”
“Fine.”
“Is he doing well with the wheelchair?”
“He likes how fast he can go. Tim built a ramp that allows him to get in and out of the house easily. Ironically, our carpet is so ratty and old that it actually helps him move around on it. He zips all through the house.”
“How’s he doing at school?”
“Why all the questions?” she asked. “You aren’t usually this interested in him.”
Nothing about Nathan’s expression changed, but she felt him withdraw, as if she’d hurt him. No way, she told herself, guilt fueling annoyance.
“You never ask about him,” Kerri pointed out. “Even when he’s in the room, you ignore him. You don’t talk to him
or look him in the eye. I assume it has something to do with your son and I’m sorry if Cody reminds you of him. I don’t want you suffering, but I hate it when you pretend he doesn’t exist.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Am I? I know what you went through. I’m going through it now. Maybe you’re angry because I might be able to do something that you couldn’t. Or maybe one day I’ll be like you. Maybe I won’t be able to look at another child without being reminded of Cody. I know you think it’s unfair that my son is alive and yours isn’t. Maybe that’s the real problem. You’re trying to pretend it’s not true when we both know it is.”
Nathan stood. “You’re making too much of all of this. That’s what you do. You can’t know what I’m thinking any more than you can control whether or not your son lives or dies. You think you influence his fate because then you don’t have to stand around like every other mortal—living or dying at the whim of circumstances you can’t influence. Welcome to the real world, Kerri. Shit happens. You don’t get to stop it by being a nun or telling the truth or turning counterclockwise three times, while facing the sun and clucking like a chicken. It’s a crapshoot and sometimes you lose. My son lost. Yours probably will, too. But whether he lives or dies has nothing to do with you.”
“You’re wrong,” she said loudly. “You’re so wrong. I have to keep my part of the deal. Faith matters. Faith matters more than anything. There are miracles every day.”
“How many of them are deserved and how many of them just happen?”
She hated this. Hated his words and his lack of belief.
“Sometimes we just have to keep moving forward,” she told him. “Sometimes it’s all about surviving. It’s not about deserving. When Brian was killed, I wanted to die, too. I came so close to taking my own life. I knew it was weak, but he was all I had and then he was gone. I was alone and desperate.”
She blinked, trying to clear her vision. Nathan had gone all blurry.
“I kept putting it off, mostly because I knew Brian would be disappointed if I took my own life. He would have expected more of me. So I waited. Tomorrow, I told myself. I’ll do it tomorrow. Then I found out I was pregnant. That was my miracle. I don’t know if I deserved it, I just know it happened.”
She wiped her face and was shocked to find tears on her cheeks. She stood and dug deep for the strength to tell the truth.
“If I’d given in to my despair, I would have died without knowing I carried his baby inside of me. I hung on one more day, just one and it changed everything. I shouldn’t have been pregnant. We were using birth control. It had been the wrong time of the month. But I was. It was a gift—a sign to keep going. To be strong. I vowed I would keep his child safe, no matter what. I will give everything I have to keep my word. Faith is everything. It moves mountains. It keeps Cody alive. There’s nothing you can say to convince me otherwise.”
Nathan looked at her for a long time. She had no idea what he was thinking or feeling.
“Then I’m going to stop trying,” he told her. “You can put the blame where you really want it, Kerri. I can handle it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t think it’s your fault Cody’s in a wheelchair. You think it’s mine. I’m the devil who tempted you down the dark and evil path. I’m the man who wants you in his bed. You can’t forgive that.”
“It’s not about you.”
“Isn’t it?”
Then, because he was right, she said the only thing she could think of. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t just blame you. I blame myself.”
THAT NIGHT Kerri paced restlessly in her small house. She replayed her conversation with Nathan over and over in her mind, finding dozens of places where she wished she’d said something different.
The guilt was familiar—she was forever feeling guilty about not doing enough—but the shame was new. She’d dragged him to a place he didn’t deserve to go. She’d blamed him because then she didn’t have to blame herself as much.
I’m the devil who tempted you down the dark and evil path. I’m the man who wants you in his bed. You can’t forgive that.
He was right. She couldn’t forgive it. She also couldn’t forget it.
THE TOWN MEETING DRAGGED on more than two hours, but Kerri didn’t mind. There was an energy in the room, an excitement that hadn’t been there before. She would guess it had been missing since the explosion that had taken lives and shut down the lab.
It all came down to hope, she thought as she looked at the crowded room. Having it or not having it.
With the lab open, things were good again. The stores were busy, houses were selling, new people moving in. Songwood had been dying, but it had been given a reprieve.
The mayor glanced at her notes. “We have one more order of new business, people. Kerri? Where are you?”
Kerri stood and waved. “Back here.”
“Oh, good. Everyone, for those of you who don’t know, this is Kerri Sullivan. She’s the mastermind behind the lab reopening. Go ahead, Kerri.”
Kerri moved to the center aisle where a microphone had been set up. She cleared her throat, suddenly nervous. She’d written some notes, but hadn’t actually planned exactly what she wanted to say.
“Hi,” she said, hoping her voice wasn’t shaking as much as her body. “I’m Kerri Sullivan. I moved to Songwood a few months ago because my son has Gilliar’s Disease. I’d heard about Dr. Wallace’s research and wanted to talk to him about the progress he was making. But when I got here, I found the lab closed and Dr. Wallace working alone.”
She paused to take a breath, hoping it would still the trembling she felt inside. Everyone was looking at her, which was normal, considering she was the one speaking.
It’s for a good cause, she reminded herself. It wasn’t for her.
“I asked Dr. Wallace what he needed to get started again. He gave me the impossible figure of fifteen million dollars. Now I’m a great hairdresser, but even on my best day, I don’t get that in tips.”
Several people laughed. A few more smiled. Kerri swallowed, then continued.
“I was determined to get that money, but how? I decided to approach Nathan King for a donation and he agreed.” After she’d threatened to blackmail him, she thought with a smile. But there was no reason to share that detail.
“He didn’t have to give the money,” she said. “He didn’t know me from a rock and he’d certainly never heard of Songwood. But he did agree. Just like that. Dr. Wallace got the money and the town will benefit. I know they’re saying a lot of terrible things about Nathan King in the paper. As far as I’m concerned, he’s funding what may very well turn out to be a miracle. I thought it was just for my son, but now I realize it’s a miracle for all of us. So I was thinking we might want to thank him.”
“You want to send flowers?” some guy yelled.
“Not exactly. I was thinking more along the lines of Nathan King Day, here in town. We could give him the key to the city, have a parade and invite him to be grand marshal. Nothing too fancy. Maybe with some cars, a couple of floats and the high school marching band.”
“He got the high school baseball team new uniforms,” a woman said. “They’re real nice. They clean up great after a game.”
“He gave the library five thousand dollars,” someone else said.
“And that fence for the elementary school.”
Kerri had forgotten about the items she’d demanded. Apparently Nathan had come through with all of them.
“All of which illustrates my point,” she said. “We owe him.”
“A parade would be good publicity for him,” a man yelled. “For his towers. What do we care about million-dollar housing for the rich?”
“We don’t.” Kerri shrugged. “At least I don’t. I’ll never live there. What I do know is that he came through when he didn’t have to. I want to thank him for that. If that means helping him,
then I’m happy to help. But that’s just me.”
A woman stood up. “I want to help, too. I really like the new uniforms.”
A second woman rose. “My Frank has a new job at the lab. We’ve been hurtin’ bad, what with there not being the same number of logging jobs. We need the money.”
“Us, too,” a man said. “Give the man his parade. Maybe he’ll put up one of them fancy developments here.”
The mayor banged her gavel on the podium, then called for a vote. Two minutes later, Nathan King Appreciation Day had been declared, with the promise of a parade and his name featured prominently on banners all around town.
Kerri sank back in her seat. Millie, from the dry cleaners, turned around and patted her hand.
“You did well,” the older woman said. “Now Nathan King is going to owe you.”
“Not exactly, but I’m glad we’re going to have the parade.” She wasn’t sure how the strategy team would react, but it would be positive publicity.
“He’s real good-looking, isn’t he?” Millie sighed. “I wouldn’t mind having a piece of him myself.” She smoothed her curls. “If I were a few years younger and not married, of course.”
“Of course,” Kerri murmured, doing her best not to picture Nathan and Millie together.
When the other woman had left, Linda leaned over. “You did good.”
“I was terrified. I don’t like the whole speaking-in-public thing.”
“You shine when you have a cause.”
Kerri winced. “That makes me sound borderline crazy.”
“You’re not. How did you come up with the idea of the parade?”
“I wanted something visual. Nathan did the right thing and he doesn’t deserve to be screwed because some reporter has it out for him. Yes, we have a deal, but it’s not like I’m actively campaigning for him. This way is better. The focus will be where it belongs—on Dr. Wallace’s work.”
“And on Nathan.”
“He’s used to it.”
Linda’s expression turned thoughtful. “I find your energy on this really interesting. Whether or not Nathan is getting screwed in the press has nothing to do with you. The money has been transferred. Abram is moving forward with his research. So why the concern about Nathan King?”
Accidentally Yours Page 14
