Now here she was again. He could see her at the far end of the hospital corridor he and Dan Anderson had just entered. Faith was talking to Bill Neely, a tall, blond orthopedic surgeon. It was business, of course, Nathan told himself. Neely was a wild one, not the kind of man Faith would want. She was probably consulting with the man about one of his patients.
But that damn list kept floating before Nathan’s eyes. Big. Yellow hair. A doctor.
Maybe she was consulting about a patient—or maybe not. By now she would be searching for Mr. Right, and he couldn’t blame her. She wanted a man to share her life and be a father to Cory, and that was the way it should be.
“Nathan? You there, Nathan?”
Dan Anderson’s voice slowly sank in, and Nathan turned to him, frowning. “Did I miss something?”
“Yeah, only everything I’ve said...for about the tenth time in two days. Look, Nathan, why don’t you go talk to her? It’s obvious you want to and that you’re worried about her.”
“About Faith? Get real, Anderson. Faith’s a good, strong woman. I have it on the best of authorities. You told me that yourself when you sent her to me.”
“Sicced her on you, you mean. And yes, she is strong. And capable...and a thousand other wonderful things. But if you’re not worried about her, then how come your hands clench like vise grips every time another man walks near her?”
Nathan felt his jaw tighten, knowing he’d been too transparent. “They don’t.”
“Right, you just normally go around brandishing iron fists. And don’t try to blame that on a problem with your hands. I know better. I also know that we’re going to have a problem if you don’t get your mind off your beautiful therapist and back on Mrs. Wyndham’s surgery.”
“Ex-therapist,” Nathan mumbled. “She’s my ex-therapist. And I’m not worried about her. I’m just...grateful. I’m just thinking about how grateful I am to her.”
Dan looked at Nathan as if he’d gone insane, which was pretty damn near to the truth. In spite of the fact that he was back on the professional track again, Nathan felt as if he had lost it at times these days...every time he saw some man sidle up next to Faith and every time he even thought of her, which was sure as hell too often.
This had to stop. He had to stop. After all, she had a right to a life that didn’t include him. Because he had nothing to offer her. He was a man whose emotions were still in pieces, who was chained to his past.
Nathan stared hard at Faith, knowing his thoughts were pointless. She had been his therapist, and that was all she ever would be. He wouldn’t be doing her any favors by trying to hold on to her, and if he dimmed the light in those lovely eyes even slightly—no, he wouldn’t do that. At least he wouldn’t if he could just stay away.
Sucking in a breath, he turned to Dan, and held out his hand for Mrs. Wyndham’s charts. “All right, Dan, tell me again about the patient. I’m listening this time. You’ve got my complete attention.”
Dan stared at him, shaking his head in disbelief. “Even if I tell you that Dr. Lowden is stopping to talk to her and Neely?”
Nathan’s gut tightened, but he forced himself to hold his hands still, managing not to clench them into fists. Joe Lowden was the newest doctor on staff, a talented, caring and all-around nice guy. He was also ridiculously handsome...and he loved children. He was the perfect man for someone like Faith.
“Give me the file, Dan,” Nathan said, too quietly, ignoring his friend’s incredulous look. “And stop staring at me like that. I’m only interested in three things right now. Work, work and work.”
But it wasn’t work he was thinking about two days later when he saw Faith coming toward him down a hospital corridor flanked by Joe Lowden again. Hell, it wasn’t work he’d thought about for days, for almost two weeks. He should be diving in headfirst, rediscovering that supreme commitment that had won him the respect of his peers...and wounded his family. But all he’d been able to think about was Faith. Faith and Cory.
Now, seeing her with Lowden, watching the way the man leaned close to her, Nathan started to seethe. Trying to control his thoughts, he forced himself to remember that Lowden would be good for Faith, that he himself should have every reason for wanting her to find such a kind, caring man.
Instead, he stopped dead in his tracks. She did, too.
Looking him full in the face for the first time in two weeks, Faith turned all her attention from Dr. Lowden to Nathan. She was a good twenty feet away, but he saw her open her mouth as if to speak, then close it again.
It didn’t matter. Nathan’s gaze was riveted to her face. He saw her eyes widen, and felt the moment the connection was made between them.
Faith stared at him, the mask that had kept him from seeing what he’d been afraid of dropping completely. Her lips trembled. Her eyes, those beautiful, haunting blue-green pools that had darkened with anger when he’d fought her, softened now, turned liquid with longing, with...
Nathan took a step back and away. Closing his eyes, he felt the shudder go through him as he forced himself to breathe, to come to grips with what he was seeing. Her heart, her soul, laid out for his inspection. His to have—or to harm. Nathan sucked in air at the enormity of what Faith had revealed, knowingly or otherwise. And deep inside, he felt something else. Relief.
But when he opened his eyes, Faith’s face was shuttered, closed to him. Her shoulders were rigid. She stood taller. The softness in her had flown, and her eyes—it was as if he’d turned to glass and she could look through and beyond him.
Slowly, she turned to Dr. Lowden, giving him all her attention as they continued down the hall toward Nathan.
Only five steps away, Joe nodded, an acknowledgment of a fellow colleague, but Faith’s gaze was fixed squarely on her companion.
“Faith.” Nathan called her name softly as she neared him.
She looked up and nodded her head in greeting. “Dr. Murphy, I’m—pleased to see you back on staff,” she said, not pausing long enough to stop.
It was the politest of responses, professional in every sense...and it made Nathan’s blood start to heat with frustration, especially when Faith walked away with Lowden.
Turning, Nathan forced himself to watch them move down the hall into the distance. He saw the way Lowden flattened his hand on the small of her back to turn her toward an open doorway. It was a touch a husband—or a potential lover—might use. Nathan saw Faith stiffen, though she didn’t move away.
Nathan gripped his fists tight, not caring who saw the action this time.
Faith wasn’t in love with Joe Lowden—at least not yet. No, she cared for him, Nathan. He’d seen it in her eyes, on her lips. But...it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to let it go any further.
As the sounds of the hospital flowed around him, as people came and went, slipping past him in the hallway, Nathan stood there and faced reality. He realized what he’d been hiding from all this time, since the day she’d first pushed him to the edge. Faith Reynolds held his heart, every shredded bit of it.
Faith was the woman he loved...and he couldn’t have her. He’d lost her, bullied her, turned from her, told her he didn’t want a family. And no matter what she felt, she wasn’t going to come to him, not when he was still haunted by his private ghosts. She wouldn’t ask a man like him for tomorrow when she knew that he was still buried in yesterday.
Instead, she was going to take that damn list and go looking for the perfect husband and father—a man who was heart-whole and steady. It could be Joe Lowden or someone else who wanted her and Cory so badly he’d do whatever he had to just to hold them and keep them.
That was the kind of man Faith should have, someone who would battle any obstacles to be with her and make her happy, a man who would stand up to anything for her. A man who loved her more than he feared facing his own demons.
In that moment, Nathan knew without question that he wanted to be that kind of a man. He just wasn’t sure if it was possible. The past had a strong hold on him, an
d he’d have to fight for all he was worth if he ever intended to be free of his yesterdays, if he ever hoped to have anything to offer Faith.
~ ~ ~
Standing at the table, Faith surveyed the pile of decorations she’d been sorting through—streamers, banners, balloons in eye-popping shades of marigold and electric blue. This should have been a time of excitement, she should have been gearing up for tomorrow’s party. So why was it so hard to smile?
A small shadow flitted through the room behind her.
“Hey, tiger,” she called, to Cory. “Want to help me pick out the things that we need to really jazz up this place?”
He sidled up to her slowly, the same way he’d been behaving for the past couple of weeks. Obedient, but without enthusiasm, he’d trudged along, pretending at play.
And he hadn’t mentioned the wish list. Not once in all that time.
“So, what do you think?” she asked, smiling a bit too brightly. “Is this pizzazz in a box or what?” She held up a sparkly Happy Birthday banner for Cory to see.
Cory managed the smallest of smiles, touched the dangling banner with one finger. “It’s nice, Mom.”
Faith stifled the frown she felt forming. She wasn’t going to ask him what was wrong. There was no need. Cory had the same problem that she did. He missed Nathan. But there was nothing to be done about that. The situation was unfixable and hopeless, and she’d only made things worse today.
How could she possibly have done something so stupid as to let down her guard and allow Nathan to look into her heart? It only made things so much worse, so much harder to bear. Especially knowing that he’d seen what she was feeling and had chosen to step away from her, closing his eyes to shut out her love. Faith had to bite her lip even now to keep back the gasp of pain. She’d risked what she’d promised she would never risk again, risked it all—and come up empty. The past was repeating itself. Only this time the pain was ten times sharper, a hundred times deeper. This time the man was Nathan.
“Hey, tiger,” she said softly, taking a deep breath and gently tweaking the end of Cory’s nose. “Don’t you worry. We’re going to have a great time tomorrow. Wait and see. Everyone’s coming to celebrate your big day. Why, even Scotty Miller’s father called to say that he would be in town and could come after all. Our house will be hopping—and I’ll bet you get lots of neat presents, too.”
She’d tried to give him everything he’d asked for, and had most likely succeeded since he’d requested so little. But there was one thing she couldn’t give him—the one thing he wanted most.
Somehow she forced herself to resume the party preparations and smile at her son. Tomorrow the house would be filled with people, guests she needed to meet and entertain. This party was meant to cheer Cory up and help her get over Nathan and back into the world. She and Cory were finally going to take the first step and look for the husband and daddy they needed. And this time they would do it right. This time they would make sure they found someone they liked—not someone they loved.
~ ~ ~
Nathan lay in the sweat-soaked darkness, listening to the thudding of his heart. And waiting, waiting for the memories to take hold, the ones he’d pushed away for almost two years.
Visions of Faith intruded, and Nathan groaned, wanting nothing more than to pick up the phone and hear her whisper his name. Just once.
But no. He wasn’t going to contact her, wouldn’t even go near her again. Not while he wasn’t complete and free. Not until he put the past to rest. If he could even do that.
Remembering the past would be a risk. It would mean opening himself up to revelations that could break him completely. How much was he willing to risk for the woman he loved?
Silence. Darkness. Mere seconds passed. Then slowly, intentionally, Nathan turned. He picked up the picture of Joanna and Amy he’d left by the side of the bed. He forced himself to look at the moonlit photo and to breathe deeply. The thought of Faith, her eyes soft and swimming with the love that she would eventually conquer and offer to someone else, made Nathan’s blood pound furiously in his veins. Slowly he opened his mind, his heart, and finally, fully summoned the demons of the past, allowing them to rise up around him.
He was awake, never more so, yet this time he didn’t run from the waking nightmares. Instead, he turned and faced them. He saw his Amy, laughing and bright, telling him that she loved him. Joanna, sad with dark, accusing eyes. Joanna telling him that he loved his work more than her, that he was too dedicated to helping other people when he should be helping her. His own arguments that he couldn’t turn away from people in need. Her tears. His regrets that he couldn’t be what she needed and wanted.
Nathan grasped a handful of the bed sheet with each hand. He felt the onslaught of pain inside his heart. Hot pain that intensified and spilled over, running into the night of the accident.
Memories pressed in on him. Darkness. The road lit by eerie lamplight. A sudden roar as a car rushed through the red light, coming at them in a swerving, reckless path. Tires squealing. Trying to turn, spin the wheel, slamming his foot on the accelerator as he pushed to get out of the way of the careening vehicle. Impossible. Impossible. Screams. Joanna’s. Cries in the nightmarish darkness. His cries—tears and panic clogging his throat. Then searing physical pain as he reached to help his wife. Metal hot and sharp, twisting against his hands.
He’d gone half crazy, working to save her, to save them. He had fought to get to his child, to claw his way deeper into the wreckage and breathe life into her when it was already draining away. He had called upon all of his training and dredged up every bit of strength he possessed as he struggled to reclaim his wife and daughter.
But none of it mattered. None of it worked. They slipped away. He’d failed.
The pain was too great. Nathan wanted to turn away, to stop remembering, but he forced himself back to that night. Again and again, he saw what had happened. He remembered. He ached.
Remembering was horrific. The scalding images of that night whirled through his consciousness in a repetitive loop, never ending, never changing. His heart raced, hammered, pounded. The ghosts of the past were too near. For hours he struggled, wondering why he didn’t just die from the memories...but he knew why. Because he wasn’t a ghost. He was a man, one who had lived when he’d wanted to die. And because faintly, through the pain, he could see her. Faith. Lovely, sweet, giving Faith.
She was his reason for trying, for hanging on, for fighting, for surviving.
Toward dawn, he slept. Fitfully. And when he woke up, his first thought was not of the wreck, but of Faith. A weight lifted from him. He’d lived through the pain, and faced it head on at last. And while he would never be the same man he had been before the accident, he could remember Joanna and Amy without guilt, and with all the love they deserved.
He accepted the fact that he had tried to save his family. And while it was true that he hadn’t succeeded, it was also true that the accident hadn’t been his fault. He couldn’t have changed the outcome. The other car had been moving too fast.
Nathan sank back into the softness of the rumpled bed. He ran damp palms over the tangled, sweaty sheets.
He had lost on that long ago day, badly. But as the first streaks of light lit the sky, Nathan made peace with his demons.
Finally, with shaking fingers, he picked up the picture again, gazing at the wife and child he’d adored. He held it close, moved his thumb over faces he’d never see again.
As the sun began its trek into the sky, Nathan said farewell to the woman he’d tried to love. He brought the photo close and kissed his daughter goodbye.
He wished Amy could have met Faith. She would have liked Faith. His Faith.
His Faith...if it wasn’t too late.
He hoped it wasn’t too late.
Rising, he hunted out the smudged crayon-decorated birthday invitation Hannah had picked up and passed on to him. He knew the invitation had been sent without Faith’s knowledge. He hadn’t meant to atten
d the party, planning to merely send a present and a note.
Now nothing on earth could keep him from the woman and the child he loved. Somehow, someway, he had to convince Faith that he was the man on the list, that he was a man she and Cory could count on through eternity and beyond.
~ ~ ~
The house was the same as Nathan remembered, except for the balloons and the big Happy Birthday Cory sign that covered the front door. He pulled the Suburban halfway up the block—as close as he could get with all the other cars parked there. Then, taking a deep breath, he reached for the long, slim package in the back seat. Fumbling with the door handle, he eased his frame out of the car.
Long seconds passed while he stood there. He could hear the sounds of a party going on, people laughing, talking, kids squealing. He listened for Cory’s voice among the squeals, but couldn’t find it.
He had hurt the boy that last day, remembering so clearly the small arms that had hugged him close, practically begging him to stay. Nathan’s own heart gave a painful lurch at the thought, and he promised himself that he would never hurt Cory again. He would never leave him again, if he could help it. If Faith would open her door to him.
Quickly he walked up the path, straining until he heard it. The sound of her voice.
Nathan raised his head instantly and saw that Faith was in the backyard, talking to a handsome, dark-haired man. She handed him a string of bright patio lights as she reached to hang the first one herself. The man smiled at her and pulled the hammer from her hand. He took over the job himself and said something in a low, teasing voice, something Nathan couldn’t make out.
No matter. He saw the smile cross her face and the way she leaned closer to answer. Her hair, honey-toned and soft, brushed the man’s shoulder. Her beautiful hair that Nathan remembered so well. The kind of softness a man wanted to tangle his fingers in as he kissed her, touched her, loved her.
Sucking in his breath, Nathan felt the jealousy, hot and bubbling, boil within his gut. He swallowed hard, forcing himself not to move or do something foolish.
The Wish List Page 15
