Expecting a Scandal

by Joanne Rock

  Hutch took pity on Ruby and threw her another ball. The dog ran like the wind and leaped to catch it.

  Vaughn hung his head, wishing he were a different man. A better one. “I dealt with it by telling Abigail I wasn’t ready for more. By walking away when she needed me most.”

  “It didn’t come easy for Simone and me, either,” Hutch admitted while the doubles match nearby got underway. “All I know is that if you regret breaking things off, you should tell her.”

  “How would she trust me after that?” Vaughn would not hurt her again. He couldn’t do that to someone he loved. The thought stopped him up short.

  Loved?

  Hell yes, loved.

  On some level he’d known it this week when he’d felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest with missing her. But now, there was no more hiding from the truth. He loved Abigail.

  Hutch said nothing. Waited.

  “I wouldn’t trust me,” Vaughn answered the question for him. He couldn’t ask that of her, either. “Not after how I walked out on her.”

  “Maybe not,” Hutch agreed easily, packing up his bag and tossing his orange peel in the trash. “But you’re not Abigail. She might see something in you—something better—that you can’t.”

  Promising a rematch soon, his tennis partner strode away from the courts toward the clubhouse.

  Leaving Ruby and Vaughn alone.

  He needed to shower and head into work. He was taking another doctor’s afternoon shift—the trade for having the day off when he’d gone to the ultrasound appointment.

  Packing up his tennis bag, he noticed a clubhouse staff member headed his way, carrying a package.

  “Dr. Chambers,” the younger man called to him. “I’m one of the valets.”

  “Is there a problem with my car?” Vaughn asked. He couldn’t afford to be late for work.

  “No, sir.” The liveried staffer thrust the package toward him. “Someone named Brandon dropped this off for you. He said he thought it might be important.”

  Vaughn took the brown-wrapped paper box and noted the return address that had come by special shipment. Abigail Stewart.

  Curious and trying not to feel too hopeful, he handed the valet a few bills and started tearing open the paper.

  “Um. Sir?” The valet hadn’t gone away.

  Vaughn kept tearing the paper, finding a box inside. “Was there anything else?”

  “You gave me all twenties.” The valet looked perplexed as he stared at the tip.

  With good reason. Vaughn hadn’t even noticed what he was giving him.

  “Keep it.” The package in his hand represented the only bright spot in the last week, and he wasn’t the kind of man who took money out of the hands of someone who’d helped him. “This was important.”

  The guy—a local college student, he guessed—grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you, sir. I’ll share it with my partner out front who covered for me.”

  Once he was alone, Vaughn turned back to the box, dropping onto the bench again to open it. Ruby stared at it with him, setting aside her tennis ball, as if she knew how important a package from Abigail might be.

  His throat burned, emotions creeping up on him fast. What if she was simply returning some personal possession he’d left behind? Something that fell out of his pocket at her house?

  But it felt too heavy to be something he would have ever left at her place. Shoving aside the tissue paper, he found a note penned in careful, artistic calligraphy.

  We are here for you.

  The words—so unexpected—made his eyes burn along with his throat. Only this time, the burn was good. Hopeful. Hope-filled.

  Tearing through more tissue, he saw a wood carving inside. He lifted it out with both hands, holding whatever she’d made like the treasure it was.

  The sculpture was of two sets of arms—one male, one female—encircling a baby. A family.

  One Abigail somehow still seemed to want him to be a part of, despite everything.

  Hutch had suggested Abigail might be a more forgiving, trusting person than Vaughn. That she might still be able to move forward with him even though he didn’t feel whole. His friend was right.

  Vaughn had a second chance at happiness. At the life Abigail warned him he was squandering.

  He wouldn’t waste this one.

  Fourteen

  Abigail reeled in her measuring tape as she stood against the east wall of the children’s ward lounge. She tried to imagine what limbs she had at her studio that would work for the treehouse she had planned for phase two of the interactive art installation. The play space would be a raised platform just a few feet off the ground, but it would be surrounded by fabric leaves and a sculpture that looked like a giant nest, enhancing the sense of being high in the air.

  The hospital hummed with activity nearby, now that the partition had been removed so patients could enjoy the tree sculpture. She would have to plan her future installation dates carefully, waiting to assemble the rest once she had significant portions prebuilt in her studio. Brandon had left her messages already, hoping to help.

  His kind offer had seemed so genuinely motivated by an interest in her work that she couldn’t refuse. And she had fun sharing her craft with someone so obviously intrigued. Even if seeing him would remind her of Vaughn and all that she’d lost.

  Blinking away the thought of him that she knew would only add to her heartache, Abigail tried to focus on the work she adored instead of the man she loved. She had promised herself that—for her baby’s sake—she needed to find joy and happiness again. She’d told Vaughn to do that, so she felt like she needed to at least try to follow her own advice, even if it was easier said than done.

  “There’s a fairy!” a youthful voice shouted nearby, the thrill of discovery obvious in the raised, excited octave.

  Abigail smiled, grateful for the distraction from her sad thoughts. Turning, she spotted a familiar redhead pointing high up in the tree.

  Zoe. The patient she’d met when she’d been sculpting the Tree of Gifts. Only this time, the little girl was no longer in a hospital gown or attached to an IV. She held the hand of an auburn-haired older woman whose features were startlingly similar to her own. It could only be the child’s mother.

  Abigail retrieved her purse and walked toward the pair. A handful of other children and their families dotted the lounge. A few of the kids were in pajamas or hospital gowns, wearing hospital ID bracelets. Others seemed to be visiting siblings or friends. But it pleased Abigail to see that all of them were interacting with the tree in some way. Admiring it, touching it, searching for creatures or reading the placard the hospital had let her install after the gala.

  For Alannah, the brightest bird of all.

  It made Abigail happy to think of her sister that way—a part of nature. A continuing presence in Abigail’s art. A joyous aspect of her own perspective.

  Arriving near the little girl and her mother, Abigail smiled at the redheaded pixie who had wanted to know if she was really carving a tree from a tree.

  “Hello, Zoe.” Abigail tucked her measuring tape in her handbag before introducing herself to the girl’s mother. “I’m Abigail. Zoe and I met when I was working on the tree.”

  “I found a fairy, Miss Abigail!” Zoe announced in a very loud, excited whisper, as if she didn’t want to give it away for the other children. “Just like you said.”

  The girl’s mother smiled warmly. “I’m Rita.” She stuck out her hand and shook Abigail’s. “Zoe told us all about your tree. She wouldn’t rest until we came back to search for fairies since she was discharged before you were finished.”

  Touched, Abigail was very glad she’d made something special for Zoe. After the health scare with her own little girl, she had renewed empathy for the hardship of families with children who battle illnesses. “I enj
oyed meeting her. And I’ve been meaning to ask one of the nurses if they had a way to get a small gift to her.”

  Zoe had been staring up into the tree, perhaps seeking more creatures. But at the word gift she edged closer.

  “For me?” she asked, green eyes bright.

  “Yes.” Kneeling down to Zoe’s height, Abigail withdrew a small carving wrapped in a purple bandanna. “You inspired me to add fairies to the tree. They are there because of you. So I thought you should have one of your own to keep.”

  Zoe’s eyes went cartoon-wide as she peered up to her mother, as if seeking permission to take the gift. At Rita’s nod, the girl carefully cradled the carving in her hands, peeling aside the bandanna. Her eyes met Abigail’s over the sculpture, her gratitude and wonder the most moving tribute to Abigail’s work that she could imagine.

  For a thank-you, the girl flung her arms around Abigail’s neck and squeezed her, still clutching her fairy tight.

  “I love her,” she said, still in a whisper, but this time more heartfelt and sweet. “I’m going to call her Abigail.”

  “I’d like that.” She wondered if the last statue she’d made—the one she’d sent to Vaughn—had been received with nearly as much enthusiasm.

  With an effort, she pushed aside thoughts of him to say goodbye to Zoe and Rita.

  Now that she had the measurements she needed for the play area nest, she could leave Royal Memorial, too. Her feet were only reluctant, she knew, because there was always a chance of seeing Vaughn here.

  Forcing her way toward the stairs, she turned to see Vaughn leaning against her tree in the lounge. Watching her.

  Startled, even though people were coming and going in the lounge all the time, Abigail’s mouth went dry.

  In the few days since she’d seen him, she’d forgotten how devastatingly handsome he was. Still clean-shaven, he wore scrubs, the same as the day they first met. Awareness pricked over her skin. Her breath catching.

  “That was a beautiful thing to do.” Levering his shoulder off the tree, he stalked toward her. “You made that little girl’s day.”

  Abigail’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, no matter that she’d wanted to see him. Hoped to see him. Played in her mind a thousand times what his reaction might be to her gift.

  She hadn’t anticipated how much she’d pinned her hopes on this man even though he’d walked away from her. She told herself to wait and see what he said. To listen with an open heart.

  To be a better person than she’d been the last time they spoke. If nothing else, she would have the chance to apologize.

  “She made mine, too.” Her voice sounded funny in her own ears.

  Vaughn halted a few steps from her. Close enough that she could reach out and touch him. Her pulse quickened, the way it always seemed to when he was near her.

  “As much as she liked the statue you made her, I am willing to bet I liked the one you made for me even more.” His gaze was steady. Sincere. “Thank you for that, Abigail.”

  Pleased he enjoyed the gift, she couldn’t deny that she’d hoped for...more than that. A part of her had envisioned it as a peace offering. A way to heal things between them. She glanced around the lounge, wishing they could speak someplace privately. Then again, maybe it was better this way. She couldn’t fall apart with an audience nearby.

  “I’m sorry for the way I—” She had to clear her throat. “I shouldn’t have come down on you so hard that day. I was hurting, and I took it out on you.”

  Vaughn pointed toward the chairs in the far corner of the lounge. “Would you sit with me for a minute? If you have time?”

  Nodding, she walked beside him on wobbly legs.

  She sat in one of the high-backed leather seats while Vaughn took the one opposite her.

  “Abby, every single thing you said to me that day was true.” His hands fisted where they sat on his knees, as if fighting an impulse. “I have been going through the motions of an existence that hardly counts as living. Going to work. Fighting off bad dreams. Rinse and repeat.”

  “You can’t help that.” She had read more about PTSD since their split, educating herself specifically about the problems veterans suffered. She wished she’d taken time to research more thoroughly sooner in their relationship. “That’s why I shouldn’t have pushed—”

  “You had every right to push. Because I told you I wanted to be there with you.” He unclenched his hands now and reached for hers. Held them tightly in his. “And maybe that’s what needed to happen for me, Abigail. I’ve worked hard to live a normal life. And Ruby’s been great. But it’s like I hit a plateau and that was all I expected from my future. More of the same.”

  She stared down at where he held her hands, trying to make sense of that urgent touch in relation to his words. “I don’t understand.”

  “When you came along, you pulled me off the plateau, bringing me higher and closer to whole. And it was great. I thought life might open up for me. That I could do more. Be more.” He gentled his hold on her, smoothing his thumbs over her knuckles. Soothing them. “But when I froze up in the exam room—I knew I needed to be there for you and I felt like a blank slate. I was scared for you and that tiny child you carry inside you, but I knew it didn’t even show on my face. It’s like this filter goes up between me and how I feel.”

  “I remember.” She thought back to that day, seeing it in a different light. Remembering how remote he’d seemed. “It didn’t seem like you.”

  She’d been hurt even then, before she heard about the abnormality.

  “Exactly. I came face-to-face with my own failing and I know you deserve better.” He sounded too certain.

  “What if I don’t want better?” She thought about how happy it made her to fall asleep in his arms, even if he wasn’t ready to share a bed with her for the full night. How much she loved enjoying a meal with him under the stars. Or sharing her artwork and seeing his eyes light up, like he understood what she was trying to create. “Vaughn, what if I want you, just the way you are?”

  “Abigail. You deserve better, and that’s what I want you to have.” His voice brooked no argument.

  Her heart fell. She dragged in a raw breath, ready to fight for him. For them.

  But he spoke first. “If you’ll give me another chance, I can promise you that I will never, ever walk away from you again.”

  She blinked at the unexpected words. Had he really said what she thought he just said?

  “Another chance?” Her voice sounded just like Zoe’s had minutes before, a whisper that said she hardly dared to believe what she’d heard.

  Vaughn let go of one hand to cup her cheek in his palm.

  “I know I don’t deserve you, but I do love you, Abigail. So much. And if you’ll have me, I will spend the rest of my days making you and that little girl happy.” His thumb stoked along her cheek.

  Her heart swelled with love for him. Happiness beckoned and she wouldn’t ever turn that away. She trusted his sense of honor. His commitment to what he said. She had been hurt so deeply by Rich that she had been guarding her heart carefully, fearing being taken advantage of again. But Vaughn Chambers was nothing like Rich Lowell. The doctor who sacrificed his career to help injured soldiers overseas was a selfless, caring man, and the oath he’d taken as a physician was something he took deeply to heart.

  Now, he’d made a vow to her. And she trusted it implicitly.

  “When I sent you that note, Vaughn, I told you we were here for you.” She tugged their joined hands to her growing baby bump and placed his palm there. “I meant it. I love you.”

  His hand spanned the curve of new life and the baby fluttered with her own acknowledgment. His eyes widened. A hint of wonder inside the man who thought he didn’t show anything to the world. Her heart melted.

  “I’m here for you, too, Abby.” He drew her close, kissing her with
the tender promise of forever. “Both of you.”

  Her head tipped forward, touching his. She’d never felt so cherished. So precious. So loved. For a moment, she forgot everything else but him. When his lips claimed hers the next time, she clung to him, answering his kiss with a passion that simmered just below the surface.

  From the opposite side of the children’s ward lounge, someone started to clap. Someone whistled.

  Turning as one with Vaughn, Abigail saw Dr. Hutchinson at the nurses’ station just beyond the tree sculpture. He seemed to be the ringleader, still whistling, as other nurses and staffers peeked out of patient rooms to see what the fuss was about. A couple of cheers went up. Even a few parents in the lounge joined in the applause.

  Vaughn gave the group—his colleagues—a thumbs-up that seemed to quiet them. He turned back to Abigail and kissed her again.

  “Everyone loves a happy ending.”

  “I guess so.” She laughed, a sound of joy spilling over. She couldn’t be happier. And then she remembered she had even more good news. “Dr. Hutchinson said the baby is going to be fine, you know.”

  The raw emotion in Vaughn’s eyes told her how scared he’d been. How much he already cared for this baby.

  “That’s the best news I could have asked for.” His shoulders relaxed, his smile huge, lighting up the room. “I was prepared to call in every specialist nationwide to help Hutch with your case.” Vaughn turned serious again, his commitment to her baby as deep as the one he’d made to her.

  He would love and protect them both.

  “Thank you.” She laid a hand on his chest, grateful to have him back in her life. For good. “That means so much to me.”

  Vaughn stroked her hair. “Hutch told me it was okay to be terrified for the sake of your child. Normal.” He squeezed his eyes closed. “I don’t know why it helped to hear it from him, but I needed that different perspective to make me see I wasn’t just detaching because of the PTSD.”