More Than Words Volume 4

by Linda Lael Miller

  He shook his head. “Far from it. I drove her insane, because I was so laid back, and she drove me insane, wanting to change me. Eventually, we were fighting all the time. It was a terrible environment for all of us…but especially for Jeannie.”

  “So you decided to divorce?”

  “She decided. As rotten as it was, I probably would have stuck it out, thinking I was protecting Jeannie. But Angela wanted perfection in a marriage, too, so she wasn’t willing to settle for that.”

  Beth shifted on the seat, and bit back her instinctive response. “Settle” for Scott Mulvaney? What kind of woman couldn’t see how amazing he was?

  But she knew exactly what kind of woman. The mannequin-perfect snob who had come to Scott’s door today.

  “Anyhow, she agreed to an equitable joint-custody arrangement, and I have to admit she’s been a good mother—better, really, now that I’m not around to keep her angry and stirred up.”

  “That must be a relief.”

  “It sure is. Luckily, Angela’s got one truly warm spot in that cold heart of hers, and it’s for Jeannie.”

  They sat in silence another minute. She couldn’t shake the memory of Angela’s expression as she pulled away from Daniel’s sticky fingers. It shouldn’t have stung—what did it matter what Angela Mulvaney thought of her? She’d probably never see the woman again.

  And yet…

  Scott looked over at her, obviously sensing some melancholy. He touched her shoulder. “She wasn’t rude to you, was she?”

  Beth shook her head. “No. Not really.” She traced the molding of the steering wheel with her finger. “I guess it’s just that seeing her…Seeing myself through her eyes…It just made me feel…”

  She wasn’t sure how to end the sentence without sounding pathetic. Inferior? Inadequate? Those weren’t quite right.

  “I guess it made me keenly aware of how much work I have left to do. Before I can really feel good about myself, I mean.”

  She wasn’t looking at him, but she could feel him looking at her.

  “That’s absurd,” he said quietly. “Angela is beautiful, yes. But you’re—”

  “I’m not fishing for a compliment,” she broke in before he had to say something flowery just to buck her up. More of that infamous gruffness, she knew, but she couldn’t stop herself. “I’m just dealing with reality. She’s got it all together. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, and I almost lost my way. I was lucky enough to find Tilly, and the rest of the people at Loving Life. I can’t imagine what would have happened to me if I hadn’t found them.”

  “They’re wonderful,” he agreed. “Mulvaney Construction has been one of their sponsors since the beginning. Tilly is a great lady.”

  She nodded. “Meeting her changed everything for me. It was the first time I ever saw true courage, I think.”

  For a moment he didn’t say anything.

  Then he touched her arm. “How could that be? Hadn’t you ever looked in the mirror?”

  “Oh, Scott, don’t—”

  “Beth, I’ve heard your story. You’ve endured things no one should have to endure.”

  “That’s just it,” she said. “I did endure them, when I should have had the courage to stand up and fight back. Or at least, I should’ve had the sense to run away.”

  “Isn’t that what you did?”

  “Eventually,” she said. “But not until I found out I was pregnant. Then I knew I had to go, no matter how scared I was, no matter where I ended up. I wouldn’t allow Tony to hurt my baby.”

  His hand was still on her arm. She was intensely aware of it.

  “Exactly,” he said. He moved his fingers a little, and a shivery feeling skittered up her arm. “You’re extraordinary, Beth. You’re very beautiful, and you’re very brave. You have no reason to feel inferior to Angela, or to any other woman.”

  Without question, the atmosphere had changed. It was charged with something now, the same way the winter air was sometimes charged, pulsing with the weight of a snowstorm it wouldn’t be able to hold much longer.

  Her hands felt frozen on the steering wheel, and she couldn’t force herself to turn her head.

  “I should go back upstairs,” she said stiffly. “Daniel might…might need me.”

  “Already?”

  Finally she looked over at him. He was smiling, but under the smile lay a tension. He wanted more from her. He was attracted to her, and he obviously knew that the feeling was mutual.

  And he couldn’t understand why she was pulling away.

  “Don’t go,” he said. His fingers tightened slightly against her arm, urging her toward him.

  Her heart hitched.

  His eyes were intense in the dim light. “We just started our trip, Beth. I don’t think we’ve made it anywhere near Niagara Falls.”

  She knew she risked making him angry if she left him now. He’d never understand.

  But she had no choice.

  “No,” she said. “We haven’t. But I’m sorry, Scott. I think I’ve gone as far as I can go.”

  CHAPTER

  SIX

  Right after dinner the next night, disaster struck.

  Beth was busy at the computer, trying to get the last of her claims processed before she had her weekly conference call with the managers down at the insurance company’s main offices.

  She was feeling pressured, because she knew they weren’t keen on mothers who worked at home with their children around. Caving as everyone did to Tilly’s clever advocacy, they’d agreed to give Beth a chance. But she feared that if she screwed up, or failed to meet her quotas, they would be all too ready to pounce.

  Best-case scenario, they’d push her to put Daniel into day care. Worst case, they’d simply fire her, which would be all too easy. She was still in her ninety-day probation period.

  So the truth was, she wasn’t paying enough attention to Daniel. She didn’t realize that the strap of her computer case had dangled over the side of the desk, right into Daniel’s playpen.

  She certainly didn’t realize he could reach it.

  But he could, and he must have been batting at it, trying to pull it down.

  That would have been okay. The case was soft leather and couldn’t hurt him much. But she’d set her training manual on top of the computer case, and it was very heavy, with sharp plastic edges and a large set of metal three-ring jaws.

  The jaws were wide open right now, allowing her to remove any sections she needed to read.

  The first hint she had of trouble was seeing the binder slip slowly from the desk. Before she could process what was happening, it had fallen into the playpen.

  Daniel fell with a thump and instantly began to cry in loud, piercing shrieks.

  “Oh, duckie, duckie,” she said, jumping up and reaching into the playpen to try to sort out what had happened. When she peeled away the layers of paper, she finally found Daniel underneath.

  His face was bright red from screaming, and blood was streaming down the side of his head.

  “Oh, my God,” she said, and for several minutes that seemed to be the last breath she took. She gathered him to her breast, still screaming, and dashed into the kitchen.

  Ice. Ice was the answer to everything. She’d learned that the hard way, as her mother struggled to keep her father’s physical violence a secret from the rest of the world.

  With shaking hands she filled a plastic freezer bag with every ice cube she had, then pressed it against Daniel’s head. He howled even harder. The blood had dripped into his eyes, and it was all over his little fisted, furious hands.

  She grabbed her blue blanket she’d been so proud of, wrapped it around him, and somehow made her trembling legs carry the two of them down the stairs and into the garage. She opened the big door, strapped Daniel into his car seat, then slid her keys into the ignition and backed out.

  As she passed the front yard, she saw Scott. He waved at her, asking her to stop. At first, she didn’t want to. She was entirely focused
on getting to the doctor’s office, and she didn’t want to slow down for anyone or anything.

  And she wasn’t ready to face him again, not after last night’s drama in the garage. He had seemed frustrated when he’d left her and was probably still angry.

  But all that was unimportant now. All that mattered was Daniel. And it would help to have someone to keep the ice on the cut. She couldn’t do that and drive at the same time.

  She braked, and Scott hobbled to the passenger door, pulled it open and arranged his awkward cast in the small space in record time.

  “Thank you,” she said. “His head. The ice—”

  “Got it,” Scott replied quickly. He twisted his body to reach Daniel. “Hey, buddy, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

  Daniel didn’t stop crying, but at least he turned the volume down.

  “Thank you,” she said again.

  “I saw you backing out. I heard Daniel screaming. What happened?”

  “A heavy ring binder fell on him,” she said, her eyes on the stoplights, trying to time them so that she never had to slow to a stop. “The metal rings were open. It got him just above the eyebrow, I think.”

  She shivered, suddenly, realizing how close it had come to his eye.

  “I’m sure it’ll be okay, Beth. Head wounds always look much worse than they are.”

  “But the blood.”

  “That’s what it’s like. It happened to Jeannie once, when she was about three. Even a tiny cut will bleed like crazy. It’s scary as hell, but he’s going to be fine.”

  She nodded. They drove the last mile without speaking, just listening to Daniel whimper, which was all he seemed capable of doing now. It was as if he’d worn himself out with crying.

  Or with loss of blood? Beth pressed the accelerator harder.

  Finally, they were at the doctor’s office.

  “You go ahead,” Scott said. “I’ll be too slow. I’ll catch up and bring whatever you leave behind.”

  She nodded, extracted Daniel from his car seat and headed for the door.

  Once inside, she made a beeline for the front desk.

  “I’m Beth Dunnett. I need to see Dr. Arthur immediately. My son’s been hurt.”

  She was surprised at how calm and coherent she sounded. She was surprised that she wasn’t talking gibberish.

  The woman looked at her over her reading glasses. “Are you a patient?”

  “Yes.”

  She turned to the computer. “Did you say Dunnett? Do you have an appointment?”

  “Please, there’s no time to waste. My son needs help. He hit his head, and it’s bleeding very badly.”

  “Just let Beth and Daniel in,” Scott said, suddenly standing behind her shoulder. His voice was authoritative. “It’s urgent. I’ll fill out the forms.”

  Beth looked at him gratefully. Yes. He could do that. He could fill out the forms. He knew everything about her.

  Finally the woman seemed to notice the blood. She stood up, suddenly alarmed, and ushered Beth through immediately.

  At the last minute, Beth turned and looked for a split second at Scott, hoping he knew how grateful she was.

  His face was dark, worried, tense. He looked almost as bad as she felt. But he nodded and tried to smile.

  “I’ll be here,” he said.

  IN THE END, DANIEL’S CUT required only one stitch, just above his left eyebrow. Dr. Arthur was wonderful with babies, and with the help of a tiny bit of local anesthetic, he managed to put the stitch in while Daniel played happily with his stethoscope.

  “Good Mommy,” Dr. Arthur said when Beth leaned over Daniel and chattered softly, helping to distract him. “You’re being very brave, too.”

  She smiled, looking up from her son. “Stitches are nothing,” she said. “I was afraid…all that blood…”

  “Oh, that’s the way with head cuts. They’re a lot of sound and fury, usually signifying nothing.”

  He stepped back to admire his handiwork. “Not a big deal at all. Very superficial. Small scar, perhaps, but very dashing. Girls can’t resist a boy with a scar. You’ll have to beat them away with a stick.”

  Maybe it was the rush of relief, but by the time Dr. Arthur was finished, Beth was half in love with the old man. Impulsively, she hugged him as he handed her the prescription for antibiotic ointment. He grinned, then hugged her back.

  “I love this part,” he said, winking at his nurse. They all laughed, including Daniel.

  The euphoria lasted until she arrived home and got Daniel fed and bathed and put in bed.

  Scott insisted on returning to her apartment with her. She’d resisted at first, worried that the stairs might be too much of a struggle. He’d grown much better with his crutch, but still…

  He ignored her. He had no intention of letting her handle this alone, and she realized, when he got upstairs, how grateful she was.

  Now that the crisis has passed, it was as if she could think clearly for the first time in hours. And the thoughts weren’t happy ones. She hadn’t made her quota. She’d missed the telephone conference entirely. And she’d spent more than a hundred dollars on doctor bills and medicine, money she didn’t have.

  Plus, she and Scott had not yet discussed last night. She suspected that he was the kind of guy who always stepped up in a crisis, so the fact that he’d helped Daniel today didn’t indicate anything about Scott’s feelings toward Beth.

  She didn’t know how he felt, whether he was annoyed with her, or impatient, or whether he’d decided she was just too much trouble to get involved with.

  Worst of all, she’d pulled him away from his last-minute party preparations. Jeannie’s birthday was tomorrow, and he still had so much to do.

  She should send him home.

  But it was so soothing to have a partner in the kitchen, even a one-handed guy. He insisted that she have a sandwich, and had refused to let her do the work alone. He was clumsy and funny, trying to spread mustard with one hand, but it was so great to have someone to share laughter with on a night like this

  “Here you go,” he said as he limped into the living room, a glass of warm milk in his good hand. She carried the other glass and the sandwiches.

  “Get comfortable,” he said. “You’ll feel better when you eat.”

  She felt better already, just being with him. But she didn’t say that. She kicked off her shoes and pulled her feet up onto the sofa.

  He grabbed the woven throw—Mrs. Pinchot—and shook it open. Then he draped it over her, from her chest to her toes. He watched her while she took a sip of milk.

  “You did great today,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I think I was working on pure instinct. And maybe a whopping dose of adrenaline.”

  “Still. You did it. It certainly should put to rest any question about whether you’re strong enough to do what has to be done.”

  She set down her glass. She should have changed her shirt. It was stained with blood.

  “It’s strange,” she said. “But I always seem to be able to overcome my fears when someone else needs me. Paradoxically, it’s the little normal things I can’t do. It’s the everyday stuff that can bring on an absolutely crippling panic attack.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like anything.” She thought of the party store. “An emergency is easy. Getting Daniel to the doctor, or taking a friend to her job interview—that’s a snap. But getting myself to the hairdresser, or to the grocery store—those are the things that seem almost impossible.”

  He leaned back into the secondhand upholstered armchair—which didn’t even match the sofa, really. This was the first time he’d been in the apartment since she moved in. She wondered what he thought.

  But she didn’t have the energy to worry. He wasn’t the judgmental type, and he knew her exact financial situation.

  Besides, she had nothing to be ashamed of. Maybe she didn’t have suites of elegant antiques, as he did, but she was clean and neat, and she loved every stick of this furnitu
re. Each piece reminded her that she had friends, that lots of people in this world were rooting for her success.

  He bit into his sandwich and took a minute to chew. He seemed to be mulling over the problem while he waited.

  “So,” he finally said, “the problem is very specific. There isn’t anything you can’t do. You’ve proved that over and over. You can do anything on this earth, no matter how stressful, as long as it’s for someone else.”

  He put down his plate and leaned forward. In the small room, the furniture was close together, and that brought him almost face-to-face with her.

  “That’s the real problem, then, isn’t it? It’s how you feel about yourself. You just don’t believe that you’re worth it. Other people, sure. For them, you’ll overcome any fear. Just not for yourself.”

  She looked down at her hands. “You may be right. But I don’t see how that helps. By definition, phobias aren’t logical. Just being able to name it, to analyze it, doesn’t change the facts.”

  “Someday, it will,” he said, his voice somber. He reached out and settled his warm hand over hers. “The negative voice, the one that says you’re not worth it. That isn’t your voice. It’s your father’s voice. Or maybe Tony’s. They’re the ones that took away your joy in yourself. But they’re gone now, Beth. You don’t have to listen to them anymore.”

  She shut her eyes. She felt tears forming behind them, and she didn’t want him to see. It was just that she was so tired. And she remembered those voices so well. “I’m not sure they’ll ever be gone. Not really.”

  “Yes, they will. It’ll just take time. But someday they’ll be silent. And maybe, in that silence, you’ll be able to hear the truth.”

  “But is the truth any better? The truth is I have done a lot of dumb things. I’ve messed up my life.”

  “No. The truth is that you’re a very special woman, Beth. You’re a wonderful mother, whose child is happy and healthy. You’re a good and generous friend. You’re fun and smart.”

  He lifted his hand to touch lightly the side of her cheek. “And you’re beautiful. So beautiful.”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Scott,” she whispered.

  He leaned forward another few inches. Perhaps she moved too, tilting her upper body toward him.