Megan raised her head and Ben groaned deep in his chest when he saw her pale cheeks glistening with tears, saw the stark terror in the depths of her big, blue eyes.
He scooped her into his arms and sat on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, Megan across his lap. He held her tightly, rocking back and forth as though she was a small child.
She clung to him, one last shudder rippling through her before she finally relaxed and leaned into him. He stilled, sinking his face into her dark, silken curls.
The silvery moonlight poured over them as they sat there, not moving, hardly breathing, each warring with inner ghosts and fears, each seeking solace from the one they held so close, refusing to let go.
Chapter Seven
Megan was still sleeping when Ben left the house the next morning to go to his office. As he drove away from the house, he rotated his neck back and forth, aware that he was bone-weary even before his busy day began.
He had no idea how long he had sat on the floor the previous night with Megan held tightly in his arms. Time had lost meaning. They had both been drained, emotionally exhausted, after what had taken place.
Megan had dozed finally and Ben had leveled himself to his feet and carried her up the stairs to bed.
“Ben,” she had murmured. “Please share with me. Tell me what is happening to you.”
“Shh,” he had said gently. “Tomorrow. I’ll explain everything to you tomorrow. Just sleep now, Megan.”
Ben’s grip on the steering wheel tightened and he frowned deeply as he remembered the moment when he had frightened Megan so badly, she’d been transported back in time, to relive the abuse she’d suffered at the hands of Charles Chastain.
“Damn it,” he said, smacking one hand against the steering wheel.
Megan had forgiven him already, trusted him again, had allowed him to touch her, hold her in his arms. What an incredible and rare woman she was. He was so angry at himself for what he had done, he didn’t feel he deserved her devotion and trust.
What a mess. Now his reality was demanding space in his and Megan’s special, crystal ball world.
He’d promised he would tell her what he was facing, the stark facts of his hopeless future. He’d keep that promise, because he was a man of his word.
And then what? Hell, that would be that. Megan would realize he had nothing to offer her. She’d concentrate on obtaining closure to her situation with Chastain, then she’d leave to begin her new life as a free woman.
What he and Megan had together would be over. Finished. Done.
He’d face his bleak future alone. Face the impending darkness, the terrifying nothingness, alone
“That’s how it was before I found Megan in the woods,” he said aloud, a rough edge to his voice. “That’s how it will be again.”
Except...
He was different now, changed. Because of Megan, he’d foolishly opened an emotional door that illuminated hopes and dreams, wants and needs, bringing them into crystal clarity.
Closing that door again, locking it tightly, was going to be tough and very painful. And it would deepen the intensity of the darkness.
He was living on borrowed time with Megan. He’d known that from the beginning, but he had continually pushed that reality away. He could no longer do that, because when he returned home tonight, he would spell out everything to Megan, put it all on the table for her to see.
“See,” Ben said with a snort of disgust. “The magic word. The word from hell.”
He drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
He had to get his act together. The patients he would tend to today deserved his full concentration and expertise.
Ben parked his vehicle in the back of the small building that housed his office, went to the rear door and unlocked it. He strode down the hall to the reception area.
His secretary, Cynthia, was chatting with his nurse, Sharon, as they sipped from mugs of freshly brewed coffee. Both women were widows in their late fifties. Both were top-notch in their jobs and were dedicated to Ben and the patients who believed in him.
“’Morning, ladies.” Ben tried for a lighthearted tone. “How goes it?”
“Hi, Ben,” they said in unison.
“How much time do I have before the first patient arrives?” he said.
Cynthia glanced at the appointment book. “Fifteen minutes.”
“Good,” he said. “I have to make a telephone call.”
“I’ll buzz you when we need you,” Cynthia said. “Coffee is hot.”
“Thanks,” Ben said.
“How’s Megan?” Sharon said.
“Doin’ fine,” Ben said, starting back down the hall.
Yeah, right, he thought dryly. Megan was fine when he wasn’t scaring the hell out of her. She was fine when she didn’t dwell on the decision she had to make regarding Charles Chastain. But she wouldn’t be even close to fine after he spilled his guts to her tonight and divulged the truth about himself.
“Yep,” he repeated, loud enough for the women to hear. “Doin’ fine.”
Ben sank onto the soft leather chair behind his desk, put down the coffee mug and placed one hand on the receiver to the telephone. He hesitated, then forced himself to lift the receiver and punch in numbers he knew by heart, despite the fact that he hadn’t used them in months.
A few moments later he had identified himself and asked to speak to Dr. Fred Bolstad. Ben drummed his fingers on the desktop as recorded music hummed in his ear when he was placed on hold.
“Come on. Come on,” he muttered.
“Ben,” a deep voice said finally. “It’s been a long time. How are you?”
“Doin’ fine,” Ben said, then rolled his eyes heavenward. “Listen, Fred, I know you’re busy and... well, I just needed to check in with you on the outside chance that—hell, this is stupid. If you had anything to tell me, you would have called.”
“Hey, no problem. I understand your need to touch base. I’m still researching your situation every chance I get, but...well, there’s nothing new to report.”
“Right. I won’t keep you. Thanks for—”
“Ben, wait,” Fred interrupted. “I really wish you’d get me an update on your brothers.”
“What’s the point, Fred?” Ben said, a pulse beginning to beat wildly in his temple. “My father went blind. My oldest brother is blind. My next oldest brother was losing his sight the last time I spoke with him.
“The deck is stacked. It’s just a matter of time until it’s my turn. My sisters, who are older than any of us guys, are fine. This...whatever it is...is being passed down to the male Rizzolis.”
“And all my months of research haven’t revealed the gene that’s doing it,” Fred said. “That happens often enough to give researchers like me ulcers. Some things just don’t surface even in the most sophisticated DNA testing. There’s nothing to give us a clue as to why this is happening. Damn, it’s frustrating. We sure as hell can’t treat what we can’t find.”
“I know,” Ben said quietly.
“Have you had any symptoms?” Fred said “Blurred or double vision, trouble seeing at night, black dots in front of your eyes, headaches? Any of the things your oldest brother told you about?”
“No, nothing at all so far.”
“Good, that’s good.” Fred paused. “Ben, please, humor me. Get me an update on your brothers, will you?”
“Yeah, yeah, okay, for all the good it will do. I’ve been playing ostrich on that, I guess. I didn’t want to hear their bad news, but I’ll give them a call. I’ll get back to you, Fred.”
“Take it easy, man.”
“Sure. ’Bye, Fred.”
Ben replaced the receiver, sank back in his chair, and dragged his hands down his face.
“Ah, Megan,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so damn sorry.”
Well, that was a switch, he thought, lunging to his feet. For the first time, he was feeling more badly for someone other than himself regarding this d
isaster. For Megan. Who made him feel wonderful, complete, whole. His other half.
His soul mate?
The woman he was in love with?
“Forget it,” he said. “I don’t want to know the answer to that one.”
To Megan, the day seemed like an endless stretch of hours as she waited for Ben to return home. Every time she glanced at the clock she frowned, wondering if it was actually working. Ben had told her to remain in the house with the doors locked, and had what she knew was a ridiculous, psychological urge to be outside in the crisp, fresh air.
She sighed, told herself she was tired of hearing the pitiful sound, then flopped down on the sofa.
One more hour, she thought. Ben would be home in one hour, providing he didn’t have any late, unexpected patients arrive at his office.
She’d made some stew that was simmering on the stove, the rich aroma filling the house. She was not, however, one bit hungry, due to the knot in her stomach that had been there the entire day.
Megan sighed again, clicked her tongue in self-disgust, then leaned her head back on the top of the sofa. She stared at the ceiling and replayed in her mind, for the umpteenth time, the events of the previous night.
What a nightmare it had all been, how terrifying. Ben was going to explain everything to her, but it was obvious from what had taken place that Ben Rizzoh was going blind. He was angry, with just cause, and no doubt frightened about what he was facing in the future.
Ben had needed her to comfort him, hold him, be strong for him, as he’d been for her so many times as she’d come to grips with her past.
But had she been there for him? Oh, no, not her. Her ghosts had been too powerful, too strong, had rendered her helpless, a weeping, shivering mess, who once again clung to Ben for solace and safety.
She had let Ben down and she was so ashamed of her behavior, so frustrated over her own weaknesses.
Blind. How horrifying that must be for a man like Ben. A physical, vibrant man. A doctor, who had skills to help and to heal. What could she do, say, to ease Ben’s pain? She just didn’t know.
“Oh, Ben,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you. But you’re not alone. You’re not. I’m here and I—”
Megan sat bolt upward, her heart racing.
“And I...” she began, her voice trembling. “...I love you.”
Dear heaven above, it was true. She was in love with Ben.
Megan got to her feet and began to pace the large room.
This was great, just dandy, she fumed. Nothing like further complicating the already tangled maze that her life, and Ben’s, had become.
Love, being in love, deserved total attention and focus. It had to be nurtured, treated reverently in its newly formed, emotional state. How could she possibly do that when the hideous, ghostly presence of Charles Chastain stood ready to leap out at her at every turn?
And another thing, her mind raced on. How did Ben feel about her? He cared deeply for her, of that she was certain. But did he love her, even a little? Was he falling in love with her as she was with him?
Was Ben’s insistence that they live in the now due to her problems and his? Or was it because he saw her with him for only the short term? Here, then gone, once the threat Charles represented had been removed.
“Hi, Ben,” Megan said aloud. “How was your day? By the way, I love you. Do you love me? Want some stew?” She shook her head. “Megan, shut up.”
Blind, her mind echoed. She was in love with a man who was apparently going blind. Could she deal with that? Handle it? Stand strongly by Ben’s side through that kind of adversity?
Megan stopped her trek and stood still, hardly breathing as she waited for the answer, listened to the whispers from her heart, mind, her very soul.
A gentle smile formed on her lips.
For better, for worse. In sickness and in health. Until death do us part.
Yes.
This wasn’t just any man—this was Ben, who had captured her heart for eternity. This was Ben, who made her want to twirl around the room in joyous wonder as she sang “You Are My Sunshine.” This was Ben Rizzoli, and she would never leave him, no matter what his circumstances were.
Unless...
He sent her away.
Because he didn’t love her.
A sudden noise from the rear of the house jerked Megan from her jumbled thoughts. A chill of fear coursed through her as she walked slowly toward the kitchen, her heart racing.
Stay calm, she told herself. The door is locked. No one can get in. Charles can’t get in. No, no, he can’t. The door is locked... the door—
Stop it, Megan she ordered herself as she approached the back door. Don’t fall apart now.
She hesitated, then reached into a lower cupboard for a heavy, cast-iron skillet. With her weapon raised in her right hand, she tiptoed to the door and brushed aside the curtain with her free, shaking hand.
“Nutmeg,” she said, hearing the thread of hysteria in her voice.
She unlocked the door and opened it. The cat strolled in, head and tail high and regal. Megan closed the door, slid the skillet onto the counter, then planted her hands on her hips.
“You gave me an awful fright, Ms. Nutmeg,” she said. “I suppose you’re here to mooch some dinner. Well, all right. I do owe you, I guess. You were the one who made me remember that my name is Megan.” She sighed. “But, oh, pretty kitty, there are times when I really wish that you hadn’t done that.”
Ben drove far below the speed limit as he headed for his house, postponing as much as he could the discussion he had promised to have with Megan.
He forced himself to blank his mind and savor the sight of the colorful autumn leaves on the trees edging the road leading to the house.
House, he thought suddenly. That was what it had been to him since the day it was completed and he’d moved in. His house.
Now? With Megan there waiting for him, smiling when he came through the door, hugging and kissing him in sincere welcome?
Now it was a home.
There had been laughter within those walls, and tears, serious conversations and fun. There had been lovemaking so exquisitely beautiful and meaningful that it defied description. There had been life, full and rich and wonderful.
All because Megan was there.
Ben parked in the driveway and leaned forward to fold his arms on top of the steering wheel. He swept his gaze over the majestic pine trees surrounding the house, the mountains in the distance, the first streaks of the glorious sunset being painted across the heavens by nature’s magical brush.
Remember this, he told himself. Remember every detail because the day will come when you won’t be able to see it. All he would have would be the memories as he lived out his life in darkness.
And he’d remember, too, what it had been like, how fantastic, to come home to Megan.
With a sigh and a shake of his head, Ben got out of the vehicle and crossed the yard to the front door of the house. When he entered the living room, he closed the door behind him, then stopped dead in his tracks, his heart beating so wildly he could feel the painful cadence of it hammering in his chest.
Soft music was playing on the stereo and Megan halted in mid-sway to smile at him. Nutmeg was cradled in her arms, like a baby.
Waning sunlight poured through the glass wall, cascading over the pair like a rosy-colored waterfall. Megan’s big, expressive blue eyes were sparkling like sapphires, her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, and her smile was warm and real.
“Welcome home, Ben,” she said rather breathlessly. “We have company. Nutmeg and I were dancing. I missed you.”
In that moment, as he drank in the marvelous sight of Megan Chastain smiling at him, he knew that he was deeply and irrevocably in love with her.
Ben attempted to return Megan’s greeting, only to realize that his throat was tight with emotion, rendering him unable to speak.
He closed the distance between them, framed her face in hi
s hands and visually traced each of her beautiful, delicate features.
Then he lowered his head and kissed her... softly, reverently, gently and tenderly, his heart, mind and soul filled with immeasurable awe, wonder...and love.
When he raised his head, Ben looked directly into Megan’s eyes.
“It’s good to be home,” he said, his voice gritty. “It’s been a long day. I missed you, too, Megan.”
Heated desire thrummed low within Megan, causing the flush of her cheeks to deepen.
“Oh,” was all she managed to say.
Nutmeg wiggled in her arms, having apparently decided that if the dance was over, it was time to leave.
The sensuous spell was broken as Ben stepped back to allow the cat to leap to the floor and scamper toward the back door. Megan went to the stereo and turned it off. Silence fell over the room.
“Are you hungry, Ben?” she said, a thread of breathlessness in her voice. “Dinner is ready.”
Ben nodded. “I’ll wash up and we’ll eat. Then we have to talk, Megan.”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I know.”
Neither moved. They were a room apart, but the weaving, crackling sensuality wove around and through them, making it seem as though they were close, nestled against each other Wanting. Needing. Heated passion consuming them.
Ben spun on his heel and strode from the room.
Megan pressed one hand over her racing heart and drew a shuddering breath.
“Gracious,” she whispered, then started toward the kitchen.
She stopped and looked back at the empty place where Ben had stood.
She had just been kissed by the man she loved, she thought. The memory of that kiss would be tucked in the treasure chest in her heart for eternity, to be cherished, relived, in the future.
Future, her mind repeated. What did it hold for her and Ben? She didn’t know. She just didn’t know.
Chapter Eight
When Ben entered the kitchen, Megan was placing bowls of hot stew on the table. She’d also made a fruit salad that she’d put in a pretty lead-crystal bowl she’d found in the back of a cupboard.
The Most Eligible M.D. (The Bachelor Bet #3) Page 9
