The China Doll (21 page)

"You don’t really think that makes up for it,
do you?"

"No, but it’s a start. And I want that so
badly, my dear. A fresh start." He sat up. "Do you want to talk
about Michael?"

Miranda pulled the sheets closer around her.
"No. There’s nothing to say."

"I think there is." He studied her face and
moved in closer. "I want you to tell me what happened with Michael
the night after the benefit."

Miranda turned away. "Leave it alone. It
doesn’t matter."

"I knew what it was called with Joanna and
Tom. I know what it’s called with you and Michael."

She squeezed her eyes shut. This wasn’t a
place anyone was allowed. "It wasn’t like that," she said
quietly.

"Richard told me that you were using a cane
the night after the benefit. For two weeks. You couldn’t leave the
house easily." She was shaking her head. "He hurt you."

"It wasn’t like that," she whispered.

"Did he force himself on you?"

"I didn’t say no," she said.

"That isn’t what I asked."

She hugged her knees around her chest. "I
loved him."

"I know," he said gently. "I know that you
loved him. And that’s what made it worse."

"Please!" She buried her face in her hands
and cried. Alex put her arms around her and held her until she fell
asleep. But he had no idea just what he had touched. And he never
would.

Michael got to the gym at six-forty-five and
was still there at nine. "Michael, I don’t think you want to put
any more weight on this," his trainer warned after he upped the
machine to two hundred twenty pounds for the chest press.

"Just spot me, okay?" Michael replied
tersely.

"Good morning, Michael," Alex said cheerily
just as Michael began to press the weight up.

Michael considered Alex’s faint but satisfied
smile. He wanted to punch it off his face. "Help me up," Michael
said, not taking his eyes off of Alex. He sat up and turned to his
trainer. "I think we should take a little break, okay?"

"See you in ten."

Once the trainer was gone, Michael turned to
Alex. "Sorry, I don’t think the aqua aerobics class starts until
twelve here."

Alex shrugged. "You’d be surprised at what
I’m capable of, even at my age."

Michael stood up. "There is nothing you could
do that would surprise me, but I’ve got to say, even I wouldn’t
have guessed what you’d do to Richard’s family. There’s something."
He wiped his face with a towel and sipped his water. Alex didn’t
show a trace of shame or remorse. "What do you want?"

"Believe it or not, I came by to thank
you."

"Thank me? For what?"

Alex smiled. "For last night. You have no
idea how helpful you were."

Michael was filled with disgust. "Excuse me?"
There was that feeling Michael had always had when he was younger,
as if he needed to jump out of his skin. He still didn’t know what
it was.

"This week was...very difficult," Alex said.
"It’s rare I have things blow up in my face. But that persistent
detective—he did a much better job than I let on. If you could have
seen the look on Miranda’s face...I really didn’t know if she was
ever going to speak to me again."

"It’s been said before—you’re a lucky
bastard."

"I really am," Alex seemed to marvel.
"Because it was you. Whatever you said to her when she saw you,
whatever you said to her last night—she was pretty broken. Maybe
you saw that." Michael glared in silence. "Hmm. Of course you did.
Because you were watching her like a hawk. Just as you always
did.

"But then do you know what she said to me?
It’s amazing, really. She said she didn’t want to be unfair to me."
He smiled as if it were a joke only Michael would get. "As if she
would somehow be using me if she came to me last night."

"I don’t believe you," Michael said, holding
himself back from strangling Alex. "She didn’t want you last
night."

"You think I’m lying?" Alex winked. "How many
details would you like?"

"Shut up!" Michael sprang up. Alex stepped
back but kept smiling.

"Go on. You know you want to."

"Don’t you dare talk about her that way!"
Michael shook. His trainer came back into the room, but Michael
shook his head. The man turned back around. "That you would talk
about her like that after you...you’re a worse monster than anyone
else knows." He felt his own heart beating hard and fast. "If she
did come to you last night, she wasn’t thinking about you." Alex’s
face didn’t change at all. Michael narrowed his eyes. "But you know
that, don’t you? And you knew that last night."

"What do I care who she’s thinking
about?"

"How pathetic and desperate are you?" Michael
felt as if something was becoming clear, but he wasn’t sure what it
was. "You don’t care if she wants me while she’s with you?"

"The last part is the whole point, kiddo.
She’s with me. And she’ll stay with me."

"You’re nothing but a user."

"Do you still want to hit me?" Alex crossed
his arms. "Tell you what? I’ll make it easy for you. I won’t move.
You can take your shot. Take as many as you want. Because when
you’re done, she’s never going to want to look at you again. You’ll
show her what you are, what you always have been."

There was the clarity. "You don’t love her,"
Michael said. "She is just another pretty little thing in your big,
expensive, empty house. If you did love her, you wouldn’t try to
trick her into thinking you’re me." He closed his mouth like he was
tasting something sour. "I’ve got your number, old man. I always
have."

"Maybe so," Alex said solemnly. "But what
does it really matter? Because she can’t be with you. You can’t
give her the family she wants. I can."

Now Michael laughed. "You’re right as usual.
Because the fact that we share one grandparent—one out of
seven—that is much worse than being with you, a man old enough to
be a grandfather to her children. And I guess it doesn’t bother you
that if you hadn’t screwed up so badly that she’d be calling you
Dad?"

"I can’t change everything," Alex said
coldly.

"Then maybe you should be more careful when
you’re playing with other people’s lives."

Alex smirked. "Thanks for the advice." He
left, and the trainer came back in.

"Everything alright?"

"Punching bag. Now," Michael growled. They
walked into the sparring room, and Michael attacked the bag as if
it were Alex’s face.

~~~

Michael exhausted himself at the gym. He
threw his keys on the side table. He couldn’t think of anything but
how beautiful Miranda looked at the theater the night before, and
that Alex was sitting with her. He closed his eyes and could see
Miranda from her recent visit. He opened his eyes and ran his hands
through his hair. He was glad he didn’t have anything harder than
orange juice right now.

He grabbed his phone.
He said
anytime
.

Five minutes later, he was connected to
Doctor Tobias Welker in London. "Michael, good to hear from you.
How is everything?"

"Not so well," Michael sighed. "A lot has
happened in the last few days."

"Did you see your ex-wife?"

"You could say that." Michael briefly
detailed their first encounter and then seeing her at the gym and
the theater.

"Michael, we’ve talked about this," the
doctor said firmly. "Your manipulations are not going to be a
strong foundation for any relationships you re-establish."

"I just wanted to see her so badly," Michael
said. He was glad the doctor couldn’t look at his face.

"Then why not just reach out to her?"

"I...I was afraid she’d tell me to leave her
alone. I don’t think I could hear that again."

There was a brief silence. "Is there
something else?"

Michael sighed. "I didn’t want to see her
with him."

"By him, you mean Alex?"

"Yes. But that didn’t work out too well
either. I saw him with her anyway, and then I saw him alone today.
He came to gloat. He doesn’t love her and he knows she doesn’t love
him, but he’s with her anyway." Michael scoffed. "I’m glad she’s
got her own therapist."

"Really? Perhaps this other doctor can
recommend someone. Because while I don’t mind taking your calls, I
think eventually you’re going to need someone you can see on a
regular basis."

"You mean I can’t see him too?" Michael asked
drily.

"I think the recommendations there don’t
favor that."

"I suppose Miranda might actually have a good
reason to call me a stalker if I did that. Plus, he’s also seeing
Jessie."

"Jessie…" The doctor was silent for a moment.
"Your cousin’s cousin? Your ex-wife’s close friend?"

"Yes?"

"That’s also...unusual. What is this doctor’s
name?"

"Let me see." What had Richard said? "Wolfe—I
think. Something with an A—"

"Andreas Wolfe?" the doctor interrupted.

"Yes, Andreas Wolfe—that was it. You know
him?"

"Michael, how long has your ex-wife been
seeing him?"

"I’m not sure—I think a week or less."

"And what about her friend?"

"Oh, I don’t know. Richard said she had to
switch. I think it’s been a couple of months."

"Do you know...any of his methods?" A pause.
"Michael...how is she progressing? I realize you might not be a
good judge, but how does she seem?"

"I’m an even poorer judge than usual since I
haven’t actually seen her since I got back. She isn’t a fan of
mine."

"Oh, yes. Of course." The doctor was silent
for a moment before he continued. "I’m very concerned. Andreas
Wolfe was one of the most respected men in our profession a few
years ago. Much of his research was insightful, some of it even
ground-breaking. I actually considered him a friend. But..." He
paused. "About three years ago, he took on a patient—a very special
case, he said, but he didn’t want to go into too much detail. He
cleared out all of his other work so he could be exclusive to this
one case. I think he may even have moved in with him. Intense work,
to say the least.

"I spoke to him sporadically during this
period. At first, he was energized by his work. He felt like he was
making some very important breakthroughs. But as time progressed,
he became increasingly pessimistic. At first he thought he’d hit a
wall, but then he seemed to feel like it was the patient. There was
only so much he could do. The last time I spoke to him, he told me
that he was going to end his professional relationship with the
patient, and he seemed to be dreading it.

"A few days later, there was a news report
that he had been a car accident. Horrible. The patient had been in
the car with him, and he died. I don’t know if Andreas had had an
opportunity to end it or not at that point.

"The accident left Andreas very scarred. He
needed substantial surgery afterward. But it was more than that. He
changed. He seemed to have no interest in resuming his practice,
though he had a line of old patients waiting for him. He wouldn’t
take any visitors either—only on the phone, or preferably email.
And then he left for the States." The doctor sighed. "And I’ve
heard some very unorthodox stories. While details were vague, I
would have to say that most of it was uncalled for."

Michael sat up straight. He remembered what
had struck him as odd the night before. "Doctor Welker, do you have
a picture of Doctor Wolfe? Better yet, do you have a picture of his
patient?"

Miranda walked into the office at
eight-thirty. Emily was heads down with Carlos, who’d finally
completed his documentation. They waved to Miranda, who went into
the kitchen to get some coffee.

Richard came in behind her. "Slumming
today?"

Miranda put the sugar in her coffee. "Yeah, I
don’t think I could face the café today—at least, not the current
musical selections."

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind. Did Michael call you?" she asked
as casually as she could.

Richard tried to keep the same light tone for
her sake. "I called him—I visited him, actually."

"Good," she said, going for the milk. "I know
you’ll need someone to talk to. I mean, you can talk to me, always,
but you and Michael have a special relationship, and he’s family,
so of course he should call you. But it’s fine that you called
him." Richard smiled a bit as he watched her stir her coffee. "Now
you can both talk to each other. About whatever you need to talk
about." She sipped her coffee.

Richard folded his arms. "I know you saw him,
too."

"When did you talk to him?"

"Two days ago."

"Oh, okay."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Last night." She took another sip. "At the
play."

"
Camelot
? I had no idea he was
interested at all in musicals."

"He’s always had a nice voice," Miranda said
softly.

"True," Richard said. "Did you talk?"

"Just a little bit. You know, before,
between, after."

"After?"

"At the end of the play. Right before I
left."

Richard sucked his cheeks a bit. "Did you
leave alone?"

"No," she said. Another sip.

"Miranda, have you lost your mind?" he asked
at last.

"He still wants to marry me."

Richard blinked. "Of course he does. Is that
what you want?"

"It’s not going to work with Michael, you
know."

"So if not Michael, by necessity Alex?"

"Fine, how about you marry me? I mean, it
looks like you’re on the market now."

"What happens if you stay single?"

"Then I am never going to stop thinking about
him," she said as she looked at her coffee. "I am never going to be
free of him."

"You really think another person is going to
change that?"

Miranda looked up at Richard and sighed.
"Okay, next subject. How is Jessie? I didn’t see her much
yesterday."