The Place I Belong (28 page)

She felt the anguish of loss hollow out her chest. “Don’t try.”

He took another step away from her. “If we keep going, I won’t have the strength to stop it.”

“Stopping doesn’t take strength. Letting yourself love someone does.” She grabbed the back of her chair. “I’m willing to risk being hurt to prove you have that strength.”

He dragged both his hands through his hair. “If I hurt you, I couldn’t live with myself.”

Anger burned through her, and she shoved herself away from the chair. “Maybe you should stop avoiding trouble and face up to it instead. You pushed me to do that.”

She started to walk out of the kitchen when she remembered he had driven her to his house. Keeping her back to him, she thrust her hand out to the side, palm up. “Give me the keys. I’ll drive myself back to work. You can pick up your car there later.”

“It’s not an easy car to drive. Let me—”

“No!” She couldn’t bear the thought of being shut in the enclosed space of the Maserati with him for the long drive down the mountain. “Don’t worry. I’ll go slowly and carefully. I won’t wreck it.”

“Hannah, I don’t care about the car. You’re upset. I don’t want you to get hurt driving it.”

“I know how to drive a stick shift. The keys,” she said, shoving her hand out further.

She heard his footsteps on the tile floor and a jingling sound before the cold weight of keys dropped into her hand. She made a fist over the metal, letting the sharp edges dig into her skin to counterbalance the stabbing ache in her chest. “I’m an adult, so I’ll get over you. But Matt won’t. He will always feel rejected by his father, no matter how hard you try to pretend he’ll be happy with some other family.” Taking a breath, she turned to meet Adam’s eyes. “I hope you find the courage to love Matt. For his sake.”

He went completely still, his face as hard as though it was carved from the local limestone.

“Why do you think I’m an alcoholic?” His breathing was audible. “It’s because I don’t have the courage to face each day without blurring the edges. I’m a coward, Hannah.”

She wanted to scream that she hadn’t meant it that way, but he was already walking past her to the front door, his shoulders held stiffly.

She followed him in silence, wishing she could yank back all the words that had spilled out of her mouth in the last few minutes. Wishing they could go back to being tangled together on the couch, their bodies attuned to each other in a way their emotions were not. How had she created such a catastrophe?

She swallowed hard. She was trying to save him from making a decision that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

If Adam gave his son away, he would never heal from t
he woun
d.

Adam walked back into the house after watching the taillights of his car disappear around the bend of his driveway. Trace sat waiting for him, his tail sweeping across the stone floor.

Anguish swamped Adam, and he moaned through gritted teeth. Trace shoved his head under Adam’s hand, whining.

A bigger wave, this one laced with regret and guilt, crashed over him. He dropped to his knees to bury his face in Trace’s thick ruff. His fingers burrowed into the dog’s warm, comforting fur. The sound that wrenched itself from within his chest made Trace whimper and lick Adam’s ear.

Adam stayed there, holding onto Trace, using the dog’s living, breathing presence to brace himself against the longing for a drink that was building inside him, making him nearly dizzy with the desire for the oblivion alcohol could bring. The chilly, stone floor made his knees ache as he waged a silent battle deep within himself.

Finally, he let out a nearly inhuman groan and released the dog. Grabbing a set of keys from the hook by the door, he slammed out the front door and strode down the shaded path to the rear entrance of The Aerie. Letting himself in, he nodded to a couple of staff members as he made his way to a utilitarian staircase leading down into the bowels of the mountain.

He stopped in front of a heavy oak door and tried to fit a shiny silver key into the high-security lock. His hand was shaking so hard it took him two tries to insert it in the keyhole.

He stood with his other hand flat against the wood for a long moment before he turned the key and stepped inside the dimly lit room lined with bottles, the glass gleaming beneath a thin film of dust.

In the center was a rectangular table surrounded by eight chairs upholstered in cognac-colored leather held in place by brass nail heads. It was overhung with a rack containing crystal wineglasses of all shapes and sizes. This was where The Aerie held professional-level wine and Scotch tastings a few times
a yea
r.

Adam slid a large wineglass from the rack and set it in front of the chair at the head of the table. Then he prowled through the racks until he found a Pétrus, one of the rarest and most expensive bottles in The Aerie’s elite wine cellar.

“Even though it doesn’t matter a damn as long as there’s alcohol in it,” he muttered, dusting the bottle off with a linen napkin.

He retrieved a simple waiter’s corkscrew from the rack and removed the cork with a flex of his wrist. The wine deserved to be decanted and allowed to breathe, but he didn’t have time for that. The craving swelled inside him, and with an unsteady hand, he poured the rich, red liquid into the glass, spilling a few drops in his haste.

He sat down in the chair and curled his fingers around the stem of the glass, staring into the luminous depths of the wine. Lifting it, he swirled it under his nose, closing his eyes as the exquisite scent filled his nostrils and fed his yearning.

A nagging voice in the recesses of his brain made him set the glass down again as he wrestled with the knowledge that he was about to wipe out nine years of hard-won discipline and agonizing self-denial.

But then Hannah’s voice whispered through his mind, speaking the truth he hated most about himself.
He’d spent his life running away.

He brought the glass to his lips and tilted the bottom high, letting the elixir of forgetfulness flood his mouth.

Adam sat on the stone terrace of his house, staring out over the graying mountains as the late afternoon light faded around him. The chill sank through the thin wool of his trousers and suit jacket, but he couldn’t unclench his grip on the arms of the chair, even though the hard edges dug into his tendons. He needed an anchor to hold himself together after his trip to the cellar.

One of the French doors swung open, and he turned his head slowly to see Matt saunter toward him, dressed in jeans and a forest-green, hooded sweatshirt, with Trace at his heels. “Hey,” his son said. “Mrs. Duckworth said you had something for me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t pick you up. How’s Satchmo?” Adam asked.

Matt’s blue eyes blazed with happiness in the dusk. “He’s doing good. Ms. Sydenstricker let me take him out on the lead line on a trail by myself. She said the change of scenery would do him good, and she trusted me to keep him from taking off at a gallop.” Matt gave a lopsided smile. “That was her little joke since Satch still isn’t Mr. Energetic these days. But he liked it. I think he was walking faster at the end of the walk than at the beginning.”

Adam watched the expressions play across his son’s face, trying to memorize each one. “Sounds like he’s on the road to recovery.”

“Yeah,” Matt said, plopping down in the chair next to his father’s while Trace lay down between them. “Dr. Tim came out to check on him and said Dr. Linden did an amazing job.”

“Dr. Linden didn’t come?” Adam felt the pinch of regret. She probably didn’t want to risk encountering him at the stable.

“Nah, she had some meeting or something.”

He remembered now. Paul Taggart had news for her. He hoped it was good. “She’ll be back tomorrow, I’m sure.” He tightened his grip on the wooden arms as it occurred to him that she probably wouldn’t be coming to Thanksgiving. He’d driven away his one ally in introducing Matt to his relatives. “The O’Briens are looking forward to meeting you. They’re arriving Wednesday afternoon before Thanksgiving and staying until Friday
morning
.”

“Yeah,” Matt said, slumping down into the chair and staring out over the mountains.

“They’re excited to have discovered a new cousin.” Adam let go of the chair arm to reach into his breast pocket. Pulling out
the photo Ellen had given him, he stretched his arm toward Matt.
“They thought you might like to see what they look like.”

The boy looked at the proffered photograph as though it might bite him. Finally, he took it and dropped it in his lap without even glancing at it. “What are we doing after they leave?”

Adam wrapped his fingers around the hard wood again. “I don’t know.” He decided to take the plunge. “How would you feel about Disney World?”

“Disney World? Seriously?” Matt had pivoted in his chair and was gaping at his father.

“I can’t tell if that’s a yes or a no.”

“Yes!” Matt said, in the teenage tone that indicated his father was in idiot. “That would be so cool.”

“That’s what we’re doing.” He’d deal with the dolphin question later. He’d barely made it through the Disney issue, and he was going to have to pull a lot of strings just to get a room at this time of year.

“Cool,” Matt said again. “Thanks, Dad.”

His son’s last word sent a spear of pain slicing through him.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked. “You look kind of weird.”

“Just tired from all the flights.” Adam levered himself out of the chair. “I have to go to work.” Trace stood up before Adam signaled him to stay.

“Right.” Matt’s voice was flat. He yanked his hood up over his head and slouched down in the chair.

Adam walked to the door Matt had left ajar. Looking down at his hand on the doorknob, in a voice hoarse with emotion, he said, “I love you, Matt.” Then he strode through the door and pulled it shut behind him.

Chapter 25

G
UILT JABBED AT
Hannah when she caught sight of Adam’s Maserati standing alone in the nearly empty parking lot. Heading to her own car she hesitated, wondering if she should retrieve his keys from Estelle’s desk in case he wanted the car after the animal hospital closed.

“Get a grip,” she muttered to herself, yanking open the door of her Subaru. “He’s got to have a spare for that fancy car.”

And he wouldn’t want to see her anyway. She’d sleepwalked through her afternoon appointments with half her mind on her patients and the other half on whether she should apologize to Adam for the awful things she’d said. She’d tortured herself by remembering all he’d overcome to get where he was, admitting to herself that she didn’t know whether Matt would be better off with his father or with the seemingly perfect O’Briens, no matter what her instincts told her.

She forced herself to drive to Paul Taggart’s office, although the last thing she wanted to do right now was dredge up the horrors of her past in Chicago.

The windows of the law office glowed gold and welcoming in the late afternoon dusk. Paul’s secretary waved her through to his office with a smile and a flash of enormous rings on e
very fing
er.

Paul stood up behind his desk, coming around to give her a peck on the cheek. “Hello, doc. Something to drink?”

She swallowed and noticed her throat was tight. “Water would be great,” she croaked.

He opened the refrigerator and brought two bottles over to the couch. “Good news,” he said, unscrewing the cap and handing her the water. “Sawyer has agreed to admit he was misinformed, and blamed you and your veterinary practice wrongly. He’s also going to make a handsome donation to the local animal shelter in Sophie’s memory. You just have to decide how you want him to get the word out to the media. He’s willing to do whatever you want on that front.”

Hannah waited for the flare of jubilation but her despair over Adam muffled every other emotion. She tried to sound enthusiastic. “You got Robert Sawyer to let me decide how he should apologize? You’re a miracle worker.”

“No, I just have leverage.” His excitement faded slightly as his gaze met hers. “Are you worried about the media? Because we can keep it low-key if you prefer.”

She made a face. “I’d prefer to have no media at all, but that wouldn’t accomplish what I want.”

“Which is?”

“To make sure everyone in Sanctuary knows Tim didn’t hire some sleazy veterinarian to take care of their animals. And to clear my partners in Chicago of any lingering stain on their
reputation
.”

“Tim isn’t worried about that, and your former partners threw you to the wolves,” Paul said. “So you don’t really need to deal with the press, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

She thought of Adam’s constant battle with his past. He couldn’t come to terms with it, so it was warping everything he did. She took another sip of water and shook her head. “I tried to run away from the situation the first time. Now I need to meet it head-on. Otherwise it’s going to follow me around for the rest of my life.”

“You’re sure?”

She squared her shoulders. “Invite every reporter in the city of Chicago.”

Hannah woke up early the next morning, feeling as though a heavy
blanket of misery lay on top of her. Trying to escape the memory
of yesterday’s disaster, she rolled over and squeezed her eyes shut.
That’s when she realized she didn’t just feel horrible on the inside; her body ached all over. Laying the back of her hand against her forehead, she moaned as she felt the heat against her skin.

“It’s probably psychosomatic,” she muttered, wriggling out from under Floyd and Ginger to pad into the bathroom for a thermometer and aspirin. She swallowed two pills before shoving the electronic thermometer in her mouth until it beeped. “Oh, crap! A hundred and two degrees.”

Great. Now she could spend all day in bed alone, obsessing over the terrible things she’d said to Adam and worrying about the upcoming press conference in Chicago.

She grabbed her favorite fuzzy purple robe and shuffled into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Maybe she’d feel well enough after ingesting a hot, caffeinated beverage that she could drag herself into the office for distraction’s sake.

It didn’t work. Two cups of tea later she had to admit that
even feeding the dogs was so exhausting she needed to lie
down again
.

She called Tim, who threatened to send a doctor over. “Geez, do they really still make house calls around here?” she asked.

“I make house calls, so the human docs can do the same,” Tim said with a certain ambiguity.

“You mean you’d call in a favor to get someone to come here,” she said. “Thanks, but it’s just a flu, I’m sure. If I need stronger medicine, I’ll get you to bring me some Oroquin-10, seeing as it worked for Satchmo.”

Her employer chuckled. “I’ll call and check in on you at lunchtime, unless you’d rather not be bothered.”

“No, that would be nice,” she said, tears welling up at the concern in his voice. She always got weepy when she was sick. “But don’t worry about me. I have lots of furry company.”

“They’re good for moral support, but they can’t bring you ginger ale or chicken noodle soup,” he said. “Don’t think about coming back to work until you’re one hundred percent.”

She didn’t tell him that she’d be back as soon as she hit even fifty percent.

Her next call was to cancel her dog walker. She didn’t want to deal with any humans when she was feeling lousy. The dogs would be content with going out in the yard.

Heading for the couch, she lay down and drifted into a feverish dreamland that mixed together Adam, Ward, Matt, Satchmo, and a chorus of barking dogs. The barking finally became so insistent it jerked her awake to hear the doorbell ringing.

Glancing at her watch, she discovered she’d been asleep for three hours. The doorbell rang again. She rolled off the couch and trundled to the door as she shushed the dogs. Peering th
rough th
e frosted glass pane beside it, she saw the blurry form of Sonya, t
he ve
t tech she’d foisted Matt on that fateful Saturday morning.

Hannah retied the belt on her robe and cracked open
the doo
r.

Sonya held out a canvas tote bag with “Sanctuary Animal Hospital” printed on it. “I come bearing chicken soup from Clingman’s Market,” she said. “Dr. Tim sent me. He said it’s more effective than Oroquin-10.”

Hannah managed a weak smile as she took the tote and held the door wider. “Sounds great. You’re welcome to come in, if you’re not afraid of my germs.”

“Just for a minute to check on you,” Sonya said, stepping inside and unzipping her parka. “What’s your temp?”

“I just woke up, so I don’t know.”

Sonya’s gaze went past Hannah to the three dogs, who sat looking longingly at her. “Hey, guys! C’mon and get some lovin’.” She knelt in front of them and began a petting-fest.

“They’re your slaves for life now,” Hannah said, leading the way into the kitchen where she stowed the chicken soup in the refrigerator.

“You’re supposed to eat that,” Sonya pointed out.

Hannah grimaced. “I’m not really hungry.”

“You’re forcing fluids, though, right?”

“Well, I was sleeping until you rang the bell,” Hannah said.

Sonya chuckled and went to the refrigerator. After surveying the meager contents, she pulled out a bottle of fruit juice and poured Hannah a tall glass. “Drink it, and then I’ll leave you alone. After we take your temperature.”

“Are you qualified to treat humans?” Hannah asked, feeling grumpy, although she picked up the glass and took a sip.

“Two years of med school,” Sonya said. “I dropped out when I got pregnant with Danny.”

“Oh.” Hannah had no idea about Sonya’s history. “In that case…” She took another sip.

The vet tech perched on a stool, her hands thrust into her jacket pockets. “The truth is I found out I’m good with animals, so I like what I’m doing. Maybe when Danny gets older, I’ll go to veterinary school.”

“I’ll write you a glowing letter of recommendation,”
H
annah said
.

“Thanks, doc. Now where’s your thermometer?”

“In the bathroom. I’ll get it.” She didn’t want Sonya to see her messy bedroom, so she shuffled there and back, sitting down and putting the thermometer in her mouth.

When it beeped, Sonya took it and checked the reading, her eyebrows rising. “One hundred two point five. Doc, you’re p
retty sic
k.”

“I always run a high fever with the flu. It’s no big deal. Really,” Hannah added as she saw the skepticism on Sonya’s face. “I’ll take another dose of aspirin in an hour and it’ll go right down.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you need someone who can write you a prescription for human meds.” The vet tech looked worried.

“A day of bed-rest and I’ll be fine.”

Sonya grinned. “I get the message. I’m going.” She jumped off the stool and headed for the front door, stopping to say good-bye to her new canine friends. As she walked out, she said, “Make sure you eat that chicken soup or Dr. Tim will have my head.”

“Promise.” Hannah closed the door and slumped against it. Her knees felt like they were made of rubber and even her hair seemed to pulse with achiness. “Ugh. Back to bed,” she said, pushing herself upright and stumbling to her bedroom. She remembered to put the aspirin on her bedside table before she collapsed.

Her dreams grew darker. Satchmo lay motionless on the straw as Matt crouched over him and sobbed, while Hannah tried to do a spinal tap on the dying pony. The stall door flew open with a bang and Adam reeled in, clutching a bottle of whisky. He staggered and thudded against the wooden wall. The sound of barking dogs started up again, and she snapped into consciousness.

Her clock showed an hour had passed, so she fumbled open the aspirin and swallowed three. The banging from her dream moved to the real world and she realized someone was knocking on her front door again.

Groaning, she flipped back the covers and swung her feet to the ground. “Don’t they know a sick person needs rest?” she grumbled as she trundled to the door. She didn’t recognize the woman standing outside.

“Just what I need…a total stranger.” She yanked open the door. “Hello?”

The stranger was about her age, dressed in a belted, black wool coat and high-heeled, black pumps, her blonde-streaked brown hair twisted into a neat bun. A wheeled cooler sat at her elegantly shod feet. She made Hannah feel like a walking mess.

“I’m Lucy Porterfield, a hostess at The Aerie, and I’m real sorry to bother you,” her lovely visitor said, “but Mr. Bosch heard you were feeling poorly and wanted you to have this.” She gestured to the cooler with a smile.

“Mr. Bosch?” Hannah closed her eyes briefly as a confusion of emotions roiled in her chest. Maybe Adam didn’t hate her
too muc
h.

“I don’t want you to have to pull this heavy thing, so if it’s okay I’ll just wheel it in and put everything away for you.” Lucy reached down and flipped up a handle. She waited with an expectant look as Hannah tried to absorb the implications of Adam’s offering.