Someone To Believe In (42 page)

Bailey shook her head, sending inky locks all
over the pillow. “I don’t want to talk about Taz.”

“You have to.”

She pushed on his chest. “Let me up.”

He kept her where she was with force. “No.
Look at me.”

Finally she did.

“You’re not responsible for Taz’s death.
Because I am.”

Her actions stilled. “What do you mean?”

He drew in a breath as if he needed it to
speak. “When Mazie threatened you and you stormed out of ESCAPE, I
drove up to Rochester.”

“Rochester?”

“To the high school Taz attended.”

“How could you know where Taz was relocated,
where she went to school?”

“You let it slip you were leaving for
Rochester, when I got you on the cell to tell you about Guardian’s
funding.”

“Oh my God.” Awareness—dark and accusing—was
dawning.

“I found out where she lived and where she
went to school, with the help of my college roommate. He’s a Pl.”
Clay stared at her. “He’s the one who found out you met with Taz
that first time.”

“You had me followed?”

“Just that once.”

“God, we joked about your ability to find
people’s addresses. Your PI friend followed me first, then you set
him on Taz.”

“I told him I needed her located, yes. I went
to see her.”

Bailey bit her lip. “What did you tell
her?”

“That Mazie had threatened you. That we were
married.”

“And she told you where Mazie was because of
that?”

“Not until I told her you were pregnant.”

“Oh, no.” Her stomach plummeted when she
remembered Taz’s words one night on the Internet.

You got kids?

Yes. I wish I had them. It’s the only thing I
really want. What was it like being pregnant?

I loved it. It was the most meaningful
thing—that and breastfeeding—that I’d ever done.

It’s a miracle.

A gift from God.

Clay was talking. “I don’t know why she came
back here, Bailey.”

“I do. You don’t turn on your home girls.
After she snitched, Taz had time to think about it. She came back
to warn them.” Tears welled in her eyes. “And Mazie shot her
because kids don’t leave gangs.”

“You’re probably right. I’m so sorry this
happened.”

“You’re sorry.”

“Yes.”

She studied him, still dazed by what he’d
told her. “Will you let me up now?”

“Why?”

“You were right earlier, I need to get
dressed.”

The silence in the room as they both put
their clothes on was deafening. Bailey could barely contain the
emotion she felt bubbling inside her, straining to get out. Still
without saying anything, she went downstairs. He followed.

In the living room, she turned to face him
and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I don’t know what to
say.”

“Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“Stunned, shocked...sad, I guess.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Do?”

“About us? What does this mean for us?”

For a minute she felt panicky. Then she
forced herself to stay calm. Now, she had to depend on herself. “I
don’t know.” He came toward her and she held her hand up. “Don’t.
Stay away.”

He waited a minute before he said, “For now,
or for good?”

“I don’t know.” She sounded like an idiot,
but she couldn’t take this in, couldn’t wrap her brain around what
he’d done.

“Can you forgive me?”

“I can’t answer these questions.” Desperate
to get out of there, she looked around for her coat, spotted it on
a chair. She put it on, and headed for the door. When she reached
the foyer, she turned to him and had to swallow hard at the utter
desolation on his classic face. “Do you think we can make it with
this between us, Clay?”

“I honestly don’t know. But I’d like to try.”
He nodded to her stomach. “We have a baby to consider.”

Her hand crept to her waist. “I know. I need
time. I have to think this through.”

His brandy-colored eyes flickered with
something that resembled her earlier panic. “Can you stay here and
do it?”

She shook her head. “I have to get away from
you.”

He looked like she’d slapped him, this man
she loved, this man she’d just given herself to without
reservation. Her husband, the father of her child. But, he’d
betrayed her. Still ...

She went back to him, stood on her toes and
hugged him. “I love you, Clay,” she said grasping on to his neck,
choking out the words. “I really do. I just don’t know if that’s
enough now.”

He held her in a grip so tight her ribs hurt.
Finally he said, “Don’t leave me, please.”

“I have to.” She drew back, tears coursing
down her cheeks.

His eyes were red-rimmed and his face was
wet. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.” She turned away and said,
without facing him, “I’ll be in touch.”

TWENTY-TWO

BARD COLLEGE WAS a hundred acres of sprawling
hills perched right on the edge of the Hudson River. Today, on this
crisp Saturday in mid-November, the leaves had fallen and it was
cold, but the sun was out, kissing the water, warming those who
walked around campus. Winter was coming late to New York this year,
and Clay was glad. He wasn’t sure he could battle the elements and
still keep his own demons at bay.

He found the campus café where he and
Jon had agreed to meet. He’d only told his son he needed to talk to
him. It was time to tell Jon what he’d done, and face the
disappointment in
his
eyes
too. Bailey’s accusing stare and hurt words still haunted
him...

I love you, Clay...I just don’t know if
that’s enough now.

Clay had waited a week, to see if she’d
change her mind, or discover what she was feeling, or find out
whatever the hell she had to find out. But she hadn’t called him.
Consequently, his mood alternated between utter despair and a
biting anger that she could give up on all they had together. That
she could let him go.

He watched Jon enter the café. He wore a
hooded Bard sweatshirt and jeans, his dark blond hair disheveled.
He reminded Clay of what he himself had looked like in
college.

The place was not crowded for lunch, thank
goodness. Clay stood when Jon reached the table and gave him a bear
hug. Drawing back, Jon smiled. At least they were back to displays
of affection, which had gone by the wayside the last few years.

After they both sat, his son studied him.
“You okay, Dad?”

Clay opened his mouth to say he was
fine—typical parent answer—but sank back into his chair. “No, Jon,
I’m not.”

“Something wrong with your job?”

“No.”

“Well, it must be big for you to drive up
here just for lunch.”

That pierced his father’s heart, already
wounded by his loss of Bailey. Clay swallowed hard; he was keeping
the gates closed on his emotions for fear he would drown in them.
Any leak might create a flood. “Your comment tells me I need to do
more of this.”

“Wish you would, Dad.” Jon smiled at him. “I
like it.”

“I’m glad.”

Clay had gotten drinks for them from the food
line and sipped his coffee morosely.

Jon scowled. “Dad? What it is?” His whole
body stiffened. “Oh, my God, you’re not sick, are you?”

“No, no, I’m not sick. I have to tell you
something, and I’m...” Clay sighed “I’m afraid it will diminish
your opinion of me again.”

“Just tell me, okay? You’re scaring me.”

“I married Bailey O’Neil almost three weeks
ago. She’s pregnant.”

“Holy shit.” Jon looked down at Clay’s hands,
where his wedding ring rested. He wondered if Bailey was still
wearing hers. “Is that why you married her?”

“No, son, it’s not. I’m crazy in love with
her. I have been for a long time. I finally got her committed to
this relationship, and then she found out she was pregnant. I was
thrilled that she agreed to become my wife.”

“Then why are you so sad today? Are you
afraid this will hurt your career? If you are, I think the days of
expecting spic and span politicians are over.”

Jon’s cynical view made Clay sad. But he had
other things to deal with. “No, I’m not afraid of that. Truthfully,
I don’t give a shit about that right now.” Clay drank some coffee.
“I’m sad because already I blew it.”

“With her?” Clay nodded. “What’d you do?”

“You know she works with gang kids and we
quarreled publicly about it.”

Jon grinned, making him look younger. “Yeah,
she gave you a run for your money. I like her, Dad.”

“You would,” he said dryly.

“Seriously, she read me the riot act
defending you. And her kid...Hey!” Jon’s brown eyes lit. “I got a
stepbrother now! And I’m going to have a half...Do you know what
you’re having?”

How’s my girl ...

He swallowed back the memory. “No.”

“I hope it’s a girl.” Jon watched him. “What
happened?”

“Bailey got someone out of a gang and the
rest of the posse threatened her for doing it.”

“I thought ESCAPE was hidden, like the
shelters for battered women.”

“It is. They threatened her over the Internet
Jon waited. “I was so worried about her and the baby, I found out
where the girl had been placed and went to see her to persuade her
to tell me the whereabouts of her gang. She must have panicked and
gone to warn them because she ended up back in New
York...dead.”

“Oh my God.” Jon’s brow furrowed. “Is Bailey
safe?”

“Yes, Taz—that was her name—gave me the
location of her crib. The police found the leader who was after
Bailey, but not in time to save Taz.”

“I’m sorry, Dad.” Jon toyed at the straw.
“Bailey blames you?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since last
Friday.”

Scowling, Jon said, “Aren’t you living
together?”

“We had plans to, just as soon as we could
make our marriage public. I’d been staying with her during this
ordeal, but she booted me out when she discovered what I’d
done.”

“She okay?”

“Again, I don’t know. I haven’t seen or
talked to her. Our relationship is up in the air. She asked for
time to deal with this—what I did behind her back. I’ve phoned her
every day, but she hasn’t returned my calls.”

“That’s why you look like you lost your best
friend.”

“I have. And it’s my fault.”

“She’ll come around, Dad. She probably just
needs time.”

“I hope so, Jon.”

They got sandwiches from the line and as it
had for days, the sight and smell of food turned his stomach. He
picked at his Reuben, thinking about the week. When Jon asked about
Rory, Clay told him he’d managed to spend some time with the boy,
thanks to Aidan. Bailey’s brother had set up meetings for them, and
accompanied them to the zoo to see the new baboons. The kid had a
thousand questions Clay wasn’t able to answer, most prominently,
why wasn’t Clay living with them, if he and his mother were
married.

For the rest of the lunch, he and Jon talked
about the baby and what Bailey might do. Afterward, Jon took him to
his science lab to show him a project he was working on, and over
to his dorm room to see his new stereo. Finally, Clay had to
leave.

“I’ll be in D.C. off and on, Jon, but in New
York most of the time because Congress is in recess. When is your
Thanksgiving break?”

“I’m done in a week.”

“I hope I see a lot of you over the
holidays.”

“Maybe we could take in a show.”

Clay smiled, remembering how he’d had to push
to see Jon over the last few years because his son never issued
invitations. Some things had changed for the better. He vowed
silently to be a good father to Jon, to Rory and the new baby, no
matter what.

“I’ll look into Broadway tickets. Any play in
particular?”

“Maybe
Seussical
?”

Zing, zing. He had to swallow hard.

Jon watched him. “And you know what? I’m
gonna have Thanksgiving dinner with you this year.”

“You always have it at your mother’s.”

“I know. So it’s time I spent it with
you.”

Immediately, Clay’s heart felt lighter. He
hugged Jon. “I’d like that.”

“Maybe things will be better between you and
Bailey by then. It could be the four of us—well four and a half—for
the holiday.”

God, Clay wanted that. “Maybe.” But as he
left his son and made his way across campus to the car, the demons
returned. “Maybe,” he whispered to himself. “But I doubt it.”

IF YOU DON’T go sit down this minute, and put
your feet up, I’ll fire you.” Patrick loomed over the bar when
Bailey re- turned from serving a couple for lunch. His blue eyes
were flaming.

Though her back ached, and she was hungry,
she jutted out her chin. “If you do, I’ll just get another waitress
job. The Irish Pub on Fiftieth and Lex, maybe.”

He slapped his hand on the surface of the
bar. “Son of a bitch. Don’t you care about the baby?”

“The doctor told me the baby’s fine.”

“Whatever you say.” He stalked away.

At the mention of the doctor, Bailey bit her
lip. Clay should have been at the appointment. She’d almost called
him, almost returned his daily messages. But she was still raw, and
she did blame him for Taz’s death. What was she supposed to do
with those feelings? Ignore them, so they could come back at any
time and ruin their relationship? No, she knew that wasn’t a good
idea. So she’d gone to her OB-GYN by herself and cried all the way
home because Clay wasn’t with her.

She finished serving her last meal and took a
stool at the bar. Starving now, she sank onto the last seat by the
cash register, near the door, and put her feet up. Her brother came
down with a glass of milk and a sandwich, slapped it down in front
of her, then started to walk away without saying anything.
“Paddy?”