by Hill, Teresa
"Oh, Sammy."
Tucker couldn't stand it anymore. He hauled Sammy up into his lap and held him as close as he could. Sammy snuggled into his arms and rested his cheek against Tucker's chest. Two little arms stretched as far as they could around Tucker's chest.
"I mess up a lot," Sammy said.
Tucker gave him a squeeze. "So do I."
"Really?" Sammy pulled back enough to look at his father. "You do?"
"I do."
Sammy considered that for a moment, then looked very serious again. "I'd like it if you came back."
Tucker smiled from ear to ear. It was the best news he'd had in years. Sammy wanted him to come back.
He was going to have to explain everything to the boy, sooner or later, and he wasn't sure if Sammy would ever understand. Hell, Tucker wasn't sure he understood himself. But he wasn't going to worry about that at the moment. His son wanted him to come back.
"I'd like that, too, Sammy."
They sat on the bed together and grinned at each other for a minute. Then he ruffled Sammy's hair, just because he wasn't quite ready to let go of him.
"Know somethin'?"
"What, Sammy?"
"I missed you... when you were gone... when I was little."
Tucker hauled his son back into his arms and held on for dear life. His eyes filled with tears and his throat was so tight he could hardly breathe.
It was a long time before he could let go, a long time before he trusted himself to speak. "I missed you, too, Sammy."
They smiled at each other. The whole world seemed brighter in an instant.
"Look, I've got to go," Tucker said reluctantly. "Your mom says it's way past your bedtime, and I've got to get to work tomorrow."
He helped Sammy get back under the covers, put the ball down on the bed beside him, then fished in his wallet for a business card and something to write with.
"Let me give you this. It's my phone number, home and work, and if you need anything or if you just want to talk to me, you give me a call. Okay?"
Sammy grinned again. "'Kay."
"I'll see you next weekend."
"'Kay."
Tucker kissed the top of his head and turned out the light.
* * *
Tucker wanted to drive back to the Gulf to stare at the water some more. It had calmed him, at least a little, early Saturday morning, and he needed calming right now.
He had a son who was brokenhearted and terrified over a soccer game. A damned soccer game!
And he had an ex-wife who was so angry at him—and rightly so—yet so beautiful, so touchable, so vulnerable, living in Tallahassee with no wedding ring, while Brian had moved to Naples.
He'd dialed Margaret Harwell's number at least a dozen times today and gotten nothing but voice mail. He clicked on her name to try the number one more time, wondering what could have happened to Rebecca and Brian the wonder boy.
She'd loved him forever, loved him before she met Tucker and after she'd decided to divorce him. And if it was possible to love two men at once, Rebecca had loved Brian even while she was married to Tucker.
Tucker didn't doubt her love for him, just as he didn't doubt her love for Brian. He hadn't liked it, but he'd been able to deal with it, at least while Brian had been in Belize and Rebecca had been in Tucker's bed.
The wonder boy had returned at the worst possible time, just when the undeniable cracks in the foundation of their marriage had begun to show.
Brian had arrived just in time to help Rebecca pick up the pieces of her life. She'd been unfaithful to Tucker—though only in her heart. But Tucker was the one she was supposed to give her heart to. She was supposed to believe in him, understand him, be there beside him.
Tucker had hated Brian Sandelle, most of all because Rebecca couldn't forget him. And in the end, when their marriage was ending, she'd turned to Brian.
The phone on the other end rang. Four rings. Tucker counted them, then waited for what always came next. Voice mail. Again.
To hell with the phone. He was going over there, and he wasn't leaving until he found out what he wanted to know.
Chapter 8
"She never married him?" Tucker echoed.
He sat down hard on the plush sofa in Margaret Harwell's living room. He couldn't comprehend what she'd told him. Simply couldn't comprehend it.
It was like a bad dream, except he was living it, and he couldn't make it stop. He just wanted to go back to the point where he didn't know anything, so life could be the same again.
It wasn't that he liked things the way they were before, just that anything was preferable to this. He couldn't handle this.
Dammit. He clenched his fist and ground his teeth together. Dammit!
He was going to kill Brian Sandelle. Mister man-of-his-word, the honorable, the trustworthy, the sweet, the gentle, the faithful puppy dog, Brian.
God, he was sick of that man.
"Tucker?"
He turned back to look at Rebecca's mother and realized he hadn't heard a word she'd said. He'd been off somewhere, caught up in fury.
Tucker couldn't bear to think about it. All those years he'd stayed away, just as he'd promised he would, thinking that his wife and his child were fine, living with this ever-so-virtuous man who'd sworn to love Rebecca and to treat Sammy as if he were Brian's own son.
"She never married him?" Still incredulous, Tucker asked again and tried to pay attention to the answer.
"I tried to tell you, dear, but you didn't want to know. You wouldn't let me talk about them." Margaret came and sat next to him on the sofa, then put a comforting hand on his knee.
"Why?" It was all he could manage.
"Well," Margaret said, "it wasn't for lack of trying on Brian's part. They've been dating, been engaged forever, but Rebecca found one reason after another to put him off when it came to marriage."
"Why?" Tucker sat there and shook his head, feeling sicker and sicker inside.
"I'm not sure I understand myself, dear. I have my theories, of course, but—"
"She loved him." His anguish-filled voice boomed through the room. "She always loved him."
"Yes." Margaret squeezed his hand and tried to calm him. "I think she has always loved him, but there are different kinds of love. Not all of them lead to marriage."
Tucker sat there dumbfounded. All those years—they'd been as alone as he'd been, all those years.
"Sammy..." Tucker had to fight to clear his throat. He was choking on emotion. "Sammy said Brian moved to Naples."
"Yes, a few months ago."
"Are Rebecca and Sammy going to join him there?"
"They haven't gone yet." Margaret actually smiled then. "You know, Tucker, I never believed you simply stopped caring for them."
He hadn't. He'd tried, damned hard, but he'd never managed to stop caring for them. He'd also believed that they'd be better off without him, better off with Brian.
And now he found out that they'd simply been alone.
It was a damned good thing Brian was a few hundred miles away right then, because if he hadn't been, Tucker would have strangled him.
"Would you like a drink, dear?"
Yes, he would. Two would be even better.
"I gave it up, Margaret."
"Drinking?"
"Yes."
"But that wasn't all you gave up, was it?"
His only response was a tightening of his jaw. Margaret Harwell had always seen too much.
"Why did you do it, Tucker? Why did you give up on them?"
He said nothing. He couldn't. He had nothing to say.
"You know," Margaret continued when he didn't respond, "I always wondered what you and Brian talked about that day."
Tucker could play poker with the best of them, but he wouldn't bet money that he could bluff his way out of anything when he was sitting across a card table from Margaret.
She smiled, barely, when she saw that she wasn't going to get a reaction out of him. "You forgot. I
was in the office that summer helping out for a few weeks while our receptionist's granddaughter was so sick."
He nodded. He remembered now.
"Funny," she continued, closing in on him. "All those weeks there, and I never saw you with that woman you were supposed to be seeing. You came in at dawn, worked through lunch, left long after dark, and I never did understand when you had time to see her."
"Margaret, what's the point?" He surrendered. " I can't go back. I can't change it."
"You knew Rebecca was coming to the office that day. She always came on Wednesdays to go to lunch with her father. They'd been meeting like that since she was twelve. He never came home, so she always had to go there if she wanted to see him. You knew she was coming on Wednesday, and you're not a stupid man, Tucker."
He laughed, bitterly. "Maybe not anymore, but I was then."
"So why did you do it?"
Tucker had to admire her tenacity, though he could have done without it right now. The past was past. Done was done. Regrets were a waste of time, so he made no time for them. "Look, can we just drop this, please? It doesn't matter anymore. It's over. It's too late."
"It's never too late."
"Maybe not for me and Sammy. I hope it's not, but... I lost Rebecca years ago, long before we finally gave up on the marriage."
"No," Margaret objected. "You deliberately pushed her away, and I've never understood why. But I'll never believe that you simply couldn't keep your hands off that other woman.
"Tucker?" She moved in for the kill. "I think now that you're finally being honest with yourself, it's time you were honest with Rebecca, too."
* * *
Rebecca knew Tucker well enough to know when he was going to make trouble, and when he returned that night, she knew there was going to be trouble.
She tried to collect herself while he looked in on Sammy, but she simply didn't have enough time. Tucker could have stayed up there a week, and she wouldn't have had enough time.
She groaned when she heard his footsteps coming back downstairs. She waited until the footsteps stopped, waited for him to say something, but he didn't. Rebecca closed her eyes and held her breath while she searched her brain for something, anything that could possibly have upset him so much. She couldn't figure it out.
Tugging the ends of her green silk robe more tightly around her, she realized she should have gone upstairs and changed while he was in with Sammy. She simply hadn't thought about it—not until she turned around and found him staring at her in the cool, thin silk.
"We've got some things to talk about, Rebecca."
He was quiet again, so quiet. She worried when he got this way, and she wasn't up to another confrontation with him.
Playing for time, even just a few moments, she backed into the kitchen, talking as she went. "Would you like some hot tea? I was just going to make some."
"No, I don't want any tea."
She filled the pot with water, then reached for a mug on the top shelf. "Coffee, instead?"
He came up behind her, closing the cabinet only a moment after she opened it. She felt his presence, felt his heat right behind her, and all of a sudden it was hard to get enough air.
"I don't want anything to drink," he said. "I just need some answers."
Rebecca didn't want to turn around. She knew it would be a mistake. He hadn't moved. He was right there, so close she could feel the air coming out of his lungs stirring the strands of hair that had come loose from the chignon she'd hurriedly created once she got out of the tub, just before he arrived.
And then, out of nowhere, she remembered he loved seeing her hair like this. She could still hear his deep, soft voice, thick with emotion, telling her that, so long ago. He liked this style because it made it so easy for him get to her neck and her shoulders with his mouth.
He liked to tease her by nibbling on them very gently. He'd catch her from behind and hold her there, refusing to let her turn around, until she was putty in his arms.
A shiver ran down her spine. She remembered a time when he'd caught her, just like this, in their kitchen with her hair piled up on her head.
She wondered if he remembered that now, wondered if he ever thought about such things.
Tucker put his hands on her arms, and she jumped at his touch. God, what had she been thinking about?
He let go immediately, and that reassured her for a moment.
"Turn around, Rebecca. Please."
She stood there for another moment, her head bowed, her hands trembling and her heart pounding, while she searched her brain, trying to figure out what in the world was going on.
She wished she weren't so aware of him, so caught up in this mess with him. She wished their lives weren't still intertwined when she'd have sworn they'd severed all ties years ago.
"Rebecca, why didn't you marry him?"
Anguish—she heard anguish in the question. She closed her eyes and tried to close her heart to it. Why did it even matter? Why was it so important to him?
"I... We're engaged." She lied more easily than she would have thought, then tried to pacify her conscience by reassuring herself that it really wasn't any of his business, anyway.
"Engaged?"
She nodded weakly, her back still to him.
"For six years?"
"The better part of it."
He turned her around gently, with two hands on her shoulders, then grabbed her left hand. "Where's the ring?"
It was in a drawer somewhere. Brian wouldn't take it back, and she hadn't felt comfortable wearing it in a long time. Nothing had felt right in a long time.
"Why is he in Naples when you and Sammy are here?"
She pulled her hand free.
"It doesn't have anything to do with you, Tucker."
His eyes blazed, and his jaw tightened. It was definitely the wrong thing to say. He laughed sarcastically, shook his head, went to back away and then changed his mind. Suddenly he was closer than ever, leaning over her, trapping her between him and the kitchen cabinets.
"I can't believe you said that."
"It's not—"
"You loved him, Rebecca. You married me, loving him. And when you left me, you went straight to him."
Rebecca was too shocked to protest. She'd had no idea he'd thought this, and she couldn't understand why he did. She loved Brian; she'd loved him forever. But it wasn't anything like what she'd felt for Tucker from the very beginning.
She would have never believed he was jealous of Brian, that he could be jealous of anyone. Tucker was too sure of himself to have the kind of doubts that led to jealousy.
Rebecca should know. She had been the queen of self-doubt, and as it turned out in the end, with good cause.
"I didn't leave you," she told him coolly, her pride still stinging with the wound. "You left me, and you didn't even have the courtesy to tell me."
Rebecca's cheeks burned. She didn't want to bring that up, not ever, but he'd backed her into a corner, and she wanted out.
They stared at each other for a moment, each backing down. They'd never had it out over that woman. Rebecca hoped they never would. There was no point to it, nothing he could say to explain it and nothing she could do to change it. There was simply too much pain there to deal with.
"I was just..." He raked a hand through his hair and looked absolutely lost. "I was sure you wanted him, that you'd marry him, and he'd be a father to Sammy. Why didn't you marry him, Rebecca?"
She nodded, beginning to understand now. He'd wanted Brian to be the father that he could never be to Sammy. She'd wanted that, too. Truth be told, it was one of the reasons she'd tried for so long to make her relationship with Brian work out—because she wanted very much for Sammy to have a father.
Yet she hadn't been able to bring herself to marry Brian, and she wasn't about to explain her reasons to Tucker.
After all, what could she say? That Brian wasn't Tucker? That he didn't make her feel the way Tucker made her feel? That she just didn't lov
e him the way she'd loved Tucker?
No, she couldn't begin to explain it to him. She wasn't going to reveal that much of herself to Tucker.
"I just can't talk about this with you. I won't," she said.
"You loved him, Rebecca. You took my name. You wore my ring. You slept in my bed, but you loved him."
"I loved you," she said, because it was true and because maybe, once he heard that, he'd drop the whole conversation.
But he didn't.
"God, what's the point?" he said. "You don't have to pretend anymore. I heard you with him in the garden that day, right after he came home."
Rebecca was stunned. She'd had no idea that Tucker had been there. It had been near the end, when she'd almost given up on her and Tucker. But she'd been pregnant by then, and she'd been hanging on because of Sammy. They'd both been hanging on, barely, desperately.
And then Brian was back. She'd been so glad to see him and so sad, too, all at the same time. She'd hurt him more than she could have imagined by marrying Tucker while he'd been away.
She and Brian hadn't been engaged or anything like that. But she'd thought she was going to die when he left to go to the Peace Corps. She'd been crazy in love with him at eighteen, but Brian had dismissed that, arguing she was too young to know for sure what she wanted then. He'd wanted her to be sure. So she'd watched him go away, full of hope that when he came back, they'd be together.
But she hadn't waited for him. She'd barely thought of him once she met Tucker.
"Do you remember what you said to him, Rebecca?"
She shook her head. She wasn't sure exactly what she'd said to Brian that day. She just remembered how much it had hurt, both him and her, and how hopeless her life with Tucker had become.
"I remember," he said bitterly. "I remember every word."
* * *
They'd been in each other's arms in the rose garden, in broad daylight. Tucker had come by to go over some papers with Rebecca's father, who'd been home sick that day.
He'd heard about the two of them and this garden, how they'd played there together as children. He'd heard how they'd always been together, and how amazed everyone was that Rebecca would ever marry anyone but Brian.
Tucker had hated Brian Sandelle before he even laid eyes on the man, hated Brian even more when Tucker found him standing there with Rebecca in his arms.
