After a nod from Brad, Lee gestured toward the hallway leading to the holding cells. “Gonna grab a soda. Want anything?”
Oliver and Brad shook their heads.
Oliver watched Lee’s retreat, reconciling the guy, one of their high school drinking buddies, with the responsible keeper of the peace he’d become. Finally alone with Brad in the empty squad room, he grappled to meld another night of no sleep with his determination not to F this up.
“Where’s everyone else?” he asked.
He’d seen only the female officer at the front desk who’d waved him back. The squad room was too quiet. Creepy. It smelled the same. God, it felt the same. Like it was still seven years ago.
Brad leaned back in his chair. “Folks filter through before or after patrol. We have a couple of warrants being served today. There’s an in-school field trip at Chandler Middle School. A policemen are your friends community outreach thing. The sheriff is there. I’m covering Travis’s shift, so he’s free to hang with your parents this morning and be at their place later if you need help with the afternoon stuff. Dru’s pretty wiped.”
“She’s been a trouper. I’ll let everyone get back to their lives tomorrow. My brother and sister seem to think the kids are going to scare me away.”
“Hell.” Brad laughed. “They scare me every day I go over there.”
“It’s a little . . . much. But I’ll rally.”
Actually, Oliver hadn’t made a dent in the inbox full of e-mails he needed to deal with. He’d been up and down with Teddy most of the night. The baby was teething, Dru had explained—which evidently meant the kid was suffering 24-7, so everyone around him should be, too. And while Oliver had been trying to console an inconsolable toddler, his mind had refused to latch on to anything but getting his ass over here this morning—and then to the Rosenthal house, once Selena was home from work.
“You got a few minutes to talk?” he asked.
“I have a proposal to finish for Chris,” Brad said, “but it’ll keep.”
“Chris?”
“Chris Willis. The new sheriff. Took over for Ben Higgins five years ago or so. He’s a good guy. You’d like him.”
“Yeah.” Oliver had never been a law-enforcement-liking kind of guy. “Listen, I’m really sorry to be doing this, but . . .”
He crossed his arms, more pissed again than sorry suddenly.
Brad stood and mirrored his stance. “Sorry about me and Dru?”
“Jury’s still out. But I got to talk with her some yesterday. She seems happy. You must be doing something right.”
“Not everything yet, but we’ll work the rest out. It’s only been a few months. It was pretty rough at first.”
“Still, you’re already engaged.”
“Extreme circumstances. But you have to know, man. It’s what I’ve wanted for years. Pretty much since things went to hell and I left and my grandmother took Dru in.”
“After you blew it with Selena, me, and Dru, all in one night?”
Brad inhaled. “Your sister and family are over it. It’ll make things a hell of a lot easier for everyone if you could be, too. Maybe it would be gratifying to lose control and blow off steam like the old days. If that’s what you’re here to do, I’m happy to oblige. By my recollection, I owe you a beat down. But pounding on each other’ll just hurt people we both care about. And it’s not the same thing as dealing with the problem.”
“The problem being Selena?”
“We’re all in one place again. It’s a small town.”
“And she’s living next door to the family you’re signing up to be a part of whenever you and Dru make it legal.”
“This fall. We were thinking later this fall, when the leaves turn. We met again just before Thanksgiving last year. But we might move things up now. Dru wants to be sure . . .”
“That Joe’s there.”
Brad stared at the toes of his polished work shoes. The guy actually polished his shoes. Which meant Travis must, too. And Oliver had a personal tailor for the suits he wore for top-shelf clients.
The Three Musketeers had gone legit.
Brad’s expression oozed regret. “Damn, we were a mess back then. The three of us.”
“Four. Don’t forget my brother. And while we’re on the subject, how exactly did you and Travis end up as cops, working for the Chandlerville sheriff together?”
Brad snorted. “Another long story. But to sum up . . . I was on the force in Savannah. Now I’m trying to re-create a killer job I walked away from in the Low Country. Chandlerville could use a community safety officer.” He motioned to the paper and notebooks strewn across his desk. “And if it happens, it’ll be because of Dru and your brother. Travis kept up with me, same as Dru says he has you. Probably the rest of your siblings. He’s like your folks. He doesn’t have it in him to give up on people.”
“Neither does Dru.”
“She gave me a second chance to love her,” Brad said. “We’ve both moved on.”
“From this business with Selena, too?”
“There is no business with Selena.”
“Yeah, about that.”
Jesus, how did Oliver say it?
“My family needs to know the truth,” he said, “and so do I. So do you, Brad. You and Dru. And I need to know you’re on board before I go after Selena, trying to get this done.”
“The truth about what?”
“Camille.”
“The kid?”
“Marsha was already pushing me toward Selena yesterday morning when you walked off the elevator.”
“Like my grandmother did with me and Dru.”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what?”
“She wants to know whether or not she and Joe have been grandparents all this time.”
Panic did a slow, greasy glide across Brad’s features. He held up a hand. “Are you telling me Marsha thinks . . .”
Oliver nodded.
He still couldn’t get the words out himself.
“Joe, too,” he added. “Travis might have the beginnings of a clue. Who knows? He keeps everyone’s secrets. Most of them,” Oliver qualified. “Mom doesn’t think Dru’s there yet, but . . .”
“Dru . . . ?” Brad sputtered.
“If I can talk Selena into it, I want to sit her down with you and my sister and get to the bottom of things.”
“Her daughter could be yours?”
“Or yours, buddy, if your hookup was as unplanned as you’ve said.”
“Selena and Camille could have belonged in one of our lives all this time?”
“And if she knew she was pregnant and ran anyway, stayed away all this time, that means she doesn’t want Camille to be part of our lives. Which would explain the way Marsha’s said she’s been avoiding everyone since she came back.”
“God . . .” Brad slumped into his chair. “She must have really hated us, or thought we hated her, if she figured she had to have a baby all on her own.”
“I don’t know anything for sure. And the hell of it is, if we handle this wrong we may never know, unless we force the issue legally. The person we need answers from ran from both of us yesterday.”
“Damn it, man, it never occurred to me . . . It was just once. But yeah, we were stupid drunk and not thinking about protection. Of course she could have gotten pregnant. And then I was too busy dealing with the fallout of you leaving and then Selena, and my grandmother telling me to get out on my own and learn how to stop being such a selfish ass. My life was a mess after that.”
“Mine, too.”
But Oliver wasn’t a mess now. He was a responsible, respected businessman. He could fix anything. Even this. Somehow he’d get Selena to see that not dealing with him wasn’t an option.
They’d once promised each other forever. She shouldn’t have had to face raising her daughter on her own. If that’s what had happened.
Oliver and Brad sized each other up.
“We both dropped her,” Brad said.
“But shit, man. She had family here. Belinda, your parents, Vivian. She’d have been taken care of if she’d just told someone.”
“She found someone else to take care of her.” Maybe marrying another man to give Oliver’s baby a home.
“We’ve got to talk with her.” Brad sounded ready to hunt Selena down now to talk it out. “We’ve got to know for sure, before we . . . Jesus, how am I going to break this to Dru?”
“Don’t. Not yet.” It was the main reason Oliver had come here. “She’s holding it together for Mom, but she’s as wrecked as the rest of us about Dad’s surgery. My gut says not to drop this on her until we know more. But you . . . You know my sister better than I do now. I wanted your take before I did anything else.”
Brad winced. “She can’t sleep. She’s running herself into the ground. Visiting the hospital, taking care of things at the Whip, spelling you and Travis whenever she’s needed at the house.”
“Then let me try talking with Selena first. Yesterday at the hospital I wasn’t . . .”
Ready?
To what—forgive her?
He’d hurt her so much more than he’d known, if she could have kept Camille from him. Or from Brad. Oliver should be pissed, but all he could think about was going back to that horrible night everything had begun to unravel and holding Selena until she’d let herself truly trust him.
He’d finally worked it through in rehab. How he’d pushed Selena too hard to clean herself up, to be like him, to move on from how lost they’d both felt. She hadn’t been ready. She’d needed someone she trusted to stay lost like her. He hadn’t been able to anymore, not and stay with his family. So at least to her mind, he’d abandoned her. While she’d still been hurting and self-medicating, and convincing herself that he no longer cared.
Now you’re going to leave me, just like my father!
“I’ll try to get her to open up about Camille.” And not to push her even farther away. “I’ll let you know what she says.”
“Then we’ll all do what’s best,” Brad agreed, “for Selena and her little girl and Dru and the rest of your family.”
“Our family.” Oliver reached out his hand to his soon-to-be brother-in-law. His friend. And possibly the father of his first niece. “Instead of taking care of ourselves this time, we’ll protect the people we care about.”
Brad shook. “One for all?”
“And all for one.”
Chapter Ten
Selena would have given her last dollar for a cab and the disposable income to pay someone else to drive her and Camille home from their very long day—capped off by a lengthy visit to Camille’s pediatrician.
“I’m sorry, Mommy,” said the bedraggled moppet huddled in Fred’s backseat.
“You couldn’t help throwing up, Cricket. Mommy’s not mad at you.” What Mommy was, was certifiably freaked. It was terrifying each time her daughter’s allergies attacked—even when an episode turned out to be relatively minor like this one.
Camille’s doctor had said she’d be fine, just to keep an eye on her for the next twenty-four hours to make sure her symptoms improved.
“You told me not to eat other people’s snacks,” Camille said, “and I did. Karen called me a baby because I wouldn’t. I did it just to show her. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, honey. You had your EpiPen, and Nurse Mallory took care of you until I could get there. But you never know what foods might have peanuts in them.” Nuts had been the culprit this time, the pediatrician suspected. “The doctor said we can’t be too careful, okay? Next time, talk to Mrs. Preston if Karen won’t leave you alone. Promise me?”
“I promise.”
Even Camille’s ponytails were drooping when Selena checked her daughter’s reflection in the rearview mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and sweaty, and her pretty pink dress was stained from her stomach’s attempt to expel the candy she’d let herself be bullied into eating. Selena pushed Fred’s air conditioner to Max, patting his dashboard when, without the slightest hesitation, he blasted colder air toward her daughter.
Chill bumps scatter-bombed Selena’s body at the thought of how much worse things could have been. She shivered and pressed the brake too hard at the corner of Maple and Branch. Fred jerked to a stop. He backfired, a gentleman’s warning not to push her luck. Selena took a more leisurely turn onto Bellevue.
She was losing it. Even her car could sense it. And Kristen’s and Travis’s visits that morning hadn’t helped. Even while she’d been dealing with Camille and the rush to her pediatrician, Selena hadn’t been able to get her future in Chandlerville, and Oliver and his family, out of her mind.
At least it was the middle of the day and Belinda wouldn’t be home from work until later. Selena hadn’t let her mom know about Camille’s emergency. Everything was fine. Selena was holding herself together. Adding Belinda to the equation might tip her over the edge to completely coming undone. She refocused on the angel sliding lower on Fred’s cracked vinyl seat.
“We’re almost home, honey.”
Her daughter’s miserable gaze met hers in the mirror. Then she caught sight of the red pickup once more parked in the Dixons’ driveway.
“None of my concern,” she reminded herself—even though she’d spent a large chunk of last night on her mother’s front porch swing, staring through the shadows at the yard and the house next door.
“What’s wrong?” Camille wanted to know, looking out the window, too.
“Nothing.”
Except someone was walking through the hedge between the two yards. A very tall, determined-looking someone heading toward Belinda’s porch, then standing there, watching Selena drive closer, looking ready to wait all day if that’s how long it took her to face him. She slowed at the curb, drowning in the déjà vu sense that Oliver belonged there, had been there all these years no matter how long she’d stayed away, waiting for this moment of reckoning.
She pulled into the drive, almost taking out the mailbox when she couldn’t look away from him. He waited, hands clasped behind him. Angry? Calm? Lethally patient? She couldn’t tell.
Leaving Camille in the car on a day this hot while Selena talked with Oliver was out of the question. So was running the engine and air conditioning for her daughter while Selena took care of things alone. Their weekly gas budget barely covered their drive back and forth to school. Selena turned off the engine. Fred rumbaed into his shutdown routine, various parts of the car shimmying in conflicting tempos until the racket settled to a random series of pings.
Oliver loomed on the porch steps, like a storm cloud rolling in on itself—more threatening the longer it held back its fury. It could have been Selena’s imagination. It could have been more of the guilt riding her for months that had become intolerable as she’d tried to sleep last night. But somehow she was certain . . . her secret was out.
“Mommy?” Camille asked.
“Let’s get you inside.” Selena opened her door with a grinding screech that resembled the mating call of the bobwhite quails nesting each fall in the countryside near Chandlerville.
Camille’s door didn’t make quite as much racket. She kept insisting hers sounded like a parakeet. Selena lifted her daughter from the car and held her close. Oliver waited for them to come up the walkway, more than anger in his shifting expression. Selena saw longing. And fear. As if something he’d wanted badly his entire life was within his grasp, and he had no idea how to hang on to it.
Selena bit her lip. She’d promised herself never to dream about what this moment could mean. But she felt her heart stumbling all over itself in excitement as she walked toward Oliver. She couldn’t stop herself from hoping.
Her child in her arms, Camille’s head nestled against her neck, Selena stopped at the bottom of the steps and waited.
“I could hear your car coming down the street from a block away,” he finally said.
The man who’d wanted to be anywhere else yesterday but near Selena had been listening for her. And now he
had eyes only for Camille.
“Please,” Selena asked, “let me put my daughter down for a nap.”
Let me catch my breath before we do this.
Not once in the nearly seven years she’d lived with Parker—a lot of them truly bad years—had Selena been tempted to have another drink. But in less than twenty-four hours of living in the same town again as Oliver . . .
This should be the most precious moment of her life, having Camille meet the man who could very well be her father. Instead, Oliver’s jaw was clenched, terrifying Selena that he’d say too much and scare her child. He inhaled. His attention slipped to Selena’s ringless left hand where she was gently rubbing Camille’s back.
Then her daughter straightened and turned enough to see who was there.
“Hello,” Camille said. “You’re the man who threw the Frisbee.”
Oliver’s breath came out in a rush. The two of them studied each other, connecting silently with an ease made sweeter by the look of wonder Oliver flicked toward Selena.
“Who’s the father?” he said cryptically.
He didn’t sound angry. But Selena sensed something surging through him, silent thunder rolling closer. Then the rebel of her misspent youth smoothed a palm across Camille’s cheek. Selena’s little girl smiled back, thankfully not catching on to the tension escalating between the adults.
“I don’t know for sure,” Selena said, giving her awful truth its voice, even though she’d always thought of her daughter as Oliver’s.
She thought of Brad and Dru and Marsha and Joe, herself and Oliver, and even Belinda, and the confusion and chaos that were about to descend, ratcheting up what the Dixons were already dealing with. And, God help her, she thought of Parker, a part of her wishing she were weaker. More practical and able to go back to him and not care how many other women he slept with, as long as he came home, made the pretense of their marriage believable, and provided the financial security that to some other woman—to a younger Selena—might have been enough.
“I didn’t want to know at first,” she explained, needing Oliver to understand her long-ago decision. “I was alone, which meant I was going to handle it alone. And I did.” Except the happy, secure family she’d wanted for her baby had never materialized. “Please, let me settle Camille in her room. Then give me a chance to explain the rest.”
Let Me Love You Again (An Echoes of the Heart Novel Book 2) Page 10
