Foolishly Zelda had thought of tonight as a turning point, linking passion and respect in a way that could endure for a lifetime. She still believed with all her heart that it could, but not if Taylor kept clinging to the past and refused to see the possibilities.
That meant she was going to have to fight with everything left in her. At least now she had some idea what she was up against.
Chapter Fourteen
“Would you say that one more time?” Zelda said very slowly.
Taylor hardened himself against the hurt in her eyes. He couldn’t allow himself to forget for one single instant that appearances could be deceiving. He’d learned that from Maribeth, too late to save their marriage, too late to save her life.
It was true that for weeks now Zelda had been acting more responsibly than he’d remembered. He’d never had a better assistant, in fact. She was organized and efficient, intelligent and clever when it came to helping him with cases. But then, just yesterday on that damned horse she’d lost her temper and done something exceptionally foolish. He couldn’t trust her not to do that kind of thing again. And again.
Worse, he seemed to be the one who brought out her impetuous nature. He always had. Hell, at one time he’d been even more of a danger junkie than she was, but he’d learned. Now no one could accuse him of being anything but steady and dependable. He shook off the word boring when it popped into his head. Responsible.
“I was just trying to explain why it will never work between us,” he said carefully. “I know what you’re like, Zelda. There’s a reckless streak inside you that nothing will ever tame.”
“A reckless streak,” she repeated as if she’d never heard the phrase before. Fire sparked in her eyes. “Maybe I just call it living, Taylor. Maybe I see it as grabbing life and hanging on for all it’s worth. Maybe I don’t want to cruise through my years on this earth in neutral, letting things pass me by.”
She glared at him. “And that includes love.”
Love. The word resounded in his head, promising so much. He knew all too well, though, what sins could be committed in the name of love, what tragedies could occur.
“This isn’t about love,” he said quietly, hoping the denial would silence his own doubts, maybe make him feel more at peace with the choice he was making. He knew in his gut, though, that it was a lousy choice, no better this time than it had been before. He clung to it stubbornly just the same.
“Yes, it is about love. And if you tell me to go this time, it will be for good,” she threatened in a low tone that revealed more fury with each word. “I won’t waste one single minute mourning you again. I won’t waste one single ounce of energy thinking about what we could have had together. You will no longer exist for me. Have you got that, Taylor Matthews?”
A great empty space opened up inside him. He could already feel the void her going would create in his life and he wondered if anything ever again would hurt so much. He fought the urge to drag her back into his arms. With every last ounce of sanity he had left, he made himself regard her calmly, emotionlessly.
“I’ve got it,” he said softly. “It doesn’t change anything.”
He watched as the passionate spirit seemed to drain right out of her, and he hated himself for causing it. Still, that defiant chin of hers lifted a notch. A brief flash of anger darkened her eyes to the shade of a turbulent sea. Zelda would be okay. She had a survivalist’s instincts. He wondered if he would do nearly as well.
Something cold and lonely settled over him as he watched her slide from his bed, her shoulders stiff with pride. She dragged a sheet with her and wrapped it around herself like a protective cloak.
Without glancing in his direction, she said, “I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”
“Zelda…” His voice trailed off as uncertainty swept through him.
She paused, but didn’t turn around. As he watched her waiting for him to say whatever it was he’d begun, he thought he knew what it must be like in hell. He owed her better than this, but too many things had happened. He didn’t have anything better left in him, just regrets.
“Nothing,” he said finally. “I was just going to say there’s no need to rush. My parents expect you to be here in the morning.”
She trembled then as if a draft had chilled her, but he knew better. Her spine went ramrod straight as she walked into the bathroom and quietly closed the door.
Feeling more bereft than he ever had in his life, Taylor cursed softly and climbed from the bed where only hours ago he’d rediscovered magic, the same bed where he’d spent his entire adolescence dreaming of what it would be like to possess Zelda the way he had tonight. As he pulled on a pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt, he tried to reassure himself that he’d had no choice, but the words seemed hollow.
In the kitchen he made a pot of coffee and waited. The slow, methodical click of the clock over the sink marked the agony of waiting. He heard the shower stop, then, after a while, the opening of the bathroom door. All the while his imagination taunted him with images of Zelda’s skin, soft and flushed from the steam, smelling of something sweetly exotic.
When she finally came into the room, his heart wrenched at the bleak expression on her face. She’d tugged her hair back into a ponytail and pulled his baseball cap on again. She looked about seventeen, until he sought her gaze and saw the weariness and pain of someone much older.
“I’m going to stop by the office when I leave here, to pick up my things,” she said.
“Just like that?” he said without thinking. “Sorry. Of course.”
“Will you be coming in tomorrow?”
He shook his head. “I have a meeting in Charleston. I won’t be back until late tomorrow.”
“Then I’ll see if Darlene can work.”
A thoughtful gesture under the circumstances, he admitted. Responsible. There was that word again. “Thank you.”
He sat there, just staring at her, as if he had to absorb everything about her in the next few seconds, enough to last a lifetime. She looked unhappy and uneasy.
“I need to borrow your car to get home,” she said finally.
He shook his head. “You’re in no condition to drive. I’ll get my keys and take you home.”
“I’d rather you wouldn’t. Just lend me the car. I can drive myself.”
Irrationally annoyed by her desire to leave alone, he snapped, “I said I’d drive you. I’ll be out in a minute.”
He went upstairs and snatched his keys off the dresser, then paused long enough to write a note to his parents explaining that Zelda had felt she’d be more comfortable in her own home.
Outside, he found her already sitting in the car, scrunched against the passenger door as if she couldn’t quite bear to be so much as a single inch closer. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, to end the silence, but words wouldn’t come.
In front of her house, she stilled his move to get out with a single gesture. “I’ll be fine.”
He bit back an argument. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I won’t.” She regarded him coolly. “Well, then, I guess this is goodbye.”
“Zelda, I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” He struggled with the apology, knowing it wasn’t enough, angry with himself for putting them both through this anguish for a second time.
A rueful smile tugged at her lips. “I’m sorry you didn’t even give it a chance.”
And then, before he could think of a single thing to say to that, she was out of the car, down the walk and inside with the door firmly closed behind her. Only then did Taylor know with absolute certainty that she had taken his heart with her.
* * *
“The man is an idiot,” Zelda declared emphatically as she threw her personal belongings into a box that had once held computer paper. It was amazing how much a person could accumulate in a few short weeks. Makeup, hair brushes, a toothbrush, a letter opener that could serve as a dandy murder weapon, she noted as she tossed it into the box. Then, o
f course, there was her broken heart. Not many people got to walk away from a job with one of those.
“Damn him!”
She tried to tell herself that she’d given it her best shot this time. It sure as hell wasn’t her fault that things had fallen apart. It was Taylor and his stubborn decision to bury himself right along with that miserable wife of his. That’s what he was doing, of course, paying penance for who-knew-what crimes he thought he’d committed. His declaration earlier had absolutely nothing to do with her and everything to do with the bushel of guilt he was hauling around.
All of which might be true, Zelda conceded, but where did that get her? On a fast jet back to L.A., that’s where. Will or no will, she was going. First thing in the morning, if at all possible. She’d been wasting time with this futile attempt to recapture the past.
She was already reaching for the phone to make a reservation, when it rang. She hesitated. Who would be calling Taylor at the office at this ungodly hour? She’d waited until the end of the day, when Darlene would be gone, before stopping by to pick up her things. She’d made sure that Taylor’s car was nowhere around before using her key to let herself in. It was nearly seven o’clock now, too late for the usual business calls. Obviously this was someone who knew Taylor’s workaholic habits, she decided.
Constitutionally unable to ignore a ringing phone, especially one as persistent as this, Zelda finally picked it up.
“Taylor Matthews’s office.”
“This is Ms. Patterson at Graystone School,” the cultured voice that Zelda readily recognized said. “Is Mr. Matthews there by any chance? I’ve already tried him at home.”
Zelda’s pulse kicked into overdrive. “No, he’s gone to Charleston. Is Caitlin okay? Is there anything I can do?”
“She’s not feeling well. Her grandfather just brought her back this morning and she became ill around lunchtime. It’s nothing to be alarmed about, I’m sure, but she is running a high fever. Our doctor here has taken a look at her and thinks it’s just a touch of the flu. We could keep her in the infirmary, of course, but I thought she might be more comfortable at home.”
“I’ll be there in an hour,” Zelda said without hesitation. She had no idea how Taylor would feel about her going after Caitlin under the circumstances, but right this instant she didn’t give a damn.
“Actually, Mr. Matthews really should be the one to come.”
“He’s not available.”
“Caitlin’s grandparents, then.”
“Really, there’s no need to bother them. I’ll leave a message for Mr. Matthews with his service, but you and I both know he would want his daughter back here as quickly as possible. I can come right away. That way she’ll be home when he gets back.”
Ms. Patterson continued to hesitate. If they weren’t wasting precious time, Zelda might have admired her for the caution.
“Well, he did give permission for you to pick her up once before,” she said finally. “I suppose it would be all right.”
“I will take full responsibility for the decision,” Zelda reassured her.
She drove with the accelerator pressed all the way to the floor and made it to Graystone in less than an hour. Ms. Patterson was waiting for her in the foyer. “Come with me. Caitlin’s in the infirmary. I’ve told her you were on the way.”
At the doorway to the large, sterile room with its gleaming medical equipment and row of beds, Zelda paused and drew in a deep breath. Caitlin was the only child in the room and she was huddled under the covers, her complexion almost as white as the sheets except for the feverish, too bright splashes of color on her cheeks. A momentary panic raced through Zelda. What if she botched this? She’d never nursed a sick child before.
Caitlin’s whispery voice cut through her chaotic thoughts.
“Zelda, I hurt,” she cried miserably. “I want to go home.”
Zelda reached her side in an instant and brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. Her skin was burning up, she realized with alarm. Still, she somehow managed to keep her voice even and reassuring. “I know you do, sweetheart. Let’s bundle you up and take you home to your own bed. I’ll bet you’ll feel lots better as soon as you’re there.”
“I’ve packed her bag for her,” Ms. Patterson said. “It’s in the foyer. Just give her lots of fluids, and I’m sure she’ll be just fine. If her temperature goes up any more, give the doctor a call. I’ve put his number in her suitcase.”
Zelda nodded. “Then I guess we’re all set,” she said cheerfully. She scooped Caitlin up into her arms, prepared to struggle with the unaccustomed weight. Instead, she was startled by how light and fragile she felt.
Once she had Caitlin settled on the back seat of the car with a blanket wrapped securely around her, Zelda slid behind the wheel. “You okay back there?”
“I’m hot,” Caitlin said, squirming restlessly.
“Don’t toss the blanket off, sweetheart. You’ll get chilled and then you’ll only feel worse.”
Aware of the precious cargo she was carrying, Zelda drove far more cautiously on the way home. It seemed to take forever. By the time she pulled into Taylor’s driveway, her shoulders were stiff with tension. The thought of going back into that house, of seeing Taylor again after what had happened only hours before made her almost physically ill, but she managed to steel herself against the memory. Right now, Caitlin was the only thing that mattered.
She carried the listless child to her room and tucked her beneath the covers. Downstairs she found a pitcher of fresh orange juice. She filled another with cool water and took both containers upstairs. She grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom.
“Here you go, sweetheart,” she said. “I’ve brought you some juice.”
Caitlin shook her head. “I don’t want any.”
“How about some water, then? You need to drink something.”
“No. Where’s Daddy?”
“He’ll be home in a little while. He had to go to Charleston earlier. He’ll be back as soon as he gets the message that you’re here. Why don’t we take your temperature and see if that fever’s down at all?”
It was a hundred and three. Zelda nearly panicked. What was normal? Ninety-eight point six? Wasn’t anything over a hundred dangerous? Why the hell couldn’t she remember? Forcing herself to remain calm, she went into the hallway and used the portable phone to call the doctor.
“No need for alarm,” he reassured her in a voice that had clearly soothed hundreds of overwrought mothers. “Children tend to get very high temperatures, much higher than adults. Still, I wouldn’t want to see this climbing any more. Keep her on fluids. Sponge her off with cool water. Give me the number there, and I’ll check back with you in a couple of hours. If anything changes significantly before that, don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll drive on over, if need be.”
Zelda tried to imagine a doctor in Los Angeles being quite so responsive and couldn’t. In her experience most of them were overworked, impatient and in serious need of training in bedside manners.
“Thank you,” she said. “This is all a little new to me. I’m just filling in until her father gets back.”
“And you’re terrified something will go wrong on your watch,” he said. “Well, we’ll just have to see that doesn’t happen. Now, you go on back to your patient. I’m here if you need me.”
Eventually, to Zelda’s relief, Caitlin’s temperature seemed to stabilize, no better, but no worse, either. She’d fallen asleep and had managed to kick off all the covers. Zelda replaced them, then sank down in a chair beside the bed and watched her sleep, alert to every hitch in her breathing, every soft sigh, every restless shifting of her body.
Where the devil was Taylor? she wondered again and again as the hours dragged on. Caitlin kept rousing, asking for her daddy, then drifting back into a restless sleep. Zelda talked to the doctor twice more, reassured by his calm demeanor and Caitlin’s unchanged condition.
“Oh, baby,” she murmured as her cool fingers caressed a burni
ng cheek. She picked up the damp washcloth and sponged Caitlin’s forehead. She opened her eyes slowly as if even that much movement hurt.
“How’re you feeling?” Zelda asked.
“I’m hot.”
“I know, sweetheart. The cool water should bring your fever down soon.”
“Can I sit in your lap in the rocker?”
“Absolutely,” she said, gathering her up and settling into the rocking chair. Caitlin snuggled closer. “Better?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good.” She rocked slowly, holding this child of the man she loved more than life itself. Longing spread through her, followed by the sharp anguish of knowing that she would never share Caitlin or other children with Taylor. These moments, however fleeting, would be all she’d have.
* * *
Taylor had never in his entire life had more of a desire to get rip-roaring drunk. Naturally, he didn’t. He’d ordered a double bourbon straight up and swirled it around in the glass for the past hour. The bartender had probably never seen anyone nurse a drink the way Taylor was.
“Something wrong with the drink?” he asked finally.
“No.”
Worry etched a frown on the man’s expressive face. “You trying to kick a habit?”
Taylor’s laughter was mirthless. “Something like that, but not what you think.”
“Ah, woman trouble,” the bartender guessed. He took Taylor’s untouched drink and replaced it with a cup of coffee. “Want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Taylor said. “She’s gone. I sent her away. That’s that.”
“Having a change of heart?”
“No. Absolutely not,” Taylor said adamantly.
A disbelieving grin spread across the bartender’s face. “Hey, I was just asking.”
“Sorry.”
“Maybe you ought to think about changing your mind, though. In my experience, when a woman has a man all tied up in knots, the only way to get her out of his system is to play it through to the end.”
“Didn’t work.”
A Daring Vow (Vows) Page 15
