Still resting her chin on her hands, she cocked her head. “And you can be a difficult man. All that pushing, needling—it’s exhausting.” She wrinkled her nose, and her rumpled, tired face suddenly looked like a cranky five-year-old’s. “But I suppose you know that, don’t you?”
He concentrated on his hamburger.
“Why are you always pushing, Judah? Is that how you are with everyone? Or only with me? Seriously, I want to know.”
He swirled another fry in ketchup, plopped it in his mouth. Possibly because she looked so unexpectedly forlorn, he found himself saying, “I don’t like surprises. I don’t like turning a dark corner and not knowing what’s around it. So I reckon I pick at things until I’m sure I won’t be ambushed.”
“And yet you chose a job filled with the unforeseen, where every day you turn a corner, not knowing what’s there. Why is that, do you imagine?” Her question was surprisingly gentle, her wariness momentarily absent.
“Well, I have a gun. That evens out the odds.”
“It gives you control of the situation at any rate. But you won’t always have that gun. What are you going to do then? When you go around some dark corner you hadn’t planned on?”
He knew she wasn’t talking about his 9mm. But he didn’t have an answer.
“You like control.”
“I do. And you do, too.”
“But you gotta learn to ride the wave, Finnegan. Go with the flow. Mellow out, dude.” She closed her eyes and yawned, let her chin drop again onto her propped-up hands.
“Good surfer-girl philosophy?”
“Oh yeah.” Her face blurred into soft lines of exhaustion and weariness as she closed her eyes.
Nothing he’d done had brought back that inner spark. He knew he should get up, find Tyree, get back to work.
“Want another?” He poked another loaded fry at the edge of her mouth. Ketchup dotted her lower lip, and he had a sudden hunger for Sophie-flavored ketchup.
Not opening her eyes, she shook her head.
An instinct he had no intention of analyzing compelled him to ask, “What’s wrong, Sophie?”
Big and soft and sad, her eyes aroused some protective instinct he wasn’t prepared for as she said, “Angel. Angel’s what’s wrong.”
“Things happen.” He shook his head. “You can’t fix everything.”
“I’ve been on a losing streak lately. One or two would be nice.” She crisscrossed the cold fries on his plate until she had a log pile. “She won’t leave my head, you know. I keep thinking about that little baby, about what’s ahead for her, and my brain goes into weird places. Round and round and where it stops—” Sophie dismantled the logs and began rearranging the salt and pepper shakers on the table. “I went up to see her earlier today.”
“Why?” He handed her his Dr. Pepper.
“Does it matter?” She took the lid off the paper cup and swirled the ice cubes before taking a sip. “Ugh. How do you drink this stuff?”
“It’s one of those Southern things you keep complaining about, Yankee Girl.” He snapped the lid back on. “You like kids? Is that why you went to see her?”
“I’m crazy about kids.”
“And?” He ripped open the plastic-wrapped Sno-balls, scattering flakes of coconut across the table. He pushed his plate away. “Where’d all the fizz go, Sophie? What’s going on here? You have dark corners of your own, don’t you?”
She placed her hands flat on the table, started to stand up, sank back down into the chair. Bending over, she fiddled with the bindings of her skates until she’d loosened them and could remove the boots. Still bent over, she paused until, as if she’d reached some kind of decision or couldn’t help herself, she said in a voice so whispery and melancholy that he had to strain to hear, “I can’t have babies, Judah. That was what I meant earlier…when I said you didn’t have to worry about anything on that front.”
He felt as if she’d sucker-punched him.
He remembered the look of Angel in Sophie’s arms and how Sophie had held her, the soft smile on Sophie’s face. “Aw, Sophie, I’m sorry.” And, stunned, he realized his sympathy was genuine.
“Me, too.”
Only the top of her shining hair was visible, and the urge to smooth his hand against that gleaming cap, to offer the comfort of touch, was frightening in its intensity. He leaned back and tucked his hands into his pockets.
“Don’t look so glum, Finnegan. It’s not the end of the world.”
“No?” He thought she slid over that part way too easily.
“Hey, it happens to women all the time. I’m not special. That’s my gramma’s mantra. ‘You’re not special, kiddo, so deal.’ My gramma’s the really tough one. I’m a wuss in comparison.” She smiled, Sophie at her coolest and most in control, Sophie not letting anyone see behind the brightness.
He knew she had no idea how much her face revealed. “So you deal?”
“I deal.” Her chin lifted. “See? It’s lousy, but it’s not a tragedy. Tragedy is an infant with a brain tumor.”
“But it’s still a loss. For you.”
She waggled her hand back and forth, swallowed, and kept smiling. But the smile wobbled at the edges, and her eyes went bright with the shine of tears she wouldn’t let fall.
In that moment he remembered how much he’d liked her when they’d first met. He’d forgotten that sweetness, and now, remembering, he liked her again.
And fought that simple reaction with everything in him.
Lust was simple. Liking was dangerous.
Earlier, he’d heard what she’d said about pregnancy not being a problem. Why hadn’t he picked up on it? Because he’d been bullheaded, totally focused on his own worries about what he’d allowed to happen, that’s why. Because he was an idiot like everybody kept saying, that’s why.
She pressed her hands against her eyes, swallowed. “Do you want kids, Finnegan?”
Before he could answer, she dropped her hands and looked at him, startled. “Oh, rats. You mentioned once you’d been married when you were nineteen. And divorced. I forgot. I’m sorry. You probably have children, don’t you?”
“No. And, no, I didn’t want kids. Absolutely not. No way. Not now. Not ever.”
“Gosh, you sound so wishy-washy.” Her melancholy voice held a faint teasing note.
“Look, I don’t like kids, don’t want one, never felt any need to pass on the Finnegan genes.”
“That’s emphatic.”
“Damn right.” Because she looked at him as though she didn’t believe him, he added, “I have no ego investment in little Judah clones, Sophie. I like being a dead-end DNA street, if you want to know the truth. It ends with me.”
“Really?” She wrinkled her face. “I suppose the whole biological tick-tock is different for men.”
“I don’t know about other men.” He didn’t want this conversation. “I know about me.”
“It’s good to know what works for you.” She shrugged. “As for me, I kept having this crazy idea that I could adopt Angel. Silly, huh? But there’s some connection I couldn’t explain in a million years. Angel feels like mine even though she isn’t. Even though I know now that was her mother I treated yesterday.” Covering her face, she slumped in her seat. “That I lost her mother.”
“You were ready to adopt her? That fast? Without even thinking about it?” Her ability to open up her life, no holds barred, sent shivers down his spine. “Impulsive.”
“It felt right. As if it were meant to be. A risk? I suppose. Oh, heck, I don’t know what I’m thinking.” She beat her forehead lightly against the table. French fries bounced off his plate onto the tray. “It’s all such a mess.”
“Damn right it’s a risk. Didn’t you even consider all the trouble you’d be bringing on yourself? Hell, Sophie. What if her mother was attacked because she’d been involved with criminal elements, and then they came after you? Came after that baby for some reason?”
“Then Angel really would need someo
ne, wouldn’t she? And I would be there for her.”
“Sheesh, Sophie.” He couldn’t pull his thoughts together, not faced with her ability to dart down a path that was riddled with potholes and potential disaster. And so impetuously. That’s what took his breath away. That impulsive, quicksilver streak. He shuddered and then realized she was still talking, earnestly, softly.
“Anyway, I know that’s why you kept pushing to talk this morning.”
“What? What?”
“You may be difficult, Judah, but you’re a responsible man. If I know anything at all about you, I know that much. You were worried I might get pregnant. You said you don’t like surprises. An unexpected pregnancy would be the ace of all surprises. I get that. But what happened between us was a one-time thing.”
“That what you think?”
Startled, she glanced up, frowned. “It’s what I know. We both understand this morning didn’t mean anything.” She sent a careful look his way. “It was a momentary…impulse. Two people reaching out for comfort, I think. For connection after a crummy day. Nothing more.”
He agreed with her. Sure, he did. He would have said the same thing if she hadn’t beaten him to it. So why was her calm dismissal of the greatest sex he’d had in this life starting to piss him off again? But, afraid of what he might let slip, he kept his mouth shut.
“I gave you the information you needed, but I didn’t think we needed to get into my medical history. The details weren’t your business. Anyway, I didn’t want to talk about them. It was personal.”
“And screwing our brains out wasn’t personal?”
Stubbornly she continued. “You didn’t need to know. But you wouldn’t leave it alone.” She lifted her head and then bent down again, concentrated on her boots. “By the way, Judah, I should compliment you on your technique. You managed to get a confession out of me after all, didn’t you?”
He heard the world of hurt in her admission and felt like the lowest snake in the grass. Irritation drained away as he watched the play of expressions across her face. “Did you want kids?”
“I always knew that scenario wasn’t possible. I love my career. I concentrated on it. I didn’t think about children. I knew what I had to do. I did it. I didn’t dwell on what wasn’t in the cards for me. Life was good. It still is. I’m a lucky, lucky woman. And I appreciate that.”
“But?”
“But my wonderful, lucky life has begun feeling…empty in a way I’d never imagined it could. I thought I’d come to terms with the way things were.” She wouldn’t look at him as she worked her feet free of her boots.
“And then Angel showed up on your doorstep.”
“Ah, Angel.” Sophie tucked her feet in their white socks behind the rung of her chair, looped her hair behind her ears, settling in. “There she was. After that long, lousy day. I don’t know how she fits into all these crazy thoughts I’m having. Well, not exactly. It’s difficult. Judah, she looks at me with that tiny, trusting face, almost as though she’s trying to tell me something, as if she knows me. Oh, I can’t explain it.” Sophie wrapped her arms around herself. Laughed. “I’m such an idiot.”
It was the shaky laugh, its gallantry, that broke him. He brought his hands out of his pockets and gestured. “Give me your foot, Dr. Sugar.”
“What?”
“Give me your foot.”
“Here? In public?”
“Nobody’s paying attention to us.” He gestured to her to lift her foot to him.
Bemused, even a little amused, he wasn’t sure, she swung one foot up, rested it on his knee. He peeled off the thick sock and pressed his thumbs against the ball of her foot and along the slim arch while he sorted out his impressions.
He liked Sophie’s foot, its elegant curve, the unexpected bright-red polish on her toenails, the delicate skin over its bones. He liked the tiny hiss of pleasure she made as he worked his fingers against the sole. “You had a fantasy. About Angel.”
She nodded. Her eyes locked with his. “A fantasy. Yes. That’s all it was. But it started me thinking about things. About my life. Then this afternoon when I saw her again, everything snapped into focus, just like those slide shows. Pictures, one after another. I could see this…” She hesitated. “…this future ahead. All these possibilities. And I wanted them. As much as I’ve ever wanted anything. Somehow it was all linked to Angel. Silly, huh?” She pulled her foot away and rolled her sock back on. “That was nice, Judah. Thank you.”
“I’m not finished.” He gestured for her to lift her other foot and was entertained by her surreptitious glance around the cafeteria. He figured she was more vulnerable than he’d realized since she wasn’t giving him major grief about the foot massage. “You thought since Angel was abandoned that—?”
“I didn’t think anything through.”
“No big shock there.” He wiggled her little-piggy toe.
“It was those pictures in my head. And they all made such good sense. Speaking of things that make good sense, here’s one that doesn’t. Why are you rubbing my feet, Judah?”
“I told you. I like touching you. Or because you look miserable. Or because I can’t help myself. Choose one. Or go for D, all of the above.”
“And why am I letting you?” She sighed and tried to tug her foot free.
“That’s an entirely different matter. I’ve been mulling that one over myself.” He crumpled her toes forward, flexing out the kinks. “Because you needed something I could give you, Sophie? That I wanted to give you?”
She went completely still. Then, leaning forward, she peered into his face as he traced tiny circles on the curve of her knee. He left his hand on her knee in spite of a sudden urge to hightail it out of the cafeteria.
“Sympathy, Judah?” She curled her fingers around his hand, stopping his restless movements. “For me? I don’t want charity, you know.”
“Not charity.” The words came reluctantly, and he didn’t understand why he said them. From the moment she’d parted the curtains and walked into the examining room the night before, she’d stirred up a killer brew of emotions in him. He didn’t like them. He didn’t want them. But they were there.
“Then what?” Her clear eyes met his, and this time he saw the vulnerability behind their straightforward gaze. This time he saw the wounded woman behind her cleverness and self-confidence.
“I don’t know.” Understanding settled heavily on him, a solid weight in his belly. Earlier he’d thought he wanted to chip away at her bossiness, her damned utter self-assurance, thought he’d wanted to see her taken down a peg or two. It hadn’t turned out the way he’d expected. He hadn’t seen past the white coat to the fragile woman. Arrogance of his own had blinded him.
He saw now that he had the power to hurt her.
And he finally understood that she could destroy him.
Abruptly she bent even closer toward him, her eyes narrowing as if she were reading a streaming video of his thoughts scrolling by on his forehead. “You’re afraid of me, aren’t you, Judah?”
He felt as if she’d turned over a rock and found a nasty little something he hadn’t wanted to see the light of day.
“Truthfully?”
With her hard nod, a faint scent of her, delicate, delicious, came to him over the hospital and cafeteria odors.
“You scare the hell out of me, Sophie. And I don’t know what to do about it. That’s the God’s honest truth.”
Sophie raised one eyebrow and then tipped her head, almost as if she was examining him under a microscope.
And Judah wanted to slide under the table and crawl out of the cafeteria like a dog with his tail between his legs. With that damned admission echoing between them, he felt like he’d given her some kind of hold over him. He’d give a good year’s pay to have the damn words back, unsaid. But there the suckers were, laying out there as if he’d carved off a piece of himself and offered it up to her on a silver tray.
Sophie, being Sophie, wouldn’t let it go without a comme
nt.
But Tyree interrupted, and Judah took a deep breath. Ambling up to the table, Tyree nodded in Sophie’s direction before leaning over the table and snagging a fistful of fries from Judah. “What kind of partner are you, Finnegan? You didn’t save me much.”
“You want to stay away from hospital food, Tyree. No lie. What’s up?”
Giving him a sharp look, as if he knew that the word partner would stick in Judah’s throat, Tyree returned the remaining fries, uneaten, to the plate. “I sent the witness and our interpreter home in a cab. That’s done, at least.” He rested one foot on the rung of the chair next to Judah.
Exhaustion grayed Tyree’s brown skin, but Tyree would never admit he was tired. Judah had learned that much about him in the months they’d worked together. Tyree would fall down dead in a heap before he’d admit to any weakness.
Pride. It afflicted them all.
Made them do stupid things.
Tyree rocked the chair with his foot. “Has anyone checked in with Department of Children and Families? I been wondering what’s going to happen to her. Looks like that bitty girl’s going to have to go somewhere. Damned shame.”
Sophie’s tray made a shushing sound as she slid it to the side. Very carefully she gathered up the debris of their meal, fingers moving efficiently through the mess. Too carefully for Judah’s mind.
But then her skates clanked against the floor as she shifted, and he realized she wasn’t as calm as she appeared. At least Tyree had directed her focus elsewhere. Sort of like the cavalry coming to the rescue. Not that he could put it that way to Tyree. But sure as grits and gravy, he felt like Tyree had saved his bacon. The cafeteria ambiance, so to speak, had his thoughts running in food comparisons. He nudged his tray away.
“I’ll make sure that everyone’s notified,” Sophie said
Her voice was so professionally friendly and so carefully helpful that Judah squinted hard at her, his cop nature making him automatically suspicious.
“I was going back upstairs anyway before I headed for home. No problem.”
Of course she wouldn’t leave the hospital without going up to Peds to see the baby who’d hijacked her heart. He knew that. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head. She’d make the call, but he figured she wouldn’t be in any hurry to turn the baby over to Children and Families, and she didn’t want to show her cards to him and Tyree.
Dead Calm Page 13
