A Mother's Love

by Dawn Stewardson

  “Save it for later,” the C.O. said. “Right now we’ve got a mutilated body outside a renovation site on West 95th—just east of Amsterdam. A bag lady discovered it in a Dumpster. I need you to handle that.”

  “Right.”

  Hank clicked off, stuck his cell away and told his partner they weren’t going to Little Italy after all.

  They walked down the block to where Travis had parked his Mustang, which he always drove in preference to one of the cars from the detectives’ pool, and climbed in. As Travis pulled away from the curb, Hank dug his cell phone back out of his pocket and checked his voice mail.

  There was a message from a detective in the two-five precinct, wanting information on a perp Hank had arrested a few months ago. Apparently, he might be linked to an unsolved homicide the dets down there had on their hands.

  After that there was a hang-up. His breath caught as he listened to the third message.

  “Hank, this is Natalie. Robbie’s fine, but there’s been a problem. Call me at your place.”

  “Something’s happened at home,” he said, hitting the speed dial for the house number. “Natalie’s there.

  “She said Robbie’s okay,” he added, as much to reassure himself as inform Travis.

  The call connected; she answered so quickly that she must have had the cordless right beside her.

  “It’s me. What’s wrong?” he demanded.

  “Hank, Betty’s had a heart attack.”

  He had an instantaneous, panic-laden flashback to last October—when he’d rushed to Chicago because his father had suffered a heart attack.

  But he’d pulled through, and when Hank tuned back in to what Natalie was saying, she was telling him that Betty should make it, too.

  “You’re sure?”

  “As sure as anyone can be.”

  Okay. Natalie was a doctor. She knew what she was talking about. So Betty would be okay, and that was the important thing.

  Still trying to force away the image of his father lying in a hospital bed with a dozen tubes attached to him, he made a mental note to phone Audrey in the morning, then said, “How did you end up at the house?”

  “Betty called me. She only got your voice mail, so she tried me.”

  Got his voice mail. Then she’d been the hang-up.

  “I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he said.

  “Don’t feel you’ve got to come right away. I’ve talked to her children and they both said they’d go straight to the hospital. And she’ll be in ICU, so only family will be allowed to see her anyway.”

  “But Robbie—”

  “Don’t worry about him. I can stay here until morning. In fact, I’d prefer that to driving back to the motel in the middle of the night.”

  “Well...is he okay? Not upset or anything?”

  “No. He was, but I got him calmed down. He’s fallen asleep again.”

  “Then I guess...”

  “It’s fine, Hank. Really.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well...all right. And thanks. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  As he stuck the phone away, Travis said, “What happened?”

  Briefly, Hank filled him in.

  When he was done, Travis said, “Betty’s lucky. If she hadn’t gotten hold of Natalie, she might be a goner.”

  He nodded, not wanting to even think about Robbie waking up in the morning to find her dead.

  “But...look,” Travis continued slowly, “if you want to head home, I can finish the shift on my own.”

  “No, I’ll hang in. There’s really no need for me to be there.”

  “So you figure that Natalie being alone with Robbie is okay?”

  “Yeah. It’s not a problem.”

  He wouldn’t have said that a few days ago. But by this point he knew she wasn’t the type to try anything crazy. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if she was one of the most responsible women he’d ever met.

  Travis turned onto East 96th, which would let them cut through Central Park, then said, “Now what do you do for a sitter?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe talk to Espizito about taking some time off.”

  Travis shot him a glance that said the C.O. would be far from thrilled with that idea. They were chronically overworked, and being unexpectedly short-staffed never helped.

  “Or maybe I can arrange something with one of the neighbors,” he said. “Or find someone through an agency.”

  Travis was silent for a minute. “You know who’s going to offer to look after him,” he said at last.

  Hank stared out into the darkness, not a doubt in his mind that his partner was right.

  “What will you say when she does?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

  * * *

  HANK AND TRAVIS SPENT an hour or so at the crime scene on West 95th—Hank unable to keep his mind on the job for more than ten seconds at a stretch.

  Rationally, he knew Robbie was just fine, but all kinds of irrational fears kept sneaking into his head.

  Glancing at his watch once more, he saw it wasn’t even four-thirty yet. How could the night be dragging by so slowly?

  “You know how often you’ve been checking the time?” Travis said.

  He shrugged.

  “About every five minutes. And, look, we’re done here and it’s too late to try Little Italy now. So why don’t we just head back to Manhattan North. You can pick up your Jeep and take off. I’ll go in and play catch-up with some paperwork.”

  “No, I’m okay.”

  “You’re not okay. You’re useless. So go home and make sure everything’s all right.”

  He hesitated but finally said, “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

  They walked over to the Mustang and climbed in, then drove north to East 119th.

  “I’m parked by the stairs,” Hank said as they neared the entrance to the precinct’s parking garage. “So I’ll just get out when you pull in.”

  Travis turned into the garage, then stopped, saying, “Take it easy, huh?”

  “Yeah, thanks. See you tomorrow.”

  Hank headed up to the second level where he’d left the Jeep, and barely fifteen minutes later was driving through the Lincoln Tunnel toward Jersey.

  With only the sparse, middle-of-the-night traffic, it was just another half hour until he pulled into his driveway and parked behind Natalie’s rental.

  The sight of her car sent a ripple of relief through him, which forced him to silently admit that one of his irrational fears had been that he’d come to the wrong conclusion about her—and would arrive home to discover she actually had taken off with Robbie.

  Jeez, no wonder he’d been so distracted after her call.

  Getting out of the Jeep, he took a deep breath of the cool air. Above, the sky was still dark. But the faint pink of morning had begun creeping up from the horizon.

  His eyes lingered on that for a moment, then he started across the lawn. The porch light cast a welcoming glow; the interior of the house was in darkness.

  He half expected to find Natalie stretched out on the couch, but didn’t. Assuming she’d decided to use Audrey’s bed, he quietly made his way to Robbie’s room, the way he always did when he got home late.

  The door was only partially closed and pale illumination from the night-light was spilling into the hall.

  He pushed the door fully open, took half a step forward, then stopped.

  Natalie was curled up on Robbie’s narrow bed with him. They were lying on top of the blanket, he in pajamas, she in jeans and a sweater—both fast asleep, his body snuggled spoonlike against hers and her arm wrapped protectively around him.

  Hank’s throat was suddenly tight. He didn’t want her to be lying there with his son. As if they belonged together.

  Yet she was his mother. How could he honestly say they didn’t?

  If they did, though, where did that leave him?

  His throat tighter still, he stoo
d watching the gentle rise and fall of her shoulder.

  For all her strength and determination, when she was sleeping she seemed incredibly fragile. Her features were delicate, and her hair looked like a mass of rich black silk against the white of the pillowcase.

  Then he closed his eyes, because watching her lying there was making him fantasize about all sorts of things—like a whole family for Robbie—that weren’t even remotely related to reality.

  Reality was that Natalie Lawson had lost her son. And due to a stupid error, Hank Ballantyne had adopted him. Now they had to deal with the fallout, which was the sole reason she was here.

  Once they’d hammered out a plan, she’d be gone. And so would Robbie. At least part of the time.

  That fact made him feel so empty inside he ordered himself to think about anything else.

  The next thing he knew he was gazing at her again and thinking that in an ideal world the two of them would fall in love. Then she’d stay here with him and Robbie forever.

  But that wasn’t going to happen.

  Oh, he didn’t have much trouble imagining himself falling in love with her. She was beautiful, smart and...well, even though it had been a long time, he recognized the signs.

  The way his heart began hammering when she walked into the room. His inability to take his eyes off her and his constant desire to hold her—which he was continuously reminding himself would not be smart.

  Hell, if he let down his reserves he’d probably be downright crazy about her within hours.

  But he was only one side of the equation. And he’d be deluding himself if he figured there was a chance she’d fall in love with him and decide to stay.

  Yesterday, Betty had asked about her life in Guatemala. And her reaction had firmly reinforced his sense that she intended to spend the rest of her days there. The way her face had lit up when she began talking about her clinic and her friends...

  Well, if he’d had any hopes that she’d even consider moving someplace a whole lot nearer, they’d have been dashed right there and then.

  * * *

  HE SIMPLY COULDN’T keep his hands to himself any longer. He rested them on the soft warmth of Natalie’s bare arms, praying he wasn’t making a terrible mistake.

  “Oh, Hank,” she whispered.

  He drew her to him, breathing her sweet scent and wrapping his arms around her....

  “You awake, Daddy?”

  The loud whisper sliced through his dream like an oar through water.

  He blinked against the bright sunlight sneaking into the room via a crack between the curtains. Even the aroma of fresh coffee, wafting past the now-open door, didn’t make him glad that Robbie had woken him.

  “You know who’s here, Daddy?”

  “Who?” he said instead of “Yes.” Robbie loved being the bearer of news.

  “Natalie.” His son gave him a huge grin. “She made me breakfast and we played outside and she read me a story and stuff.”

  Hank checked the bedside clock, thinking if they’d done all that it must be lunchtime. It was actually only a little past ten.

  “Mrs. Harmand’s in the hospital. That’s how come Natalie’s here.”

  He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

  “But she’s gonna be okay. Natalie phoned. And talked to a doctor.”

  “This morning, you mean?”

  “Uh-huh. After we played.”

  “Good. It’s really good that she’s not too sick.”

  Rubbing his jaw, he wondered if he should shave before he did anything else. But he normally showered and shaved shortly before he left for work—regardless of what shift he was on. So why would he change his routine just because Natalie was here?

  Ignoring the imaginary voice that began telling him, he grabbed his jeans from the chair and pulled them on. Then he tugged a clean T-shirt over his head and fished his loafers out from under the bed.

  “Is Mrs. Chevy comin’ home today?”

  “No. She’ll be away for a couple of weeks. You know that.”

  “Then is Natalie stayin’? To look after me?”

  Hank stared across the room, Travis’s words from last night echoing in his memory.

  You know who’s going to offer to look after him, he’d said.

  “Daddy? Is she?”

  “Would you like her to?”

  Robbie nodded vigorously.

  “Well, I’ll tell you what. You can watch one of your movies and I’ll talk to her about it. Okay?”

  “’Kay.”

  He took Robbie’s hand as they started down the hall, wondering what on earth he should do.

  She was going to offer. And it would be a logical solution to his problem. But the prospect of her and Robbie together for so much of the time...

  Mentally shaking his head, he told himself he wasn’t thinking straight. Whatever agreement they eventually reached would have Robbie spending far more than a couple of weeks with her.

  After they’d chosen a movie and he turned on the TV, he headed for the kitchen. When he got there, Natalie was standing with her back to him, rinsing off some dishes in the sink.

  For a few seconds he merely watched her, trying not to let himself start contemplating the impossible. Then he cleared his throat and she turned toward him—giving him such a warm smile that he felt his heart skip a beat.

  “I was surprised to see your Jeep when I got up,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d be home until at least nine.”

  “I cut out early. Got here around five-thirty.”

  She glanced at her watch. “And you’ve had enough sleep already?”

  “Not really, but Robbie figured I had.”

  She smiled again, then said, “I phoned the hospital and checked on Betty.”

  “He told me. She’s definitely all right?”

  “There’s some damage, but not nearly as much as there might have been. They’ll keep her in Intensive Care for a few days, just in case there are unexpected complications, but she should be fine.”

  “Good. I’ll call Audrey in a while. Let her know what’s happened.”

  “She’ll be worried about Robbie.”

  Hank nodded.

  “About who’s going to take care of him until she gets back, I mean.”

  “Yeah.”

  He’d known exactly what she meant, of course. Just as he knew exactly what she was thinking right this second. Her expression told him that she was dying to volunteer but didn’t want to seem too eager.

  He poured himself a mugful of coffee, delaying the inevitable. Her looking after Robbie made perfect sense. Yet he felt as if letting her do it would be driving another nail into the proverbial coffin.

  His coffin.

  “I spoke to Cynthia Koehler, too,” she said.

  “Dr. Koehler. At the hospital,” she added when he eyed her blankly.

  “Oh, right.”

  “She was expecting me this morning, so I wanted to explain why I’d be late. And that we might have to adjust the schedule we decided on. Because I thought...”

  Hank met her gaze, waiting for her to get to where she was heading.

  “I don’t know if you have a backup plan for Robbie, but if you don’t...

  “Well, I was thinking...especially since you’re working nights... It wouldn’t make any difference to me whether I slept at the motel or here. And I could go to the hospital later in the day. After you get up. I mean, as I said, if you don’t have a backup plan.”

  “I don’t,” he made himself admit.

  “Oh...well, then if you think that would work...”

  “You’re sure you wouldn’t mind?” he asked, even though he realized it was a ridiculous question.

  She shrugged, still trying for not too eager. “I’d enjoy spending the time with him.”

  Again, Hank had to force himself to speak.

  “Then I guess that solves the problem,” he said. “But there’s no point in paying for a motel room if you’ll be either here
or at the hospital. So after I’ve had something to eat, why don’t we go pick up your things.”

  For a long moment she was silent. Then she said, “Are you sure that would be okay?”

  “Sure,” he said, telling himself he couldn’t actually hear the sound of another nail being driven home.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  AFTER HANK AND ROBBIE helped move her things, Natalie left for the hospital—unable to shake the worry that she should have done a little more thinking before checking out of the motel. Or, possibly, a lot more.

  When Hank had suggested she come stay at the house, her first reaction had been that it made perfect sense. And that she could certainly do with the money she’d save.

  Once she’d really begun contemplating the idea of being right there under his roof with him, though...

  She made the turn toward Madison, wondering how she could conceivably be growing more attracted to the man with each passing day. Especially when there was no way in the world he’d ever be attracted to her.

  Of course, even if he was, getting involved with him would still be the last thing she wanted to do. All she’d need, when she got home, was to discover she missed a man who lived thousands of miles away.

  However, that was not going to happen. As long as she just ignored the way she felt when he was near...

  But she was already aware that wouldn’t be the easiest thing to do. The emotions she’d been convinced had died with Carlos had come alive once more—those crazy, tingly feelings...

  She ordered herself to stop right there. Dwelling on how he made her feel was distinctly counterproductive.

  Instead, she should be reminding herself that all she had to do was act like a rational adult rather than a teenager with a crush. And it shouldn’t really be too tough a task. Especially considering she’d hardly be seeing Hank.

  He’d said that when he worked midnights he usually slept until about three in the afternoon. If she headed for the hospital then, by the time she got back he’d be almost ready to leave for work again.

  Of course, she reflected, pulling into the Madison Plains parking lot, she was assuming Cynthia would agree to those hours. Which might not happen.

  Once inside the hospital, she made a quick stop by the ICU. After introducing herself to the head nurse, who had no problem with a visiting consultant being on the unit, she slipped in to see Betty Harmand.