“How did you feel when you learned your son was alive?”
Maggie made a small sound in her throat, a cry of pain that Jack felt in his gut.
“I was so drunk at the time . . . I thought I was hallucinating everything.” She looked at Jack with an expression of wonder in her eyes that she must have worn that long ago day. “When I realized Brian was really alive, my stomach churned and . . . and I threw up,” she admitted ruefully.
“Uncle Porter promised me that if I quit drinking, he’d take care of all Brian’s medical bills, pay my way through law school, and help me get a job so I could take care of my son on my own. I had a second chance . . . if I could only get sober and stay that way.”
Jack looked at Maggie now, at her clear, beautiful eyes and tender mouth, at her lithe, graceful body, and tried to imagine her as the sodden, vomiting drunk she had described. It was impossible.
The image that came to mind instead was his mother. She’d had a chance to sober up, too, for the sake of her child. Captain Buckelew had offered to keep Jack while Jean Kittrick went to a treatment center in San Antonio. His mother had refused. Not at all like Maggie, Jack thought. When Maggie’s chance had come, she’d grabbed at it with both hands.
They might both have been drunks, but the similarity ended there, Jack realized. Maggie had some inner source of strength his mother had lacked. More love for her child? Or more guilt, maybe? It didn’t really matter why or how she had found her way to sobriety. Jack was just very glad she had.
“How did Victoria react when you finally retrieved your son?” Jack asked.
Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “When I showed up wanting my son back, she threatened to abscond with Brian and hide him where I couldn’t find him. Uncle Porter was having none of that. In fact, he’s the one who suggested I put Brian somewhere safe, somewhere Victoria wouldn’t be able to get to him. I owe Uncle Porter a great deal,” Maggie said. And he’d extracted his pound of flesh in payment.
“It’s hard to believe that in ten years Victoria’s never been able to locate Brian,” Jack said. “It seems to me it would be easy for her to hire someone to follow you and—”
“If she wanted badly enough to know where he is, she could find him,” Maggie agreed. “In fact, she did find him about a year after I came back to Texas.”
“What happened?”
Maggie paused at the steps to the nursing home with her back to him. Jack could see she was trying hard not to cry. “Maggie?”
She turned and met his gaze, her beautiful eyes floating in tears. “Victoria was repelled by the sight of him. She wanted to know if Brian’s limbs were always going to tremble like that and if he’d always be so uncoordinated and whether he was always going to be in a wheelchair. When she found out the limitations of his recovery . . . when she realized Brian would never be . . . perfect . . . again, she turned her back on him and walked away.”
Jack felt enraged for Maggie’s sake and for Brian’s. “If she doesn’t want to be near him, why the continued secrecy?”
“Uncle Porter insisted upon it,” Maggie said. “He said that until Victoria was willing to accept her grandson as he was, she didn’t deserve to see him. And since I haven’t yet repaid Uncle Porter everything I owe him, he still makes all those decisions.
“But as you’ve seen, Victoria never misses a chance to throw it in my face that she isn’t ’allowed’ to visit her grandchild. Not that she would, even if she could!”
The door to the Shady Oaks Nursing Home opened and Victoria Wainwright stepped out. “Hello, Margaret. Luckily for my grandson, someone remembered to visit him on Easter Sunday.”
Chapter 14
“What are you doing here, Victoria?” Maggie demanded, stepping in front of the older woman to keep her from moving any farther down the wooden stairs. Maggie was aware of Jack standing behind her, knew he was there if she needed him, but was glad he didn’t interfere. Victoria was her problem.
“I told you, I was visiting my grandson.” Victoria reached up with white-gloved hands to adjust a spectacular Easter bonnet—decorated with exquisite ribbons and sleek feathers—that matched a suit in robin’s-egg blue. She looked cool, comfortable, and composed, despite the awkward situation and the afternoon heat. “What on earth have you got in your hand?” Victoria asked, pointing to the stuffed rabbit Maggie held by its cottontail.
“It’s a gift for Brian,” Maggie said, twisting her wrist so Victoria could see what she held.
“He’s a little old for a purple rabbit, don’t you think?”
Maggie stared Victoria down. They both knew Brian’s biological age had no correlation to his mental age. Maggie started to ask how Victoria had talked the nurses into letting her see Brian, then realized the nursing staff had changed several times in the years since she had last mentioned that her mother-in-law was not allowed to see Brian unless Maggie was there. Victoria hadn’t shown any interest in Brian for so long, Maggie hadn’t anticipated this visit. It was alarming-frightening-to think Victoria could have walked in and kidnapped Brian today without her being any the wiser.
“Is there some reason you’re standing in my way?” Victoria asked pointedly.
“How is Brian?” Maggie asked.
“Unfortunately, the same,” Victoria said.
The slight, distasteful twist of Victoria’s lips hit Maggie like a dentist’s drill on an open nerve. She bit back a mouthful of expletives, counted to five—she couldn’t make it to ten—and said, “Don’t come back, Victoria. You aren’t welcome here.”
“I go where I like, when I like,” Victoria replied, undaunted.
“Brian won’t be here,” Maggie said, feeling the threat without a word being spoken.
The smug smile on Victoria’s lips made Maggie’s blood run cold. “You can’t hide him from me, Margaret. I’ll find him. Why bother upsetting the boy by moving him?”
Victoria’s words suggested consideration for Brian, but Maggie knew better than to think Victoria had Brian’s best interests at heart. So why didn’t she want him moved? “Why did you decide to visit Brian after all this time?” Maggie asked.
Victoria let down her guard for no more than an instant, but Maggie felt a visceral reaction to the brief expression of anguish she saw in Victoria’s eyes.
“Thanks to you, he’s all I have left,” Victoria said.
Maggie suffered the accusatory blow without being crushed by it. Victoria hadn’t said anything Maggie hadn’t heard before. Or believed herself. “Does Uncle Porter know you’re here?”
“Porter is foolishly sentimental when it comes to that boy,” Victoria said, irritation plain in her voice. “He seems to think I would upset Brian if I saw him, which is ridiculous. I’ve certainly spent enough time with children who aren’t entirely themselves to know how to entertain one.”
“How did you entertain Brian?” Maggie asked.
Victoria looked down her nose a long way at Maggie—quite a trick, with a nose as short and sophisticated as Victoria’s—and said, “I read Peter Rabbit to him, of course. Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I have a dinner engagement with Porter.”
Victoria didn’t wait for Maggie to move, she simply started down the stairs and expected Maggie to give way. Maggie hesitated only an instant before she backed up against the decorative gingerbread railing that framed the wooden porch steps and let Victoria pass. Victoria never looked back, yet Maggie couldn’t take her eyes off the woman.
“She’s amazing,” Maggie murmured.
“Yes, amazing,” Jack agreed. “Shall we go inside?”
Maggie turned to Jack, aware of him for the first time since she’d begun talking to Victoria.
“I thought you might like to check on Brian,” Jack suggested.
Maggie’s stomach clenched. She turned and sprinted up the stairs, struggled with the old-fashioned brass doorknob, and finally shoved her way inside. The Victorian home had been built with high ceilings to accommodate the Texas heat, and a breeze through the
open windows carried out the medicinal scents and antiseptic cleaners, leaving the nursing home smelling less like what it was.
She arrived at Brian’s bedroom door breathing hard and stopped to calm herself so she didn’t upset her son—assuming Victoria hadn’t already sent him into hysterics. Brian didn’t do well with disruptions in his routine.
Maggie put a restraining palm on Jack’s chest and said, “Give me a minute with Brian before you come in. I’d like to make sure he’s all right, and if he is, tell him about you before he meets you.” She handed the rabbit to him. “Hold this for me?”
“Sure.” Jack stuck the stuffed rabbit in the crook of one arm and leaned back against the wall. “Call me when you want me. Or if you need me,” he added, reaching out to squeeze her hand.
Maggie felt a tickle at the back of her throat, like she was going to cry. She cleared her throat and made herself let go of his hand.
As she entered her son’s room, she was disappointed to see that Brian was in bed instead of sitting in his wheelchair. Maybe the nurses had decided he needed a rest after Victoria’s visit. Speaking of nurses, where were they? Maggie didn’t recall seeing anyone at the front desk, and several nurses usually showed up in the hall with other patients during her visits.
Suddenly anxious, she crossed quickly but quietly to Brian’s bedside. On the table next to his bed sat an expensive, gold-trimmed, hardbound copy of Peter Rabbit. Brian was lying still, his head turned toward the window. At first Maggie thought he was asleep. She took another step and saw the tears on his cheeks.
“Brian?”
His head lolled slowly in her direction. “Mommy?” He seemed surprised to see her, before joy made his young face radiant. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy! You came, you came, you came!”
“Is everything all right, Maggie?” Jack called from the doorway.
“Yes,” Maggie choked out. The metal bedrail rattled down, and she settled on the twin hospital bed beside Brian, hauling him upright into her arms. He wasn’t as big as a normal sixteen-year-old, but he was still sizable. He did his best to put his arms around her, but they didn’t obey the commands his brain sent to them. She helped him by wrapping his arms around her shoulders.
“I’m here, Brian. I told you I would come. What made you think I wouldn’t?”
“She said you wouldn’t come. She said I had to get into bed. Then she read me a story.”
Damn you, Victoria! Rage filled Maggie’s head and heart and made her squeeze her son too tightly.
“I can’t breathe, Mommy,” Brian said.
Maggie loosened her grip and realized her hands were trembling almost as much as Brian’s. Her voice ragged as she suppressed the murderous urge to strangle her mother-in-law, Maggie said, “I’m here, Brian. And I’ve brought someone else to see you.”
Brian clutched her as tightly as he could. “Stay here, Mommy. Don’t go away.”
The tickle in Maggie’s throat returned with a vengeance. Brian had obviously been confused by Victoria’s visit, because he feared she was going to leave him with another stranger. She pressed her cheek against her son’s and felt the adolescent fuzz that preceded whiskers. “I’m not going anywhere, Brian.”
For a moment she contemplated excluding Jack from the visit. Before she could make that choice, he showed up at her side.
“I couldn’t help overhearing,” he said in apology for disobeying her request to stay by the door. “Hello, Brian. I’m Jack.”
Brian stared at Jack with wide-eyed, open curiosity. “Jack?”
“Jack’s a friend of mine,” Maggie said. “He’s brought you a present.”
Jack made a face at her, but held out the purple rabbit. “Here you go, Brian.”
“For me?” Brian said wistfully, hopefully.
“Sure,” Jack said as he settled on the bed beside Maggie. Maggie saw the moment he realized her son didn’t have the coordination to accept the rabbit, because Jack tucked the stuffed animal between Maggie and Brian and said, “He wants a hug, too.”
Maggie had never felt so grateful to anyone in her life.
At that moment one of the regular nurses appeared in the doorway. “Maggie! We didn’t expect you today. We’ve been having an Easter party in the Rec Room . . .”
“I’m here, after all,” Maggie interrupted. She would make sure the nurses knew before she left not to let Victoria in again. “I’d like to take Brian for a walk outside, if that’s not a problem.”
“You know it isn’t any trouble at all,” the nurse chided, eyeing Jack, seeking an introduction that Maggie reluctantly provided. “This is a friend of mine, Jack Kittrick.”
“It’s good to see Maggie with a male friend,” the nurse said with a smile as she pushed the wheelchair close to the bed. “We all think she deserves the best.”
Maggie flushed to the roots of her hair. “Jack’s not—”
When the nurse reached for Brian to pick him up, Jack said, “I can lift him. All right, Brian?”
Brian looked down at the rabbit he had managed to grasp in both hands and back up at Jack with a smile. “Okay, Jack.”
Maggie was surprised on two counts. First, that Jack had offered to help Brian into his chair. And second, that Brian had agreed to let him do it.
A transfer that would have been awkward if handled by either Maggie or the nurse alone, Jack did with ease. He simply picked Brian up and settled him comfortably in the wheelchair. “All right, sport?” Jack asked.
“I’m Brian,” Brian said.
“I was speaking to the rabbit,” Jack said. “His name’s Sport.”
Brian seemed to like the idea. “Yeah. Sport’s all right.”
Maggie wasn’t sure what she had been expecting from Jack, but his nonchalant attitude toward Brian’s disability was somewhat disconcerting, even though she felt relieved.
“You seem to know your way around a wheelchair,” she ventured.
“My mother spent the last year of her life in one,” Jack said. “She came to live with me the last few months, so I could help take care of her. She brought her cat along. It lives in the tree in my backyard.”
That explained the wheelchair ramp she’d found at Jack’s back door, Maggie thought. And the bowl of food on his back porch. “Your cat lives in a tree?” she queried.
“It likes to jump on unsuspecting persons,” Jack explained. “Gets a real kick out of hearing them scream.”
Maggie laughed and shuddered at the same time. Thank God she hadn’t ventured outside to investigate the first night she’d gone to Jack’s house. But she wished, just once, that Victoria would come visit . . . and meet Jack’s cat.
They had just wheeled Brian down the ramp that bordered the front stairs of Shady Oaks when a 1958 Cadillac skidded to a halt in front of them, and a man in sweat-stained, raggedy-looking clothes stepped out. A second look revealed the two-toned orange and white car was still half-covered with car wax.
“Uncle Porter!” Maggie exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“I was waxing one of my cars under a tree in the backyard, when I had a sudden urge to come visit Brian.”
In response to Maggie’s stunned expression he said, “Don’t believe that one? All right, when I took a break to go inside for a glass of iced tea, I checked my phone messages and saw there was one from Victoria. She said she was coming to visit Brian—here at Shady Oaks—before we had dinner tonight”
Maggie heard both the warning and the dread in his voice. “She was here,” Maggie said. “She made Brian cry. She told him I wasn’t coming.”
Porter gave Brian a visual once over and said, “Is he okay?”
“Brian’s fine,” Maggie said, threading her fingers through her son’s fine, wheat-blond hair. “She only read to him from a book.”
Jack had been watching the eye contact and body language between Maggie and Porter Cobb from the instant the elderly man stepped out of the half-waxed Caddy. Cobb was wearing an old fishing hat replete with trout lures, a pai
r of baggy khaki shorts, a faded, ponds-cum-green shirt, and Docksiders with mismatched socks that came halfway up his hairy calves.
Jack was certain nobody ever saw Porter Cobb looking like this. Which meant some dire emergency—Cobb had said it was the call from Victoria Wainwright—had brought him here. What was it Cobb feared? Jack wondered. What was it he really thought Victoria Wainwright would do if she was left alone with her grandson?
Jack watched as Porter crossed to Brian, put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, and said, “Hello, Brian. How are you today?”
It was clear to Jack that the boy knew and liked his great-uncle. “I’m fine, Uncle Porter,” Brian replied, smiling broadly. “See what Jack brought me?” He held out the purple rabbit.
For the first time Cobb focused on Jack, and Jack watched the old man’s soft hazel eyes turn hard as agates.
“What is the law doing here?” Cobb said.
“Jack came with me,” Maggie interceded, shooting a quick glance in Jack’s direction. “We got here as Victoria was leaving.”
Jack stared at Maggie, who had the grace to lower her eyes. So she hadn’t kept his secret from everybody; she had told Cobb. Why Cobb? Jack wondered. But the answer was obvious. Maggie felt a great obligation toward the man . . . and Cobb was clearly running the show.
“Are you sure Brian’s all right?” Cobb asked Maggie, touching the chair-bound boy again.
“Brian’s fine,” Maggie reassured him.
Jack frowned. Maggie had expressed her concerns about Victoria’s interaction with Brian in terms of his grandmother kidnapping him. Porter Cobb seemed more concerned about Brian’s well-being, as though he feared Victoria might do the boy some physical harm.
“Jack and I were going for a walk with Brian,” Maggie said. “Would you like to come, Uncle Porter?”
Jack watched Cobb’s dawning realization of how he was dressed, the fact that his car was half-covered in paste wax, and the fact he’d revealed a great deal more of his personal family business to a stranger—a Texas Ranger, no less—than he’d intended.
Heartbeat Page 18
