by Arlene James
He picked up the neatly sliced triangle of sandwich on the top of the stack and bit off at least half of it. Laurel sat back in satisfaction. Grinning, Parker passed him a glass of cold tea. He gulped from it, felt the hard cold slide down his throat and sighed, rolling his head side to side to get the kinks out of his neck.
“You’re working too much,” Kendra said.
Ed shrugged. “Story of my life.”
“Not yet,” Parker said, “but if you’re not careful, it’s going to be.”
He shrugged again and bit off another huge bite of sandwich. They sat in companionable silence for some time, listening to the zzzt-zzzt-zzzt emanating from the corner of the house and the distant hum of traffic, basking in the soft light of the gas lamps. Before he knew it, Edward found an empty plate beneath his fingertips. Kendra started to rise.
“I’ll make you another.”
He waved her back down into her chair. “No, no. I’m full.” He patted his flat middle and slid down farther against the padding of the green metal chair, bracing his bent knee on the edge of the table and leaning his head back against cool metal that quickly heated to body temperature. “Hell’s bells, it’s hot.”
“Yes, it is.” Kendra sighed and lifted the weight of her hair up off her shoulders.
“Well, I like it,” Parker said. “Tomorrow I’m going to lie out in the sun for a while.”
Edward snorted, and Kendra delivered a minilecture on the evils of overexposure. Parker just grinned at them. “He’s not going to lie out and bake,” Edward said. “He’s just yanking our chains, wanting you to fuss over him and me to think I’m the only one working day and night.”
Parker didn’t deny or confirm, but no one expected him to. He kicked back in his chair and propped his feet on the rim of the table. “Speaking of work,” he said, “how’s the case coming?”
To his irritation, Edward felt himself go very still. “What case?”
Parker slid him an innocent look. “You know, the Kennison thing.”
Kennison. Edward barely restrained himself from gnashing his teeth. “Aw, you know how it is—things creep along, then suddenly they bust loose.”
“So you’re saying it’s creeping along?” Parker asked, deliberately pressing.
Edward bit back a caustic reply and forced himself to remain calm. “Actually, it’s sort of on hold,” he managed to say, “and a good thing, too. I’ve got more than I can do these days.”
With a single look, Parker passed the torch to Kendra. Holding that gaze, she asked of Edward, “Have you spoken to Laurel lately?”
Edward set his back teeth. “No.”
“I thought of sending around a note,” she said contritely, “but David offered to convey our apologies verbally instead.”
David. Edward put a firm cap on the swelling of his rage. Once he was fairly sure that it wouldn’t choke him, he reached for his tea glass and drained it, then sat up, stretched and said, “Well, I’d better get back to it. Those briefs don’t write themselves.”
Kendra mouthed a silent message to Parker, who appeared not to heed her. But then, just as Edward reached the door, Parker spoke up. “They’re dating, you know.” He turned to skewer Edward with a glance aimed over his shoulder. “David and Laurel, that is.”
Edward forced his hand around the doorknob, but turning it seemed beyond him. Parker went on.
“I think it’s getting serious. What do you say, Ken? Does David seem serious to you?”
“Very much so,” she replied softly.
Edward snatched his hand off the doorknob and turned around. He meant to say something innocuous. He meant to wish them well or some such nonsense. Instead, the words that fell out of his mouth were “I knew that snake couldn’t be trusted!”
“What snake would that be?” Parker quickly rejoined.
Edward took a menacing step forward and shook a finger in Parker’s too-composed face. “I never should’ve let you talk me into bringing him in on this! Damn! Why didn’t I follow my better judgment?”
“Me?” Parker retorted. “You and Kendra masterminded that, old buddy. If I remember correctly, I never thought there was anything wrong with her to begin with—other than that odd notion about marrying you!”
“Odd is the key word here, old buddy! And it’s got nothing to do with marrying anyone! That woman is trouble walking, and he’s welcome to her, by golly! He deserves her. Hell, they deserve each other! She can drive him crazy, and he can heal himself!" He waved a hand dismissively. “Why would I care? Why am I even wasting breath on this?” Throwing up his hands, he turned to go. Kendra stopped him with one softly spoken sentence.
“Because you’re in love with her.”
He froze in his tracks. For just an instant he felt a rush of emotion so strong that it terrified him. He slammed the door on it, and with eerie calm, rounded on her. “You, of all people, ought to know better.”
She stared at him, and for a long moment the old connection held—comfortable, companionable, predictable, safe. Then Kendra broke it, and with nothing more than her eyes, telegraphed a message to her husband. Immediately Parker hopped up and headed for the door, announcing that he really ought to check on Darla. Edward had the feeling that he should follow right on his heels, but for some reason he stayed. Kendra got up and wandered to the deck railing, where she turned and leaned back, her arms folded across her middle.
“Have you looked at yourself lately?”
He sniffed and stuck his hands in his pants pockets. “Don’t be silly. I still shave every morning.”
She ignored that. “You’ve given up the trendy cut for a more manageable style that’s a little shorter in the front. It becomes you.”
He shrugged and muttered, “Too much trouble the other way.”
She nodded. “And it wasn’t really you, no more than that overgrown mop you used to wear. But this…this is you.”
He didn’t bother saying thanks because he knew she was making a point, however obscure at the moment. “Yeah, so, I finally figured out the hair thing.”
“It’s more than that,” she told him. “You’re wearing those clothes like they were made for you.”
He looked down at himself. “They might as well have been. That crazy tailor can find more adjustments to make than these things have seams.”
“The point is, you finally know what looks best on you.”
“Somebody finally told me what looked best on me.”
“I figured that, but it wasn’t Walden, the tailor. He’s more concerned with meeting his sales quotas than helping his individual customers find their own personal styles.”
Edward frowned at that, but he was big enough to confess. “It was Laurel. She’s got an education in fashion design. I figured she knew what she was talking about, considering she always looks like she just walked off the cover of a magazine.”
“Good move,” Kendra told him, one eyebrow held aloft. “Doesn’t that tell you anything?”
“It tells me she can dress. She might have been sleeping on the floor in a rented cave when I met her, but by golly, she looked good doing it.”
“You’re being mean,” Kendra said. “None of this is her fault. My word, after everything that’s happened to her, it’s a wonder she can function at all. David says—”
“Oh, spare me what David Greenlea might have to say! Of all the people on this earth, Ken, you’re the last one I expected to talk to him about me, about us.”
“Oh, Ed, don’t you see that I’m very concerned for you? We all are.”
“Nothing to be concerned about,” he muttered.
“Isn’t there?” she asked softly.
He stood for a moment, confused and conflicted. What was happening to him? Dear God, why couldn’t he get a handle on this?
“Ed, you’re going to regret it if you don’t face up to your feelings for Laurel and do something about them.”
“There’s nothing to do.”
“Isn’t there?”
>
Her prodding infuriated him. “You talk like I ought to run out and grab a license and a ring, and you of all people know that’s impossible for me!”
“Oh, Ed, get over it!” she shouted back. “You’re not in love with me and you never have been!”
“How can you say—”
“Because it’s true!” She doubled up her fists and brought them up to her forehead in frustration. “Ahh!”
He’d never seen her like this. He didn’t know what to make of it. And it hurt him that she could say these things to him. “I’ve always loved you,” he said defensively, and she dropped her hands.
“Not like Parker loves me. Not like I love him. Not like you love a wife, a mate, a partner, Ed. Don’t you see? Parker makes me more than I ever could’ve been without him, and vice versa. We balance each other. We make each other shine, sometimes by rubbing each other the wrong way—but in the right way, somehow. That’s what Laurel does for you. Take a long hard look, Ed, inside and out, because it’s more than appearance. It’s… passion, intensity. It’s…scary as hell,” she admitted. “I know what you’re feeling, because I’ve been there myself. I was terrified of Parker. Yet, deep down where it counts most, I always knew that he and I were an explosive combination—just as I knew that, as much as I do love you, the two of us together are dull as dishwater. We’re too much alike, you and I. We need Parker and Laurel to shake us up, to pull us out of our comfortable ruts, to make us live life to its fullest. And they need us to lend a calming influence. They need our dependability and our willingness to shoulder the responsibility, to make them believe in their own worth and maturity. It’s a perfect combination of strengths and weaknesses, Ed. Don’t let it pass you by. Please.”
He didn’t know what to say to all that She was right about her and Parker. He could see it every time they were together. It was why he couldn’t stay away, why he couldn’t give them up— either of them. Together they had built a real family and a real home. This was the only place he felt really comfortable, the only place where he found the hope to keep on keeping on, day after day, case after case, fight after fight. But how could he believe that he could have all this with Laurel? How could he pin his hopes on a quirky, battered little debutante so desperate that she would waltz in off the street and ask a complete stranger to marry her? How could he even make a judgment call on the possibility. when there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that she’d ever forgive him for that stupid setup almost a month ago? Aw, God, what had he done?
“I’m screwed,” he said bleakly. Kendra strolled over and put an arm around him. He pulled her close against his side.
“You never know until you try,” she said hopefully.
The love he felt for Kendra Sugarman in that moment was real enough, but hugging her was like hugging his mother—and it always had been. The correlation made him chuckle, and he said against the top of her head, “Think you’re ever going to get me raised?”
She laughed and shook her head. “I’ve done all I can. It’ll take a better woman than me to top you off.” She looked up then. “A better woman for you, that is.”
He knew, finally, who that was, thanks to Kendra, thanks to his friend, Kendra Ballard Sugarman. His friend. His very dear friend.
He closed his eyes. Please, God, don’t let it be too late for more. I need so much more. He needed Laurel.
He didn’t know how long he’d driven aimlessly around the city until he glanced at his watch. Almost eleven, but when he realized that he was within a block of Laurel’s apartment building, he knew he was going to stop. He had to try again, and this time he could be completely honest with her.
Ken was right. Maybe it was the old adage about opposites attracting. He didn’t suppose it mattered; all he knew was that he’d been powerfully attracted to Laurel Miller from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her—and that had scared the hell out of him.
It had been easy to be in love with Kendra. She was safe, comfortable, easily admired. He almost always knew what she was thinking, how she would view a thing. In some ways, having Kendra married to his best friend was like having his cake and eating it, too. She was there for him more than she had been after their initial breakup, and if she was untouchable…He wondered when that had stopped bothering him, or if it ever had, really. Even when he had realized that she was falling in love with Parker and making their marriage real, his concern had not been that she would be forever unavailable to him, but rather that Parker’s lovemaking would change her somehow, make her less than she was. He’d been wrong about that, of course, and he’d known it for some time. He’d been content with the situation, even happy for her and Parker. His love for Kendra had changed, or else it hadn’t been what he’d assumed it to be all along. And hadn’t Ken tried to tell him that when she’d broken their engagement? Hadn’t she told him repeatedly since? But he had hung on to his illusions. They made him safe. How could he fall in love elsewhere if his heart already belonged to an unattainable woman? Safe.
Until Laurel. And Laurel was another proposition altogether. Could he find a riskier female, a woman with more problems? In many ways, Laurel was still an unknown quantity. Was she capable of loving with the same ferocity and commitment that he witnessed between Kendra and Parker? Would her passion match his? Was she brave enough to love after all she’d been through? He knew that she was loyal and unapologetic where her friends were concerned, but he knew, too, that her marriage had foundered. She was impulsive. She was fiery. She was an enigma. But she was definitely not crazy. And he couldn’t get her out of his head no matter how hard he tried.
He parked and got out of the car. What if she closed the door in. his face? What if she told him to go away and never come back? What if David Greenlea was there? What if she and David…No, he wasn’t going to think about that. He didn’t dare.
He kept his footfalls quiet, coming down gently on his heels and slowly rolling forward onto his toes, step after step after step after step. He didn’t want to alert the neighbors, and all the windows were open because of the heat. He could see from the top of the landing that even her window was open. The clothing that had been hung there had obviously been moved. The lights were off, but he felt certain that she was there. She wouldn’t have left the place open. Maybe he could wake her without alerting the rest of the occupants of the building.
He moved quietly along the landing, listening to the muted sounds of voices raised behind closed doors and televisions being played too loud. From somewhere just ahead, a baby cried for its mama. Ed slowed and eased up to Laurel’s door, pausing to consider his next move. Did he knock lightly or call to her through the open window? The baby wailed, sounding as though it were right inside Laurel’s apartment this time. Then suddenly the light came on inside.
“Mommy’s here,” said a soft, sleepy voice. A familiar voice. Laurel’s voice. “Mommy’s here, honey.”
It hadn’t really registered yet, not as a coherent thought. It was just a niggling possibility floating on the edge of his consciousness, and he automatically stepped to the window to see what his eyes could tell him about the idea now beginning to form in the back of his mind. He watched her rise from the bed, the bed that unfolded from the sofa he had sent her, the one she wasn’t even certain she would keep. She wore a skimpy little cotton gown that looked yellow in the yellow light of the lamp he had purchased. He watched her long bare legs as they moved the few steps across the room to the crib against the opposite wall. He held his breath as she bent and lifted the crying child onto her shoulder. His bright red head snuggled against her in a gesture performed hundreds of times before, golden eyes gleaming with tears. She patted his back.
“Those new teeth coming in are hurting again, aren’t they, angel?” She picked up a small bottle from the counter and moved to the side. “Well, Mommy can fix that, for a little while, anyway.”
She sat down in the rocker, the one that matched the sofa, the one he had bought for her, the one that was part of
his peace offering, his way of making amends and salving his conscience. He had wanted to make her life better somehow. The rocker had seemed appropriate, and he knew now why. He listened as she coaxed the little one into opening his mouth, presumably so she could rub something foul-tasting but helpful onto his gums.
Stunned, he stood there and listened to it all. He heard her comfort the boy, rocking him gently in the chair until his whimpering and snufflings had ceased, until he slept again, safe in his mother’s arms.
After a long while, she stood and carried the boy back to his crib. She smoothed his hair and smiled down at him. A mother’s smile. Then she tiptoed back to the bed and lay down. She turned off the light and rolled onto her side, sighing with the weight of responsibility on this too-warm night, the responsibility for her child. Her child.
Ed shifted slightly to one side and lifted a forearm to lean against the rough wall. His head was spinning. How could he not have known? It had been obvious all along. Why hadn’t he seen? Maybe he hadn’t wanted to see the truth. Suddenly he knew why. He didn’t want to think that Barry was Laurel’s because he didn’t want to think who his father might be.
His mind was already whirling with possibilities, each one more awful than the last, each one damning her more surely, ripping his heart a little deeper. If he could have trusted himself not to throttle her, he’d have awakened her then and demanded the truth, but he knew better than to attempt that, and yet he had to know. God help him, he had to know.
He didn’t bother to soften his footsteps as he left that place. He ran all the way to the car, and his tires squealed when he swung the car out onto the street. He didn’t care who heard, didn’t care who saw, and the level of his distress told him what he’d been slow to realize: the depth of his feelings for her. His mind was busy with visions of Laurel and a parade of men, from that damned gardener at the asylum to Bryce and David Greenlea and a faceless army of others, one of them the father of her child. He had to know that man’s name—and he knew one person more likely to tell him than any other.
