Broken Wings (29 page)

“Yes, I left you,” he said in a strained voice behind her. “I left, and I’m sorry. Don’t throw away what we had because you think I can’t make a go at a relationship. I want us to try again. I know I let you down, but I want you to give me a second chance. Can you give me that chance, Pamela?”

She felt a wave of nausea grip her insides. She struggled against the bout of morning sickness and prayed for Daniel not to see it. She took in a few deep breaths and turned around to face him.

“Please take your money and go,” she pleaded as she held out the envelope to him.

Daniel backed away. “Keep the money. I don’t want it. And you don’t want Bob. You’re just running back to something you know because you’re afraid. But the safest choice is not always the right choice, Pamela. And sometimes a person has to run away to realize what they had.” He paused and looked into her eyes. “I know I love you, and I came back hoping that you might love me, too.” He turned away from her and walked over to the front door. “I hope one day you will learn that Bob can never make you happy. When you do, come and see me…I’ll be waiting.” He slammed the door shut behind him.

Pamela sank to her knees as she clutched the envelope to her chest. And for the first time since Daniel had left, she finally released all of the emotion she had kept safely locked away. She curled up on the floor and began to cry. As she lay on the floor, blinded by her tears, she felt a soft nudge against her hand. When she wiped the tears away, her eyes beheld Louis on the floor beside her, pressing his head against her hand. Shocked that the little squirrel had ventured so far from his cage, Pamela let go of the envelope and reached out to pick him up. She sat up and cradled Louis in her hands, feeling comforted by his concern. As she gently stroked the squirrel’s back, she felt the tears, once more, fill her eyes. Not only had she lost her one chance at happiness with another, she realized she was about to walk away from the only contentment she had ever found. The loss of her animals, and the comfort they had always given her, enveloped her with an unfamiliar emptiness. Overwhelmed by her sorrow, Pamela began to gently rock back and forth as she sat on the floor, holding her dear little Louis against her chest.

* * * *

The following day Pamela returned to the city to meet the decorator, Linda, and go over design plans for the nursery. She was on edge as her white Ford pick-up maneuvered down the pothole-laden streets of uptown New Orleans, on her way to Bob’s home. The interviews from the last few days had left her doubting that she could ever find anyone to run her facility. All the candidates she had met with were either too young, too inexperienced, too ignorant, or just did not have the right personality to work with wild animals. Bob had told her she was being too picky and felt anyone with a clear face and a high school education could do what she did. But what had really been bothering her was the visit from Daniel. She had tried to forget that he was back. She had even convinced herself that he was no longer a part of her life. But every time she looked down at her belly she realized that was a worthless rationalization. And from the moment she got out of bed until she fell asleep at night, the idea of him, the look in his eyes, the sound of his voice, even the smell of his cologne, haunted her.

As she pulled up into Bob’s driveway, she could feel the stress mounting in her body. Her hands tightly gripped the steering wheel, and when she finally let go, her fingers were stiff. She tried to convince herself that it was just her emotions running in overdrive since she had so much to do between the facility and preparing for the baby. But as she got out of her beat-up truck, feeling more like a maid than a mistress of the mansion, she knew what the real problem was. Her only concern was how long she would be able to continue like this without erupting.

“Hey,” Bob said as he opened the front door for her. “I thought I heard your piece of shit pulling into the driveway.” He spied the dingy white Ford pick-up parked on his lavish red brick driveway. “Next thing on the list is to get you a new car,” he told her as he ushered her inside. “Can’t have you pulling up in that thing. What will the neighbors think? After all, you’re my fiancée, not the gardener.”

“I thought you would be at work,” she remarked, ignoring his comment about her truck.

“No, I wanted to be here with you to pick out things for the nursery. And,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key, “this is for you. It’s only for the front door, but I’ll get copies of the back door made, and remind me before you leave to show you how the alarm works.” He handed her the key.

Pamela took the key from him and a sickening feeling gripped her. She knew this feeling could not be attributed to morning sickness.

“And I wanted to show Linda the dining room,” Bob added as he put a friendly arm about her waist. “I want to remove all traces of Clarissa from this house. I want you to make it over for me. Turn it into a sophisticated showplace that will be the envy of the entire city.”

Pamela just smiled as she let Bob escort her up the stairs.

“Oh, and we received our first social invitation as a couple,” Bob excitedly informed her. “Val Easterling invited us to a party she is having at her home in the French Quarter this weekend.”

“Really?” Pamela hesitated for a moment. “How do you know Mrs. Easterling?”

“I’ve met her at a few parties, and she is the person to know for anyone who wants to get into politics in this town. I suspect she may have heard about my political aspirations and wants to talk to me. I think our getting back together is really going to pay off, P.A.”

Pamela suspected Val Easterling had another motive entirely for inviting the two of them to her party.

Once they entered the room slated for the nursery, Pamela spotted a petite woman with thick glasses, dark brown hair, and big brown eyes. She had a long face, a hooked nose, sunken cheeks, and a sallow complexion that alluded to her Italian heritage. She instantly reminded Pamela of an opossum.

“Linda Oliveri, this is my former wife, and now my fiancée, Pamela Wells.”

Linda extended her hand toward Pamela. “Congratulations on all of your good fortune.” She looked Pamela over from head to toe.

The blue cotton dress and plain white flats Pamela had chosen to wear seemed almost gauche next to Linda’s tailored suit and high-heeled designer shoes. Pamela wished she could escape to her sanctuary and be surrounded by her animals, but she pushed her regrets down deep inside of her and forced herself to stop thinking of her former life. This was her life now.

“Darlin’, looking at you no one could ever tell you’re pregnant,” Linda said in a rather deep, almost masculine-sounding voice. “You’re very petite. Oh well, enjoy it.” Linda gave a warm, soulful laugh. “When I had my first boy, I gained damn near fifty pounds. My husband used to say I looked like a watermelon. I was much more careful for my second. Only gained twenty-five pounds with Mario.” She walked to the corner of the room, opened her briefcase, and pulled out her notepad. “Now, Bob gave me a few ideas of what you needed in here, but I wanted to meet with you and go over some basic designs to get a rough idea of where we are going,” she stated, moving i
nto the center of the room.

“Linda is the best decorator in town,” Bob declared as he patted Pamela’s shoulder. “Does all the homes of the city’s elite.”

“How nice,” Pamela softly replied, starting to feel like she wanted to blend into the beige walls and disappear.

“Now, since you don’t know the sex yet, I figured we could hold off on the color scheme until your ultrasound,” Linda began. “Any preference for a boy or girl?” she asked Pamela.

“Well, I want a girl,” Bob jumped in. “I’m going to raise her to be a daddy’s little girl. I’ll buy her horses and send her to the best schools. Then we’ll have to send her off to law school, so she can take over her father’s law practice.”

“How sweet,” Linda cooed. “And if it’s a boy?”

Bob laughed. “Then I guess he’ll have to be a football star and we’ll send him to the best schools. Then, we’ll send him off to law school so he can one day take over my law practice,” Bob admitted, grinning like he was already a doting father.

Pamela turned to him. “You never told me about your plans for law school.”

“Does that matter?”

“It matters to me. I want our child to choose their own career path,” Pamela insisted in a firm tone.

Bob waved off her suggestion. “Children need guidance, Pamela. My father was an absolute son of a bitch and pushed me from grade school all the way through college. He made me what I am today.”

Pamela kept what she was thinking to herself. “But what if our daughter or son wants to go to art school or be a writer?” she asked as she folded her arms over her chest.

“Kids change their minds like you and I change clothes,” Linda offered with a wave of her manicured hand. “My two boys talk about being fireman one day and plumbers the next. Bob is right. Children need to be molded into something.”

“Thank you, Linda.” Bob nodded his head. “But we’ve got a long time before we have to worry about that, Pamela. So let’s get back to the nursery.”

“I was thinking,” Linda began as she gazed about the room. “You’re going to need a bassinet, preferably an antique of polished oak or mahogany. Either one will match any pastel color you might choose to paint the walls. Depending on if you go with the…”

Pamela tuned out the rest of what Linda had to say. She spent the next hour nodding her head and agreeing with whatever Bob desired. She was too tired to argue about nursery décor. She was just too damn tired to argue about anything anymore.

*  *  *  *

After Linda left, Bob escorted Pamela down the stairs, still gushing happily about decorating the nursery.

“And I think Linda was dead on about the oak bassinet, especially if we go with a nice pale yellow in the room. We can do it in yellow and white, like you did my office after we got married. Oh, and I’m especially interested in seeing what Linda will do
—
”

“Bob,” Pamela said, interrupting his enthusiastic chatter. “What did you mean earlier about planning the baby’s life? You know the horses if it’s a girl and football if it’s a boy thing.” She stopped on the stairs and glanced over at him.

Bob shrugged and stuck his hands in his trouser pockets. “I didn’t mean anything.

I’m just talking out loud about what I want for our child.”

“And since when did you want this child to take over your law practice?”

“What’s wrong with wanting that? Doesn’t every father dream that their child will grow up and take over the family business?”

Pamela let out a slow and uneasy breath. “My father wanted the same thing for me. You remember, I told you about that. It was really tough growing up and listening to my father talk about the day I became a doctor and worked side by side with him. I know the kind of pressure that can place on a child.”

“And look at you now!” Bob bellowed. “If you had taken your father’s advice you wouldn’t be in this position.”

“And I wouldn’t have been happy either,” she countered.

He shook his head and furrowed his dark brows together. “Why are we even discussing this? The baby hasn’t even been born and already you’re arguing with me about how to raise it. Christ, Pamela, listen to yourself.” He started back down the stairs.

“You don’t get it, Bob. What if I’m not around to discuss this later? I have to know that this child will be raised according to my wishes and have the happy childhood I didn’t have.”

Bob reached the bottom of the stairs and looked back up at her. “All right,” he said calmly. “I don’t want to upset you. We can talk about all of this after the baby is born. We’ve got years to screw the kid up.”

Pamela came alongside of Bob and stared into his intense eyes. “I just need to know we are on the same page.”

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry. The kid can grow up to be the next Monet if it makes you happy.” He stepped back from her. “Don’t forget the movers will be coming to your place on Monday to get your things. We can go over everything this weekend when I pick you up for Val’s party. Make a list of what you want brought here and what the facility can keep.”

Pamela just nodded, wanting to avoid any further discussion about leaving her beloved sanctuary.

“And go and get something nice to wear to Val’s. Her parties are always black tie and I need you looking wonderful.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, then handed her a credit card. “Use this to buy whatever you want. The sky’s the limit,” he added with a smile.

Pamela took the credit card from him as a memory of Daniel taking her shopping flashed across her mind. She searched Bob’s eyes and fought to find the words to tell him what she was really thinking.

“I have to get back,” she said instead of clearing her conscience. “I have a few more interviews this afternoon,” she lied.

“I have it on good authority that Val wants to talk to me about my political aspirations,” Bob reported as he pulled his silver Mercedes in front of an impressive gray Creole cottage located on the corner of Dumaine and Royal streets. “So don’t distract her with your wildlife exploits. I know she’s your patron, but this is my night to shine.”

Pamela nodded just as a doorman, dressed in a black tux and tall black hat, opened her car door.