CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE TRILOGY

by Patrice Wilton

  Her mother stopped and spun around. “Why, yes. That would be very nice.” Her eyes practically gleamed. “How about if I bring over my pot roast? I know you all love it so much.”

  “Sure. Fine. Whatever.” Leila would have preferred something light, grilled fish perhaps, but she didn’t want to hurt her mother’s feelings any more than she already had. “That sounds wonderful.”

  “Good-bye, dear. Give Callie a kiss for me.”

  Once her mother had left Leila climbed the stairs and walked down the hall to the last door on the right. It was Callie’s room, painted a robin's egg blue, with yellow curtains and a yellow and blue flowered quilt that her grandmother had made.

  Her daughter’s eyes flew open the moment she stepped into the room. Perhaps she’d been awake, waiting for her, while she’d had that uncomfortable conversation with her mother.

  “Callie! Baby! Oh, I’ve missed you so much.” Leila hugged her daughter for all she was worth.

  “Ouch, Mom. Don’t bruise the skin. Gosh, you were only gone a few days.” Callie scooted up against the pillows in her bed. “I wish you wouldn’t worry so much. You make me feel like I’m about to croak.”

  Leila frowned. “I’m sorry, honey. I never meant to do that. I know you’re strong and healthy, and you’re going to be just great.” Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. Her daughter was so thin and pale, and had perpetual dark bruises under her eyes. She was a very sick girl, but she had the heart of a lion. “But I can worry a little, can’t I? Isn’t that a mother’s privilege?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so.” Callie grabbed her hand and pulled her down to sit on the bed. “I wanted to go to the airport to meet your flight, but Grandma said that was silly, since you’d be home so early. Has she left?”

  “Yes, Grandma has a bunch of stuff to take care of, but said she’d join us for dinner tomorrow night.”

  “Good.” Callie yawned and stretched. “Hey, I just had a thought. Since you missed me so much, maybe I could skip school today."

  “Good try, my love." She kissed her daughter’s cheek and brushed back a lock of hair. Callie had had wavy mahogany-colored hair that once cascaded halfway down her back and drew attention everywhere she went. Now, thanks to all her medications, her hair was dull and limp and was cut chin-length. Still, she was a pretty girl in spite of her illness. No, not a girl, a young woman. “You’ve already missed enough of school, and we want to keep your grades up so you can go to an Ivy League university one day.”

  “I know, I know. But I’m smart, like you. I can catch up tomorrow on what I missed today."

  “I have a better idea. You can catch up on today’s work today.” She smiled and slipped off the bed, heading for the door. “Come on, honey. Get up, get dressed, and then I’ll drive you to school.”

  Callie had missed a good portion of school the previous year when her transplant failed. She was taking summer classes so she could enter grade eight with the rest of her class.

  “Okay. But I want to hear all about Australia as soon as I’m dressed. Did you meet him?”

  “I did.” She noticed the look of concern in her daughter’s brown eyes. Callie had inherited Nick’s coloring and not her own, so every time she looked at her daughter, his beloved face came to mind. “He seemed very nice.”

  “Is he like Daddy?” Callie asked, picking at her fingernails.

  “No. He’s different, but nice just the same.” Warmth spread through her tummy as she thought of Ryan, the way he looked, the way he smiled. She had enjoyed their conversations, their late-night dive, and the feel of his hands on her. And she had enjoyed his kiss—very much. But mostly, she’d been warmed by the promise in his eyes. She was sure he was going to do the right thing. Deep down inside, she knew it.

  Callie hesitated, looking down at her hands. “I miss Dad so much sometimes. If worse comes to worse, at least I’ll get to see him.” She spoke flatly, as if she’d already accepted that the worst was inevitable.

  Leila rushed back to the bed. “Don’t say that! Don’t ever say that. You’re not going anyplace. I can’t have you both in heaven.” She took her daughter’s hands in hers. “I can’t lose you, honey. You’re all I’ve got.”

  “I know, Mom." Her fatalistic mood apparently gone, Callie jumped out of bed. “Don't worry, I'll stick around. But right now I gotta shower. Would you mind making me a poached egg on one slice of whole-wheat toast? I’ve been eating like a pig with Grandma around.”

  “Grandma made some fresh apple-raisin muffins. They’re still warm."

  “No, thanks. Since you’ve been gone, she had me eating whole wheat pancakes and muffins and porridge, hoping to fatten me up. But she forgets that I can’t exercise like everyone else I know.”

  “Sweetheart, you don’t need to worry about that. You’re already so thin it’s scary.”

  Callie locked eyes with her. “I’m not. But if a simple egg on toast is too much to ask, forget it. I won’t eat anything.”

  “Okay, okay, poached egg it is.” She knew better than to argue. If Callie wanted to stay slim and be attractive to boys, that was quite normal behavior and she was all for it. Anything she could do to help her daughter live as normal a life as possible was acceptable in her books.

  As she sliced a banana and an orange and arranged them on a plate, her mind returned to Ryan. She wondered if he had made an appointment to have his blood work done. It was moot, of course, if he refused to return to the States, but at least she would know whether or not she’d have reason to speak to him again.

  The idea had occurred to her on the long flight home that she should take some pictures of Callie and send them to him. That way Callie would be real to him. He had asked her to keep in touch and let him know how his niece was doing. So every day she would send him another picture of Callie, proof that she was a living, loving, happy child who deserved a chance to live to a ripe old age. And she’d leave it at that.

  Hopefully, he would at least be tested. Meanwhile, she had a back-up plan. Her sister in California was not an ideal match, but that was better than none. If things got worse, she would beg Crystal, bribe her, drag her scrawny ass to Princeton if need be, and get her to donate one of the body parts she was so fond of. Crystal was a part-time actress who made her living waiting tables, but while she waited for her lucky break she took great care of her face and body, saying they were her assets, her investment in the future. Well, the future was catching up to her, and no one was going to hire her or fire her because she only had one kidney.

  “Mom? What are you smiling about?”

  Leila turned to her daughter, noticing how her short skirt and tank top revealed her painfully thin frame. Her ribs were pronounced, but there was a hint of her budding shape. Where had her little girl gone? When Nick had been alive, Callie had been a tomboy, hating skirts and anything pink. Now, she wore pink lipstick and a size 32A bra. A tiny, selfish part of her wanted her little girl back.

  If only Callie realized that there was no hurry to grow up. And if only it were true.

  Leila’s smile faded. As much as she wanted to hold on to her daughter as long as she could, it wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be right. No matter what happened in the future, Callie had to live life to the fullest, right now.

  “I was thinking of your aunt Crystal," she said in answer to her daughter's question. "Maybe she’ll be able to come visit us for Thanksgiving this year.”

  “You’re not going to try to hit her up again, are you?” Callie’s shoulders slumped. “Sheesh. Is that all you ever think about? Can’t you ever forget it for a single moment?”

  “Sure I can.” Leila bit her lip, wishing she’d never opened her mouth. She had to walk on eggshells when it came to the dreaded “kidney” and “transplant” words. Callie didn’t want to hear anything more about it. She was sick and tired of being sick, and wanted to pretend she was well for as long as she could.

  It wasn’t too much to ask.

  ***

  Ryan lov
ed his nights on the boat, but he enjoyed his days off too. He had a nice one-bedroom apartment in Cairns with an ace view of the beach. A volleyball court was set up on the beach a few hundred feet away from his building, where he could pick up a game a few nights a week, and occasionally a sheila too.

  He had a helluva good life. No worries, mate.

  He cracked the top of his Fosters and drank deeply. Cold and frothy, the grog slid down his throat. He’d changed into his surfer shorts and an almost clean muscle shirt that he'd retrieved from the bottom of his closet, but then realized he didn’t much feel like playing volleyball tonight. Maybe he’d wander down later, but right now he just needed some down time, a couple of beers, and he’d be good as rain.

  He sank into his battered leather recliner, put his feet up, and turned on TV, flipping channels until he found his Aussie rules team who looked like they were getting their asses kicked.

  He watched for a while, but his attention wasn’t really on the game. He couldn't get Leila's visit out of his mind, and the more he thought about it, the more upset he got. How could he not have known his brother was dead? Why the fuck hadn’t his father, or at least his mother, informed him of that one little fact? Did they think he didn’t have any feelings at all? Not that they cared if he did.

  A deep fury festered inside him. He’d always thought that being a parent meant protecting and believing in your kids. But not his. They’d abandoned him long before the murder charge. Even as a youngster, he'd been compared unfavorably to his big brother, and ridiculed because he was never as good. He was always getting blamed for stuff, sometimes with good reason, but usually not. He hadn’t done half the things they’d accused him of, but he had never bothered to defend himself. They could think whatever the hell they wanted for all he cared.

  He rubbed a hand over his face and sucked in a long, painful breath. He had loved his brother. More than anything. And now he was gone, and they could never make amends.

  It sucked. It more than sucked. It bloody well stank.

  He thought of Leila, her sad, beautiful eyes, the way she looked when she spoke of Nick and of her daughter, Callie.

  He wished like hell he could do something for her daughter. For Nick’s daughter. His niece. He sure did. But he’d be damned if he’d go back to the States. What had his country ever done for him? Wrongfully accused, he’d been thrown into prison with a bunch of hard-core prisoners who’d thought he was the new boy-toy on the block.

  Three-and-a-half long years later, after clawing and fighting for some kind of life for himself inside that hell-hole, he’d been exonerated, and the government had given him some money in compensation for the wrongful imprisonment. Money was nice, but no money in the world could recover his youth, his innocence, or his dignity.

  Perhaps by doing the right thing by his niece, he might start feeling a little better about himself, and stop blaming himself for things he’d had no control over. He’d go down to the hospital tomorrow and have the blood test done. At least he would know if he could save the young girl if push came to shove, but he truly hoped she could do better than him. He’d hate to be anyone’s best hope.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Mom, what’s the matter with you?" Callie crossed her arms and glared at her mother. "First you drive me to school, and when I get home you’re snapping pictures of me with your iPhone. You didn’t think I noticed, but I did. And I don’t like it.” She sighed with exasperation. "You make me feel like I’m going to croak any minute and it creeps me out. Stop it.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.” Leila gnawed on her bottom lip, wishing for the zillionth time that she could take pictures of her daughter like other mothers, with no ulterior motive except to capture her changing expressions, her youth and vitality, simply for the love of her. Not so she’d have enough memories to last her a lifetime in the event her daughter’s life was cut short.

  She gave Callie a tired smile. “I was taking photos of you to send to Ryan. That’s all. I hope when he sees you, he’ll be a little quicker to act.” She slipped an arm around her daughter’s too thin waist. “And just think, if he’s a match you'll get the transplant and be a hundred percent healthy, and then I’ll be off your back.”

  Callie slid away, not wanting to be coddled. She cocked her head, one hand on her hip. “You promise?”

  “I do.” She grinned innocently and crossed her fingers behind her back.

  “Okay,” Callie said, “you can take some more pictures and show him how cute I am, but that’s it. I don’t want to hear another word about my stupid kidney until the day I’m going in to get one. Deal?”

  “Deal.” She snapped off a couple more, then her daughter surprised her by suggesting they take some outside in the backyard.

  “I’ll sit on the swing under the big oak tree," Callie said, "and that’s about as hokey as I’ll get.”

  An hour later, while Callie was doing her homework, Leila downloaded the photos onto her computer and emailed them to Ryan. In her message, she told him how much she’d enjoyed meeting him, and thanked him for the memorable experience of a night on the Great Barrier Reef.

  After that was done, she went into the kitchen to see about dinner. Since she’d been away, she was preparing one of Callie’s favorite meals, her specialty garlic fried chicken. She'd also bought sweet corn at the outdoor market. When Callie was done with her homework, she asked if they could eat outdoors. The late summer night was still beautiful, and they would only have another month before it would be too cool, so Leila readily agreed.

  As she carefully cooked the frying chicken, she gave her daughter a sidelong look. “So who’s the boy?” she asked casually.

  “What boy?” Callie asked, a faint blush spilling onto her sunken cheeks.

  “The one you wore the skirt for today.”

  “I didn’t wear it for anyone. It was too hot to wear anything else, that’s all.”

  “Uh-huh.” Leila turned off the burner on the stove and put the chicken pieces on a platter for the table. “And what’s his name?”

  “I told you. . .” Callie sighed. “Anton. He’s from France.”

  “Ahhh, what a lovely name. Anton.” She rolled it around her tongue. “So, he’s one of the new international students?”

  “Yup. He’s at summer school so he can catch up on a few requirements to enter the tenth grade. He’s so advanced he’ll be ahead a year.”

  “Nice.” Leila served the food. “What do his parents do? Are they here for a few years?”

  “Heck, Mom, I don’t know. I didn’t ask him about his family. We’ve only talked a few times, and he seems nice. That’s all.”

  “So, is he cute?”

  Callie blushed. “Uh-huh. He’s tall, almost six feet, and has beautiful blue eyes and long sandy-colored hair. The girls are all hot for him.”

  Leila thought the girls were all too young to be hot for anybody, but wisely kept that opinion to herself. After she’d gleaned all the information she knew she was going to get, she told Callie about the Barrier Reef, the sailing vessel she’d spent the night on, and how Ryan had used the money he’d been awarded for his wrongful conviction to buy into the scuba excursion business.

  “It sounds really cool, Mom. Maybe one day I’ll get to see it for myself.” Callie gave her a warning glance. “And not a word about you-know-what.”

  “Right. I wish you had been with me, though. It was spectacular.” She told her daughter everything she could remember, painting a picture so vivid that she hoped Callie could live the experience through her eyes.

  Later that night, once Callie was in bed, she called her in-laws. She needed to tell them about meeting their son.

  Margaret Warner was normally a cool, reserved woman, involved in charitable organizations, her church, and her gardening. She and her husband owned a large home on a large lot, and over the dozen years they had lived there, Margaret had turned the grounds into a lovely, serene but colorful garden, with a running brook, a gazebo, trees for sh
ade, and plants and flowers that bloomed from spring through autumn. Their home had been featured in various local home and garden magazines, and she was rightfully proud of it.

  Her husband, Jack, had been an active man, successful in business, until his stroke a year ago. Now he was partially paralyzed and had trouble speaking, since only half of his mouth moved. He didn’t go out much anymore and didn’t enjoy visitors either. Callie and Leila were the exceptions. They were not only welcomed, but expected to visit at least two or three times a week.

  That had become difficult in the past year, with Leila’s schedule and Callie’s illness. Leila was new to teaching university courses and had been amazed at the enormous number of prep hours it required. She also had research to do, grant applications to write, and students to counsel. Not to mention all the unexpected trips to the hospital. She and Callie had had to cut their visits to Sundays. They would all go to church together, and then return to her in-laws’ for a big lunch.

  Margaret answered the phone, and without preamble Leila told her that she had met Ryan. She didn't expect her mother-in-law to immediately ask all about her son, but neither did she expect the long silence that followed her announcement.

  “Margaret, did you hear me?”

  “Yes, I did, Leila, and I’m trying to gather my thoughts. I feel quite overwhelmed. I really didn’t expect that you would see him.” Leila heard a stifled hiccup and knew Margaret had been drinking. She continued, “I was quite sure he would not agree to it."

  “He didn’t have much choice. When I arrived, I found out he was on a diving boat and wouldn’t be back until the next day, so I had someone take me out to the boat. He owns the diving operation, did you know that?”

  “How am I to know anything? He hasn’t spoken to us in fifteen years.” Margaret’s voice was ice cold, but there was a slight tremor in it. “How did he look? What did he say? Did he ask about us?”

  “He didn’t know about Nick. It was quite a shock. I didn’t realize no one had ever told him.” Leila tried to keep the accusation out of her voice, but she didn’t understand what had kept this family apart. When Ryan went to jail she could imagine the complexity of emotions that everyone who knew and loved him had to deal with, but when he’d been freed, how could his parents not have rejoiced and welcomed him back? They only had two sons. How could they not love them both and support them equally?