The Parent Plan

by Paula Detmer Riggs

  His heart thundered in his ears, mingling with the guttural cry of his own release. At the same time, he heard Kari call his name and wrap her arms and legs around him. Once, twice, he felt himself convulse into her, until he was at once depleted and sated.

  Later, as she slept in his arms, he let his eyes drift closed and told himself they could work things out. He wasn’t sure he could stand it if they didn’t.

  Chapter Seven

  Waking to a predawn gloom, Karen found herself alone. A quick check of the clock told her that it was past the time Cassidy usually awoke. Even so, she felt a pang of disappointment that he hadn’t lingered long enough to kiss her awake. Still, she took heart in the fact that he’d made love to her so thoroughly she felt utterly cherished. No matter how fierce his need to control his life might be, there was still a part of him that she could reach. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

  Shivering in the morning chill, she hurried down the hall to Vicki’s room where she discovered her daughter snuggled into her bright coverlet, her small heart-shaped face as peaceful as an angel’s. Something poignant and sad passed through her as she bent to kiss her daughter’s temple. Today Vicki would find out that life wasn’t always warm puppies and frisky colts.

  After slipping into the slippers she’d left by the bed earlier, Karen headed toward the kitchen and the aroma of fresh-perked coffee. Double-strength and black as the road to hell, she thought as she poured herself a cup. Moments later she was standing by the kitchen window, staring out at the still-darkened buildings, while she waited for the caffeine to wake up her tired brain.

  There should be a light in the barn, she realized with a fuzzy frown. Although it was still too early for the hands to begin showing up, Cassidy had a rule about checking things out early. By the time Billy and the others arrived, he would have his gelding fed and saddled, and the day planned out for each man.

  No doubt he was waiting to break the news to Vicki before he started his day, she decided, taking another greedy sip. It wouldn’t be easy for either of them, but she trusted Cassidy to break the news gently. That realization made her sigh. The tenderness he showed their daughter never failed to move her. And dammit, it made her ache inside because she wanted some of that tenderness for herself.

  A few seconds later, her cup gripped in one hand, she approached Cassidy’s office. The polished pine door was ajar, and light from within spilled into the shadowed hall in a long, thin wedge. Like the man himself, the room was unpretentious and spare. Everything had a purpose—his accounting books, breeding logs, a top-of-the-line computer that he hated but used with precise skill.

  The desk itself was a one-of-a-kind treasure, a massive slab of western pine fully eight feet long, crosscut by some gigantic saw blade long ago and darkened by age and hard wear. One corner, the right, bore countless scuffs where Cassidy invariably propped his boot heels when lost in thought. There were no keepsakes on the desk or the floor-to-ceiling bookcases other than the ones Vicki had made for him and no pictures on the wall except her crayon drawings and a recent watercolor of Goldie she’d done for a 4-H art project.

  Cassidy sat in his big, worn chair behind the desk, his back to her, his bare feet propped atop a stack of printouts. His favorite coffee mug with the broken handle and chipped rim was close at hand, still half-full of the same black sludge steaming in her own mug.

  His ebony hair spilled onto his forehead, and his jaw showed the dark shadow of unshaven whiskers. He was wearing jeans so old the hems had long since frayed away and a faded blue shirt, the sleeves of which had been carelessly rolled back to the elbows, revealing roped forearms.

  A spreadsheet glowed on the computer screen in front of him, but instead of studying the figures in their neat columns, he was gazing down at something in his hand. A photograph, she realized after a moment’s study. Of Vicki and Goldie, she suspected, from the sadness that seemed to grip him.

  He suddenly lifted his head and shifted his gaze toward the door. At the same time he slipped the photo in his hand beneath the desk blotter.

  “Come in,” he said quietly.

  There was a stillness about him that made her uneasy. It was as if he had pulled everything inside, where it could be protected as fiercely as he protected his daughter.

  “Vicki’s still sleeping,” she told him as she entered. “I’m glad it’s Sunday so she doesn’t have to go to school.”

  “Might be better if she did.” He let his head fall back against the age-dark leather of the chair. “I hate to have her watch while the meat wagon hauls Goldie off.”

  “If I know Vicki, she’ll insist.” Life goes on, she thought as she moved to the window. After opening the drapes, she leaned against the heavy material and stared out at the new day.

  The rain had stopped, and the sun was nudging the horizon, the first fingers of daybreak already turning a brilliant orange-red. She stood silently, letting the splendor soothe her.

  “It’s almost dawn,” she murmured, loving the look of the ranch bathed in early morning mist. Then, turning slowly, she offered him a smile. “I missed you when I woke up.”

  His mouth softened a little. “I’m not much for sleeping past dawn.”

  “I know. I guess I was hoping you’d make an exception.” She let her smile take on wanton edges. “I wanted to make love with you again.”

  “Kari, after last night I’m thinking I’ll be lucky if I can ever make love again.” Though his voice was tinged with a laconic humor, a flush spread over his hard cheekbones and into the silver-flecked thickness at his temples.

  She felt something loosen and curl inside her. Hope, she realized, taking a step forward. Glorious, miraculous hope.

  “Cassidy, we can work this out,” she said eagerly. “I know we can.”

  A muscle jerked along his jaw as he met her gaze with unreadable eyes. “I’m open to suggestions,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

  “Once I’m settled in a practice, I’ll be able to hire a full-time housekeeper and maybe a nanny for Vicki.”

  His jaw tightened, then relaxed as though the muscles were answering some inner command. And for a second she thought she saw disappointment shimmering in his eyes. “Trust me, Karen. It’s not the same.”

  “How do you know?”

  His eyes grew bleak, then steadied. “My brother and I were pretty much raised by a baby-sitter.”

  Karen blinked. “You never told me that.”

  His shoulders moved only a fraction. “Why should I? It had nothing to do with you and me.”

  “Your mother had to work?” she asked, an idea taking shape in her mind.

  “I don’t have a mother.”

  “But you said she left when you were ten. That you found her address after your father died and sent her a letter, but she never answered.”

  Pain he thought he’d conquered years ago tore through him. He fought it the only way that was safe—with a cold anger.

  “Hire the housekeeper if you want. I never wanted you to wear yourself out scrubbing toilets.”

  “In other words, you’ll give me anything I want—as long as I quit my job and stay home full-time.”

  “Is it so wrong to want a normal life?”

  “Normal for you, but not for me.”

  “And what about Vicki?”

  She had to take a breath. “Vicki is totally well-adjusted and happy, and before you start accusing me of neglecting her, most of the time when she’s not in school, she’s out with you or Billy or one of the other men. And when we’re both busy, Wanda is here.”

  He rubbed his callused fingers over the worn padding on the chair seat. “A child needs her mother. She needs you, Kari.”

  “She has me, Cassidy. Just not every moment of my time or every ounce of my energy.”

  She saw his eyes narrow a split second before he lowered his gaze to the desk. “Did you ever stop to think what it feels like for a child to live on leftovers?” he asked with a deadly softness.

>   “What are you talking about?”

  “Scraps, Kari. Of time and attention and…other things.”

  Kari couldn’t breathe. Was that how Cassidy had grown up? Feeling like a stray dog hanging around waiting for bits of attention or pieces of love?

  Her heart softened. “Vicki has always been my first priority. No matter what, I always make sure I spend quality time with her.”

  “And your husband, Kari? Was that what happened last night? More quality time from Dr. Sloane?”

  “You know it wasn’t,” she whispered.

  “No, Karen, I don’t know.”

  Karen heard a truck pull in and doors slam. It wouldn’t be long before Billy was knocking on the back door, eager for a cup of coffee and a little gossip with the boss before they started the day.

  Cassidy’s expression told her that he, too, had heard the men arrive. She waited, expecting him to go out to start them on their day. When he didn’t, she told herself that was a good sign.

  “You don’t want a nanny and you don’t want Wanda,” she repeated calmly.

  “Wanda’s fine. When you’re not here.”

  “Which is exactly my point, Cassidy. Vicki’s needs are being well met.”

  A flush ran up the back of his neck. “Quit the damn job,” he said in that same quiet tone. “Call the hospital administrator tomorrow and resign.”

  His face was stony, his eyes cold, no reason at all to suspect that he was pleading with her. And yet, she felt as though he were staking everything he held dear on this one demand. Some of her anger fell away.

  “I tried it your way,” she said, careful to keep her voice calm and reasonable. “For three years. I nearly lost myself as a result. I can’t take that chance again.”

  His jaw tensed. Karen studied the deeply chiseled lines of character and experience in his hard face and marveled that he really had no conception of the power he held in those big work-worn hands because she loved him.

  “Cassidy, listen to me, please.” She leaned closer and touched his arm. His muscles contracted, and she let her hand drop. “Part of me loved being a full-time mom, especially when Vicki was toddling around, discovering something new and wonderful practically every minute of every day. And I loved fixing up this funny old house. But another part of me was dying by inches. Inside, I felt ashamed because I was—”

  “Just a poor, uneducated rancher’s wife?” The raw bitterness shuddering through his harsh question slammed into her like a body blow.

  “No, that’s not it at all! I love being a rancher’s wife. And you have more knowledge of animal husbandry and agronomy than most PhDs.”

  “You said you were ashamed,” he snarled.

  “I said I was ashamed because I’d broken a promise I’d made to myself and my father to become a doctor,” she said in deliberately calm tones. “To carry on the work he intended to do.”

  He narrowed his eyes to slits of glittering onyx between jet-black lashes, but in some strange way, his anger seemed forced. To keep her from getting too close? she wondered, and made a mental note to think about that later, in private.

  “Let me get this straight, Karen. You consider this promise to your father more important than the promises you made to your husband. Is that about the right of it?”

  “Be fair, Cassidy. I promised to love and cherish you, not turn myself over to you body and soul and mind.”

  “In other words you’re—what? Your own person? No one’s domestic slave?” Something volatile flashed in his eyes. “Well, screw that politically correct garbage. I grew up with a mother like you and I can tell you it ain’t fun!”

  “Cassidy—”

  “If you hated the idea of staying home so damn much, why didn’t you abort Vicki and be done with the whole thing?” The venom in his voice stunned her.

  “Is that…is that what you wanted?”

  “No, damn it! You were beautiful with my child in your belly. Everything I’d always dreamed—” Cassidy broke off to rake his hands through his hair. He felt his last hope slipping away, like the end of a lifeline slithering down a cliff where he was trapped. The knot in his belly twisted harder.

  “Why isn’t it enough for you to be my wife and Vicki’s mother?” The question broke from him against his will, shaming him. It shamed him worse to realize his entire image of himself depended on the answer.

  “It just…isn’t. I’ve tried to live up to your ideal of the perfect woman, but it’s destroying me.”

  “I don’t want perfect, dammit. I just want my wife to stay home and trust me to take care of her and our children.”

  Karen drew a breath. “Cassidy, you’re the fairest man I know. One of the kindest and gentlest, when you think no one’s watching.”

  He looked offended, and she wanted to hug him almost as much as she wanted to shake him. “What’s the point of this?” he demanded.

  “The point is, I’m asking you to work with me to find some kind of accommodation we can both live with.”

  “No.”

  “That’s all you have to say, after nearly ten years? Just no, without one word of explanation?”

  He stood up, a powerful, intimidating male presence. She refused to retreat. “Excuse me. I have something important to tend to.”

  “Don’t you dare walk out of here before we hash this out!”

  Something dangerous bled into his eyes. “Don’t give me orders, Karen.”

  “Why not? You just gave me one. Quit my job or lose my husband? Isn’t that your final offer?”

  Color slashed his cheekbones. “You’re determined to take this to the wall, aren’t you.”

  Her shoulders heaved as she ran an agitated hand through her tumbled hair. “I can’t live this way, Cassidy. One minute you’re making love to me like you really mean it and the next you’re acting like you actually hate me.”

  “Not yet, but it’s heading that way.”

  She turned pale, even as her chin came up. “Why? Because I refuse to bend to your will?”

  His dark eyes smoldered between narrowed lashes. “Okay, you asked for it, Karen.” He drew in a harsh, angry breath, and let it out fast. “My mother was a ‘liberated’ woman, just like you. She was also a cold, ambitious, self-centered bitch. Her career was everything to her. Everything! She destroyed my father and she did her best to destroy me. I swore, if I ever got married, it would be to a woman as different from her as I could find.”

  Karen felt her hands trembling and pressed them together in front of her. The naked emotion radiating from Cassidy’s eyes was almost too much to bear.

  “You…you sound as though you actually hate her.”

  “Hell, yes, I hate her!”

  “But why? What did she do to deserve that?”

  His mouth twisted. “I was nine. My brother was four. It was summer, and I had baseball practice. The sitter was sick, and my mother couldn’t be bothered to find another one. I got the job of taking care of my brother. No big deal.”

  Karen had never seen him so cold, so controlled. It was only with difficulty that she staved off a shudder. “What happened?” she managed to say, even though she was almost certain he was talking about his brother’s death.

  “I made a mistake.”

  “A mistake?”

  “I was in Little League. We had a good team, a chance at the series. The coach was pushing us pretty hard, calling practices every afternoon.” His skin had paled, a sign of severe emotional stress that not even he, with his fierce will, could control. “My mother promised to be home early so I could make it to the field on time.” His lashes flickered. “She was late, or maybe she just couldn’t be bothered, so I took Johnny with me. The police said he must have been chasing a ball when he ran into the street. The woman who hit him wasn’t even going the speed limit.”

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered, staring at him in an agony of shock and compassion. “I’m so sorry.”

  He acknowledged that with the slight movement of one shoulder. �
�Johnny lived for a few minutes, five, I think, though I could be wrong.” He took a breath, one that was ragged and harsh. “In spite of her neglect, my baby brother died crying for his mommy.”

  Karen pressed shaking fingers to her mouth while tears ran down her face. “Oh, Cass,” she whispered when she could force aside the lump in her throat. “No wonder you were so upset when we didn’t know if Vicki was alive or dead.”

  His face hardened. “Dammit, this isn’t about me. It’s about—”

  He broke off, and for a moment the only sound in the room was the rasp of his ragged breathing. Somehow she managed to keep her knees from buckling.

  “It’s about me, you mean,” she murmured, striving for those same flat, measured tones that had served him so well. “You think that I’m like your mother, don’t you? That my career means more to me than my child or my husband? That…that I’m a cold-hearted, selfish bitch?”

  When he didn’t answer, she had her answer. “Of course, that would explain the things you said to me last June.” She nodded her head slowly, feeling oddly disconnected from everything but the pain building inside her. “And if Vicki had died in that cave, you would never have forgiven me, just as you’ve never forgiven your mother.”

  He flinched, and she wondered why he should react so strongly to the truth. When he would have said something, however, she cut him off with a jerky movement of one hand. “No, don’t say anything more. You’d made your point very well.”

  She smiled, a tribute to a physician’s ability to become detached from her emotions, she suspected. “Our marriage had been over for months. If it’s all the same to you, I’d just as soon skip the funeral speeches.”

  His shoulders jerked, but his jaw seemed harder than ever. “You’re telling me you want a divorce?”

  Karen tried to take a deep steadying breath, but no matter how much oxygen she took in, it wasn’t enough to stop the shudder that ran through her. “If I stay with you now, knowing what you really think of me, I would eventually end up hating myself—and you.”

  For a foolish instant, she thought he appeared shattered. But the curt nod he gave her proved her wrong. Before she managed another breath, he walked out.