by Dara Girard
“You know you’re taking a risk,” Hector said in the office the day after one of Amal’s nights outs.
“I’m just being social. I’m not doing anything more.”
“But you have to be more careful with your image.”
“Let me worry about my image. I passed my six-month trial period. Relax.”
“But Hannah—”
“Hannah’s not here.”
“I’m just saying she helped you get J.R. Don’t jeopardize losing him because you’re angry at her.”
But he was angry. Angry that she’d left him. Angry that she’d gone out with another man and didn’t seem to miss him as much as he did her. She was the one who betrayed him. Why didn’t anyone see that? Why was everyone on her side?
Amal drove home, wishing he could turn back the clock and make everything the way it was. When he entered the living room, he saw Camille playing with J.R. At least she was on his side. His son looked up at him and smiled and spread his arms wide. Amal knew he wanted to play the game he’d played with Hannah and the one his mother had continued, but it was too painful for him to try. Instead, he tickled him and then studied Camille. His mother’s words echoed in his mind. Why had Camille waited so long to tell him about Hannah if she knew it was important to him? Her excuse of trying to protect him appeared flimsy now. He sat.
“Camille, what do you want?”
She looked at him, startled. “What do you mean, Amal?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Hannah sooner?”
“You’re tired. Let me get you something to drink.”
“I’m not tired.”
“I told you that I was conflicted. I didn’t know what to do.”
“So you chose the day that I was going to ask her to live with me to tell me?”
Camille widened her eyes. “I didn’t know you were going to do that.”
“No, but you could have told me anytime before that moment. You could have come to my office, met me at the gym, called me, but you didn’t. You waited for your chance to cause the most damage.” He smiled without humor, remembering Hannah telling Camille about all the damage she’d cause. He’d been too blind and angry to register the weight of her words. Now he did. He nodded, reluctantly impressed. “Good job.”
Camille sat on the couch beside him and touched his hand. “I wanted you to see who she really was before you made a mistake.”
Amal pulled his hand away. “I already made one. Pack your things.”
“Amal—”
He glanced at his watch. “If you want a reference, you’ll keep your mouth shut, and you’ll start now.”
Amal picked J.R. up and went to his bedroom. He sat on his bed with J.R. on his lap. His son was the key. He needed to understand why Hannah had gone to the Walkers. What was their pull? He needed to know what the Walkers had said to persuade Hannah to do what she’d done.
* * *
As Amal walked up the circular pathway to the Walkers’ mansion, he remembered the many times he had visited before.
“So you came to your senses?” Peter said, opening the door to Amal.
“Keep talking and I might lose it and take a few of your teeth instead.”
“Just try. I saw Hannah yesterday. Took her dancing and enjoyed every minute of it.”
“Did you bring J.R.?” Martha asked, coming to the door before Amal could reply to Peter.
Amal rubbed his fist, wishing he could connect it with Peter’s face. “No.”
“Oh,” she said, disappointed, and then she recovered and led him to the sunroom.
Amal followed, remembering the times he’d come to dinner with Jade. He used to feel welcomed, but now he was an outsider.
“I was surprised by your request,” Martha said once they were seated.
“Me, too, but I have to know what you and Hannah talked about.”
“Mostly about Jade.”
“Jade?”
“Yes. She didn’t tell you?”
I didn’t give her a chance. “No.”
“She wanted us to be one big, happy family. I knew you’d never forgive me, but she was certain she could work on you. She was taking pictures of us and thinking of showing you a collage so that you’d approve of what she was doing. I can see that didn’t happen.”
“No.”
“I am sorry for all that I’ve done. I know it won’t make up for anything. But these words come from the heart. I kept you and James apart when I shouldn’t have.”
“How can I trust you?”
Martha looked down at her hands. “I don’t know,” she said, helpless. She lifted her gaze. “But I’ve changed. Truly. I didn’t realize how much until Hannah came with J.R. She forced me to see myself, and I didn’t like what I’d become. Over these past several months I’ve worked hard to change. I know Hannah did the same for you.”
“What do you mean?”
She smiled. “You’re not the same man who dated my Jade. I know you loved her and I know you wanted to save her, but the love you had also drained you. When you used to come by I saw the strain on your face. When I saw you in the courtroom with Hannah, I knew you were tense, I knew you were worried. But there was a strength I’d never seen before, and that was because she was by your side.” Martha shook her head. “My daughter was like a jewel that needed to be guarded and protected. She was beautiful to have, but at times her presence was cold comfort.”
Amal glanced away, not wanting to admit the truth of her words. Jade had been so special to him, he didn’t want to see her in any other light than as he remembered. He wanted to remember her talent for choosing an art piece, laughing with a gallery owner, posing for a picture with a bright smile. “She had her flaws, but don’t we all?” he said.
Martha twisted the wedding ring on her finger. “Yes, and I’m willing to admit it. I wanted to call you, but I didn’t have the courage.” She rested her hands on her lap. “I do now. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do. Whatever you want me to say, I’ll say. I’ll do whatever I need to in order to make things right between us.”
It was a bold statement, and he knew it was hard for her to say. It was even harder for him to accept. He wanted to hate this woman. He wanted to keep her at a distance and not see her again, but at the same time he sensed her sincerity and saw her solely as a mother who’d lost her child. He thought of losing J.R., and his heart twisted. They shared pain; they shared regrets. She had changed and so had he. Their future didn’t have to reflect their past. Amal folded his arms, ready to negotiate. “I can bring him to see you, but it won’t be weekly.”
“That’s fine. It’s a start.” Martha sat back, suddenly looking more relaxed. “Jade would have liked Hannah.”
“They’re nothing alike.”
“I know, but I don’t think she’d mind her raising her son.”
Amal sent her a sharp look. “But she’s not going to.”
“And whose fault is that?”
He stood. “None of your business.”
“I didn’t take you for being a coward.”
He sat down again and stared at her in shock. “A coward?”
“Why are you holding Hannah to a higher level than Jade?”
Amal shook his head. “She betrayed—”
“I know what she did, but I also know that my Jade did worse. I know that sometimes inventory disappeared that you had to cover for, and there was that artist in Spain—”
“I don’t want to talk about that,” Amal cut in.
“I know you weren’t sure J.R. was yours because you know she wasn’t always faithful, both in business and in your personal life. I know she hurt you. You excused her because of her addiction, but she had a selfish side that we both must admit to. So why are you so quick to forgive Jade and not Hann
ah?”
“Jade needed help. She was different.”
“Yes, with Jade you could be a fun, carefree boy. You had lots of fun together, and you could relish in how much she needed you. But Hannah doesn’t need a boy who can take her out dancing or sailing or to the many activities you did with Jade and the other women you chose. With her you have to be a man. So I guess it was good you broke up with Hannah, because you’re not the man for her.”
* * *
You don’t deserve her. You need to be a good man. You’re not the man for her. Amal drove home from Martha’s house, all the words people had said to him over the past weeks swirling in his mind. Why did everyone think he wasn’t the right man? Wasn’t he a good man? Why did they think he fell short? Amal saw an attractive woman strolling down the street wearing a tube top and miniskirt and thought of Hector’s concern about his partying. His friend was right. He was angry. But instead of facing Hannah, he’d behaved like a child and gone out doing everything that could have jeopardized his custody of J.R.
Amal thought of his reckless behavior as he tossed his keys on the foyer and walked to his mother’s suite. She was out with J.R., and he knew he could trust her with him. He’d get a new nanny soon, but he wasn’t ready for that yet. He sat in his mother’s bedroom and glanced around, realizing that his past behavior had been as childish as hers when she used one of her episodes to get his attention. He had to admit that part of him hoped to get in trouble so that Hannah would have to come and fix things for him. At least then he’d have her attention. But he wouldn’t do that anymore.
Amal stood and walked over to the picture he hated to face—the one of him and his father at a barbecue. He picked up the photo and studied it. Yes, he resembled his handsome father and he had his temper, but that’s where the similarities would end. He wasn’t going to disappoint those who loved him or walk out on anyone who needed him. He was a changed man. He didn’t need Hannah to fix things for him, to help him, to support him or to guide him. He was ready to be there for her. To be someone she could depend on. He’d own up to his mistakes and take the steps he needed to be the man she deserved.
* * *
Hannah hummed as she flipped through her mail, thinking of the dancing spot where Peter had taken her. She was really starting to like him and wished she could make it more. But for now she would accept it for what it was—a chance to keep her from thinking about Amal, J.R. and Doreen. She shook her head. She had to accept that it was over. He’d gone on with his life, and so would she. Just as Hannah was about to toss her envelopes away as junk mail, she stopped and groaned when an invitation caught her eye. It looked harmless, but she was sure it would cause lots of drama.
Chapter 19
“Jacob’s getting married,” her mother wailed. “To the Yeles’ daughter!”
Hannah stared at her mother from across the family room, remembering the phone call she’d received from her sister telling her that she’d caused trouble again. Right now her sister sat diagonal from her, smiling as if enjoying a gory horror movie. “She’s a good person,” Hannah said, recalling the fresh-faced woman her mother referred to. “I’m happy for him.”
“Happy? How can you be happy when one friend is getting married and another is having a baby and you’re...” She let her words fade.
“I’m what?”
“You’re not. You missed a wonderful chance. Didn’t I tell you not to waste your time with the American?”
“Yes.”
“But did you listen? Jacob Omole was your greatest chance at happiness.”
“No.” Hannah leaned forward, ready to tell her mother the truth. “But there’s something you should know.” She glanced around the restructured room. “Let me tell you something about this house. When you and Dad were about to lose it because you couldn’t make the repairs, do you know what Jacob did? He listened and then sent me chocolates. When Dad was in the hospital, he gave me flowers. When Dad first had his accident, he promised to stop by the hospital but never did. He bought me lunch instead. When I told him that your house couldn’t be insured, he didn’t offer to help me find contractors. He didn’t even offer to give me a loan to make the repairs. He did all the romantic things, but not one thing I needed him to do.
“But when I told the ‘American,’ he not only gave me the name of a contractor, but he was the one behind the repairs. He’s the one who added the landscaping. He just wanted to help. Jacob was always flash and flowers, but he was never around to wipe my tears.”
Her mother stared at her. “Amal had the house fixed?”
“Yes.”
“Then why aren’t you with him anymore?”
Hannah let her head drop, not wanting to argue about another subject. “It’s a long story.”
“I know that I wasn’t as friendly as I could have been,” her mother said. “If you need me to go by his house and drop off some food, I will. I noticed he liked my—”
“Please don’t,” Hannah said quickly.
Her mother stood. “I guess he wasn’t so bad. I should thank him,” she said, heading for the kitchen.
Hannah inwardly groaned, knowing she’d leave the house with something to deliver to Amal. He’d never get it. She looked at Abigail and then pulled out an envelope and handed it to her.
“What is it?” Abigail asked, suspicious.
“A ticket to Paris.”
“Why?”
Hannah shrugged. “Why not?”
“You’re just trying to show off because business is doing well.”
“No, I thought you may not want to be around while Mom fusses about the Yele daughter getting married.”
“I don’t care.” She handed Hannah the envelope. “I don’t need to go anywhere.”
Hannah folded her arms, not taking it. “Go ahead and enjoy yourself.”
Abigail placed it on Hannah’s lap. “When I’m ready to go, I’ll pay for it myself,” she said and then left the room.
Hannah shoved the envelope back into her purse, placing her hopes of a better relationship away as well, and then walked out onto the porch where her father sat.
“So will I ever see Amal again?” her father asked.
“I told you what happened,” Hannah said, taking a seat. “It’s over between us.”
He nodded. “So how long are you going to punish him?”
“I’m not punishing anyone,” Hannah said, surprised by her father’s words.
“Then why didn’t you just apologize?”
“He wouldn’t let me explain.”
“That wasn’t my question. Why didn’t you just apologize? What you did was wrong.”
“I know, but I—”
“Hannah, all you had to say was ‘I’m sorry.’”
“He shouted at me in front of his mother and that woman.”
He frowned. “Woman?”
“The nanny.”
“I’m not saying Amal should have done that, but still you were wrong.”
“But I—”
“You’re doing it again. You’re too busy explaining yourself and not admitting that what you did was wrong.”
“I was doing it because I thought it would help everyone.”
Her father gently patted her hand. “I know your intentions were good. You’re always the one who wants to help others. But this time you overstepped your bounds. You saw this situation from one perspective but never took a moment to see it from his point of view. He’s a good man trying to get his bearings in his new role. He already feels insecure as a father, and you went behind his back and basically said you knew more than he did, that you knew what his son needed more than he did.”
Hannah threw up her hands. “You don’t need to remind me whose son J.R. is. I know he’s not mine. Amal made that very clear.”
Hannah turned to him. “What do you mean?”
“You both would have failed.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do,” he said with a knowing smile. “Because you both reached a point where unsuccessful marriages eventually head. The point where the union between you matters more than the individuals in the union.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Have you been reading your citizen books again about the State of the Union?”
“Joke all you want, but I’m telling you what you need to learn if you ever plan to marry. You shouldn’t have left. You should have stayed for J.R. and Amal—that is, if you cared enough. That’s what a marriage is. You get over yourself and think of others. But your pride was hurt and his pride was hurt, and that’s all you both thought about. So you’re lucky you both found out now how unsuitable you are for each other.”
“Unsuitable?” Hannah said, annoyed. “I would have made a great wife. I’m good for him. I can keep him focused, and I love his son and his mother. And Amal is good for me. He keeps me from being too serious, and when he’s not flying off the handle he’s considerate, funny, smart, determined, kind and— What’s so funny?” Hannah asked when her father started to laugh.
