Later, they dressed and put Rosie in her car seat and drove down into the Valley to buy a few things for the house—some new deck chairs and an entry hall table. That night, they left Rosie with a sitter and went out to dinner at a place they both liked over on Commercial Street
.
It wasn't until Monday morning after Logan had left for his office that Lacey found herself rethinking their exchange of Saturday night. As Rosie napped, she sat in her studio with her sketch pad in her lap and brooded over the words her husband hadn't said.
Simple expressions of encouragement and understanding, like…
Good luck.
Or, I'll keep my fingers crossed for you.
Or, Of course, Belinda Goldstone will call.
Or, You're a damn good artist and it's about time you got a break.
Eventually, Rosie woke. Lacey heard the fitful cries from the monitor on the windowsill and came back to herself with a start.
She looked down at the sketch pad in her hands.
Blank.
Well, she thought, that's what brooding will get you. Nowhere.
Was she overreacting?
Probably.
As she'd admitted to Logan the other night, she was sensitive on this subject. Probably way too sensitive.
The wisest thing to do, she knew, was to let it go for now. And when the subject came up again, she'd try her best to approach it calmly and rationally. She'd make a concerted effort not to allow her own insecurities to get all mixed up with whatever might be bothering her husband.
Rosie cried louder.
Lacey set her sketch pad aside and went to take care of her baby.
* * *
Two days later, on Wednesday, at eleven in the morning, Mack called from a Key West hospital.
"It's a boy," he announced. "Eight pounds, two ounces."
Lacey let out a glad cry. "Oh, Mack! Congratulations. I can hardly believe it. His name. What's his name?"
"Ian Alexander. The Alexander's for my stepfather—"
"And Ian after our dad. Great choice."
"We think so."
"Is Jenna…?"
"She's right here. A little tired."
"I'll bet. I promise I won't keep her long."
Jenna came on the line. "Lace. Hello."
Lacey's eyes blurred with sudden moisture. She swiped at them with the heel of her hand. "Hey. A beautiful boy, huh?"
"Yep. You're an auntie."
"Oh, Jen. I can't believe it. I … I want to see him."
"Then come. Bring Rosie. And Logan. Come see us."
Both sisters were silent. Lacey knew that Jenna was thinking the same thing that she was.
Logan would find some reason why they couldn't go.
Jenna hitched in a tight little breath. "It's all right," she said, her voice weary. "I understand. Maybe someday…"
"Yes," Lacey agreed. "Someday soon…" Why did that feel like such a complete lie? "…and I should let you go now, shouldn't I?"
"I'll call you, in a day or two, after we're out of this hospital and back home where we belong."
"Yes. Oh, please do."
"We … we don't talk enough anymore, Lace."
Lacey closed her eyes and murmured, "I know."
"What? I can hardly hear you."
Lacey spoke right into the mouthpiece this time. "I said, I know. We don't talk enough. I keep meaning to call you, but…" But what? There was really no excuse.
Except that she and Logan had a good life. And Jenna wasn't part of it. Jenna was someone Lacey and Logan never talked about.
Logan certainly never mentioned her. He'd loved Jenna for over a decade, had wanted to marry her. She had helped to make his house a beautiful home. Yet it was as if he'd prefer to pretend that she simply didn't exist.
Then again, maybe Lacey had it wrong. Yes, Logan never mentioned Jenna. But Lacey never talked about her either.
Jenna said, "Let's not allow ourselves to drift apart."
Lacey brushed away more tears. "It's a deal."
"I love you."
"Oh, and I love you, too."
Jenna laughed then, a tired sound, but a cheerful one. "My husband is grabbing the phone from me now. He seems to think I've talked long enough. I'll call…"
"Okay. Bye."
Mack came back on. "Think about it," he said. "Come for a visit. Talk it over with that husband of yours. I think it's about time we all started letting bygones be bygones."
It was good advice and Lacey knew it. "All right," she said.
"What was that?"
"I said, all right, Mack. I'll talk to him."
* * *
Chapter 14
« ^ »
That evening, Lacey told Logan that Jenna and Mack's baby had been born.
He said, "Be sure to congratulate them for me."
They were sitting in the family room, on the long sofa there. She toed off her shoes and folded her legs under her, to the side. "I thought I'd send them a baby swing. I love the one we got for Rosie. Keeps her happy for long stretches of time."
"A baby swing sounds good to me."
She leaned her head against his arm, which rested along the sofa back. Her heart was racing. But she kept her voice offhand. "Oh, and Jenna asked us to come to Key West. For a visit. Mack mentioned the idea, too."
She felt his bicep flex beneath her cheek. "Lace, I can't get away right now. Not so soon after a two-week trip to Wyoming."
She sat up straight and sought his eyes. "All right. Then when?"
He hesitated, but finally gave out reluctantly, "Maybe next spring."
In the spring. Six or seven months. That wouldn't be so bad, if she could get a definite commitment. "The spring then. In April? I'll tell Jenna when she calls."
He was already shaking his head. "Let's just wait until April and think about it then."
"But Logan—"
"I can't make any promises about seven months from now." His tone had cooled, and there was an underpinning of steel in it. "That's all there is to it."
Okay, Lacey thought. We've danced around this long enough. Now, we'd better get down to a little honesty on the subject. "Logan, what's the real problem here?"
"I told you. I can't—"
She didn't let him finish. "Is it that you still feel uncomfortable at the thought of seeing Jenna and Mack again?"
He didn't answer for a moment. Then he admitted, "Yes. The idea does make me uncomfortable. But Jenna is your sister. And I suppose we'll have to see her and McGarrity now and then."
"We'll have to see them?"
He looked at her levelly. "That's what I said. Please don't ask me to pretend it's something I'm looking forward to."
She stared right back at him, eye-to-eye. "I'm not asking you to pretend anything. I'm asking you to start thinking about putting all the old garbage behind you."
"Fine. I'll do that. To the best of my ability."
She let out a long breath. "To the best of your ability?"
"That's what I said."
She bit her lower lip, released it. "That's just great." She found she didn't want to sit there with him, not right then. She slid her feet to the rug and padded to the big window that looked out on the redwood deck. The outside lights were on, illuminating the new deck furniture they'd bought the other day, as well as the old willow tree that grew right next to the backyard steps. The willow's leaves were still summer-green. But soon enough, those leaves would begin to turn.
It was September again. In a few weeks, it would be a full year since she had knocked on his door, offering a shoulder to cry on and a four-layer devil's food cake.
A full year. In that time, she had learned that she loved him. She had borne his child. And she had come to believe that he loved her.
And was that the real problem here, the one she was trying to get them both to deal with?
She believed he loved her. But he had never said he did.
In some ways, it seemed that Jenna's gent
le, loving spirit stood between them still. And never more so than now, when he refused to take the steps required to put old hurts away for good.
She heard him approach. He put his hands on her shoulders. She stiffened, but then made her body relax beneath his touch. She felt his breath, warm across the crown of her head. "Lace. Just give it a little more time, all right?"
"How much more time?"
He didn't answer, but his hands tightened a fraction on her shoulders, a signal that he wanted her to lean back against him.
She folded her arms over her stomach and remained fully upright. "Logan, you say you're happy with me."
"I am."
"Then why can't you let the past go? Why can't you forgive my sister for … choosing another man over you?" She turned beneath his hands, so she could face him. "I don't call her anymore, Logan. Because I feel uncomfortable myself, about the whole thing. I don't want it to be like this. I don't want to lose touch with her. She's my sister. And she's my friend. And I love her very much."
"I never said I expected you to cut off contact with her."
"No. But you … you don't want me to talk about her. You behave as if you'd just as soon forget that she and Mack even exist."
She paused, waiting for him to argue with her, to reassure her, to tell her he didn't mind talking about Jenna at all. That he most certainly did not want to forget she existed.
But he didn't argue.
She made her final point. "You won't go and visit her."
He did have a reply to that. "I will. Eventually. You just have to back off a little. Give me a little more time."
More time. "You already said that."
"And I think it's a reasonable request."
She stared at him, thinking, I love you. Do you love me?
Should she ask him?
Somehow, she just couldn't bear to.
It seemed to her that a declaration of love ought to be freely given. It wasn't something a woman should pull out of a man—like a splinter or a shameful confession.
She warned in a gentle voice, "Don't take too much time, Logan. Eventually I'll simply go to Key West without you."
"I understand," he said.
"Do you?"
"Let it go, Lace."
"All right. I will. For now."
* * *
Two days later, when Jenna called, Lacey told her it would be a while before she and Logan visited. Jenna didn't ask why. She said she'd look forward to their visit whenever it came. And that any time Lacey needed her, all she had to do was call.
The phone rang again not two minutes after Lacey hung up from her conversation with Jenna.
It was Barnaby Cole. "I had to call you. My fingers were just itching to punch up your number."
Lacey laughed, but her heart had started beating hard and fast. "What?"
"They just left."
"I take it you mean Xavier and Belinda Goldstone."
"You take it right." Barnaby's voice, always deep and booming, seemed even deeper than usual, and charged with excitement. Lacey could see him in her mind's eye, a chocolate-skinned, muscular giant of a man, hunched over the phone, fiddling with the small gold hoop he always wore in his left ear.
"How long were they there?" she demanded.
"Over an hour."
"And? What happened? Barnaby, stop torturing me. Tell me, before I have a heart attack."
"Tell you—?"
"Everything."
"Everything." He chuckled, that low, rolling chuckle of his that Lacey had always loved. "All right. Let's see. They came up the freight elevator, since that's the only way to get here. Xavier made the introductions. The art dealer said the same thing that everybody says. It must be fabulous to have all this space—but the neighborhood is so dangerous, didn't I worry a little about my own safety? I said—"
"Barnaby. Stop it."
He chuckled some more. "Stop what?"
"When I said 'everything,' you know what I meant.
He pretended innocence. "Oh. You want to hear about your paintings…"
"That's right. So tell me. Tell me right now."
"Well, let's see. I'd taken them out of the storage racks and propped them against the walls of the studio, in the order you told me to. I led both the Goldstone woman and Xavier back there. She took one look at them—"
"Oh, God." Lacey ordered herself to breathe. "What?"
"—and she turned to Xavier and me—we were standing behind her. She waved at us, a shooing gesture, with the back of her hand. 'Leave me alone,' she said. 'Give a woman some space.'"
"So? You and Xavier—"
"We went out to the kitchen area. I bought an espresso machine, did I tell you? We made lattes."
"You and Xavier made lattes, while Belinda Goldstone looked at my paintings."
"That's right. She was in there forever."
"And when she came out?"
"She was very quiet. I offered her a latte. She said she had to get back to the gallery."
"And that's all?"
"You should have seen her face."
"Why? What was wrong with it?"
"Nothing. She loved what she saw."
"You think she loved what she saw."
"No, I know she loved what she saw. She'll be calling you, just wait."
"Wait?" Lacey let out a wild laugh. "Wait? I'll go crazy…"
"Call Xavier. Maybe she said something more to him after they left."
She did call Xavier. He didn't answer, so she left him a message.
He called back two hours later, after she'd nursed Rosie and changed her diaper and spent the rest of the time pacing the floor.
Xavier said virtually the same thing Barnaby had said. That he was sure Belinda Goldstone would be calling her soon.
"Soon? When is soon?"
"It's Friday, Lace. And it's after three. The working week is over."
"Oh. Great. That's just great."
"I'm sure she'll call you Monday. Or sometime next week."
"I might have a nervous breakdown before then."
"A nervous breakdown would be counterproductive. My advice is to work."
"Work."
"Yes. And do … whatever mothers do with their infants. Go someplace wonderful for dinner. Make love with your husband. Live your life and live it well."
"If Belinda Goldstone happens to call you—"
"She won't. Not about you. It's between you and her now. I gave her your number."
"She asked for it?"
"Yes. So settle down. Wait. She will call. She'll ask you to meet with her. She'll offer to become your dealer. And she'll want to discuss your first show with her gallery."
"You're talking about it as if it's really going to happen."
"Because it is. Wait and see—and calm down. You deserve this, Lace. Remember that. You've worked long and hard to get to this point."
* * *
Lacey decided not to tell Logan about the calls from L.A. She had no real news yet, and he'd seemed so cool on the subject the other time they'd discussed it. She decided it would be wiser to wait until she had something concrete to say.
By the time he came home, after eight, she had settled down considerably. She'd even spent a couple of hours in her studio working on a painting she'd started of the twins.
He brought flowers. And his eyes were tender and hopeful.
He didn't mention Jenna or the argument of the night before. But he did say, "I missed you all day. I couldn't wait to get home and get my arms around you."
He gave her the flowers and then hardly allowed her the time to put them in a vase before he was pulling her close and raining kisses on her upturned face.
"I love kissing you. It's something about the way you smell, like no one else, so damn sweet…" His lips moved down to her throat. He began to draw on the skin.
She laughed, putting up a playful struggle. "Remember. Tomorrow night. The Health Aid Society Banquet."
He growled against her neck and to
ok his bruising kiss lower.
A few minutes later, he was leading her toward the stairs, stopping in the breakfast room and the hall, first to remove her big shirt and then her skinny tube top, which he'd already slid down so it was bunched around her waist.
On the stairs, he helped her out of her shoes. He took away her capri pants in the balcony hall. By the time they reached their bedroom, all she had left was a pair of red bikini panties.
He got rid of them, too.
Then he guided her down onto the bed and he kissed her all over, until she moaned and writhed and forgot all about the love words he never said and the sister he wouldn't visit and his cool, distant responses when she'd hinted at a breakthrough in her career.
* * *
The next night, at the Meadow Valley Country Club, Lacey and Logan shared a table with Dan and Fiona and Helen and her husband, Bud. After the food and the speeches, there was dancing. Lacey whirled in her husband's arms and thought that being the wife of a handsome doctor did have its moments—especially when the doctor in question was Logan.
They danced for a half hour without stopping, waiting on the floor as each number ended, and then picking up the rhythm again when a new song began. Finally, though, the five-piece combo took a break.
Lacey whispered in her husband's ear, "We're going to have to leave soon, I'm afraid."
He knew what she meant. "Are you all right?"
"So far." Her breasts were beginning to feel just a bit uncomfortable. "But I'd say that Rosie's probably getting hungry and I would prefer not to have a leaking accident—and don't look now, but that nice pharmaceutical supplies salesman is headed our way. I think it's time I paid a visit to the ladies' room."
Logan held her closer and murmured for her ears alone, "Great. Leave me when I need you most."
She kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be back. Then we'll go."
The salesman was closing in as Logan reluctantly released her.
Lacey followed the arrows to the club's black and white marble ladies' room, which was, surprisingly enough, unoccupied. She proceeded down to the end stall.
She'd barely shut the door and engaged the latch when she heard the main door open again. High heels tapped against the marble tiles.
"No one here." That was Helen Sanderson's voice, pitched low, but quite clear. Voices carried easily, amplified against the cool marble walls.
THE M.D. SHE HAD TO MARRY Page 14
