Until You Loved Me--A Novel

by Brenda Novak

  As soon as her phone powered up, she saw that Don had stopped calling but had been texting instead. Leave me alone, she wrote back.

  Before she could reach Amy, however, another call came in, this one from Diane DeVry. Amy felt it would be rude not to answer, since she’d been so rattled when she left the Super Bowl party.

  She pushed the talk button, hoping to reassure her colleague.

  “Is it true, Ellie?” Diane demanded.

  A sick feeling came over Ellie. This wasn’t the question she’d been expecting. “Is what true?”

  “Hudson King isn’t the father of your baby, is he?”

  Ellie dropped her head into her hand. Don had told Diane, had probably announced it to the whole party. Why? Why would he do that if he didn’t even want her to tell Hudson? she asked herself.

  But the answer was obvious. He couldn’t resist. The news was too exciting not to share.

  So...should she lie? Deny her child’s paternity now before the news could spread throughout the BDC? Or should she admit the truth?

  She had no choice, she decided. Not really. This affected two other lives; it wasn’t something she could keep to herself indefinitely. She figured she might as well be honest from the start. She was going to have to tell Hudson, anyway.

  “Yeah,” she said. “It is.”

  8

  Hudson’s address was unlisted. Ellie couldn’t find any way to contact him online—no PO box where she could send a letter or Facebook page where she could message him. She called the general number for the team, and a number that was published for his agent, but she didn’t dare leave detailed messages, and her name wasn’t enough to get a call back from either one. They probably thought she was yet another woman wanting to hook up with him. She was wondering what she should do next when the answer became clear. The boys ranch where Hudson helped out had a webpage that gave quite a bit of information, including the fact that it was located in a town of only five thousand people. Surely, in that small a community, someone should be able to reach him—or know someone who’d know someone who could. With football season over—the Devils had lost their Super Bowl bid to the Bears in overtime—she hoped he might live close to the boys ranch. One article she ran across mentioned that he’d purchased a property not far away. Even if he wasn’t in town, she felt there was a strong possibility Aiyana Turner, the woman who ran the school, could pick up the phone and call him.

  It took two weeks to arrange the travel, partly because she had an ultrasound appointment she didn’t want to miss—one at which she was supposed to learn the sex of her child. She was having a boy, which she’d already guessed. She’d been so sure, almost from the beginning, that she’d begun choosing the furniture and the exact shade of blue she wanted to paint her nursery. Confirmation of that somehow made it even more important he know his father, that he have his father as a role model, so she worked up the nerve, put in for the vacation days and, on February 10, flew to Los Angeles, where she rented a car and drove an hour and a half northwest to Silver Springs. She was so nervous that she couldn’t focus on her surroundings. LA just looked like urban sprawl. As she got outside Ventura, however, she started noticing the bucolic countryside—something she hadn’t previously associated with California. And she found Silver Springs quite appealing, with the rolling hills and mountains that seemed to hold the town in a cradle, the Spanish Colonial Revival architecture and the many mom-and-pop businesses in town. There wasn’t a single chain store she could see, except for a couple of gas stations. She thought that was nice.

  Although she stopped to rent a room at a place called The Mission Inn so she could freshen up after the five-hour flight and subsequent drive, she didn’t hang out there for long. She’d gained three hours crossing the country and entering a new time zone, but she planned to hit New Horizons when she’d be most likely to find someone who could help her, and she assumed that would be before school ended. She didn’t want to wait until tomorrow. She was set on delivering her message as soon as possible—getting it over with so she could sleep that night. Because of the way she’d been obsessing about telling her parents, how she’d juggle a child with her career and now, what to do about Hudson, she’d been losing weight in spite of the pregnancy, which didn’t make her obstetrician happy.

  Once she left the motel, she followed her GPS to the address listed on the New Horizons website. She found the school without any problem, but she was so agitated when she rolled under the wrought iron arch, reached the administration building and parked in guest parking that she stayed in the car for several minutes. She had no idea what she might encounter—how she’d be treated here, whether she’d see Hudson himself.

  How many other women had made this trek? she wondered. Maybe the staff wouldn’t think it was any big deal. She imagined them chuckling among themselves after she left. “There goes another one.” But she chastised herself for judging Hudson according to a stereotype. The women he’d been with, even the number of illegitimate children he might’ve fathered—that was none of her business. She was the one who’d pulled him into the cab that fateful night in September; she could hardly accuse him of being a womanizer. And now that a pregnancy had resulted from their encounter, she needed to do the right thing, had to give Hudson the chance to know his child and be involved in that child’s life. He should have the opportunity to choose.

  After taking a deep breath, she climbed out. It’ll be over with soon. Squaring her shoulders, she clung tightly to her purse as she strode to the stairs. Intent on watching her feet so she wouldn’t trip in the gravel with her high-heeled boots, she nearly bumped into a tall, thickly built man with black hair and blue eyes approaching the same building.

  “Sorry,” she murmured as he caught her by the elbow to steady her.

  “No problem,” he said and held the door before following her inside.

  She approached the reception desk only to glance around uncertainly when she didn’t see anyone sitting behind it.

  The man who’d walked in with her had moved toward a nearby office but, realizing there was no one to greet her, paused. “I guess Betty isn’t back from her dentist appointment yet. I’m Elijah Turner. Maybe I can help. Are you here to apply for the music teacher position? Because I’m fairly certain those interviews are scheduled for tomorrow.”

  Elijah was coadministrator of the school and one of Aiyana’s adopted sons. She’d read his bio on the website. “No, uh, no. I’m not here to interview. I was hoping to talk to Aiyana.”

  “My mother was in earlier. Let me check,” he said and crossed over to the corner office.

  Ellie curled her fingernails into her palms, but she didn’t have to wait long. A moment later, he poked his head out and beckoned her toward him. “Come on back.”

  Here goes... Standing, Ellie picked some lint from her sweater to give herself an extra moment to overcome her nerves. Fortunately, she didn’t think Elijah or anyone else could tell she was pregnant, not in what she was wearing today. She hadn’t bought any maternity clothes, hadn’t needed them yet. She was wearing her best-fitting jeans, unbuttoned at the top to accommodate her thickening waist, covered by a long black sweater. She’d chosen this outfit because it went so well with her new boots, but at the last minute, she worried that she might be dressed too casually. She felt she was already at a disadvantage; she didn’t want Hudson, if she saw him, to wonder if he’d been blind to hit her up at the club in the first place.

  As soon as Elijah showed her into the office, an attractive, petite woman looked up and smiled. Ellie guessed Aiyana was part Native American, what with her creamy, café au lait skin, the thick black braid down her back and the abundance of turquoise jewelry on her arms, fingers and neck. “Hello. I’m Aiyana Turner.” Offering her hand, she came around a large desk. “What can I do for you?”

  Elijah’s footsteps moved slowly toward the
common area. Ellie could tell he was hoping to learn her purpose before he left. No doubt he was curious. But she lowered her voice. “It’s a—a private matter.”

  “I see.” Aiyana fell silent until they heard the click of the door. After her son was gone, she threaded her fingers together and propped her hands on her blotter. “Are you here because you have a loved one who might be a candidate for enrollment?”

  “No. I was hoping you could put me in touch with Hudson King.”

  “Hudson,” she repeated in surprise. “Are you a reporter or—”

  “Not a reporter,” she broke in. “I—I have something important to discuss with him. That’s all.”

  “I see.” Aiyana spoke slowly as if she was trying to decide how to respond. “You do realize there are a lot of people who try to reach Hudson through us.”

  “I didn’t know that, but...it makes sense, I guess.”

  “That means we have to be very diligent about safeguarding his privacy. It wouldn’t be fair to give his contact information to any stranger who stopped by.”

  “I understand. But I’m not looking for an autograph or a—a story. I’m not trying to sell him anything, either. We’ve met before, once. I’m only in town for a couple of days and...and I really need to speak to him while I’m here.” She was being vague, but she wasn’t willing to say more—not to anyone Hudson knew—until she’d broken the news to him personally.

  “I see. I believe you. I do,” Aiyana said. “Problem is...we aren’t at liberty to reveal his contact information to anyone, not without his express permission. If you’d like to leave your name and number with me, however, I’ll let him know you stopped by.”

  Ellie put her purse on her lap. “He’s in town, then?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t reveal that, either. Silver Springs is too small.”

  Wow. They were even more protective of Hudson than she’d expected. Was it because Aiyana respected him? Or was she simply afraid to lose his patronage?

  Ellie hoped it was the former. That indicated the father of her baby was likely a good person in addition to being talented in sports and physically gorgeous. “I understand.” She reached into her purse and retrieved the note she’d written, just in case. “If you could pass this along, I’d appreciate it.” She stood as she handed the envelope across the desk. “I’m in room 103 at The Mission Inn. Tell him I’ll stay there until the day after tomorrow. If I don’t hear from him, I’ll assume... I’ll assume I’ve fulfilled my obligation.”

  “Which means...you’ll leave town?”

  “Yes. I’ll have to leave early Saturday to catch my flight, since it’s out of LAX.”

  “I’ll make him aware of your time constraints.”

  “Thank you.” Ellie offered her a brief smile before leaving the office. She told herself the meeting had gone as smoothly as she could have expected. At least she’d spoken to someone who could pass along a message—and seemed reliable enough to do so. But even after she reached her motel, the butterflies in her stomach made it impossible to eat the sandwich she’d picked up along the way, although she hadn’t had anything since she left Miami other than a few pretzels. She couldn’t sit down, either, couldn’t stop moving. So she paced back and forth at the end of the two double beds in her room, rehearsing what she planned to say if Hudson bothered to contact her.

  Maybe he wouldn’t respond, she told herself. Maybe she’d spend two agonizing days waiting for some word from him, and it would never come.

  That would be good, right? Then she could go on her way without any guilt.

  She tried to convince herself. Part of her, the part that feared how he might react, would be relieved. But the rest of her wanted to see him again. After all, he’d fueled her fantasies for months.

  * * *

  When Hudson received Aiyana’s text saying she needed to talk to him, he was leaving the doctor’s office with Aaron. Aaron’s last round of chemo was over. They were running tests to see if it had worked. He knew Aaron was worried about what those tests would reveal; so was he, since they’d had bad news before. But they’d been laughing and joking with each other all afternoon. The kid was the bravest person Hudson had ever known. He was also a real smart-ass, which Hudson happened to enjoy.

  Hudson waited until after they’d returned to the ranch and Aaron had gone up to his dorm room before he responded to Aiyana. He was afraid Aaron was what she wanted to talk about. That was what they usually talked about—Aaron or another one of the boys who needed something. But once he texted the school administrator to let her know he was in the parking lot and heading toward her office, she wrote back to say he should wait where he was, that she was coming from the science building and would meet him at his truck.

  He leaned against the driver’s door while he waited, waving at the various students who called out his name as they hurried to their after-school activities. He liked that they didn’t make a big deal of his presence on campus. Although most were more than eager to do anything he invited them to do, they respected his personal space better than many adults. He was at the school often enough that they took his appearance in stride, which let him relax, be a normal person for a change.

  He noticed Aiyana making her way toward him and straightened. He could tell by her expression that something was wrong. Her smile, always so warm and infectious, didn’t reach her eyes. “What is it?” he asked, tossing his keys from hand to hand.

  “I don’t know exactly,” she replied.

  “What do you mean? This isn’t about Aaron...”

  “No. A young woman—quite attractive—showed up here today, asking for you.”

  “A young woman.”

  “About your age, yes.”

  “And? Who was she?”

  “She didn’t give me her name. Just said she needed to talk to you. When I told her I couldn’t share your contact information, she took this from her purse and told me to tell you that she’ll be in room 103 at The Mission Inn until the day after tomorrow.” She handed him an envelope with his name penned in a feminine script on the outside.

  “That’s it?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Ms. Turner! Ms. Turner! Are you coming to watch my debate?” Colin Green called out from near the English department.

  “Of course,” she called back.

  “Hurry! It’s about to start.”

  “I’ll be there!”

  When Aiyana returned her attention to Hudson, he raised the envelope in a salute. “Thanks for this.” He began to get in his truck but she stopped him.

  “Hudson?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I didn’t get the impression she came for a social visit—an attempt to reconnect or anything like that. She seemed nervous. Said something about fulfilling her ‘obligation,’ so you might want to be prepared for the unexpected.”

  “I’m not worried,” he said. “I haven’t done anything that could come back to bite me.” Whatever this was, it had to be some sort of mistake. Or maybe, even though Samuel Jones, the private investigator he’d hired, had checked in just last week to say he hadn’t been able to find anything yet, this was a result of some stone he’d overturned. Most likely Hudson’s mother was the one who’d abandoned him. Perhaps she’d made a friend or loved one promise not to reveal her identity until after she was dead, and now she was gone.

  Had to be something like that, Hudson decided. He couldn’t be in the kind of personal trouble Aiyana seemed to think. Very few single men were as circumspect as he was.

  At his reassurance, her smile eased. “Great. I’ve been worried for you. Now, good luck with...whatever it is. I have to go see how well Colin defends his favorite president.”

  He told her goodbye and shut his door before tearing open the envelope. He expected the note inside to contain some news about his
background—if not what he’d imagined, then something similar. Perhaps this was from a woman claiming to be related to someone who’d seen or heard something that day. Heck, it could even be someone claiming to be related to him. Wouldn’t be the first time that’d happened. In the year following his first pro contract, he’d had three different women come forward, declaring they were his mother. One had been only twelve years older than he was. Another was in Pennsylvania the day he was born, and DNA had ruled out the third. DNA had ruled out a handful since then, too.

  But the note didn’t say anything like that.

  Hudson, this is Ellie Fisher, the woman you met at the nightclub (Envy) in Miami on September 10. I went to your hotel room with you at the Four Seasons.

  She didn’t have to get that specific. Ellie and Envy would’ve been enough. He hadn’t forgotten her. Couldn’t forget her. But the note went on.

  I’m sorry to surprise you like this. I’m sure you weren’t expecting to hear from me. But I need to talk to you for a few minutes. Please call me.

  She’d scrawled her number below her name, so he added it to his contacts. He’d wished, on several occasions, that he’d asked for a number or email address, some way to reach her before she could slip away. He would’ve requested her number; it just hadn’t occurred to him to do that up front. He’d never had a woman run out on him like she did.

  Feeling more excited than worried, he started his truck. Aiyana didn’t understand the circumstances. Ellie had figured out who he was, or she wouldn’t have been able to track him down. She probably hadn’t been nervous when she met Aiyana so much as angry because she felt she’d been misled.

  Before shifting into Reverse, he almost called Ellie’s number to let her know he was on his way. He had his phone in his hand but changed his mind at the last second. Why call? Aiyana had told him where Ellie was staying.

  He’d just go there.

  9

  The Mission Inn was the least expensive motel in town, but Hudson preferred it to the others. White, with a red tile roof, it was modeled after the twenty or so religious outposts built by the Spanish to expand Christianity in the late eighteenth century. It even had a bell tower, like the nearby Spanish mission he’d used as inspiration when he’d had to create a replica in fourth grade. Most California students had to build a miniature mission as part of the history curriculum in grade school, and he hadn’t been any different. The memory stood out because that was the year he’d been placed in a home that had a mother who tried to support him in his schoolwork. If only she hadn’t lost her sister in a car accident six months after he moved in, she might’ve kept him. Instead, she’d taken him back to the orphanage so she could cope with the adoption of her two nieces and one nephew.