Lisa sighed with pure pleasure. She had just married an incredible man and was about to be carried over the threshold into her very own home. She didn't think she could be any happier. "If this is a dream, I don't want to wake up."
He looked into her eyes with a seriousness she hadn't expected. "It's not a dream. It's reality. It's us. I've wanted you forever, since Maggie brought you home in the seventh grade.''
"You sure waited long enough to ask me out. Like six years.'' She punched him on the arm. "A little slow, weren't you?"
"I was afraid of you, afraid of the way you made me feel, like I was out of control, like I was starving for something I couldn't have."
"You made me feel the same way." She traced his face with her fingers, loving the feel of his strong jaw, his smoothly shaven face. It was the first time she'd felt the silkiness of his skin. Usually he wore a five o 'clock shadow by three o'clock in the afternoon. "Did I tell you that I love you, Nick Maddux?"
"Yes, but keep saying it." He paused. "I love you, Lisa Maddux."
"I like the sound of that." And she did, not just because it was Nick's name, her married name, but because it wiped away the traces of her past, her mixed heritage, all the uncertainty, the anticipation of rejection that had filled her every waking moment. She knew who she was now. And she liked who she was.
Nick struggled to open the door without dropping her. Finally, he got it open. "This is it.'' He carried her over the threshold and gently set her down on her feet.
She looked around and gasped in amazement. There were flowers everywhere, bouquets on every available table, filling the room with the scent of roses, gardenias and jasmine. "You did this?"
He laughed and shook his head. "Are you kidding? This has your mother written all over it."
Lisa frowned, knowing her mother was a hopeless romantic, a believer in everything magical and mystical. "Do you mind?'' she asked somewhat anxiously.
Nick shook his head. "How could I mind? Don't you get it, Lisa? I love you no matter who your father is, no matter what your mother does, and no matter what you do. I'm never going to leave you. So you better get used to having me around for the next fifty years. You and I—we're bound for life.''
"Lisa?" Nick's voice brought her back to painful reality.
The room was no longer filled with flowers. In fact, the sofa was new, and so was the armchair. The coffee table was covered with sports magazines. There were no rose petals. There was no love left in the room. At least she didn't think so, until she turned and stumbled into Nick's arms.
His hands clasped her shoulders to steady her. "Careful."
"I didn't realize you were standing so close to me."
"I was going to tell you to watch the edge of the carpet. It's easy to catch your foot in it. I've been meaning to do something about it."
She heard his words, but they weren't registering. She couldn't concentrate on the carpet when her face was just inches away from his, when she could feel his warm breath blow across her cheek, when she could see the old scar that ran across the edge of his chin.
"Lisa?" he asked, his eyes gazing into hers.
She didn't understand the question. "Nick?"
He touched the side of her face with the back of his hand, a tender caress that drew goose bumps along her arms. She silently willed him to move away, at the same time praying that he wouldn't. His gaze dropped to her mouth. She licked her lips in helpless anticipation.
Slowly, he lowered his head, giving her enough time to plan an escape from a high-security prison, when all she really needed to do was take one step backward. But she couldn't move.
When his mouth finally touched hers, she felt like a volcano had just erupted. The heat of his mouth set her heart on fire. His tongue slid along her lips, teasing her until she opened her mouth and he slipped in a kiss so deep, so personal, so intimate she forgot for a minute that they weren't married anymore, that she had no business kissing him.
By the time she remembered, Nick was already pulling away, removing her arms from his neck, and setting her aside, as if she were unwanted, as if she had instigated the kiss instead of him.
"Go ahead, look around," Nick said briskly. "I have to make a phone call." He disappeared into the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.
Lisa sat down in the armchair, stunned by Nick's actions and her own passionate response. She told herself it was the house, the memories that had made her kiss him back. She certainly didn't feel anything for him—not any more, not after everything that had happened.
A wave of painful guilt followed her rationalization. She was engaged to marry Raymond. She had no business kissing her ex-husband, no right to feel so—so completely overwhelmed by a man she didn't love anymore.
Damn Nick anyway!
When her pulse had steadied and she'd caught her breath, Lisa stood up. She knew she couldn't leave this house until she'd walked down the hall, looked in the bedrooms. Maybe it would be better to do it on her own, without Nick hovering beside her.
The first door she came to was their old bedroom. The door was ajar, and she pushed it all the way open. The room was the way she remembered—yet different. As usual, Nick hadn't made the bed, and his clothes were tossed over the exercise bicycle instead of hung neatly in the closet. The painting over the bed was new, as was the dresser and the night tables. The furniture appeared handcrafted, and she took a step closer to look at it.
Running her hand over the smooth wood of the dresser, she wondered where Nick had bought it. The detailed ornamentation on each corner of the dresser was incredible.
"Like it?" Nick asked.
She turned to see him standing in the doorway, an inscrutable expression on his face. He looked more distant than she'd ever seen him. Yet only minutes ago, they'd been in each other's arms. She looked back at the dresser, preferring the safety of a conversation about furniture than one about themselves.
"It's beautiful," she said. "Where did you get it?"
"I made it."
"You did?" she asked in surprise.
"Yeah." He smiled somewhat cynically. "Didn't think I had it in me, huh?"
"I didn't think about it." She glanced at the dresser one last time, then moved away. "You got rid of the bed, I see."
"The day you left." His eyes darkened with bitterness. "It seemed appropriate."
Discussing their bed was the last thing Lisa wanted to do, so she moved purposefully toward the door, edging past Nick, who didn't make it any easier for her to get by. Once in the hall, she squared her shoulders and headed toward the second bedroom. She didn't know what to expect—a crib, baby toys, the mural they'd painted together. She wasn't sure she could bear to see any of it.
The door was closed, but the cool knob turned easily in her hand. She felt like she was opening a door to the past, a door she should have kept closed. But now that she was here, now that she was so close, she couldn't do anything but move forward.
The door swung open, and she let it go, barely noticing when it hit the back wall.
The room was empty, absolutely and completely empty, not one piece of furniture, nothing on the walls, not even a carpet on the floor, it was stark, cold and dark. There was nothing left to remind her of their baby.
It suddenly hurt again, the pain as fresh as it was the night she'd discovered...
Lisa couldn't finish the thought. Her stomach twisted into a knot. She felt dizzy, nauseated, and completely overwhelmed. Turning quickly, she ran out of the room down the hall to the bathroom. She slammed the door and promptly threw up.
"Lisa?" Nick pounded on the door. "Are you all right?"
She sat back on her heels and wiped her face with a towel. No, she wasn't all right. Why had she ever come back here?
"Lisa, if you don't answer me, I'm coming in."
She couldn't let him see her like this. She couldn't let him know. "I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute." She stood up and let cool water pour over her face, then dried her skin with a rough te
rry-cloth towel until her cheeks stung. Finally, she opened the door.
He looked at her with worried eyes, obviously concerned but still wary. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
"You're still lying to me? After all these years, you can't admit that you hurt, that you ache inside, that you miss the love we had, the child we made."
"Stop!" She put up her hand in protest. "I don't hurt anymore. I've moved on. I've put the past in the past where it belongs. I don't want to go back. I don't want to cry. I don't want to feel any of it ever again. Don't you understand?"
"I understand why you're afraid of the pain. I don't understand why you can't share it with me. I was your husband, your lover, your best friend." His voice caught and grew rough. "And you were all those things to me. I thought I could tell you anything until you shut down, until you closed me out. Why the hell do you think I started drinking? I couldn't stand how cold you were around me. You blamed me for everything. For wanting you to come to bed, for desiring you that night, for taking you away from our daughter."
"No."
"It's true!"
Lisa closed her eyes against the sudden rush of memories.
The emergency room was full that night with victims of a multiple car accident. She could still remember sitting on the hard chair, staring at a man with blood running down his face and feeling—nothing.
"Lisa, it will be all right. She'll be okay." Nick touched her hand.
She felt as if she'd been stung by a bee, and she yanked her hand away from him. It was his fault. All his fault. "You—you did this."
Nick jerked back as if she had hit him in the face. "Lisa, please. Don't say that.''
"You made me come to bed. Don't keep checking on her, you said. Let her sleep. Let her cry. She needs to learn how to go to sleep on her own," Lisa sobbed. "Well, now she knows how to go to sleep on her own. In fact, she knows how to die--"
"Don't say that. She's not dead.''
"Yes, she is. While we were making love our baby was dying. Oh, God. I can't stand it.'' The pain ripped through her body until she felt as if she were bleeding in a thousand different places. She hugged her arms around her chest, feeling impossibly cold.
"Lisa.'' Nick reached for her, but she moved away.
"Don't touch me. Don't ever touch me again.''
Her eyes flew open, and Lisa looked into Nick's face, suddenly aware of the truth. "You're right. I did blame you."
"I'm surprised you're willing to admit it."
She shrugged, feeling helpless to change what had gone on before. "We were young, Nick, so impossibly young, so unable to handle what happened." Lisa let out a sigh. "What am I doing? I told you I wouldn't relive that night with you." She turned on her heel and walked down the hall to the living room. Nick followed her.
"Don't you think it's time we talked about what happened? We never have."
She paused, her hand on the front door knob. "We talked about it with the doctors."
"No, you talked about it with the doctors, and I talked about it with them, but we weren't together when we did it, and we never once spoke of it to each other, except to assign blame. Maybe we should talk now."
Lisa immediately shook her head. Walking down that street would be like entering an alley filled with street thugs. She'd never make it out alive. She turned her head to look at Nick. "Let it alone, please. If you want an apology, I'll give you one."
His jaw dropped open. "You will?"
"Yes, I am sorry for what I said to you that night. You couldn't have known what would happen."
"You're apologizing?"
"Don't make me say it again."
"I think I deserve to hear it again."
"Okay. Eight years has given me perspective. I know now that I took everything out on you. I didn't know how to deal with my emotions, my anger. I wanted to break something, to hit someone, and you were the closest one."
"And you figured that out just now?"
"No, I figured it out about five years ago. I realized it the night Mary Bea was born, when I saw you standing in front of the nursery window. You looked at her with so much love in your eyes, and it reminded me of the way you used to look at—at our baby. You wouldn't have done anything to hurt our child." Her eyes watered, but she blinked the tears away.
"Why didn't you tell me that night?"
"You looked angry, Nick. I figured you hated me and nothing would change that, certainly not an overdue apology."
She wanted him to say that he didn't hate her, that he could never hate her, but he remained silent. She walked out to the porch. He shut the door behind them.
Lisa glanced at the oak tree, not sure she was pleased or disturbed to see that the robin had once again taken flight. "He's gone," she murmured.
"He probably realized he had the wrong house, the wrong tree, the wrong yard."
"Probably," Lisa agreed, deciding that the robins were another topic better left alone.
"So what happens now?" Nick asked.
"Now?" She thought for a moment. "Now, we pick up Maggie's kids and deal with the rest of the day and tomorrow."
"That's it?"
"That's it. I'm going back to L.A. as soon as Maggie gets home."
"To get married."
"Among other things. I have a job, an apartment, friends."
He crossed his arms as he leaned against one of the pillars of the porch. "Yeah, me too."
"That's good. Are you still doing construction?"
Nick hesitated. "Of a sort. You wouldn't be interested."
Lisa felt as if he'd shut a door between them, and it felt strange because it was the first time he'd closed the door. She'd always been the one to draw the line of privacy, of what was personal, of what could be shared. Nick had always been an open book—until now. He had changed. The thought made her feel sad.
Nick had always been an optimist, expecting the best, living his life in the clouds of idealism and hope. When the bad news had struck, she'd been prepared, because she always expected the worst. Nick had fallen much further and much harder. If she'd wanted to, she might have been able to catch him, or at least try to break his fall. Instead she'd let him crash and burn, wanting company in her misery, wanting to punish him, because he was the one who'd convinced her to believe in happily ever after. As Lisa turned toward the car, she vowed she would never make that mistake again.
* * *
"Is it really possible to lose weight by hanging upside down?" Maggie asked, jogging to keep up with Rocco as he moved briskly through what he referred to as the Cardiovascular Club. Gauging the amount of sweat pouring off the bodies of the men and women using the machines, Maggie wasn't sure it was a club she wanted to join.
A stunning woman walked past her in a bright purple bra and bicycle shorts, and Maggie realized the club results were impressive. For a moment, she wondered if the woman was Serena, but a man called out "Lucy", and the woman waved. Maggie felt enormous relief that the gorgeous blond was not Serena.
"Every machine works on a specific part of your body," Rocco said. "That particular one improves circulation. We have machines to trim and tighten your calves, thighs, abs, quads, biceps, breasts. You name it, we can do it."
"How about my big toe? It sort of curves to the left. Can you do anything about that?"
Rocco didn't find her question the least bit amusing. "We're going to start you on the treadmill. Warm up with a slow walk for two minutes, a faster walk for five minutes, then jog for ten minutes and cool down for three." He checked his watch, inserted the key into the treadmill and turned it on.
Maggie looked down at the fast-moving belt and wondered what he considered a slow walk.
"Let's go," he said impatiently.
"How do I get on it?"
"You straddle the belt, like so," he demonstrated, "then hop on."
Maggie eyed him doubtfully but figured he knew what he was talking about. She jumped on, feeling the belt take off without her. It took her a full mi
nute to realize she was in fact only walking. She felt better. She could do this. Five minutes later, she realized it would not be that easy.
Rocco kept turning up the speed until she wasn't jogging—she was running the fifty-yard dash with the other Olympic hopefuls, only the finish line kept moving farther away. With her breath coming in deep, clutching gasps, Rocco finally slowed down the machine until she could walk.
"Let's see," Rocco said, checking the stats on the machine. "If you'd continued at that speed, you would have done a mile in twelve minutes. Is that your usual pace?"
Twelve minutes? Hardly world record time, she realized. "I think I run faster outside."
Rocco sent her a skeptical look. "Now that you're warmed up, let's try the Elliptical.”
Elliptical? She was ready for the Jacuzzi. Before Maggie could protest, Rocco had moved over to the next machine.
"Hop on, I'll show you how it works." He punched several buttons on a computer monitor at the top of the machine. "This will measure your heart rate and how many calories you're burning per hour."
"Great," Maggie said faintly, realizing she better start asking questions before she had no breath left. "Rocco, do you know Serena Hollingsworth?"
He smiled, a big toothy grin. "Sure, everyone knows Serena."
"Is she here? I'd like to see her."
"She's around. Why? Are you a friend?" He laughed. "Or the other woman?"
"What do you mean by that?" Maggie asked sharply.
"Nothing. It's just that the last woman who asked for Serena wanted to blacken both of her eyes."
"Why?"
Rocco shrugged. "I mind my own business. It's healthier."
"Well, I'm not interested in beating up Serena. I just want to talk to her. We have a mutual friend. If you see her, could you point her out to me?"
"Sure. Now let's get going.”
Within ten minutes her leg muscles were burning, but Rocco continued to check her vital signs, telling her she was okay and to "work it, baby, work it." She would have told him not to call her baby, but oxygen was too precious to waste.
Summer Reads Box Set, Books 4-6 Page 9
