Healing A Hero (The Camerons of Tide’s Way #4) (14 page)

Chapter 27

April 2015

Camp Lejeune, North Carolina

A WEEK AFTER THE day at the beach, with the late afternoon sun dancing across the floor of the Physical Therapy room, Elena stood uncomfortably close within the wedge of Philip’s spread thighs, massaging his right shoulder after pushing him to new limits. Both in and out of the physical therapy department he’d pushed himself even harder, and it was beginning to look as if she might be discharging him for full return to duty sooner than expected. He grunted as her fingers found another tight knot of abused muscles.

The temptation to lean into him and feel his arms close around her grew stronger and her willpower weaker every time he came to her. It had been an anxious week of reflection and doubt. His question about starting over haunted her with possibilities. Everything Meg had said about bending rules balanced against the ethics of her profession. Her position here at Lejeune. All the years spent building her reputation. Even the successful completion of Philip’s therapy weighed against giving in to desire.

Then there was the reality of his going back into harm’s way and leaving her behind again. What if she jeopardized everything for love and lost him anyway?

He hadn’t asked the question again during either of the two therapy sessions since their day at the beach, but she’d caught him gazing at her with uncertainty in his eyes more than once. It was as if he was waiting for her to make the next move, and he was either being patient or cautious.

What if there
was
a chance for them to salvage their lost relationship?

The shattering kiss they’d shared on the beach before the revelations had begun to come out proved she still loved him in spite of everything that had come between them and forced them apart. Judging by the look in his eyes, his heart was in it too. But she hadn’t told him everything.

Yet.

He’d given her the opening, but she hadn’t taken it. If there were ever going to be a best time, that day on the beach would have been it. But before she could figure out where to begin, Julie had come dashing up to their blanket, dripping and excited, and the moment was gone.

If there was a possibility for them in the future, even if it was worth risking her reputation and position, there could be no more secrets. She would have to trust him with the truth. She just had to find the courage before it was too late.

Philip interrupted her tormented reasoning. “Do you remember that kid who painted the murals in the parish hall at Saint Theresa’s?”

She frowned. It had been a while since she’d been to the church they’d grown up in. But then she remembered. “Dave I think his name was. He was a couple of years behind me in school, and I remember the murals. They looked like totally professional work even though he was just a kid when he did them. What about him?”

“My mother sent me an invitation to the opening of his new exhibit at the Cameron Museum in Wilmington. I thought you and Julie might like to drive down with me on Sunday and check it out. We could do dinner on the river afterward.” His words were rushed, as if he feared she’d cut him off before he got them said.

“Julie won’t be here.” And without her along as a chaperone, would it seem too much like a date? Something she knew she shouldn’t accept?

“Oh?” He looked at her with speculation in his eyes.

“She’s going out to San Diego to spend the week with Eli.” The promised week with the man she called Dad.

“Even better. It’ll be just the two of us.” He hopped off the table and reached for his uniform blouse. “What time should I pick you up?”

DAVE CALLOWAY at fifteen had been good, but the man at thirty was incredible.

As Elena and Philip strolled through the gallery, she was almost moved to tears by the uncanny talent of the man. Although Calloway’s youthful artwork at St Theresa’s had been seascapes, his current exhibit was of people. Some posed, but most caught in candid moments of reflection or busy with everyday life.

“I love this one,” Elena said as they stopped in front of a medium-sized canvas depicting children frolicking in the surf.

“That’s our beach,” Philip murmured, reaching for her hand. He laced his fingers through hers, and a lightning current of excitement surged through her. She felt giddy and nineteen again.

“How do you know it’s
our
beach? It’s just the ocean and kids playing in the sand. It could be anywhere.”

“Maybe I just wanted to think it’s our beach,” he agreed, squeezing her hand. “But Calloway does come from Tide’s Way, so there’s an even chance it is.”

Philip drew her along until they stood in front of another beach scene, this one at night with moonlight glistening on the gentle chop and the silhouettes of two lovers sitting side by side, their arms about each other as they gazed out over the ocean.

“This one definitely makes me think of our beach. Or maybe just our last night together there.” Philip looked down at her with more than a hint of seduction in his eyes.

The jumble of memories of that night and of Philip making love to her in the dunes filled Elena with such longing that her heart ached. “Me too,” she whispered through a painfully tight throat. They gazed at the romantic painting in silence a while longer before she dragged him toward the next portrait—an old man seated in a rocker with his hand resting on the head of an equally aged dog.

“This guy is first-rate,” Philip muttered. “It feels like I could reach out and pat that dog and feel how soft his fur is.”

“I know. And look at the man’s eyes. It’s like they’re following us.”

Philip took several steps to the right. “Big brother is watching us.” He chuckled. “Oh—” Two steps ahead of her now, Philip sucked in a quick breath and went utterly still.

“What is it?”

Philip reached toward the image of a small boy clutching a teddy bear. His fingers trembled visibly before he pulled his hand back and shoved it into his pocket.

“Do you know this boy?” Elena glanced from Philip’s face to the canvas and back. “Is he one of your nephews?”

Philip shook his head in a barely discernible denial.

The look of loss and pain on Philip’s expressive face had her suddenly worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Philip answered after a long moment. “It just looks like someone I used to know.”

Elena looked back at the painting, studying it more closely, trying to find something familiar, but there was nothing.

“His name was Tommy.”

Philip leaned forward to inspect the creamy square of paper that listed detailed information about the painting. He frowned. “Not for sale.”

“Would you buy it if you could?”

“It looks just like him,” Philip said softly, ignoring her question.

Abruptly, he turned toward her as if suddenly remembering she was there. “I think we’ve seen about everything. Let’s bug out and find us some supper.”

The drive from the gallery to The George on the Cape Fear River in the dimming light of early evening was mostly silent. Philip seemed far away in thoughts he didn’t seem inclined to share while Elena tried to sort through the roller coaster of emotions and moods she’d been on since Philip picked her up.

Just being with him filled her with happiness that didn’t depend on what they were doing or where they were. But she didn’t deserve that kind of untrammeled enjoyment. Giddiness and innocence belonged to the girl she’d once been and the Marine she’d fallen in love with. What she felt now for the man Philip had become was very different. Stronger and yet less certain. Torn by loss and betrayal, and shadowed by doubts.

“You’ll like this place,” Philip said as he held her door open. His fingers touched the small of her back as he ushered her toward the entrance and another shiver of pleasure rippled through her.

A slender woman with flaming red hair and a clashing purple pencil skirt came out from behind a tall desk and escorted them to one of the outside tables. Candles flickered on each table and boats bobbed gently on the far side of the wharf. A nearly full moon hung low in the inky blue sky, sending a shimmer of light across the surface of the river.

“It looks—” Elena broke off. She’d been about to say romantic. But that wasn’t where Philip’s head was right now.

That last painting of the little boy had touched something in him and doused the lighthearted mood he’d been in earlier.

“I recommend the shrimp and grits. It’s their specialty,” Philip said as he perused his menu. “Should I order a bottle of wine?”

Elena closed her menu and decided to take his advice. “I like white.”

“Calloway’s damned good,” Philip said after the waiter had taken their order.

She murmured her agreement, debating whether to ask for more details about this boy named Tommy.

The wine arrived and Philip went through the ritual of tasting it before the waiter poured them both a glass and retreated. Elena gazed out over the river at the variety of colors dancing off the water, reflected from lights on the boats and along the shore. When she looked back, Philip was staring at her with warmth in his eyes.

His gaze lit a fire in her belly and the warmth spread like honey. She ignored the quickening of her heartbeat and asked, “Who was Tommy?”

Philip took a sip of wine, then set his glass back down and sighed.

“He was my son.”

“You have a son?”
Philip has a son?
Her heart seemed to be lodged in her throat.

He shook his head, then hesitated as if trying to make up his mind about something. “I told you about Holly. I think I did anyway.”

“Andy said you were married. A long time ago. Before—before our summer together. Didn’t she send you a Dear John letter or something like that?”

“Actually, no. She didn’t. I was stationed at Pendleton when she walked out. She got pregnant right after we were married, right before I shipped out to Kosovo for five months. But it was a short tour, and I was home before Tommy was born. I was the first one to hold him—”

Philip blinked rapidly and glanced away for a moment. “I named him Thomas after my dad’s favorite brother.”

Wrapping her mind around the image of Philip as a father took some doing. He’d been a proud daddy with a newborn son. A little boy that brought tears to his eyes.

“What happened to him?” She was almost afraid to ask.

“Nothing happened—to him. Except he wasn’t my son.” Philip’s voice wavered. “Holly cheated on me. And she cheated on Lawrence, too.”

“Lawrence?” Elena’s head was about to explode.

Their salads arrived and Philip sat back to let the waiter set them down and add a basket of rolls. He buttered a roll as if he hadn’t just left her hanging with his provocative announcement.

“Who is Lawrence?” Elena plucked a roll from the basket, but set it on her plate without doing anything with it.

“Lawrence is Tommy’s biological father.” Philip took a second bite of roll, then another sip of wine. Finally, he put the glass down, rested his hands beside his plate, and met Elena’s questioning gaze.

“If she hadn’t thought there was something in it for her, Holly would never have told either of us. She let me think Tommy was mine until it occurred to her that Lawrence was a wealthy man and if I was out of the picture, maybe she could sucker him into marrying her. Except Lawrence was already married and he had no plans on leaving his wife for a two-timing bitch. But he did want his son.”

“But Tommy was yours, legally. He had your name.” The pain and loss in Philip’s voice tugged at her heart and she wished there was a way to fix this for him.

“If he was my son, my biological son, I’d have fought Holly for custody. But he wasn’t mine. Holly only wanted money. I wanted Tommy, but I had no wife, and a career that meant being out of the country half the time. And Lawrence could give Tommy everything I couldn’t.” Philip rubbed his fingers repeatedly over a fold of his napkin. “So, I signed away my rights.”

“And you’ve never seen him since?” Elena couldn’t imagine turning her child over to someone else. Even if the child hadn’t come from her body. If she’d been there at its birth and loved and nurtured it, it would have been the child of her heart. No wonder Philip looked like he’d lost something precious.

“I’ve seen him a few times. He calls me Uncle Philip. He’s older now and he knows where I fit into his life. And I’ve come to accept it. Lawrence and his wife were childless and they were pretty happy to have that little boy come into their lives. It would have been so unfair to Lawrence if he had never known about Tommy.”

“But you never stopped loving him. I can see why you were so taken with the painting.” Why he might have wanted to purchase it, had it been for sale.

“He’s in grad school, now. God, doesn’t that make me feel old.” Philip chuckled humorlessly. “I’ll have to show you the photos Lawrence sends me some time. How do you like the shrimp and cheese grits?” He gestured toward her plate with his fork.

“Delicious.” She took one last bite and hummed appreciatively. But her heart was hammering with the implications of Philip’s confession.

He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “So, now you know all my secrets, what are the chances we could still make a go of it?”

From melancholy a moment before to simmering with desire, his eyes held hers as warmly as the hand gripping her fingers. Guilt and regret gnawed at her thoughts, but his hungry blue gaze and soft question stoked the fire that had been bubbling in her all afternoon.

“You’re still my patient,” she said, trying to defuse the growing intensity.