Broken Wings (27 page)

“Perhaps, but he left without wanting to be found. You know, despite everything he has done around here,” she waved her hands about the newly renovated barn, “he didn’t leave any forwarding information with any of the companies he hired. I never got a note, a text, an e-mail, or even a phone call. He’s gone and I have to accept it.” She nodded at Carol. “And so do you.”

*  *  *  *

Later that day, they were both sitting on the front porch taking a break from the animals and sipping iced tea when the sound of a car heading down the drive distracted them.

“You expecting a delivery?” Carol asked as she glanced over at Pamela.

Pamela shook her head and put her glass down on the porch step beside her. She stood up and walked toward the driveway as Carol followed close behind.

Rounding the bend at the end of the drive was a black limousine. Carol started immediately jumping up and down.

“He’s back!” Carol screamed as she grabbed Pamela’s arm. “He’s come back to you. I knew it!” she shouted with the exuberance of a child about to enter the gates of Disney World.

Pamela turned to Carol and frowned. “Shhh!” She waved a hand at her. “It could be one of my investors coming to check out the facility and you’re acting like a five-year-old.”

Carol regained her pseudo-adult-like composure. But then she elbowed Pamela in the side. “I bet it’s him,” she whispered, still sounding excessively jubilant.

The car pulled up right in front of the two women. A driver, dressed in a black suit, jumped out and went to the rear door. He opened the back door and Pamela’s heart flew to her throat as she watched a pair of men’s leather shoes emerge from the car. She followed the curve of the man’s lower leg up to his hips, then his waist, and then finally up to his face. Her heart sank when she saw an older man with gray hair standing before her. But as she inspected the man’s features, she felt there was something oddly familiar about him.

“I’m looking for Pamela Wells?” he inquired in a deep voice as he looked from Pamela to Carol.

Pamela stepped forward, extending her hand. “I’m Pamela Wells, owner and operator of Second Chance Wildlife Rehabilitation Center. How can I help you?”

The man walked over and, instead of taking her hand, shoved a large, brown envelope toward Pamela.

“I was supposed to send this via FedEx, but I wanted to meet you,” he curtly replied as he examined her with his dark eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” She stared into the man’s face and thought she saw an older version of Daniel. “Have we met?” she asked.

“I’m Edward Phillips. You know my son, Daniel,” he told her.

Pamela’s heart stopped. “Daniel,” she said softly. “How is he? Is he all right?”

“Where is he?” Carol questioned as she came up to Pamela’s side. “He keeps sending workers out here, and we keep wondering when we’re going to see him,” Carol paused and nodded to Pamela. “Well, actually she’s the one who wants to see him.”

“Carol, why don’t you go and pester the skunks?” Pamela growled through her teeth.

“Ah, you’re Carol.” Edward Phillips smiled. “He mentioned you, as well.”

“Mr. Phillips,” Pamela said, waving to the house. “Why don’t you come inside and we can talk.”

“No. I just came to deliver this.” He nodded to the large envelope. “And I wanted to thank you for helping my son.”

Pamela glanced down at the envelope in her hands. “What’s this?”

“The paperwork transferring the balance of Daniel’s trust fund to you,” Mr. Phillips answered. “Ten million dollars and change.”

Carol started screaming and jumping up and down.

Pamela turned to her. “Carol, go inside. Now!”

“But Pamie, I don’t understand,” she whimpered.

“Go,” Pamela ordered. “I have to talk to Mr. Phillips, alone.”

Pamela waited as Carol reluctantly made her way up the porch steps and into the house. After she shut the door behind her, Pamela turned back to Edward Phillips.

“I can’t accept this,” she admitted, handing the envelope back to him. “Tell Daniel I appreciate his concern but
—
”

“I’m afraid I’m not taking the money back, Ms. Wells,” Edward Phillips interrupted. “The transfer of funds is already complete and inside that envelope is a cashier’s check made out to you for the balance. Daniel gave me strict instructions to send it FedEx to you, but I wanted to see you, just once,” he explained.

“Where is he?” Pamela felt her lower lip tremble and then she quickly got a hold of herself. “He disappeared without so much as a good-bye or a note explaining what happened. I think I deserve an explanation, Mr. Phillips.”

The older gentleman sighed. “All I know is that when he first contacted me, he wanted me to make these arrangements for you.” Edward Phillips paused. “Just know that he will never forget you.”

Pamela moved in closer to him. “Is he all right?” she whispered. “Is he well?”

The older man shook his head. “I should go.” He took a step back from her. “I promised him I would never contact you, never whisper a word of him to you, but I am his father. And a father always wants to lay eyes on the woman who…” He let his voice fade and then Edward Phillips gave a quick nod of his head. “Good-bye, Ms. Wells.”

He got back in the car and shut the door. The driver returned to his seat behind the wheel and started the engine. Pamela stood on her gravel drive and agonizingly watched as Edward Phillips drove away, taking all of his secrets with him.

As the taillights of the limousine headed toward the main road, she clutched the envelope to her chest. How she wished that Daniel, and not his money, was wrapped in her arms.

“So what did he say?” Carol screamed as she came running out of the house and up to Pamela’s side.

Pamela quickly wiped away the tears in her eyes before she turned to Carol.

“He didn’t say anything,” Pamela reported. “He just gave me the money and said he wanted to meet me because Daniel had…spoken so fondly of me.”

“What a load of crap! You mean to tell me the guy came all the way out here to hand you an envelope and check out your measurements.”

Pamela nodded. “Perhaps that is putting it crudely, but yes.”

“And the money?” Carol continued. “Tell me you kept the money.”

Pamela held up the envelope to Carol.

“Now at least you can tell Bob to kiss your ass. Ten million dollars can set you free of the asshole for the rest of your life.”

“It’s not that easy, Carol. I may be free of Bob financially, but my baby still needs a father. If anything happens to me, my child will have at least one parent left to care for him, or her.” She sighed. “So you see, I will never be free of Bob.” She looked down at the envelope. “But at least Daniel has made sure my facility will always be free of Bob. With this money I can set up a trust to fund the wildlife sanctuary and hire a legal representative to oversee the management of that fund.”

“And what about Daniel?” Carol asked. “Did his father tell you where he is?”

Pamela shook her head. “Perhaps it’s for the best,” she reasoned as she ran her hand over her belly. “I don’t know what kind of chance we would have had starting out like this. Daniel is a runner. The responsibility of a baby would probably have scared him back on the road.”

“Wondering ‘what if’ is worse than knowing for certain, Pamie. If Daniel knew that you were carrying his child, he would be right by your side and never leave you.”

“And after the baby is born? Then what?” Pamela questioned.

Carol shook her head. “He would have stayed until death do you part.”

Pamela gazed up at the blue sky above. “But we would not have ended there, Carol. I need to know that if something were to happen to me, someone will be there and be committed to care for the part of me I leave behind.”

Carol folded her arms over her chest. “And you think Bob is a better man for that job than Daniel?”

“Bob is here, Carol,” Pamela stated as she glanced back at Carol. “Where’s Daniel?”

*  *  *  *

The following week, Pamela met Bob at his uptown mansion to make their first visit with the obstetrician. The house was located off St. Charles Avenue in the heart of the New Orleans Garden District.
Bob’s home was one of the larger mansions on the block and was a classic representation of Greek Revival architecture seen throughout the older parts of the city. The facade had four white Corinthian columns that rose from the first to the third floor of the dwelling. There was a double stained-glass front door with another arched stained glass window above it. Balconies were located outside of french doors on the second and third floors. The well-manicured gardens along the entrance were filled with fruit trees and red cameilia bushes.

After she rang the doorbell, Pamela gazed about the front porch at the white rocking chairs located on either side of her and yearned to relax her tired body for a spell in the comfy rockers.

“You look terrible,” Bob said after he opened the front door and saw her standing before him. “You look like you’re not sleeping enough.” Bob frowned as he noted the dark circles under her eyes.
Sleep had become something of a challenge ever since Edward Phillips had come to see her. Pamela wished she could blame her insomnia on hormonal fluctuations, but it was her mind, rather than her body, that was keeping her awake at night.

“Thanks for the concern, Bob,” she said sarcastically as she walked in the door.

“I know the first trimester is supposedly the toughest, but you look like you’ve been to hell and back.”

“I get the picture,” Pamela grumbled. “And since when have you become an authority on such things?”

“I’ve been reading a few of those books on pregnancy I bought for you.”

She stepped inside an elegant yellow and white wallpapered entrance and out into the foyer. Oak stairways on the left and right of the foyer curved upward from a white marble tiled floor to the second story balcony. Along the stairwell Bob had hung art deco paintings that clashed with the refined southern elegance of the grand foyer. The cold and pretentious home made Pamela long for her cluttered little Acadian cottage.

“Bob, are you sure you want to go with me today? You know how you are about doctors and hospitals.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, waving off her concern. “Come on, I want to show you the baby’s room,” Bob stated as he moved over to the stairs. “I decided to put it next to our bedroom.”

Pamela stopped in mid-stride. “Our bedroom?”

Bob grinned. “Actually, it’s a double master bedroom. Two master bedrooms adjoined by a single master bath, if that makes you feel any better. Clarissa read about it in a magazine when we were renovating the house.”

“You and Clarissa didn’t share a bedroom?” she asked, itching with curiosity.

“Clarissa liked to stay up late and watch television, and you know how much I hate that. And she always complained about my late hours, so the room was supposed to be a compromise to help our marriage.”

“Are there locks on the bedroom doors?”

Bob raised his eyebrows to her. “For the time being,” he conceded as he stared into her eyes. “I’m hoping one day we can do away with the locks,” he added as he gently ran his fingers up and down her arm.

She pulled her arm away from his touch. “Bob, I think you should know something about me before we go any further with this,” Pamela said in a menacing tone.

He gave a curt laugh. “I already know so much about you, P.A. What else could you possibly tell me?”

She looked him in the eye. “I sleep with a gun. Come anywhere near my bedroom door and I’ll use it on you.” She smiled slyly at him. “And I can make it look like an accident. Remember, you taught me how to do that.”

He raised his head as he placed his hands behind his back. “You haven’t changed, Pamela,” he murmured, his voice dark and angry.

“This is an arrangement, Bob. You need an upstanding wife who will look the other way when you sleep with your office staff, and I need a father for my child. Having sex with you is not part of our deal.”

“And what if I want to make it part of our deal?”

Her stomached clenched at the thought of having Bob in her bed. “You already have my soul, Bob. What good would my body do you?” she coolly replied.

“You’ll never change.” He started up the stairs. “Maybe one day I can make you fall in love with me again,” he remarked over his shoulder as he trotted up the oak staircase.

“Not even if you started eating nuts and grew a big fuzzy tail,” Pamela whispered as she followed behind him.

The room Bob had chosen for the nursery was a former guest bedroom, next to one of the master bedrooms. The room had been emptied of furniture, and scattered on one wall were several swatches of wallpaper.

“I figured we could take out this carpet,” he said, pointing to the beige carpet beneath his feet. “Linda selected these swatches for the baby’s room.” He waved at the selection of fabrics taped to the wall. “She’ll be here Monday afternoon to go over some ideas for furniture and color schemes.” He nodded at her. “You should be here to pick out what you want.”

Pamela walked over to the french windows overlooking the balcony outside. “I’ll be here.” She gazed out the window and spotted a towering oak next to the house. Two squirrels were running about the trunk of the tree, chasing each other.