Flirting with Disaster

by Jane Graves

  “How are you doing?” she asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “What did the doctors say?”

  “X-rays defined the position of the bullet. They’re coming soon to take me for a short surgical procedure to remove it and debride the wound. I might have limited use of my shoulder and arm for a while, but they tell me that with physical therapy eventually I’ll be good as new.”

  “Thank God. And the CT scan?”

  “Normal. It seems I have a brain and it’s in fine working order.”

  Sera breathed a sigh of relief. “Then you really are going to be all right.”

  “Thanks to you and Gabrio, yes. Where is he?”

  “Asleep on a sofa in the waiting room. He’s still so tired. I told him I’d get him a hotel room, but he doesn’t want to leave. I think he’s still a little scared.”

  “He’s got a right to be. He’s been through a lot. Did you talk to Dave and Lisa?”

  “Yes. And they have some good news.”

  When Sera related everything that Dave had told her, Adam’s face brightened. “So it’s possible they can find somebody who’ll blow the whistle on Robert?”

  “Yes.”

  “That,” Adam said, “really makes my day.”

  Sera eased closer, taking his hand. “I was so worried about you. I still am.”

  She studied his face for a long time, trying to see beyond the unconcerned expression he wore. Clearly there was something hiding beneath it. Finally he gave her a sigh of resignation. “You want to know about what happened in the car.”

  “Only if you want to talk about it.”

  He looked away, and for a moment she thought he was going to say no. Then he tugged on her hand. “Sit down.”

  She sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting. “This is hard for me to say, Sera. I don’t talk about it. To anyone.”

  “You can talk about it to me,” she said softly. “You know that.”

  Finally he turned his gaze to meet hers. “I told you my wife died when she was seven months pregnant.”

  “Yes.”

  “It happened on a road just like the one we were driving on. A dark, deserted highway in west Texas.”

  “A car accident?”

  “No. Something worse.”

  His expression became tight and strained. He stared down at the sheets as he spoke, his hand tightening against hers.

  “It was about nine o’clock at night. We were driving along when all of the sudden Ellen told me she felt strange. That something was wrong. I told her that she was fine, that she was just uncomfortable from being in the car for a couple of hours. But she kept telling me something didn’t feel right. Then all at once, she doubled over. Cried out. By the time I pulled over to the side of the road, she was already bleeding.”

  Sera’s heart quickened. “She was having a miscarriage?”

  “Placental abruption. And from the blood that was there . . .” He swallowed hard. “From the blood that was there, I knew it had to be a complete separation of the placenta from the uterine wall. But the mortality rate even with an abruption that severe is usually low.” He let out a shaky breath. “Unless you’re sixty miles away from the nearest hospital and you can’t stop the bleeding.”

  Sera closed her eyes. “Oh, no.”

  “Ellen looked down. Saw the blood. She started crying. Screaming in pain. I can still hear her voice, over and over in my head. All I could do was phone ahead to the hospital, drive a hundred miles an hour on that godforsaken road, and pray. Ellen kept crying and screaming and pleading with me to help her, to do something to save our baby. But for all my training, all my experience, there was nothing I could do. And after a while—” He stopped short, his voice faltering. “She wasn’t screaming anymore.”

  “Oh, Adam. . . .”

  “I barely remember coming into town,” he said, his voice trembling. “It’s like . . . I don’t know. Like a nightmare that I just remember bits and pieces of. I drove to the doors of the emergency room, and they came out and took her inside. I sat out in the waiting room. Every minute seemed like an eternity. And then the ER doctor came out.” Adam’s face contorted, his jaw tightening. “He told me that my wife and child were dead.”

  Sera’s heart twisted with anguish, tears welling up in her eyes. She felt as if she was suffering every terrible moment right along with him.

  “Ellen and I had tried for years to have a child. She had some problems that made conceiving difficult and we thought it was never going to happen. Then, when she was forty-one and we’d begun to look into adoption, we found out she was pregnant.” He closed his eyes. “I can’t tell you how I felt. The only thing missing from my life was the chance to be a father. It was our last chance.” He paused. “My last chance.”

  She shook her head. “No, Adam. It wasn’t your last chance.”

  “Sera—”

  “I know you love me. And I want to have a child more than anything. And now that I know you do, too—”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Please, Adam,” she said, desperation creeping into her voice. “You can’t give up. I know how horrible it must have been for you. I know how much it hurt. But part of the healing is knowing that you haven’t lost that kind of life forever. You can have it again.”

  “No, Sera. I can’t.”

  “But—”

  “There’s more.”

  She froze. “What?”

  “The night Ellen died,” he said. “I fell apart. I just . . . I just lost it.”

  “Of course you did,” she said. “Any man would.”

  “No. You don’t understand. I fell apart completely. Completely. I was—” He looked away, as if he’d do anything not to say the words. “I was institutionalized for almost a month.”

  Sera stared at him in silence as the magnitude of his words sank in. Institutionalized? God, how distraught must he have been?

  To think of the grief he must have felt staggered her. The only reality he’d had that night was one where his wife and baby were dead, and he just couldn’t face it. To avoid the pain of losing them, he’d lost himself.

  “I missed their funeral because I was so sedated that I barely knew who I was,” he said. “I think there was a time when my family wondered if I’d ever make it out of that place. I suppose it’s a miracle I ever did.” He paused, a faraway look in his eyes. “But still, in the dark of night sometimes, driving down a road like the one we drove down tonight, it’s as if it’s happening all over again. I experience the same pain I felt then, the same horror, the same helpless feeling that I can’t do a damned thing to save the woman I love and the baby she’s carrying.”

  “So that’s why . . .”

  “Yes. That’s why you thought you had a lunatic in the car.”

  “No. Don’t say that. I just knew something was hurting you. That’s all.”

  “I just can’t shake it, Sera. Maybe I never will.”

  “But you went back to practicing medicine. Delivering babies.”

  “As long as it was somebody else, I could deal with it. And after a while, my family encouraged me to see other women. To start a new life. I thought I could. Eventually. But then days turned to weeks, and a few years passed. I was getting older, and I finally realized that the window was closing.” He stared at Sera, his eyes filled with a sadness beyond measure. “And then you came along. So young, your whole life ahead of you, and wanting a baby of your own more than anything in the world. How in the hell was I supposed to deal with that?”

  “But, Adam, the odds of anything that terrible ever happening again—”

  “No. Don’t tell me you’re young and healthy, so chances are you won’t have any problems. I know that. Don’t tell me that the way I feel is irrational, because I know that, too. Don’t tell me that love will get us through it, because if that were true, Ellen would be alive today.”

  “It’s only been a few years. Time heals. It won’t be long before you’ll feel differently,
and—”

  “No! Why do you think I fell apart out there? Because I can’t handle it!”

  “Not alone, maybe. But I love you, Adam, and I know that together we can—”

  Adam yanked his hand away from her. “Don’t you know how much this is killing me? If you loved me as much as you say you do, you wouldn’t be doing this to me!”

  Sera recoiled at his sudden outburst. Adam took several harsh breaths. He closed his eyes, sadness washing over his face, his voice becoming a painful whisper.

  “God, Sera, I’m sorry.”

  “No. Please don’t apologize.”

  “I just want you to listen to me. To understand.” He opened his eyes again and fixed his gaze on hers. “When we were on the road coming here, I thought about Ellen. About how she’d cried and screamed and begged me to help her. And then . . .” He hesitated. “Then I imagined it was you.”

  When a fresh flood of anguish filled his eyes, Sera could feel her dream shattering—her dream of getting pregnant with Adam’s baby, living those months of anticipation together, sharing the joy of childbirth. Still, the grief he’d suffered and the pain he’d lived with all this time only made her love him more. It only made her that much more desperate to be the light at the end of that long, dark tunnel he’d been walking in for so long.

  “Of course I want to have a baby,” she told him. “But there are other ways. We can adopt a child, can’t we?”

  “Don’t you remember what I asked you a few days ago?”

  “What?”

  “I asked how you would feel if you knew you were going to go through your entire life and never get pregnant, never have a child of your own. You told me you would be devastated.”

  “Disappointed. That was what I meant.”

  “You said what you meant.”

  “Losing you. That’s what would devastate me.”

  He shook his head slowly. “My problems aren’t magically going to go away. You saw what happened earlier this evening. Just how fit am I to be a father under any circumstances? Or a husband, for that matter?”

  “I can’t believe you’re even saying that.”

  “If we were to get married, a year would pass, then two, and sooner or later you’d come to resent me. You’d think about the old man you married and all his hang-ups and wish to God you’d made another choice. And if that ever happened, I couldn’t bear it.”

  “But nothing else matters to me without you!”

  He looked at her so tenderly that her heart nearly broke. “Find another man, Sera. One who will love you and cherish you and give you the family you want. And sometime in the future, the day will come that you’ll realize it was the right decision. And instead of resenting me for the rest of your life, you’ll thank me.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “No. That’s not what I want. Please, Adam, please. . . .”

  “I love you enough to let you go, Sera. You’ve got to do the same for me.”

  She bowed her head and began to cry. He reached out and stroked her hair, and she took his hand, kissed his palm, then clutched his hand with both of hers. She knew now that he was never going to allow her to love him through this terrible situation.

  He was going to tell her good-bye.

  At eight-thirty the next morning, Dave climbed the steps to Sera’s back porch, kicked dirt off his boots, then came through the door to find Lisa in the kitchen making a pot of coffee. She was barefoot, hair still damp from the shower, wearing a T-shirt and jeans. He sat down at the table and pulled off his boots.

  “You took care of it,” she said.

  Dave let out a weary breath. “Yeah.”

  “You should have woken me,” she said. “I could have helped.”

  “No need. It’s done.”

  Lisa sighed. “Thank you.”

  “Considering everything Gabrio did for us, it was the least I could do for him.”

  She came closer and stared down at Dave. “You even said the Bible verse, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “But it’s been a while. I imagine I screwed it up a little.”

  “But you said it anyway.” Lisa kissed him gently on the lips. “You’re a good man, Dave. You know that?”

  As he stared up at Lisa, Dave thought about how they’d made love last night and how he’d seen right inside her to the vulnerable woman she tried so hard to hide. There was suddenly so much more involved in the way he felt about her that he couldn’t begin to sort it all out. All he wanted to do when this whole mess was over was drag her right back to Tolosa with him and insist she stay forever.

  But that was impossible. Hadn’t she said it? Repeatedly? She didn’t want a family, she didn’t want responsibility, she didn’t want anything tying her down, and in her mind everything about his life would do just that. A sudden image sprang to mind of him keeping her under lock and key like a bird in a cage to make sure she didn’t fly away.

  “I need to get a shower,” he said.

  “Coffee will be ready when you get out.”

  He went upstairs and showered, but when he came out of the bathroom ten minutes later he was surprised to find Lisa upstairs, tucked into bed. Wearing nothing.

  He smiled down at her. “Coffee?”

  “I decided it would only keep us awake.”

  Dave slid into bed beside her, pulling her into his arms and making love to her, slowly, tenderly, taking his time, making sure she felt every gentle touch, every whispered word. She opened herself to him in every way a woman could, then gave it back to him in ways he’d only dreamed about. For the next few hours he felt as if they were two people insulated from the rest of the world, connecting to each other in the most intimate way possible.

  Afterward, Dave rose to one elbow and stared down at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glowing. In the late morning light pouring through the bedroom curtains she looked radiant. He brushed his fingers through her hair in a languid caress.

  “Now, this doesn’t mean I never want to get wild on a kitchen table again,” he said. “You know that, don’t you?”

  She smiled. “Yeah. I know that. Balconies are nice, too.”

  “Don’t forget the shower.”

  “Anywhere you say,” she told him. “Anytime you say.”

  He lay back down and wrapped her in his arms. As they dozed off, Dave made a mental note to hold her to that promise.

  Two hours later, Lisa opened her eyes, squinting against the noontime sunlight streaming through the window. Turning over, she glanced at the clock.

  “Dave,” she said. “It’s nearly noon.”

  After a moment, Dave sat up in bed. “I’d better check the answering machine to make sure we didn’t sleep right through a call from Alex.” Yawning, he rose from the bed, went to Sera’s room, then returned a moment later. “Nothing.”

  “How long do you think it’ll be before we hear from him?” Lisa asked.

  “I have no idea. It could take him a while to pin down an informant.”

  Lisa sat up in bed and stretched. Glancing out the window, she saw the barn in the distance. “The ponies have wandered back up here. Suppose we ought to feed them?”

  “Sera said they’d be okay on pasture alone. But they probably wouldn’t mind a little grain.”

  “Let’s go down there. I’ve never petted a pony before.”

  “Never?”

  Lisa slid out from beneath the covers. “My childhood wasn’t exactly privileged, remember?” She dug through her bag and pulled out a pair of panties. “Ashley, on the other hand, is probably riding one in your backyard as we speak.”

  “What?”

  Lisa put on the panties, then wiggled into a pair of jeans. “You told John to buy her one, didn’t you?”

  Dave sighed with disgust. “It’d be just like John to actually do it. Just to piss me off.”

  “There’s nothing a kid likes better than a pony.” She stopped and stared at him. “Aren’t you going to get dressed?”

  Dave smiled, cle
arly admiring the fact that she still had nothing on from the waist up. “I’m just watching the show.”

  Lisa rolled her eyes. “If you don’t get dressed, I’m dragging you down to the barn naked.”

  “Hmm. A naked man, a domineering woman, and a pair of ponies. Didn’t I see that in a porn movie once?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I only watch chick flicks.”

  He grinned. She gave him an admonishing look, then tossed his bag to the bed. “Move it.”

  He pulled out a change of clothes. “Actually, Ashley’s afraid of dogs, so I don’t know how she’d do with something as big as a pony.”

  “Nah. Ponies are different. All little girls like horses.”

  No. Ponies weren’t different. Not to Ashley. Everything loomed bigger and more frightening to her than to the average kid.

  “Last week a kid smacked her with a swing at school,” Dave said, pulling on a pair of jeans. “She sat down in the corner of the playground and cried.”

  “Was she hurt?”

  “No. Not really.”

  Lisa slid her arms into a T-shirt. She tugged it down over her head, then swept her fingers through her hair. “Well, I’d cry, too, if somebody hit me with a swing.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. You’d tell him if he ever messed with you again, you’d put the swing where the sun don’t shine.”

  Lisa smiled. “Sure. Now I would. But when I was five?”

  “I’m betting even then.”

  “I’m the exception, Dave. Not the rule.”

  Dave shrugged into a shirt. Instead of buttoning it, though, he paused, a brooding expression on his face. “Ashley’s really timid most of the time. Even clingy. She just can’t handle things, you know? And the older she gets . . .”

  “She’s just a little girl. A lot of little girls are timid.”

  “You weren’t.”

  “I didn’t have that luxury. Ashley does. She has a father who’ll keep her safe.”

  “What if I can’t?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I see her mother in her. I’m afraid that she’s going to be like Carla. And if she is . . .”

  His voice trailed off. Lisa had no idea what he was trying to say. She stood there for a moment, confused, then started tucking her shirt into her jeans. “So what if she’s a little shy like Carla was? You’re a good father. I know you are. Why do you worry so much?”