by Donna Hill
Rafe stood there for a moment. He lowered his head, pulled himself together and said good-night to Claude.
He stepped out into the cooling night and gazed up at the blanket of stars. Some things never changed. He gave the valet his ticket and waited for his car and Layla.
Chapter 23
Layla and Rafe talked quietly in the cocoon of his car for more than an hour. He was nothing like the cavalier man he often presented himself to be. Charming, yes, but introspective as well, surprising her with his openness.
“It was hard losing Maurice as a friend,” he was saying. “We both had fathers that wanted us to be like them. So, we understood each other in a way that my sisters and my brother never did. We’d always been there for each other. I wanted to be there for him when he lost his father…but he wouldn’t let me. It was like I had to choose sides. And as much as me and my father fought…I couldn’t turn against him.” He frowned. “Crazy, huh?”
“No. Understandable. You were in an impossible position.” She pushed out a breath and was thoughtful for a moment. “When I met Maurice my world brightened even though I realized there was still a dark part in his soul. It didn’t matter. He made me feel alive again. And as difficult as it was to break through all the walls he’d put up around himself, I still wanted to try because I knew deep down inside that the man underneath was worth it.” She turned toward Rafe, searching his face in the dim light for understanding.
Rafe offered his rakish smile. “A Lawson trait with the ladies,” he said, a tinge of humor in his voice.
“And now…I…I’ve ruined everything.”
“Give him some time. He’ll come around.”
She slowly shook her head. “Not this time. You didn’t see how he looked at me.”
“No one could ever look at you and see anything but incredible, cher,” he said.
Her gaze rose to meet his. “You’d say anything after a couple of glasses of bourbon.”
He grinned. “You may be right.”
She looked at him for a moment, seeing him in a brand-new light. “Thanks for the ride. And the talk. I’d better go.”
Rafe opened his door and came around to open hers. He extended his hand and helped her out.
“Always the gentleman.”
“Part of my Southern charm. And remember what I said.”
She tilted her head to the side. “About what?”
“I’m always there for a lady in distress. Call if you need to,” he said, his tone turning serious.
“Thank you. I will.” She walked up the steps to her cottage.
The sun was beginning to crest over the horizon casting a soft orange glow across the gently rippling ocean as she turned and watched him drive away.
Layla closed the door behind her and the awful events of the evening came crashing down around her. She would do anything to change what had happened. She could only imagine what Maurice must be thinking, how betrayed he must feel. He’d trusted her.
Why didn’t she tell him, prepare him, and let him make his own decision about attending the party? She tossed her purse on the bed. Her chest tightened. She knew why. It was for her own selfishness. It was her egotistical belief that she could fix things, heal things and that she could somehow do what no one else had been able to do. She hadn’t been able to heal what was wrong between her and Brent, but she believed she could with Maurice and his family. And she screwed up.
Now he was gone and the rift between him and his family was wider than ever, and the gash she’d sliced through their relationship may never heal.
She sat down on the side of her bed then got right back up. She needed to talk to him. She’d make him listen.
Through the deep haze of a medicated induced sleep, the sounds of knocking seeped in. Maurice groaned, unable and unwilling to move for fear that the pain would return. Mercifully sleep gathered him back into its grip.
Layla knocked again. He had to be inside. His car was parked out front. She knocked louder. There were no lights on. She looked around. The last thing she needed was to cause a scene by waking the other guests. She knocked one last time.
Reluctantly she turned and walked away.
* * *
Layla awoke with a start. She shook her head to clear it then squinted at the nightstand clock. It was nearly ten. She sat up and untangled herself from the sheets. She was still fully clothed. She ran her hand over her face. When had she fallen asleep? Her thoughts were all foggy, but by degrees they all came into focus—the party, Maurice, the drive back with Rafe, going to Maurice’s cottage. She squeezed her eyes shut then scrambled out of bed. The spa was scheduled to open in an hour but she had to talk to Maurice first.
Fresh from the shower, she dressed quickly, grabbed her tote bag and headed over to Maurice’s. He was going to talk to her, he was going to listen even if she had to stand on his porch and scream how sorry she was.
When she crested the curve that led to his place the first thing that she noticed was that his car was not parked where it was the night before. Her heart jumped. She ran up the lane to the front door and knocked. She didn’t hear a sound coming from inside. She ran around to the back of the house, hoping that he was there.
Her stomach knotted. The back deck was empty. She ran her hands through her hair then sprinted all the way to the main building. Breathless and with her heart pounding she approached the reception desk.
“Hello, Ms. Brooks,” Gina greeted with a warm smile. “How can I help you?”
She swallowed. “Um, I was wondering if you could tell me if Mr. Lawson is still here.” She forced a casual smile.
“Oh, you just missed him. He checked out about a half hour ago.” She frowned. “Is everything all right?”
Layla blinked away the burn in her eyes. “Yes,” she managed. “Fine. Thanks, Gina.” She turned away slowly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill with every breath that she took.
She opened the door to the spa an instant before the tears rolled down her cheeks. She locked the door behind her and wept.
* * *
“He still hasn’t returned any of your calls?” Desiree asked as she walked with Layla along the beach.
Layla heaved a heavy sigh. “No. It’s been almost a month. Not a word.”
“Oh, sweetie.” She put her arm around Layla’s shoulders. “I wish I knew what I could do to make this right.”
Layla hung her head. “So do I.” She looked out across the water. “It would be so much easier if I didn’t care, you know.” Her voice cracked. “But I do, Desi, I care so damned much and I hurt him. I never meant to hurt him.”
“I know, I know,” she soothed, holding her close as they continued to walk.
“If I could just see him face-to-face, I know I could explain, try to get him to understand. That’s all I want, the chance to let him know how sorry I am and that I never meant to hurt or deceive him. But I wouldn’t even know where to begin to look. Brooklyn is a big place.”
“The only advice I can offer is if and when he’s ready he’ll find you. And in the meantime you have us and a new life here and a new apartment that you need to get settled in.”
“True,” she breathed. “I have plenty to keep me busy.”
“I’m really glad you decided to stay.”
Layla turned to her friend. “Well, with you and Mel twisting my arm, what choice did I have,” she teased.
“That’s what friends are for! As a matter of fact, one thing I do know for sure, a shopping spree always seems to help. Let’s go into town and shop for your new place.”
Her eyes crinkled with her smile. “Yes. Let’s do that.”
* * *
“I won’t be coming back, Doc,” Maurice said.
“I see.” Dr. Morrison studied his tight expre
ssion. “I take it that you’re all better. The pain, the anxiety, the nightmares…all gone.”
His eyes flashed.
“Well?”
“I’ll live with it.”
“Is that the kind of life you want to live?”
“What choice do I have?” he barked, glaring at her.
“You do have a choice. There are always choices. You chose to give yourself a chance and you did when you went away. You found someone. We talked about her. Layla.” He flinched at the sound of her name. “You finally came outside of yourself. You reconnected with Ross, too. Are you ready to cut him out again? You were happy, really happy, Maurice. I heard it in your voice, in everything that you said.” She paused. “Why are you so ready to choose to let that go?”
The muscles in his face twitched. “She knew,” he said quietly. “She knew how I felt and she used it against me.”
“Your entire life has been built around not accepting mistakes or weakness in yourself or in others. It started with your father and continued throughout your life and especially your years in the Navy. As much as you disparage your father for his unbending views…you’re doing the very same thing.”
He started to protest.
“No. Listen. Layla made a mistake. A mistake that you have determined was intentional. She kicked down the barrier that you set up and you can’t accept that. You can’t accept a shred of weakness in someone that you love.”
His eyes widened.
“Yes, love. You need to admit that to yourself. That’s why it hurts so badly, Maurice because you love her. You loved your father and he hurt you by taking his own life and you can’t forgive him. And until you can find that space inside yourself that is able to accept fault in others, accept weakness and mistakes—all the things that make us human—the pain will never leave. No one and nothing will be able to touch that space inside of you. The healing will never happen.”
Chapter 24
Branford slowly hung up the phone. His position in politics over the years had afforded him a long arm, many friends, foes and favors. Today he’d reached out to his friend, the Secretary of the Navy. He should have done this long ago. He should have done it when he’d heard that his nephew had nearly died in Afghanistan. But he’d allowed his stubborn pride to get in the way.
Grudgingly he had to admit that his son was right. He’d lost his brother, David. He wouldn’t lose his nephew, too. They were family first and foremost.
He stared out of his Capitol Hill office window. The iconic image of the White House faced him in the distance.
Maurice zipped his suitcase. The last bus for the day leaving for Sag Harbor left in a little more than an hour. It had taken days and nights of soul searching and days and nights of realizing that living the rest of his life without Layla in it was not what he wanted. He’d saved all of her phone messages. He’d listened to her asking him to call her, to let her explain.
Maybe if she would have him, he could make this right. He grabbed his keys and started out. He pulled open the door and stopped in his tracks.
“I knew if I called you wouldn’t answer,” Branford said. He glanced at the suitcase. “We need to talk. You deserve to know what happened to your father. I can have my driver take you wherever you want to go.”
“How did you find me?” he asked, trying to recover from the shock of seeing his uncle at his front door.
“I have ways.”
“I have a bus to catch,” he said, but didn’t make a move to leave.
“I can take you to the bus.”
He never heard the tone in his uncle’s voice before, contrite, pleading almost. And suddenly he was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of holding on to the anger.
He nodded in agreement. “All right.” He stepped across the threshold and locked the door behind them.
The black Lincoln Town Car was parked in front of his building. The driver came out and opened the door. Maurice got in first.
“Where to, sir?” the driver asked.
Branford turned to Maurice.
“Downtown Brooklyn. Court and Joralemon.”
The car moved into traffic.
Maurice stared ahead. “You said you wanted to talk.”
“You’ve blamed me for your father’s death. And maybe you’re right.”
Maurice swung his head toward his uncle.
“But not in the way that you think…”
The twenty-minute ride wasn’t enough time to mend the fragile fabric of their relationship. It was only a beginning. But finally hearing the truth from his uncle in all of its ugliness was the corner that he needed to turn. All these years he’d believed the note that he’d found in his father’s bedroom. To this day he could still see the damning words…I know how hard this will be for you, son, but there is no other way. I tried to make things right and the one person who I reached out to for help was my own brother and he turned his back on me. He turned his back on me when I needed him most. The one person who could have helped me…
David had begged his brother to point the SEC away from him until he could figure out what to do, help him to find some way of covering his tracks. He knew that if he were caught and convicted he would spend the rest of his life in jail. He’d never survive that, he’d said. You have to help me. You’re my brother. Those words tortured Branford’s every waking hour. But what David was asking him to do went against every iota of integrity that he had. If he did what was being asked, he’d never be able to live with himself. He firmly believed in right and wrong and justice, and that real men stood up and dealt with their mistakes in life.
What was so bitterly ironic was that it was Branford’s sense of pride, integrity and morality that catapulted him to the heights of his political career were the same attributes that destroyed two brothers. And the same attributes that ultimately repaired the untold damage that David Lawson had wielded when he’d swindled billions of dollars from his clients.
No one knew. There had been rumors of course. But they were stamped out as quickly as they arose. It was Branford who made sure of that, using his connections and his power to ensure that what his brother had done would never become public knowledge to tarnish his memory. And it was Branford’s fortune that had repaid David’s victims over the past decade. In silence.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Branford shook his head. “I made a promise that what happened would not get out. Those who were hurt by him swore never to reveal what happened as long as restitution was made. And it has been.” He lifted his chin and stared ahead. “But at a cost that money will never repay.” He turned to his nephew and reached over to tentatively cover his nephew’s hand with his own. “We lost you in the process. You’re my brother’s son. You have a family, Maurice. And whenever you’re ready we’re here for you.”
Maurice’s nostrils flared as he tried to breathe over the tightness in his throat. “Thank you,” he managed.
The car came to a stop.
The two men held each other with a look.
“You’re going to miss your bus,” Branford said gruffly.
And if Maurice wasn’t mistaken, his uncle looked a bit misty-eyed. He grabbed his bag from between his feet and got out of the car.
He walked slowly toward the bus and the dull, deep soul pain that had been a constant companion began to ease. If he could make things right with Layla perhaps it would be gone for good.
Branford watched him board the bus and the weight that he’d been carrying for so many years lifted. Maybe now it was time to tell his sister, Jacqueline, the truth as well.
Chapter 25
Layla locked up behind her last client for the day and began cleaning up. She’d fallen into a livable routine in the months that she’d been living in Sag Harbor. Her days were filled with
work and her evenings with walks on the beach, dinner with friends or curled up with a good book.
She was almost settled in her new place, and with a few more purchases she was sure she’d have it just the way she wanted. Yet, there wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t think of Maurice and what they almost had. She stopped trying to call and had resigned herself to the idea that it was over. At some point she would be able to truly move on. But for now it was one day at a time.
She went to turn off the lights when the knock on her door stopped her. She rolled her eyes in annoyance and walked over with the intention of being as nice but as firm as possible about hours and appointments. She pulled up the shade that covered the glass window of the door and her heart stood still.
Her hands shook as she fumbled to unlock the door. She pulled it open and stood there unable to move, afraid to breathe. Her heart pounded.
“I should have called and made an appointment.” He hesitantly reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear.
She blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay.
“I should have listened. I should have stayed.”
“I never meant to hurt you,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion.
“I know that now. I know a lot of things now. You touched me in all the places that needed healing. And most of all I know how much I love you, Layla. I love you and I can’t spend another day without you.”
Her heart exploded with joy as she flung herself into his arms.
Maurice wrapped her in his embrace, his mouth finding hers, finding his way home and vowing never to lose his way again.
He nuzzled her neck, inhaled her scent, whispered over and again his love for her and absorbed her words of love in return. “There’s so much I have to tell you,” he whispered.
She cupped his face in her hands and gazed up into his adoring eyes. “We have all the time in the world.” She took his hand, shut the door and led him to the back room where the healing all began.
