Trouble Don’t Last Always

by Francis Ray

  Adam’s mouth flattened into a hard, narrow line. “Please.”

  Jonathan laughed, a robust, hearty sound that easily rolled from his deep chest. “That was nice, but unnecessary. I’m used to your high-handed way of ordering other people around. Comes from being the top in your field.”

  Adam flinched again. Once he had been the best. Once. No more.

  “I meant, aren’t you forgetting the young woman may not want to come back?” Jonathan explained.

  “Then you’ll have to convince her otherwise, won’t you?”

  Adam couldn’t see the smile on Jonathan’s ebony-hued face but heard it in his voice. “I guess so.”

  Their questions tripping over one another, the women swarmed around him as soon as he closed the door to Adam’s room.

  “Is he all right?” Eleanor asked, pushing ahead of her daughter and Nicole.

  “Did he hurt himself?” Kristen asked, her eyes teary.

  “Can I go in?” Nicole wanted to know.

  Jonathan’s gaze stayed on Eleanor. Hope, fear, desperation shimmered in her deep amber-colored eyes. He’d give anything, do anything, to keep the hope alive.

  “We’ll talk downstairs.”

  “Jon—”

  “Downstairs.” Jonathan glanced meaningfully behind him to the closed door.

  Without another word, Eleanor turned and headed downstairs, her heels clicking rhythmically against the hardwood floor. She had never been a patient woman, less when it came to those she loved.

  In two long strides Jonathan caught up with her, his large hand closing around her upper arm. She never slowed or indicated in any way that she was aware of his touch. His fingers flexed out of his own perverse need for her to acknowledge him. The need no longer annoyed or disgusted him; it simply was.

  The glance she threw him was impatient at best, but for the moment it was enough. His fingers relaxed, but not before he noted the fragility of the bones beneath the silk blouse she wore. His brows bunched as they started down the carpeted staircase.

  Eleanor’s once-svelte body had gently rounded as the years and the births of two children altered her shape. To him the change added depth and dimensions to her maturity, not detracting from it. He could still easily sweep her off her feet if the occasion arose, still admire the easy sway of her hips. What bothered him was her not taking care of herself. Mentioning it now would only be a waste of time. Her every thought was on Adam, her firstborn.

  “Well?” she asked, rounding on Jonathan the instant she reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “The living room.” Steering her in that direction, he led her to the sofa. “Sit down, Eleanor. Please.”

  With ill-concealed grace she sat, then crossed her ankles and clasped her hands, preparing herself for the worst. For a brief moment he stared at the thumb of her right hand absently rubbing the diamond-encrusted wedding band on her left hand. For a futile moment he wished she had reached for him.

  Feeling every one of his fifty-nine years, Jonathan moved to the oak fireplace across the room. He stared at the woman he had always loved and could never have. “Adam will let the woman stay.”

  As Eleanor briefly shut her eyes, her shoulders slumped; her head fell forward. “Thank God.”

  Across from Eleanor, Nicole, her beautiful face a picture of disbelief, surged to her feet. She was tall, elegant, and, at the moment, enraged. “He can’t do that!”

  Jonathan dispassionately studied the beautifully polished woman in her early thirties. Not an auburn hair was out of place. She had flawless almond-hued skin and soulful hazel eyes. Once again he wondered why Adam never mentioned her name anymore. “It’s his decision and he wants me to bring her back here.”

  “You can’t seriously be considering letting that woman stay,” Nicole retorted. “We know absolutely nothing about her. You can’t forget she caused him to fall.”

  “Adam did that to himself,” Jonathan said. He shifted his gaze to Eleanor. He’d expected Nicole’s disapproval and outrage. Eleanor’s opinion was the only one that mattered. “Even with my contacts in the medical profession, hiring another person on such short notice would be difficult.”

  “We could stay.” Nicole glanced at Kristen for agreement.

  Kristen, standing by the window, wrapped her arms around her waist. “It’s Adam’s decision.”

  Nicole’s hazel eyes glinted; the lush, sensual mouth flattened in annoyance. “Adam hasn’t been making the best decisions in the past weeks.”

  Kristen’s slim body tensed. She stared at her mother as Jonathan knew she would. Adam was the strong, independent son; Kristen, the tender-hearted daughter who remained unsure of herself. Asthma as a child coupled with an overprotective family hadn’t given her the opportunity to find her way as healthy, robust Adam had. Losing her father when she was fifteen had left her floundering even more. Just as she was beginning to come into her own, the brother she worshipped had to learn a hard lesson about invincibility. Regrettably, she had to learn with him.

  “Uncle Jon?” Kristen asked, finally bringing her troubled gaze to him.

  Despite his own doubts, Jonathan smiled. She’d been three years old when she announced to him and her family that she wanted him to belong to her, too, just like he did to Adam. From that day on he was “Uncle Jon.” He loved her fiercely. “I’d say it’s about time for Adam to get one right.”

  The small smile that flittered around Kristen’s mouth was worth hearing the inelegant snort from Nicole. Sitting down in the overstuffed wing chair, she crossed her long legs and swung her right foot impatiently.

  From what Adam had told Jonathan, Nicole wasn’t the type of woman who liked losing at anything. She was a self-made woman. With a college scholarship to Old Miss she’d been able to shake poverty and the red clay of Mississippi from her bare feet, and now she wore three-hundred-dollar shoes and thousand-dollar designer suits. Nannette became Nicole. She owned a successful temporary employment service in Marin County specializing in office skills.

  She and Adam had been together six months before he was injured. With their busy schedules, he’d said they suited each other perfectly. The arrangement had sounded businesslike rather than loving to Jonathan, who, given a choice, would want the woman he loved with him even if it wasn’t convenient.

  But Adam had never been the romantic, sentimental type. Neither, apparently, was Nicole. Their loose relationship had suited them…until he lost his sight.

  “You can go if you want,” Nicole announced, her small nose tilted upward. “But I’m not leaving.”

  “Yes, and each time you go into Adam’s room you send him deeper into depression,” Jonathan bluntly told her.

  Eleanor made a low, tortured sound of distress, but even so, it caught Jonathan’s attention. Long strides quickly took him to her. Sitting beside her on the sofa, he gently took her soft, cold left hand into his large ones, inadvertently covering the wedding band. “Adam is a proud man.”

  “His father and I raised him that way.” Eleanor managed a weak smile, her other hand coming to rest on top of their joined ones. “You helped.”

  Jonathan nodded. “That I did. He learned to go after and fight for what he wanted in life, but this time he’s up against something he can’t fight.”

  “He has to realize we don’t think less of him,” Kristen said.

  “Kristen, he thinks less of himself,” Jonathan told the young woman softly. He wished he could make this easier for all of them. “There’s never been anything Adam set his mind to do that he couldn’t do, and he looked good while he was doing it. He doesn’t now, and he’s aware of it more than you or I could ever be.”

  Folding her arms tightly, Kristen stared down at her leopard-print sandals. “It’s my fault he left Sausalito. If I hadn’t told him I was going to change my plans and spend my spring break with him, he wouldn’t have come here.”

  “Kristen, please don’t blame yourself,” her mother said. “We all did what we thought best for him,
and it’s not working.”

  “I don’t want him hurt anymore.” Kristen rubbed the heel of her palm across her eyes. “If having that woman is what he wants, then that’s what has to be done. Please go bring her back.”

  “Yes, bring her back,” Mrs. Wakefield agreed, finally pulling her hands free from Jonathan’s.

  Nicole was standing on her Italian slingback heels in seconds. “You can’t do that! What’s to keep her from leaving Adam or looting the place?” Her slim arm gestured around the antique-filled room. “Some pieces in this room are priceless.”

  “I value Adam more.”

  Nicole gasped, a tiny, horrified sound.

  “I’m sorry if that came out badly, Nicole. I realize this has been difficult for you as well. You care for him, too, but I feel hiring Ms. Crawford, at least temporarily, may be best at the moment,” Mrs. Wakefield reasoned. “As she pointed out, her car doesn’t run, so she could hardly leave.”

  “With the salary you plan to pay her, repairing her car or buying a new one shouldn’t be a problem.” Unrelenting, arms folded, Nicole remained stiff with indignation and disapproval.

  Eleanor nodded. “I agree, and that’s why I plan to stay in the cottage. I won’t take any chances with Adam.”

  “I want to stay, too.” Kristen crossed to the sofa.

  “No, Kristen. Spring break is over tomorrow. You’ll return to Stanford, finish your honors thesis, and complete your degree,” Mrs. Wakefield said firmly. “Adam and I will be there as planned to see you get your diploma in June.”

  Kristen bit her lower lip. “I wish you could promise that.”

  “I promise to try.”

  For Kristen, whose mother had never broken a promise, that was good enough. “By the time we get through the baccalaureate, then the departmental ceremony afterward, you’ll be bored to tears.”

  “Not a chance. We’ll cheer just as loud as when you graduated from high school.” Mrs. Wakefield turned to Jonathan. “By the way, how did you get Adam to change his mind?”

  “Reasoning,” he said evasively. Adam might be upset enough to believe his mother would start incompetency proceedings, but Jonathan knew she wouldn’t. Too much had been taken from her son already for her to possibly agree to such a drastic and cruel maneuver. “Now, before she’s picked up by a motorist I better go find her and convince her to return.”

  “You’ll do it, Uncle Jon,” Kristen said.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” The light in her black eyes when she looked at him never failed to warm him. He was as proud of her as he was of Adam.

  Standing, Jonathan quickly strode from the room. The women followed and watched him get inside his silver luxury sedan and drive away.

  “I have a feeling you’re going to regret this,” Nicole said from beside Eleanor on the wide porch.

  Despite the soaring temperature, Eleanor felt chilled and wrapped her arms around her body. “What’s one more regret for this family?”

  She had made a total mess of things. What if Dr. Wakefield had seriously injured himself? She’d be responsible, wouldn’t she? But he looked all right, just angry. In any case, he had his family there to take care of him, which was more than she had.

  Wiping the beads of perspiration from her forehead with the flat of her palm, Lilly stopped for a moment to catch her breath. The breeze had died and the heat was oppressive. The thick, sultry air tinged with the smell of stagnant water made drawing in each breath unpleasant.

  Hearing a car behind her, Lilly turned and waved frantically for it to stop. To her surprised delight, the big silver luxury car pulled onto the grassy shoulder behind her. She was halfway to the car when the driver’s door opened and a man stepped out, tall, broad-shouldered, with streaks of gray at his temple. She immediately recognized him and halted. Fear clawed at her throat. What if he had come after her because Dr. Wakefield had injured himself?

  “Ms. Crawford, we didn’t get a chance to be introduced earlier.” The man extended his large hand. “I’m Dr. Jonathan Delacroix, a close friend of the Wakefields and Adam’s godfather.”

  Ingrained manners made her take the hand although hers was shaking. “He’s all right, isn’t he?”

  “He suffered no ill effects from the fall, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Pulling her hand back, she wrapped her arm once again around the bag, clutching it to her chest. “But he’s still angry at me?”

  “You. Me. Everyone, I’m afraid,” Jonathan answered, his voice sounding tired.

  She nodded, feeling only partially relieved. “I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

  “You didn’t. In fact, that’s why I followed you. To ask you to come back and care for Dr. Wakefield,” Jonathan explained.

  No matter how much she needed the money or how much she wished she could help, it wouldn’t work. He was too angry and she was too afraid of that anger. “He’ll be better off with someone else.”

  “He specifically asked for you.”

  “He did?” Lilly asked, her big brown eyes widening in disbelief.

  Jonathan smiled. He’d been soothing females for thirty-four years professionally and longer nonprofessionally. He’d like to think he was quite good at it. White teeth gleamed. “I’m to bring you back to the estate immediately.”

  “I don’t understand.” The furrows in Lilly’s forehead deepened.

  “I’d be happy to explain everything to you if you’ll accompany me back to the house.” Jonathan motioned toward his car.

  She glanced at his car, then down the road toward hers several yards away. She’d walked enough for one day. She didn’t relish walking back to the car in the growing heat if this didn’t work out. “Why don’t you explain it here?”

  A black convertible sports car zoomed recklessly by, causing them to step farther into the weeds away from the road. “My car might be safer and more comfortable.”

  Lilly studied Dr. Delacroix and said nothing. She didn’t know this man with his expensive suit and good looks. But she had lived six long years with a man of similar build, a man who didn’t hesitate when they were alone to intimidate and terrorize. The hand that she had shaken was soft and manicured, not rough and callused, but there was strength in it just the same. This man could inflict pain if he chose. Myron had hidden his meanness until it was too late.

  “We can talk here.”

  If Dr. Delacroix thought her refusal strange he didn’t comment. “Adam asked for me to get you to return, but he did it under duress. Unknown to his mother, I threatened him with declaring him incompetent if he refused to have help. I’m telling you this because he may take his anger at me out on you.”

  Lilly swallowed. “H-He’s violent?”

  “Never. But words can be just as harmful.”

  She shivered and glanced away. “I know.”

  Jonathan’s shrewd eyes narrowed. “Do you live around here?”

  She moistened her lips. “I was just passing through.”

  “Is there anyplace I could get a reference?” he asked.

  Alarm swept through her. Her throat dried even more. “M-Mrs. Wakefield didn’t say anything about needing a reference.”

  “I’m aware of that, but surely you realize she’ll have to know something about you,” Jonathan said reasonably.

  Lilly shifted uneasily. She hadn’t realized that at all.

  “Is there going to be a problem with the reference?” he pressed, his brow furrowed.

  Her gaze slid up to him, then away. “There might be.”

  Jonathan’s voice took on a hard edge: “If you have a police record you won’t be able to take care of Adam.”

  “It isn’t that,” she blurted, then realized she didn’t know what else to say. Instead her gaze centered on the pristine white-shirted chest. Despite the intense heat, he appeared cool and unbothered in his tailored gray double-breasted suit. Perspiration ran in rivulets down her back. Her cotton dress was probably soaked. Nerves or heat, she didn’t know
. She only knew that she didn’t want to admit to the biggest failure in her life.

  “Well?” Dr. Delacroix prompted.

  She swallowed and tried to think of a plausible explanation. “I recently lost my mother, and since we had no other close family I was traveling to New Orleans to start fresh. I took care of her, so I have no work history,” she explained, silently telling herself the lie was necessary for survival.

  Jonathan’s expression cleared. “Determination in the face of adversity. That’s Adam’s mantra. He always had a privileged life, but never took it for granted. He worked hard, studied long hours. He was skyrocketing in his career when he was attacked. He thought he ruled his destiny, and then found out how tragically wrong he was.”

  “What happened to him was terrible, but I don’t think he wants anyone’s help, especially mine,” she said softly.

  “He may not want help, but he desperately needs it. At the moment he’s feeling alone and desperate. In control of nothing.” Jonathan studied Lilly’s thin face closely. “I have a feeling you may understand a little of how he feels.”

  Tensing, she looked at Dr. Delacroix sharply. She didn’t want him or anyone else probing into her life. “What if he changes his mind again?”

  “As long as he thinks he’s in danger of being ruled incompetent, he won’t,” the doctor told her, slipping his hands into the pockets of his tailored trousers.

  “Isn’t that rather cruel?” she questioned, unable to keep the distaste from her voice and face.

  “Necessary,” he corrected. “You saw the condition he and his room were in. He refuses to let anyone clean it or ask for help with any task. That’s where you come in. Making sure he takes care of himself.”

  Indecision had her chewing on her lower lip and unconsciously shaking her head. “What you’re asking is not going to be easy.”

  “We realize that,” Jonathan told her. “You’ll be in complete charge as far as Adam is concerned. Unknown to him, his mother will stay at her cottage in back of the main house. The couple who take care of the house will return from vacation Monday. However, Adam will remain your responsibility.”

  She dragged her hand through her hair, encountered the rubber band, and clamped her restless hand around her purse. “How am I to get him to let me clean him and the room?”