“I don’t want to mislead you. Carson is a lot like Truman. He’s a formidable man and he expects things to go his way. It’s not easy to live with such a man.” Julia rolled her eyes. “But I will let you in on the secret of being married to such a man. You have to learn how to negotiate and make certain he thinks the outcome is all his idea and what he wants. Even though it’s actually what you wanted all along.”
“Manipulation.”
“I prefer to think of it as guiding him in the right direction.”
Marla chuckled. “That’s a good way to look at it.”
Julia had given Marla’s hand a pat before they stood and returned to ICU. “I will tell you this, such a man is very passionate about the woman he loves, and when the world is falling apart around you, he’ll be there to hold you and make things right.”
There’s no making things right. Not now.
In the prayer room, Marla leaned forward in the chair and called Kayla.
“I was wondering what on earth had happened to you! I’ve called you fifty times and never got an answer,” Kayla said. “Where are you?”
“I’m in a prayer room.”
“Oh my God, who died?”
“It’s not like that,” Marla explained everything to Kayla. “It all happened so fast. I’ve been at the hospital since I talked to you yesterday.”
“Are you okay?”
Marla thought a moment. “Everything actually worked out perfect. Julia is going to donate a million dollars to the clinic.”
“Unbelievable! That’s like winning the lottery! Can you imagine Nolana’s reaction? You’ll need to use the defibrillator on her.”
“Yeah. I almost had a heart attack myself.”
“What about the man problem?”
“Carson.” She sighed and filled Kayla in. “He thinks I’m a deceitful bitch, and he doesn’t want to see me again. He’s not coming to Lafayette Falls. He’s going to sell Royal Oaks, and I guess you could say I don’t have to worry now. Sophie’s safe. I’m safe.”
Kayla said, “It doesn’t sound like I’m talking to someone who’s safe.”
“All this time, I’ve been fine with things as they were. I never questioned the choice I made because I thought it was the right choice. Carson was just a guy passing through, and I never heard from him again. I never once felt guilty.”
“But you do now?”
“Yeah.” Marla leaned back in the chair, shoulders slumped. “A part of me wants to get on that jet today and never look back. But things won’t be like they were because now I know Sophie would matter to him because she’s his child. He would want to be a father to her. So I can either tell him and face the consequences or don’t tell him and live with that decision.”
“Marla, what does your heart say?”
Her heart said she loved Sophie and she loved Carson.
How could she really love them and keep them apart? She thought of her own father. A man who liked to work with wood and tell corny jokes. Her heart was filled with special memories of her dad, who had always told her how proud he was that she was his daughter.
Didn’t Carson and Sophie deserve the chance to be father and daughter?
Protests rumbled inside her. She had done a great job raising her child without tons of money, a huge house, and a gate. They had everything they needed and they were happy. The truth would change the dynamics of her life. Her selfishness objected to the risk.
From this moment on, she would have to share Sophie with him. She would be the one to suffer. How could she ever compete with him? The comfort zone she had known for so long would be gone. Yet had she ever really been happy?
So many times, she had looked at Sophie and thought of him. She had wished she could share the things Sophie did and said with him. In the deepest part of her heart, she had always wanted him there with her and Sophie, but all the while, she’d known that wasn’t possible. It still wasn’t possible, and the truth would entail some harsh consequences.
But for Sophie and Carson, it meant a future together.
“My heart says I need to do right by them,” she told Kayla. “Both of them.”
“Then that’s what you do. You suck it up and do it.” Kayla had paused before their call ended. “Nothing like a cheerful conversation, huh?”
Marla sighed. “I will see you tomorrow if I live through this.”
An hour later, she tapped the keypad beside the door of the penthouse. The door lock clicked and she pushed the door open before she lost her nerve and ran back into the elevator. She almost knocked over her luggage. Her suitcases stood in the foyer with her tote and purse stacked on top of them.
“Carson?” she called softly. It was barely six o’clock in the morning and she figured he was still asleep.
When she stepped into the living area, she saw him. He was asleep, but not in the bed. Instead, he was half-on and half-off the sofa, and still dressed in the shirt and pants he’d worn yesterday. One foot hung over the arm of the sofa and the other leg grazed the carpet. He had an arm flung over his face and the other one stuck out straight from his shoulder. It hung in mid-air over the carpet. His shoes were on the floor, twenty feet apart, and there was an empty highball glass on the coffee table.
She let him be. He wasn’t the only one in the clothes he’d worn yesterday. She retrieved her luggage and rolled it silently into the guest room where she planned to take a shower and put on clean clothes for the flight home.
“Good grief,” she remarked when she opened her suitcases and saw her things had just been dumped in the bag. Nothing folded or organized. She shook out her jeans, and a white top, and finally found her yellow sneakers.
After a delightfully hot shower, she dried her hair and pulled it up into a ponytail. She slapped on some makeup and got dressed. She wasn’t sure if it was taking a hot shower and getting into fresh clothes or not, but she felt good inside and out.
Maybe it was more than the shower. Maybe it was doing the right thing, and that made all the difference in the world. She smiled as if her world had suddenly become a better place.
Quickly, she repacked her things, this time folding her clothes and tucking them neatly in the suitcase. Then she rolled the bags back into the living area. Carson had not moved. He was still sprawled awkwardly on the sofa like one of Sophie’s sock monkeys.
Marla checked the messages on her phone and sent her mother a text, letting her know she would be leaving Hawaii in two hours. In the kitchen, she put on a pot of coffee. She had a feeling the sock monkey was going to need some coffee when he woke up.
While the coffee brewed, she stepped outside on the lanai and took her last look at paradise. An early morning fog hung low over the distant mountains while waves produced a constant splash against the rock cliffs. A choppy breeze came off the ocean. She could almost taste the salt in it.
She would miss this surreal beauty, but it was time to go home.
“Marla.”
She turned. The sock monkey was up. He had pushed open the slider and stood in the opening. Half of his rumpled shirt was tucked into the waist of his pants and the other half hung out. His dark hair was sticking up. He looked like a homeless person and the frown on his unshaven face made him appear ten years older than he was.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded. The sock monkey was pissed off, too.
“I made coffee.” She smiled as a sense of peace settled over her. “You look like you could use some.”
Chapter 22
“You made coffee?” Was she actually standing there on the lanai, smiling at him and looking like a teenager in her little yellow shoes and a ponytail? His head hurt. His back hurt. His right shoulder hurt. “Did I not tell you that a car would pick you up at the hospital and take you to the airport?”
“You did,” she answered. “I hitched a ride here with a nurse that lives in Hanalei.”
He glared at her. “I don’t want you here. Did you not get that?”
“
Yeah and I’m planning to leave shortly,” she answered. “Listen, why don’t you have a seat on the sofa and I’ll get you some coffee?”
“I want you to leave now.” He shoved away from the doorway. He could get his own damn coffee and he definitely needed some. In the kitchen, he poured himself a mug of coffee and took a sip. She had made it strong. That was good. Strong, black coffee. One of life’s little pleasures when you feel like shit.
He walked back in the living room and there she was. Sitting primly in the armchair opposite the sofa. Knees together and hands on top of them. “I was serious,” he said. “I want you to go.”
“I’m going to leave, but I need to talk to you first,” she replied. “I have plenty of time to get to the airport before nine.”
Carson managed to seat himself on the sofa without groaning. He took a hefty swig of the coffee and hoped like hell the caffeine would kick in soon. So she wanted to talk. If he had felt up to it, he would have laughed.
“You’re something,” he commented. She was something with her perky ponytail, cherry lips, and curves covered by clinging white knit and soft denim. Out of all the women he could have, she was the one he hated and wanted at the same time.
“Carson—” she began in a small voice and he shook his head, silencing her.
He didn’t want to hear any of her crap about them parting friends like before. Smiling and wishing each other well. He was in no mood for that shit. He finished the coffee and set the coffee cup on the table.
“We have nothing to talk about,” he said, scratching the beard on his jaw.
She hesitated. She cut her eyes toward her luggage in the foyer. Then she shot him an anxious glance and chewed on her bottom lip. “I want to talk to you about Sophie.”
Sophie? Her kid? He flexed his aching shoulders. “Listen, I think you need to be talking to Ben about her. Maybe he should make an effort to see her more than twice a year.”
“Ben is a good father to Sophie,” she shot back. Of course, she would defend Saint Ben. “He loves Sophie and he would be with her more if he could.”
Her voice grew soft. “We went through some hard times. Ben had to leave Nashville. His partner got into some trouble with drugs and the DEA. The clinic was shut down. It was awful. But he was finally cleared of any wrongdoing, and then he received a good recruitment offer from a medical center in Seattle. He needed a fresh start in a new place. I wanted that for him.”
“So why didn’t you go with him?”
“By then, we had mutually decided our marriage was over. We cared about each other, but it wasn’t love. We both knew that. So he left for Seattle and I moved back to Lafayette Falls.”
She rubbed her knees. “He doesn’t get to see Sophie often because of the distance. That’s true. But they talk on the phone regularly and they do video chats. He’s remarried, and they are expecting their first child this winter. Sophie is so excited. She’s going to stay a couple of weeks with them after the baby comes.”
Carson nodded, bored by all the blended family talk. “Yeah, well, great.” He glanced inside his empty coffee cup. He needed a refill.
“Ben is not Sophie’s biological father.”
Carson glanced up, surprised by that admission. He decided to forgo the extra coffee as he watched her hop to her feet. She paced over to the glass wall and tented her fingers against her lips. He let out a weary breath. Women always wanted to share too much.
“Marla, I can do without hearing the saga of your life. Okay? And that includes ex-husbands and ex-lovers. Just go.”
She seemed fixated on the bright blue sky. “Sophie is your daughter.”
Silence turned the room into a tomb. Finally a hollow laugh erupted inside him. “I’ve heard it all now.” He grabbed the coffee cup off the table and headed for the kitchen. Why would she say such a thing? He knew it wasn’t true. He would never take that kind of chance. He would never do something that stupid.
Then again, he had fallen for a woman he didn’t even know.
“I know you don’t believe me.” She turned from the glass wall where the sunlight across her face revealed the fatigue of a sleepless night.
“No, Marla, I don’t believe you.” He walked back in the living room, suddenly feeling like he was a thousand years old. He wanted to lie down, go to sleep, and wake up to find out none of this had happened.
“I’m sorry,” she said, as if the apology came from the deepest part of her heart.
“Me too.” He was plenty sorry he had sent her that letter, sorry he’d conned her into making this trip, sorry that this was the way it was going to end. “I’ll call down to the desk and have them bring a car around for you.”
She drew in a deep breath. “I love you, Carson.”
“Yeah.” He looked around for his phone.
“Hold on.” She walked over to the foyer where her suitcase was parked by the wall. On top of the suitcase was her purse. She dug inside it. “I want to show you Sophie’s picture.”
“No.” He held up his hands. “I don’t want to see the kid’s picture. I don’t know what’s going on with you.” He frowned. “Is this about money?”
“Money?” She fished in her purse. “No, it’s not about money.”
“It’s always about money,” he retorted. “I learned that when I was twenty.”
“This time, it’s not. Julia is donating a million dollars to the clinic, so I don’t need money for the clinic. I don’t need money for Sophie or for me. Ben and I provide well for Sophie. She has everything she needs and she’s very happy.”
“I’m glad somebody is.”
Marla pulled a pink photo wallet from her purse. “It’s about you and Sophie. The two of you deserve a chance to know each other. I realize that now.”
He scratched his unshaven jaw again. “You know, I don’t believe a word you say.”
“If I had wanted money from you, I could have gotten it. That day, when I was turned away at the gates, I was eight weeks pregnant. I could have gone to a lawyer’s office. Instead, I left.” Her voice suddenly trembled. “I didn’t want my baby locked up in that fortress you call home.”
Suddenly, concern replaced his cynicism. “Marla, you sound crazy,” he said in a worried tone.
“Maybe. But I’m not crazy and I’m not lying.”
He gave his head a shake. “There are some risks I don’t take. You’ve been with me enough to know that. And when we were together that summer, you were taking the pill. The package was in the bathroom. I saw you taking them.”
“Remember the trip we took to Nashville? We were out on the road and on a whim, we decided to drive to Nashville and we stayed the weekend. Do you remember that?” She cradled the pink photo wallet in her hand.
He thought back. “Some sort of music festival,” he remarked. “And great barbecue.”
She glanced at the ceiling in thought. “I’d forgotten about the festival,” she said. “Anyway, I didn’t have the pills with me. Of course, I only missed two pills and the chances are a hundred to one, so I didn’t worry about it. Really.” She creased her lips. “I shouldn’t have gotten into the shower with you.”
He blinked. “What?” He felt a sudden knot form in his gut. “You can’t be serious. Tell me you’re not serious.”
“I wish I could. But we did have sex in the shower and in the car at the overlook, too,” she added with a shrug.
“It’s not possible,” he argued as denial forged its way into his heart. “I would never put myself in this position.”
“I know.”
“Jesus,” he muttered. There’s no way I’m that little girl’s father. Marla is having some sort of psychotic break. In the shower, my ass. That never happened. Or did it?
“Okay. I’ll submit to a paternity test,” he said. “That should solve everything.” He would bet a million bucks he was not the kid’s father.
“There’s no need for a paternity test.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” he snapped. �
�Not with me.”
She held out the pink wallet that held 4 x 6 photographs. “These are some pictures of Sophie I keep with me. I run into people in town and patients who want to see a picture of her and I’d rather share these than pass around my phone.”
She opened the album and handed it to him. “This is your paternity test.”
The photograph was a headshot of a little girl with a large red bow fastened in her dark wavy hair. Her smile lit up her dark blue eyes. He lifted the small album and stared at the picture of a child who had his hair, his eyes, even his smile.
Shock waves flowed through his body as if he’d had his own personal earthquake.
A tremor shook his hand. This was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It went beyond terror or fear or panic. Denial came first. This could not be true. Surely, this was a nightmare. But it wasn’t. He knew in his heart that his life had just changed forever. There was no going back to the place he’d been just a moment ago. The truth broke over him like the ocean waves outside, fracturing against the rocks.
He managed to flip a page in the album. The same child stood beside a table covered with brightly-wrapped gifts. “That’s at her birthday party,” Marla said. “She turned five this year. On March fourth.”
Numbly, he turned more pages. There was a photo of her and another little girl.
“That’s Sophie and her best friend, Anna Grace. They’re inseparable.”
He stopped at a snapshot of Sophie wearing an artist smock over her clothes. A child’s easel stood to her right. “She loves to paint,” Marla explained. “She loves painting and drawing pictures. She’s very artistic.”
He shut the album. He couldn’t bear to look at another picture of his daughter. He thought of the little girl on the phone yesterday. He had been talking to his own child. One he had never held or seen. He had never been there for a birthday party or for Christmas morning. Another man had stood in for him.
His breath came in ragged gasps. “Have you ever told her anything about me?”
“No,” Marla answered in a quiet voice. “She’s just a little girl. She wouldn’t understand.”
One Week in Your Arms Page 19
