Accidentally Yours

by Susan Mallery

  AFTER DANIEL HAD DIED Nathan had vowed that nothing would ever get him into a hospital again. Yet here he was, making his second trip in less than two weeks.

  An ambulance had rushed Cody, Kerri and himself to Children’s. Cody had been taken for X-rays, although it was obvious what had happened.

  “I hate this,” Kerri muttered as she paced in the waiting area. The doctor had asked her to wait while they took Cody to radiology and her son had agreed, claiming he was fine.

  Now Kerri clutched her hands together so tightly Nathan thought she might break a bone, too.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling out of place and useless.

  She turned on him. “About what? That he broke his leg? That he’s still alive?”

  He didn’t react to her attack. “That both of you have to go through this.”

  Her blue eyes were bright with anger. “My son isn’t going to die. Just so we’re clear. I’m not giving up on him.”

  It was like she’d shot him. He turned and walked away, knowing it wasn’t a fight he could win.

  Had he given up on Daniel? He’d always agonized about doing the right thing. Had he given up too easily? Had he pushed his child closer to death to spare himself more suffering?

  He turned a corner, then sank onto a bench. Present and past blurred and he was caught up in the memory of another hospital and another boy in pain. He remembered how tightly Daniel had clung to his hand, how the boy had begged him not to leave.

  “I don’t want to be alone.”

  So he’d stayed, because Paige couldn’t and there wasn’t anyone else. And in those last days, he’d gotten to know the boy and mourn the man he would never be.

  That was the worst of it, he admitted to himself. That it was only as his son lay dying that they had finally gotten to know each other. It had been too little, too late.

  A soft giggle drew him back to the present. He looked up and saw a pretty little girl walking down the corridor, dragging an IV with her. She had a teddy bear nearly as big as herself in her arms. A glittering sticker of a fairy twinkled from one cheek and a bright pink scarf covered her head.

  “Hi,” she said when she saw him.

  Her smile was bright and friendly, as if she didn’t know about the disease obviously ravaging her body. Cancer, he would guess.

  “Hi.”

  “This is Fred.” She held out her bear. “I got him for my birthday. I’m seven.”

  “Fred is a very handsome bear. He’s kind of big.”

  “I know. I’ll grow into him.”

  Her confidence made him ache. Would she grow into her bear?

  She waved and kept walking. Nathan watched her and knew that Kerri was right. He should have made a difference after Daniel had died. He should have used his son’s death to create something more significant than grief and emptiness.

  He walked outside and pulled out his cell phone. Less than a minute later he had Dr. Wallace on the phone.

  “Do you need anything else?” Nathan asked. “Money? Equipment?”

  “Mr. King, you’ve already been more than generous.”

  “I don’t care about that. Is it enough?”

  Wallace cleared his throat. “Well, another five hundred thousand would be most helpful. We could add another researcher and purchase more—”

  “It’s done,” Nathan told him. “The money will be transferred today. Anything else?”

  “Not right now.” Wallace sounded stunned.

  “If that changes, let me know. You have my direct number, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Ah, thank you. This will make a difference.”

  “If there’s anything else, let me know.”

  “I will.”

  Nathan hung up.

  It was so little—practically meaningless. But it was all he had to offer—money. What did that say about him?

  He went back inside and found Kerri talking to the doctor.

  “It’s a clean break,” the man was saying. “Cody slipped and the bone snapped. It should heal. Not that it will be any stronger when it does. Ms. Sullivan, you have to prepare yourself for more episodes like this. Gilliar’s Disease is progressive.”

  The doctor wasn’t a large man, but Kerri looked small next to him. It was as if she were shrinking, unable to bear the news about Cody.

  Nathan crossed to her and put his arm around her. He expected her to pull away, but she didn’t.

  “We don’t have to set the break,” the doctor continued. “We’ll put on a cast and he’ll be ready to go. You’ll have his regular doctor follow up?”

  She nodded.

  The doctor left. Kerri sucked in a breath. “I’m okay. I just need a minute.” But as she spoke, tears filled her eyes.

  “It’s happening,” she whispered. “It’s happening and I can’t make it stop. He’s going to get worse. I would do anything to make it go away. I would be sick instead of him, but I can’t. There’s nothing I can do.”

  Tears flowed faster and faster. Nathan pulled her close and held her, wishing he could take some of her pain.

  Tears turned into sobs. Her body shook.

  “I can’t do this,” she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I can’t be strong. It hurts too much. I don’t have it in me.”

  “Sure you do.”

  “I’m faking it.”

  “Does it matter if you’re the only one who knows you’re faking it?”

  “You know.”

  “I won’t tell anyone.”

  She looked up at him, her face blotchy, her eyes red. “Why are you so nice to me?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “You feel sorry for me.”

  “Not in the way you mean.”

  She was beautiful and he wanted to hold on a lot longer. But this was Kerri—all mouth and bravado. The weakness would pass and then she would be back in his face, holding the world at bay by sheer force of will.

  She swallowed. “He’s dying. I know he’s dying.”

  Her words were like a sucker punch to the gut. “Kerri…”

  “I’m dying, too. Watching him. Knowing what’s ahead.” She held out her hands, turning them over, as if examining them. “I can’t do anything. Do you know how useless that makes me feel? How ridiculous and stupid? I’m his mother. He’s a part of me, of my blood and bone and I can’t make him better.”

  “I know.”

  She curled her hands into fists and hit him on the chest. “Fix it, dammit. Fix it right now. Make me strong.”

  She hit him again and again. He let her, then caught her as she collapsed against him.

  “I can’t,” she whispered through the tears. “I just can’t.”

  He held her close and rocked her, feeling her pain, remembering his own. Knowing the futility of anger.

  He kept her close, willing his strength into her, knowing it wouldn’t help. That in the end, she had to find what she needed inside herself.

  At last the tears slowed. She drew in a breath and stepped back.

  “I said some awful things to you,” she murmured.

  “Maybe I needed to hear them.”

  She sniffed. “You really confuse me.” She used her sleeve to blot her face. “I look terrible, don’t I?”

  “You’re a little puffy.”

  “I have to go wash my face and attempt to hide the breakdown. I don’t like Cody to see me upset.”

  “Wonder Mom doesn’t cry?”

  “Something like that.” She squared her shoulders. “I’ll be a couple of minutes. Can you go sit with him?”

  “Sure.”

  She sniffed again. “Thank you for not freaking out. I didn’t mean to lose it.”

  He wanted to tell her that she couldn’t be strong all the time—no one could. That she was dying as much as Cody, just in a different way. But she already knew all that.

  “I’ve seen worse,” he told her.

  She laughed. “Don’t challenge me. I won’t believe you.” She raised herself up on tip
toe and pressed her mouth to his. “Thank you.”

  He watched her walk away, then headed for the E.R., where he found Cody in a bed, flipping channels.

  “Still waiting for your cast?” he asked.

  Cody nodded. “The break’s really clean. It doesn’t hurt that much. Is my mom okay?”

  There was worry in the boy’s voice.

  “She’s great,” Nathan told him. “Being Wonder Mom gives her superpowers.”

  Cody rolled his eyes. “She’s not really Wonder Mom. She has the costume and she wears it sometimes. But it doesn’t mean anything.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. She believes and faith is a tricky thing. Sometimes it makes all the difference in the world.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh. Don’t underestimate the power of believing. Your mom believes in you.”

  “She tells me all the time that I’m going to get better. Sometimes I sort of believe her.”

  “I believe her.”

  Cody looked at him. “For real?”

  “Your mother can do anything and you’re the most important person in her life. You have some powerful mojo surrounding you.”

  Cody laughed. “What’s mojo?”

  “Magic. More than magic. It’s strength and will combined with magic.”

  “In one of the Harry Potter books, Harry finds out he lived because his mother loved him so much, he couldn’t be killed by a bad spell. Is it like that?”

  “Yes, but bigger.”

  “Sweet.” Cody shifted on the bed, wincing slightly as he moved his leg. “The game’s still on. Want to watch?”

  It took Nathan a second to realize the boy had made room for him.

  Slowly, carefully, so as not to jar the mattress or the child on it, he settled next to Cody. The kid leaned against him.

  He was small and defenseless, Nathan thought, his throat unexpectedly tight. He faced a long, torturous battle with courage and grace. The odds were against him, but he had his mother on his side. Maybe, just maybe, everything would work out.

  Nathan put his arm around Cody. “The game would be great.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “I FEEL LIKE AN IDIOT,” Nathan grumbled. “I don’t have time for this.”

  “I think we all should take time out of our day to be adored,” Kerri told him, trying not to laugh at his obvious discomfort. “I would have thought you, more than most, would appreciate the thrill of being worshipped.”

  “I never wanted a parade.”

  “All hail Nathan King,” she teased. “I wonder if the crowd will throw flowers. You might be offered young virgins. It’s hard to say what a grateful people will do.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not interested in young virgins.”

  “How about old ones?”

  “You’re not taking this seriously.”

  “I’m not.” She grinned. “It’s just a small-town parade in your honor. How horrible could it be?”

  “This would be a whole lot easier if you didn’t enjoy mocking me so much.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” She smoothed the front of his well-tailored suit. “For what it’s worth, you look very worship-worthy.”

  “You’re still mocking me.”

  She didn’t have much choice. Teasing him kept them at an emotional distance that was a whole lot safer for her peace of mind. She and Nathan had been through too much in too short a time. The emotional ups and downs left her feeling exposed and vulnerable. She didn’t know if she wanted to throw herself in his arms and beg him to keep her safe, or just rip off his clothes and have her way with him. Neither option was especially smart.

  Cody rolled into the room. “Hey, Nathan. You ready for the parade?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  Her son grinned. “They’ll be cheering. That’s sweet.”

  “Then you go without me.”

  Cody grinned. “Mom won’t let me.”

  “You already have plenty of ego,” she told him. “You don’t need to be the center of attention any more than you are.”

  She walked over and smoothed his hair. “Are you ready?”

  Cody looked at Nathan. “Women,” he said.

  “Tell me about it,” Nathan said.

  Kerri looked between the two of them. “I’m a whole lot more than just women,” she said, wondering when they’d connected.

  Cody sighed heavily. “See what I have to deal with?”

  Kerri glared at him. “Let’s be clear. I don’t care how big you get—I can still take you.”

  “Not with this,” Cody said, motioning to his cast.

  “Want to bet?”

  “Oh, Mo-om. You know I love you.”

  “I’ve heard rumors.” She turned to Nathan. “We should probably go. We don’t want to be late.”

  If only they could skip the event altogether, Nathan thought grimly.

  Cody led the way to the limo waiting in front of the house. “Mom, was Dad ever in any parades? You know, for Veterans Day?”

  “Once, I think,” Kerri said. “It wasn’t his thing. The dress uniform was really hot. He didn’t like to do showy things.”

  “Because he was a real soldier?”

  Kerri smiled at him. “He was. Serving his country was important to him. He wanted to keep us safe.”

  Nathan had never thought much about the man who had been Kerri’s late husband and Cody’s father. The man who had died too young, never knowing he was going to have a son.

  What would have been different if Brian Sullivan had lived? Kerri wouldn’t have had to deal with Cody’s illness on her own. He was sure she would have appreciated the support. She wouldn’t have come looking for him, or his help. Or would she? Would she still have blackmailed him and would he have let her?

  He didn’t have any answers, so he told himself it didn’t matter. He wasn’t in competition with a dead man and even if Brian were still alive, he, Nathan would win. He always won.

  THE STAGING AREA for the parade was a small park at the edge of town. There were less than a dozen floats, each cheesier than the one in front of it. They had obviously been pulled out of storage and hastily decorated, the fresh flowers and draped fabric not totally covering the St. Patrick’s Day decorations. There were three open cars and the high school marching band, led by color guard, cheerleaders and some girl with a baton.

  “This is not happening,” Nathan muttered.

  “It’s not the Rose Parade, but it will be fun,” Kerri told him.

  “It’s humiliating.”

  “They spelled your name right on the big banner. That’s something.”

  “You need higher standards.”

  “You need to loosen up and have fun. When was the last time someone held a party in your honor?”

  “I could go my whole life and not miss it.”

  “Now you don’t have to.”

  She led the way over to the convertibles. Each of them had a banner proclaiming Nathan King Day In Songwood, which was a lot of text for a small area. It meant the font was small and probably unreadable from more than ten feet away.

  Just then, some kid with a camera came up and snapped his picture.

  “For the local paper,” Kerri said. “We want the moment immortalized.”

  “I’m having my doubts about that. Lately the press isn’t my friend.”

  “We’re going to change all that. Today you are the star. All of Songwood wants you to bask in the glow of our gratitude.”

  “Spare me.”

  He opened the back door of the car, while Cody locked his wheelchair into place. The boy stood. Nathan bent down and grabbed him, then carefully set him in the car.

  “How’s the leg?” he asked, lightly touching the cast.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” Cody told him.

  Nathan wondered if that was true or if the kid was just being brave.

  Cody had gotten to him. Kerri had been right—he’d done his best to ignore the boy,
but he hadn’t done a good enough job. Which meant when Cody died, Nathan was going to be reliving Daniel’s death. Something he would have walked through fire to avoid.

  When the kid was in place, Nathan held out his hand to help Kerri into the car. Her skin was warm to the touch, her body a temptation he didn’t want to resist.

  Too many complications, he told himself. He should be smart enough to know that. But the truth was, if she offered, he wouldn’t say no.

  “COME ON, ” Linda said, taking Abram by the hand and tugging him out of the lab. “The parade will be here any minute.”

  “I don’t have time for parades,” he grumbled, even as he went with her. “I have important work.”

  “I know, but you also need to get out and see the world you’re saving. Ten minutes won’t make a difference.”

  They emerged into the warm, sunny day. Most of the staff was lined up on the main street in front of the lab. He could hear music from the marching band and see several teenagers holding a large banner reading Nathan King Appreciation Day.

  “He called me a few days ago,” Abram said absently. “Offering more money.”

  “I hope you took it.”

  “I did.”

  “More equipment will help, as will more researchers.”

  If only it were a matter of money, he thought. Then the problem would already be solved. They would…

  He glanced down and saw that Linda still held his hand. She was watching the approaching parade and he wondered if she noticed.

  He told himself it meant nothing even as he enjoyed the feel of her skin against his.

  “Thank you for agreeing to come back,” he told her.

  She looked at him then, her eyes bright with humor and caring and something that made him think about her as much more than just his assistant.

  “This is where I’ve always wanted to be,” she told him. “I thought you knew.”

  He hadn’t, but he did now.

  KERRI ADJUSTED the tiny microphone clipped to her collar. “This is weird,” she whispered. “Do I have to have the microphone? It’s making me really self-conscious.”

  Tina, a pretty redhead in a designer suit and power high heels, smiled. “We want to make the experience as real as possible. That’s what media training is about. You need to be able to deal with the nerves, the lights, the camera and the unexpected questions. Remember to relax. You know the material. You don’t have to answer the question if you don’t want to. There’s no law. You have a message—that’s what’s most important.”