Found: A Mother for His Son (17 page)

Although watching him sleep, then waking up next to him had been so nice. Curling into Dermott’s arms, feeling the beat of his heart against her cheek…all too wonderful, which was why she was in the shower right now, trying desperately to scrub away the remaining vestiges of any romanticism that might have accidentally seeped in and dallied. This was Dermott Callahan, after all. Exquisite. Sexier than any man had a right to be. Just to see him was to want him. Beyond all reason and sensibility, she had wanted more time. But theirs was not a relationship where more was allowed, and she had to reconcile herself to that fact.

Dermott sat in Jenna’s kitchen, listening to the gentle spray of the shower. Right now, she was in there plotting an exit. He knew that. Knew it last night when they’d made love for the third time. Jenna was a woman who wouldn’t allow expectations, romance or any hints of something other than a fling, which certainly did keep it simple as far as their relationship was concerned. If that’s the way he wanted it to be. But it wasn’t, damn it. He didn’t want simple any more.

Maybe it was too soon to think in terms of forever, yet maybe it wasn’t. But the problem wasn’t what he wanted to think. It was Jenna, and how
she
wanted to think. And right now she was taking a nice, long shower, counting the many ways she could run from this. Or deny it. Or turn it into something it was never meant to be.

It did make him angry, actually. Sure, he had other problems in his life. Dealing with Max and his uncertain future was a huge problem. Dealing with all the leftover emotions from his marriage was a problem. But he didn’t want to think about those. Didn’t want to think about anything other than how he could keep Jenna right here. Teach her to trust. Show her that she didn’t have to run any more.

No, he wasn’t thinking in terms of that nice little country cottage with the white picket fence, just the three of them making a cozy family. But he wasn’t necessarily
not
thinking in terms of it, either. He wanted something other than his work in his life. Something to ground him the way he felt grounded around Jenna. Wanted it bad. He’d known it the very first time he’d seen her—all that fierce determination on her face while she’d marched that huge coffee pot down the hall. All that bravado she exuded when she really wasn’t so brave at all. In Jenna’s world, everything still had amazing potential. Even though she didn’t know it, didn’t see it, didn’t believe it, that’s what everybody saw when they looked at her—an amazing optimism worn right on her sleeve. Along with her heart. That’s why she fought so hard for the things she believed in.

But Jenna never backed down. Once she took a stand, that’s where she stayed. He feared that hadn’t changed in her. She would leave in spite of what she truly wanted, since she believed that anyone who had her in their lives would be hurt by her. Because she was hurt. The truth was, it was just the opposite. Not having Jenna was what would hurt. Which meant that this morning, right now, he needed a clear head seeing how, in a few minutes, when she stepped out of the shower, there would be no softness and vulnerability showing on her. Not one speck of it. Her resolve would be firm and she would do what she thought she had to do.

Unless…A smile slid over Dermott’s lips. Could he change her mind before she left the shower? It was certainly worth a try.

Sliding off the kitchen chair, Dermott was out of his jeans and boxers by the time he’d strolled casually to the bathroom door, debating his next move with every step. Would she? Wouldn’t she? It was Jenna, so there was no way of telling. “Why not?” he finally said, giving in to his basic need and pushing the door open a crack. They’d had a wonderful time last night, no denying that, so why not turn it into a wonderful morning? Do it, or die trying, he thought as he stripped off his T-shirt and ventured in.

Inside the bathroom, the air hung so thick with the sweltering humidity from the shower spray that the gush of cool breeze from his side of the door caused the shower curtain to flutter open, and that’s when he first saw her. As well as he knew her in
that
way, the sight of Jenna naked, in the shower, took his breath away.

“Dermott?” she cried, reaching out to grab a towel that she couldn’t quite reach. “What are you doing in here?”

“Watching,” he replied, making no attempt to move, or to even avert his stare. “Watching something amazing.”

Twisting herself into the transparent shower curtain, Jenna huffed out, “Could you at least be a gentleman and hand me a towel?”

Without a word, Dermott grabbed a towel from the rod and stepped into the shower with it. “Here’s your towel,” he said, dropping it to the shower floor, where it rippled around her feet, absorbing the water from the spray.

Jenna looked down at the towel, then up at him. “I thought that after last night…”

“Last night wasn’t enough.”

“But I have work to catch up on before our first patient comes in. Some charts to finish…”

“So do I.” He reached over and outlined a circle around her nipple with his index finger. Beautiful nipple, dark, such a perfect contrast to her soft, pale skin. He liked the way her nipple puckered in the water. Loved the way it puckered to his touch…between his lips. “Important work. Right here. So many medical details that need attending, it seems.” He took her hand and guided it to his erection. “Yours and mine.”

“This isn’t fair,” she choked. “You had last night.”

“So did you. But can you tell me that you don’t want this morning?”

“We can’t…”

“Sure we can.” Moving his hand from her breast, he traced a line down her belly and stopped just under her belly button. “So here’s my quandary. I could quit right now, turn on the cold water, fend off the conspicuous with a good, strong chill then walk away. But what about you?” He inched his hand downward. “Could you quit right now?” And downward. “Take a cold shower?” And downward. “Then walk away?” Sliding his hand over her perfect mound, he stopped just before he reached her pleasure point, that spot he’d found so easily last night, and listened as her breaths went from steady and sure to rapid and shallow. “Should I reach for the bar of soap, Jenna, and finish bathing myself? Or should I reach for you, and finish whatever it is you need finishing?”

“Louse,” she hissed, thrusting herself at him. “You really are a louse, you know.”

“If you say so.”

“I say so,” she whispered huskily, raising her left knee to his hip then twining her leg around him.

When he felt her foot brush the back of his thigh, he spun her around until her back was pressed flat to the wall, then he crushed his pelvis hard into her, grinding…grinding…

“Dermott,” she gasped, arching to meet him and squeezing her body so close to his that they shared the same breath, the same heartbeat. Even the droplets of water trickling down over them found no room to slip in between their bodies. And just as Jenna was about to reach the brink, Dermott took a step backwards, then looked down into her face and gave her a sexy wink. “We
are
good in more ways than you know, Jenna,” he said, then kissed her softly on her lips as he thrust himself deep into her, all hot and tight, under the sultry shower spray

“We are,” she whispered.

Much later, Dermott and Jenna slipped limply down the shower wall to the floor, and clung together, the now-cooling water splashing over their bodies in a pure, relaxing elixir. Exhausted from the lust and exalted from the emotions, neither one of them said a word. Instead, they existed, for a short while, in the dreamy euphoria of awakenings that firsttime lovers throughout the ages had shared, and from which long-time lovers took comfort. It was only when the hazy awareness of reality intruded on their euphoria in the form of a ringing telephone that they finally parted.

Without a word, Jenna grabbed a dry towel, secured it around herself and was out the bathroom door in a split second. One minute later she was back, the look on her face was pure panic. “It’s Max. He’s sick!”

I
RENE
Allen was pacing back and forth on the front porch, wringing her hands, on the verge of tears. She clearly looked like she hadn’t slept a wink all night and Frank didn’t look much better. He was inside, sitting on the edge of his recliner chair, staring into space, his hands visibly shaking. He, too, was nearly on the verge of tears.

“What is it?” Dermott cried, running past Irene and straight through the front door, already hating himself for last night, for not being with his son. He knew better, and he’d gone against his better judgment. “Where’s Max?”

“In the guest room,” Frank said, his voice wobbly. “He’s, um…he’s not sick. No fever, his stomach’s fine. But he was up all night, crying, screaming. We couldn’t get him settled down.”

“And you didn’t call me?” Dermott practically shouted.

“We thought we could settle him down,” Irene said from the doorway. “We’re always so afraid, Dermott, that something will happen to Max, and you won’t let him come here again. And we were just trying to…to help him.”

“Go sit down,” Jenna said gently, leading the woman to a rocking chair near the door. “I’ll have a look at Max, and I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“I’ll have a look,” Dermott grunted, pushing his way around Frank and heading straight to the stairs.

Jenna ran to catch up with him, and put a restraining hand against his chest. “No!” she said, her voice unusually firm. “I’ll take a look at him first. You get yourself calmed down, and if I need you I’ll call for you.”

“He’s
my
son.”

“Do you want him to see you in this state, Dermott? Your face is red, you’re angry. You look like you’re ready to shove your other fist through the wall.”

Dermott sucked in a sharp breath, then closed his eyes. “Go please, JJ,” he finally said, his voice so ragged it broke her heart.

It didn’t take another prompt. Jenna grabbed Dermott’s medical bag and was up the stairs in a split second. But at Max’s door, she didn’t merely barge in. She knocked first. “Max,” she called. “It’s Jenna. Can I come in?”

“Leave me alone!” he shouted. He sounded so much like Dermott when Dermott was being stubborn, trying to shut people out. “Go away. Leave me alone!” It was a shout heard all the way downstairs, because within a second Dermott was thundering up the stairs. But Jenna turned and shook her head at him, effectively stopping him on the landing.

“I thought maybe you’d go and get ice cream with me.”

There was a pause, as if he was considering his response. Then, “I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“Ever had ice cream for breakfast? You know…a waffle with chocolate syrup, and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top?” She’d never had it, but it didn’t sound half-bad, if you were five. Which her little patient was.

“Chocolate ice cream,” he insisted.

Jenna smiled. Max
was
so like his dad. She really loved this kid. “Caramel syrup’s good, over
vanilla.”

“Chocolate,” he insisted again.

“Just go on in,” Dermott whispered.

She shook her head. “He needs some control over his situation,” she whispered in return. “Needs to know that his wishes are respected.” She motioned him back. “Do you really like chocolate that much, Max?” she called.

Long pause again, then finally…“I like strawberry some. Could I have strawberry on my waffle?”

His voice was closer. Max was just on the other side of the door now. But he wasn’t opening it. And she still wasn’t going to force him. So she sat down on the floor, and didn’t say another word. Not for a full minute, until Max finally did open the door and peek out.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

He was still in his blue pajamas, and he looked like a child who’d had a rough night. His eyes were still red and puffy, his face pale. She really did want to just hold him, pull him into her arms and tell him that everything would be fine, the way she’d wanted someone to do for her when she’d had nightmares. But wisdom and a lot of years of study held her back. “I’m just sitting here, waiting for you. What are you doing?”

He shrugged.

“Are you thinking about waffles?”

“Maybe.”

“Good, because that’s what I’m thinking about.”

“The big guy won’t let me eat ice cream for breakfast,” he said, his face drawing up into a pout.

“Have you asked him?”

Max shook his head. “Did your dad let you eat ice cream for breakfast?”

Honesty time here. Admitting her life to Dermott was one thing, but to Max? The thing was, she owed this child honesty. He couldn’t heal without it. “I didn’t get to eat breakfast too much. I had to fix it for my dad, and by the time I got through, I had to go to school.”

That caught his attention a little. “Could you have ice cream for lunch?”

“I didn’t eat lunch too much, either. We usually didn’t have enough food in the house, and my dad wouldn’t give me any money.”

“No peanut butter and jelly?”

Jenna shook her head.

“But didn’t you get hungry?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes my friends gave me part of their lunch, so it wasn’t so bad.”

“Your dad was mean,” he said. “Just like my…”

Jenna’s breath caught in her throat. She knew better than to prompt him into saying something, so she continued. “Yes, he was a mean man. Sometimes he hit me.” She glanced at Max to see what his face registered, and there was mild interest there. But not enough to convince her that he was ready to talk about anything. “But I had very nice grandparents, like you do.”

“The ones with horses.”

“Only they wouldn’t let me ride when I was little like you. Only when I was older and went to live with them.”

“Did
they
let you have ice cream for breakfast?”

“No. I had to eat things like cereal and toast.” Max actually sat down across from her, legs crossed, on his side of the door. It was the boundary, like she had her boundaries, and she understood that.

“Did they fix you lunch, too? Because it wouldn’t be good if they were mean like your mommy.”

“My daddy,” she reminded him.

“Where was your mommy?” he asked.

“She died when I was little.”

“Like my mommy.”

From behind her, Jenna heard a slight gasp. She chanced a quick look at Dermott, who looked very stressed, and gave him a reassuring smile. “Your grandparents are awfully upset this morning, Max. Did you know that?”

He nodded. “I had a bad dream again.”

“About someone you know?”

He nodded, but didn’t go on. And she didn’t want to press him for details. “But you didn’t let them help you? Because I know they would have.”

“Not like my daddy. He knows how.”

“Sometimes you have to tell other people what you want, Max. If you don’t, they won’t know. I mean, right now, do you know what I want?”

He shook his head.

“That’s because I didn’t tell you. But if I told you that I want a puppy, then you’d know.”

“A puppy?” That definitely caught his attention. “Me too! Only the big guy says I’m not ready.” He thought for a moment, his face changing from a pout to a deep, contemplative frown. “Maybe you could get a puppy, since the big guy can’t tell you what to do, and we can pretend that he’s my puppy, too.”

“Or maybe you can tell the big guy all the reasons why you want a puppy. Want to tell me first? You know, practice?”

Max emitted a deep sigh. “Because I like puppies. They’re fun. They like to play ball. And they can sleep with me at night when I’m…”

So close again. Max was one stubborn little boy. He reminded her of herself when she’d been young. Even now, in some ways. “Would you have slept better last night if you’d had a puppy with you?” She really didn’t mean to make a case for Dermott getting a dog, but Max did seem to have strong feelings about it.

“If I had a puppy, then I wouldn’t have to look at
her.”

“Who, Max? Who did you have to look at?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he drew his knees up to his head and pulled himself into a tight little ball.

“Can I come in, Max? Can I come in and see what you had to look at?”

He didn’t look up at her, but he did nod. So Jenna stood, gave Dermott an apprehensive look and stepped around Max. It was a typical room, done up in browns and blues. There were toys scattered on the floor but, apart from that, nothing set it apart as Max’s room. It was simply a guest room, small in space, sparse in furnishing. And nothing in it seemed to be something that should have upset the boy. So Jenna walked over to the closet, took a look inside. Again, nothing. And nothing on the table next to the bed, or the dresser across from it. On a burst of inspiration, she looked under the bed, but except for a pair of Max’s shoes, there was nothing. So she was stumped. She’d fully expected to find something in this room that had triggered his nightmare and subsequent outbursts.

Walking over to the bedroom window, she parted the curtains, and stared down to the front yard. That’s when she saw it—an eight-by-ten portrait of a woman. It had to be Nancy Callahan because she could see so much of Max in the image—the blonde hair, the same shaped face. The photo was sitting on the roof ledge outside the window. Where Max had put it.

Jenna left it there, and when she turned around, Max’s eyes were wide, not so much from fright but from the uncertainty of what would happen next. Would he be in trouble? Would somebody hit him again?

It was all Jenna could do to keep the tears from starting, but she did. She’d lived her pain, reconciled herself to adjustments. This time it was about Max, and the whole reality of what he’d lived through was just on the verge of starting for him. “Why don’t you call your daddy Daddy, or Dad?” she asked, impulsively.

Max’s bottom lip began trembling, and big, fat tears welled up in his eyes. “Because I was a bad boy.”

That didn’t make any sense to her, but it didn’t have to because it made sense to Max, and it hurt him. She could see that. “But you weren’t a bad boy, Max.”

He nodded. “I was, too. My mommy told me I was, and that my daddy would go away if I was bad. So if I didn’t tell him I was bad, and pretended he wasn’t my daddy, maybe he couldn’t go away.”

Jenna’s heart shattered into pieces for this little boy. She was angry for him, too. And she hurt for him. But she was frightened. Max needed someone more, someone better than her. Except right now it was just the two of them, and he trusted her to help him. She could see it in his eyes.
He trusted her.
Needed her like no one had ever needed her before. And she couldn’t let all the pain still bottled up inside her get in the way of what she had to do to take care of Max. “You weren’t a bad boy, Max. What she said wasn’t right. You were
never
a bad boy. Do you understand that? You were never a bad boy and your daddy was never,
ever
going to go away and leave you. He loves you more than anything in this world and he would never go away. You know how much he loves you, don’t you?”

The tears finally spilled down his cheeks, and he nodded. But he stood in place, braving the worst of it by himself, and she knew just how that felt. Dear God, she knew. “When I was little, my daddy would call me a bad girl before he hit me. Sometimes I thought I was, but I wasn’t, Max. I was never a bad girl. My daddy was wrong, and what he did to me was wrong.”

“Did it hurt?” he asked through his sniffles.

“Yes,” she said simply. “It hurt. Just like it hurt you when your mommy hit you. But you weren’t a bad boy, Max. You were never a bad boy and she shouldn’t have hit you, like my daddy shouldn’t have hit me.”

“It hurt,” he admitted, still fighting bravely against the tears, even though the tears were winning.

“I know, sweetheart,” she whispered, as Max crept shyly toward her. One slow step at a time. When he reached her, Jenna was on her knees with open arms. “I know it hurt,” she whispered, holding him the way he needed to be held. The way she’d needed to be held. “But we’re going to make it better now. I promise, Max. We’re going to make it better, and no one will ever hurt you like that again. I promise.”

She glanced over at the doorway in time to see Dermott turn away. There was so much pain here, and so much love. And so much of her own heart.

Yet they needed more than her. But Jenna Lawson, always on the run, didn’t know how to run away from this. So she sat on the floor and rocked Max until he’d cried himself out, and told him the things he needed to hear…things she’d needed to hear. Then she sent him off to get ready for that ice-cream breakfast, and he insisted he could do it alone. So she went downstairs to face what would be equally as difficult as what she’d just faced.

“He’s washing up and getting ready to go for ice cream,” she said, looking at Dermott, whose back was to her. He was staring out the window at nothing in particular. Irene and Frank were conspicuously absent from the room.

“What was it?” Dermott asked, his voice jagged. “What caused all this to happen to him?”

“A picture of his mother. I have an idea Frank and Irene left it at Max’s bedside so he wouldn’t forget her.”

He whirled around to face her, and his face was surprisingly devoid of anger. What was there was sadness, and fear. And so much pain that she could feel it. “I told them not to do that,” he whispered. “Over and over, I told them not to remind Max about his mother. And I trusted them when they said they wouldn’t.”

“She was their daughter, Dermott.” Jenna walked over to him, but instead of tumbling into his arms the way she wanted to do, she stood tall, right next to him. Shoulders squared, head up, she stared into his eyes. “You have to let them know the truth…the whole truth…or Max will be hurt again. It’s time. It’s affecting him now, and you can’t go on keeping them in the dark if you want them to remain in his life. Or the alternative is to pick him up and run to Costa Rica, and never look back. But that’s not what you want to do, is it?”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t say a word.

“You heard what he said, didn’t you?”

Again, no response.

“He wants to deal with it, Dermott, and he needs you there to help him. He also needs his grandparents, but they have to know what they’re helping him through.”