Carly's Gift (4 page)

He could not make love to her without remembering David had made love to her first. He could not look at the daughter he'd raised as his own without seeing David's blue eyes and light brown hair. Carly could not say “I love you” without seeing “But only second-best” in his eyes.

He lived for his sons, glorying in their athletic prowess and their unquestioned lineage. And Eric and Shawn worshiped Ethan, even to the point of canceling plans with their friends in order to spend time with him.

To an outsider they would seem the perfect family and, on the surface, they were. So what if on closer inspection it became clear that all was not as it seemed?

The cupboard door slammed behind Carly, startling her as she was checking the roast in the oven. “Damn it,” she said, flicking her hand to cool it.

“Burn yourself?” Ethan asked with concern as he came up behind her.

She touched her tongue to the side of her finger. “For the second time today.”

“You must be nervous.” He swirled the amber liquid around his glass. “Or excited.”

“Probably a little of both,” she admitted, refusing to be baited. “I can't imagine what the three of us are going to find to talk about for an entire evening. We have nothing in common with David anymore.” As soon as the words were out, she realized the opening she had given him. She said a silent prayer he wouldn't take it. She should have known better.

“Oh, I can think of something. But I'm sure he didn't come here to discuss that—not after all this time.”

Impulsively, she slipped her arms around his waist and looked up at him. “I love you, Ethan.”

The smile he gave her did nothing to modify the torment in his eyes. “I know you do, Carly, in your own fashion.”

“It's the only way I know how.”

He placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Would that it were enough,” he said. “Think what glorious lives we would lead.”

She leaned her cheek against his chest. At thirty-eight, he was as lean and muscular as he'd been in college and, although his dark brown hair had begun to recede the way his own father's had at that age, only those who'd known him all his life could notice the change. His eyes were warm and expressive, the barometer of his feelings. There were times he looked at her with such love and hunger, it broke her heart that she could not give him what he wanted. “Maybe tonight you'll be able to see for yourself that what we have is everything I want.”

“God, wouldn't that be ironic?” he said, his arms closing tightly around her, drawing her to him in a hungry embrace. His voice a soft whisper, he added, “And wonderful.”

Eric came into the kitchen, ignored them, and headed for the refrigerator. He stood in front of the open door for several seconds and then hunkered down to get a better look at the contents. “Hey, when's that guy supposed to get here? I'm starving.”

Carly was reluctant to give up the first genuine intimacy she and Ethan had had since they'd learned David was coming to town. She waited until she felt his arms loosen before she stepped away and glanced at the clock. “The ‘guy's' name is David Montgomery.” Her heart gave a funny flutter in her chest when she saw what time it was. “And he should be here any minute now.”

Standing and stretching, Eric came up to her and let an arm fall across her shoulders. At thirteen, he was already a good three inches taller than she was. His wild spurt of growth that past year was all the encouragement Ethan had needed to start talking about a basketball scholarship to UCLA. “Shawn said this David Montgomery guy was your boyfriend in high school.”

She flinched. “Who told him that?”

“Dad.”

Carly sent Ethan a disappointed look. He'd had no right to involve the boys in their problem. “We dated in high school, but most of the time it was your father and me and David who did things together.”

When Eric was out of earshot, Ethan smiled and said, “Nice save.”

“Why did you tell him that?” she snapped.

“Why not? If it's all past history, what possible difference could it make?” He took a deep swallow of his drink. “Besides, I thought they might get a kick out of knowing their mother once dated a famous writer. Too bad he never dedicated a book to you. Now that really would have been something to brag about.” He paused, and then as if the idea had just occurred to him, said, “Maybe I'll suggest that to him. After all, in a way, he owes his career to you.”

She sighed, filled with frustration that she hadn't reached him after all. “Don't you ever get tired of wearing that same old hair shirt?”

Long seconds passed before he answered. “God knows I would take it off if I could,” he said, with such naked honesty her heart felt as if it were breaking along with his. “But it's become so much a part of me, I no longer know where it ends and I begin.”

She reached for his hand. “Let me help you get rid of it. Tell me how. I'll do anything.”

Before he could answer, the doorbell rang.

“Mom, he's here,” Eric shouted.

“Then let him in,” she answered, cursing David's timing.

Ethan stepped away from her. “You'd better answer that yourself. We don't want to seem rude.”

“Why don't I tell him we can't make it tonight?” she asked on impulse.

“Why would you want to do that?” he answered, slipping back into his shell. “Like you said, it's only three old friends getting together—and it's only for one night.”

The smell of roses wafted up to David as he stood outside the Hargrove house and waited for someone to answer the door. The choice of flowers had been easy. Carly's practical side would cringe over the expense of something so short-lived, but she would intuitively understand his reasoning—they would be out of her life almost as quickly as he would.

The bottle of Alexander Valley Cabernet Sauvignon he'd settled on for Ethan had been a harder decision. His first inclination had been to bring something French and very expensive. The impulse toward ostentation gave way to subtlety even before he'd gone to the local liquor store and discovered that he was lucky to end up with the excellent, if relatively inexpensive wine he had.

A tall, lanky young man, a clone of Ethan at that age, opened the door and gave David a toothy grin. He held out his hand. “Hi, I'm Shawn.”

David stuffed the bottle of wine under his arm and shook Shawn's hand. “David Montgomery.”

“I recognized you from the picture on the back of your books.” He stepped out of the doorway and motioned for David to enter. “My mom and dad are in the kitchen. I'll get them for you.”

David moved into the foyer, closing the door behind himself. A movement at the top of the stairs caught his attention. Andrea leaned over the railing and smiled in greeting. The cocker spaniel he'd seen that afternoon sat at her feet. “I told Mrs. Rogers you said hi. She wanted me to ask you if you had time to stop by and visit one of her classes.”

Time was all he had until Victoria arrived. The memorial service had been easier to set up than he'd anticipated and he'd already paid his obligatory visits to the few relatives of his mother's who still lived in the area. “Tell her I'll give her a call.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ethan and Carly approaching. Steeling himself against the impact of seeing Ethan again, he took a deep breath and turned in their direction.

David had come prepared to see the smug look of triumph he had pictured on Ethan's face for the past sixteen years. The resentment, the hesitation, the fear he saw instead left him confused and at a loss for words.

“You're right on time,” Carly said in a feeble attempt to lighten the awkwardness of the moment.

David couldn't break eye contact with Ethan. It was as if they were locked in some bizarre mental battle.

Carly tried again. Grabbing another young man by the elbow and shoving him toward David, she said, “Have you met Eric? He's our youngest.”

It was impossible for David to ignore the boy's outstretched hand. This son bore some resemblance to Carly, but still clearly carried Ethan's stamp. “Pleased to meet you, Eric.”

“Dad says you used to—”

Carly drew in a quick breath that stopped Eric in midsentence. He turned his attention to her.

“—play basketball,” he finished with a grin and a playful wink.

“Only on the summer league. Your father was the basketball player in high school,” David told him, deciding to act as if he hadn't witnessed the interchange. “I wrestled.”

A nervous smile played at Carly's mouth. “Would you like me to take your coat?”

David handed Eric the flowers and wine before he slipped off his coat and handed it to Carly. Unwilling to let the silence between Ethan and him become any more obvious, he said, “How's your father, Ethan? Still running the factory with an iron hand?”

“I've managed to pry the hand loose,” Ethan said, taking the wine from Eric and holding it up to read the label. “As a matter of fact, the hand isn't even within grasping distance any more. He and my mother moved to Palm Springs last year to be near my sister.”

David wondered if the attention to the wine was for effect or simply curiosity. “It's a label I discovered in California a couple of years ago and found interesting.”

Ethan shot him a challenging look. “I find it a little pretentious myself. But then I rarely buy domestic wine.”

David almost laughed out loud. It was as if they were competing to see which of them could be the biggest ass. “It's good to see you too, Ethan,” he said, purposely lowering and softening his voice. He hadn't come here to do battle, just to engage in a light skirmish.

Ethan nodded slightly, acknowledging David's effort. “I was sorry to hear about your father. At least he got a few good years in the sun. Not many men who work as hard as he did get even that much.”

“Thank you,” David said. Ethan had been closer to David's father when they were growing up than he had been to his own. As far as David knew, the only grown man who'd ever taken Ethan fishing and the only one who'd ever put his arms around him had been David's own father.

“Can I fix you a drink?”

“Club soda with a twist if you have it.”

Ethan studied him, an eyebrow raised in question. “I don't remember you having a drinking problem. Something new?”

Warning bells went off in David's head. There was a lot more going on here than he had bargained for. Ethan was acting as if the victor hadn't received the spoils. Jesus, what more did he want? “Nothing so complicated. I have some work to do when I get back to the motel tonight that requires a clear head.”

“Speaking of dinner,” Carly interjected, “it's almost ready. I hope you're hungry.”

She was so obviously nervous. David almost felt sorry for her. “Whatever it is, it smells wonderful.”

Carly took the roses from Eric and handed them to Andrea. “Would you please put these in water for me?” To David she said, “It's just pot roast. I didn't have time to go shopping.”

“You know it's always been my favorite.” He had no idea where that had come from. When he'd been a kid, pot roast was something you ate in order to get sandwiches the next day.

“No, I didn't know,” she said.

Ethan let out a derisive chuckle. “Why don't I believe that? Pardon me while I get that club soda for you.”

When he'd left the room and the kids were out of earshot, Carly moved closer to David. “Why did you do that?”

“What?”

“Tell him pot roast was your favorite food.”

“How do you know it isn't?”

“Because you like pork roast and lamb chops and beef Wellington.”

“How is it that you remember so much about me?” he asked.

“David, please don't do this. Ethan is—” She stopped when she saw him returning.

Taking the expensive cut-crystal glass from Ethan, David suddenly wished he'd never come. Discovering Carly's and Ethan's lives were not the bliss he had imagined brought him none of the satisfaction he would have anticipated. He raised his glass to them. “I hope you don't mind if we make it an early evening,” he said, paving the road to retreat. “I have a lot of things to do tomorrow.”

“Not at all,” Ethan said, turning to Carly. “Why don't you see if you can't hurry things along a little?”

Throughout dinner Andrea, Shawn, and Eric provided enough conversation to cover the fact that hardly any was instigated by the adults. Andrea plied David with questions about being a writer while the boys filled him in on the status of the local basketball teams.

Carly and Andrea were in the process of clearing the table when Andrea innocently asked, “How old were you when you left Baxter, David?”

“Eighteen. I moved to New York the week I graduated from high school.”

“Weren't you scared being all alone in a place like that? I've read awful things about how dangerous—”

Shawn groaned and rolled his eyes. “That's just like a girl.”

David smiled. “I was a little intimidated at first,” he admitted. “But being there was something I'd dreamed about for such a long time, I was too excited to let anything slow me down.”

“I want to go to New York someday,” Andrea said.

Eric handed her the silverware he'd gathered. “Since when?”

She made a face at her brother. “Since I heard Mom talking to Grandma about it.”

“How come you didn't come back to Baxter before now?” Shawn asked.

David looked up in time to see Carly and Ethan exchange looks, hers stricken, his angry. “There wasn't any reason to come back.”

The scowl on Ethan's face deepened as he leaned heavily back in his chair.

“But didn't you miss all your friends?” Andrea prodded.

Before he had a chance to answer, Carly interjected, “I think the three of you have asked David enough questions for one night.”