Accidentally Yours (5 page)

“I still look like me,” she said. “I was hoping for better.”

“You look great.”

Kerri knew that on a good day she could pass for pretty, but no one would ever describe her as elegant or sophisticated.

“This isn’t my world. I won’t know what to say to anyone.”

“Just smile and if someone gets bitchy, remember she gets cramps and bloats, just like the rest of us.”

There was another knock on the front door. “That’ll be Tim,” Kerri said as she walked through the living room to answer it. “I suddenly feel so popular.”

“It’s because you’re a special person,” Linda teased.

“I’m getting that.” Kerri opened the front door and smiled as she saw both Tim and Lance on her tiny porch. “Two for one,” she said. “It’s my lucky day.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Lance said as he walked inside, then kissed her on the cheek. “You’re looking very ladies-who-lunch. Love the shoes.”

“Aren’t they great? Less than ten dollars.”

Lance winced. “You’re not going to want to mention that today.”

“I know. Hi, Tim.”

“Kerri.”

Tim nodded slightly as he, too, walked into her living room. The space had never been big, but with four adults, one of whom was the size of a small mountain, the space shrank even more.

Kerri introduced Linda.

“I’ve heard all about you,” her friend said. “You got Kerri the job at The Grill so she could attack Nathan King.”

Tim shifted slightly. On anyone else, Kerri would call it a wince.

Lance grinned. “Did I tell you? I’m a hero at work. They’re all talking about how I handled the crazy woman. Nathan came in to the restaurant last week and personally thanked the manager for my quick action. I got a raise.”

“Impressive,” Kerri told him. “So what did Nathan get out of it?”

“Nothing,” Lance told her. He glanced at Tim, then lowered his voice. “There are untold depths to our Mr. King, sweetie.”

“That’s what they say about Antarctica, but those depths are chilly.”

“He’s not all darkly evil,” Lance said. “He gave you the money.”

“I know, I know.” She looked at Tim. “Want to chime in here and defend your boss?”

“No.”

“Tim is very tight-lipped about his work.” Lance
winked. “A loyal employee. The only kind our Mr. King hires.”

“You should call him Nathan,” Kerri said.

“Using his last name makes him all the more mysterious.”

“Because you like the guy?”

“Tim likes him,” Lance said. “I trust Tim.”

As Tim had been the one to come up with the idea of announcing the fifteen-million-dollar grant, Kerri liked him, too. But that didn’t mean she trusted his judgment when it came to Nathan.

“We should go,” Tim said.

“I’ll get Cody.”

Five minutes later, Linda was waving goodbye as they climbed into the waiting limo.

“I want details,” her friend called. “Take notes.”

“Promise.”

Cody maneuvered into the car. Kerri grabbed his crutches and followed him into the vehicle.

“Sweet ride,” her nine-year-old said with a grin as he slid onto the long bench on the side. “When I grow up, I want one of these to take me everywhere.”

“I thought you wanted a sports car that goes really fast.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Get both,” Lance said as he settled next to Kerri and closed the door.

“Yeah,” Cody breathed as he rubbed the leather seat. “I’ll get both.”

His words made Kerri’s chest tighten. Please, God, let him live long enough to make that decision, she thought, knowing that, without a miracle, odds were Cody wouldn’t see his twelfth birthday, let alone reach sixteen and learn to drive.

“We should buy a lottery ticket, Mom,” he told her. “If we won big, we could get one of these now.”

“And hire Tim.”

“Tim would never leave Nathan, but you could hire me,” Lance told her.

“It’s a deal.”

Cody looked at Lance. “Mr. King is, like, really rich, right?”

“We’re talking billions.”

“Cool.”

He’d come from nothing, Kerri thought, remembering her research on the man. He’d grown up in Bremerton, a navy town across the sound. He’d left for college and then had managed to amass an impressive fortune.

Maybe that’s what she’d done wrong, she thought humorously. She’d never graduated from college, and apparently beauty school didn’t count.

“Is the charity thing going to be boring?” Cody asked Lance.

“There are a lot of kids there, and games and the food is excellent,” Lance said. “You’ll have fun. There’s a huge arcade set up and all the games are free.”

“Yeah?”

Lance nodded, then turned his attention to Kerri. “I hate your lipstick. Do you have a different one?”

She dug in her purse and found two at the bottom. Lance studied them both, then handed her the pink one.

“Put this one on top.”

As she did, she looked at Cody, who rolled his eyes.

“Not your thing?” she asked with a grin.

He sighed heavily. “Does this limo have a TV?”

N
ATHAN KEPT
a mental list of people he tried to avoid. Carol Mansfield was one of them. She was the tall, thin ex-wife of a high-powered executive and a successful boutique owner in her own right. She was the right age and had the right pedigree—she should have been someone he wanted to date. But there was something about Carol that made him think of a bird of prey coming in for the kill.

“You don’t usually attend these sorts of things,” Carol said as she put her hand on his arm. “You’re more the send-a-check type. Not that it isn’t lovely to see you.”

“I think this is an important cause.”

“Children’s charities?” She raised her eyebrows. “How charmingly unexpected. Are you meeting someone?”

“What?”

“You keep looking around. Either you’re meeting someone or I’m boring you.” She laughed as if
the idea of her boring anyone was impossible to imagine.

“A friend.”

“I see. A female friend?”

“Just someone I know.”

“Which means a woman. I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

“I’m not. It’s not like that.”

He told himself he didn’t owe Carol an explanation, even as he wondered why he felt it necessary to make it clear he wasn’t dating Kerri. Maybe because she’d made it clear she wasn’t interested in him.

If she’d wanted to make sure nothing ever happened between them, she’d done a hell of a job, he thought grimly. Not knowing if her response was genuine or her twisted way of paying him back for the money put him in an impossible situation. Damn her.

He heard the sound of laughter and turned. The sun poked through the clouds just in time to light the entrance to the hotel and cast Kerri in a golden glow.

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but she looked good. Pretty and dressed to fit in. Her hair was curly, which was different but still appealing. She glanced behind her and he saw her kid moving easily on his crutches.

Nathan felt a subtle shift beneath his feet, as if there’d been an earthquake. He blinked and, instead of Cody, he saw his own son. Daniel on crutches,
then Daniel in a wheelchair, because that was next. He blinked again and his son was gone, but the reality of what would happen to Cody remained.

Nathan knew what it was like at the end. How the body weakened, how he would go from the chair to bed. How at the end, the drugs didn’t work and all the boy could do was scream from the pain.

He wanted to walk away, to be anywhere but here. What the hell had he been thinking when he’d agreed to the deal?

“You sent me an e-mail,” Kerri said by way of greeting.

“Yes. I needed to tell you where we’d be meeting and what time.”

“I know, but jeez. How did you get my e-mail address?”

“I have a file on you.”

“Sure, but my e-mail address? Isn’t that private?”

“Not in my world.”

She considered that for a second. “You could have just called.”

“E-mail is more efficient.”

“A phone call is more personal.”

“We don’t need to be personal.”

She smiled. “You say that now.”

Was she bringing up the kiss? Annoyance flared, but he ignored it. Emotions weren’t productive.

“So what’s the deal with this place?” Kerri asked. “Is there anything specific I should be doing?”

“Walk around with me and pretend you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Should I carry a sign telling the world I think you’re a god?”

“You’re a lot less reverent now that you have your money.”

“I know. Isn’t it fun?”

“Don’t talk about the money,” he said, ignoring her question.

“Promise.”

“Just be friendly. Don’t give out personal information, don’t volunteer anything. If someone asks if we’re dating, say no, but don’t use a facial expression.”

“What? How can I know what my face is doing?”

“You know what I mean.”

“You’re giving me way too much credit.” She waved Cody forward. “Cody, this is Mr. King. Nathan, my son.”

Trapped, Nathan shook hands with the kid without really looking at him.

“Nice to meet you,” Cody mumbled.

“You’d rather be anywhere but here, right?” Nathan asked. He pointed to the far corner, where a multicolored balloon arch beckoned. “All the kid stuff is there, including the free arcade.”

Cody grinned. “Sweet.”

“I’ll take him,” Lance said. “Make sure he doesn’t get lost.”

“Thanks,” Kerri told him. “I think I have to stay with Nathan and play grateful supplicant.”

“And here I thought you were sincere,” Lance said.

“I am.” Kerri’s eyes sparkled. “Have fun, Cody. Be good. Stay in the kids’ section until I come to get you.”

“Oh, Mo-om.”

She looked at Nathan. “That’s boy speak for ‘Why, yes, Mother. Of course I will. I would never give you a moment’s trouble because you are so loving and kind.’”

Cody grumbled something under his breath as he went off with Lance. Nathan watched them go, wondering if his relationship with Daniel had been so comfortable. He’d loved his son more than he’d ever loved any other person, but sometimes he hadn’t known what to do or say.

“He’s having a good day,” Kerri said happily. “I love the good days. They make me believe in miracles.”

“You have to be realistic,” Nathan said, oddly annoyed by her faith and optimism.

“No way.” She looked at him, her blue eyes narrowed. “If I was realistic, Cody would have been dead a long time ago. Faith matters. My grandmother was diagnosed with liver cancer and given six months to live. She refused to believe it. She thought her doctor was an idiot. She lived six years because she wanted to see me graduate from high school.” Some of the fight went out of her. “She did. She lasted until the following summer.”

Kerri crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. “So I’m a big believer in cheating death and I’ll take on anyone who says otherwise.”

She radiated strength and power and an inner beauty he’d never noticed before. In that moment, he almost believed her. But he had a grave marker for a little boy that reminded him that miracles were a cheap trick and faith was for suckers.

“I
WANT THEM ALL
to go away,” Abram said angrily. “There are too many people. They’re disturbing my concentration.”

In the past few years he’d learned to work in silence. While the progress was slow, it was safer that way—if it was just him. If no one got involved. No one got hurt.

“It’s difficult to start up a lab without having people,” Linda teased. “We could try using something quieter, like mice, but without the opposable thumb…”

She paused, as if waiting for him to smile. He didn’t. Nothing about this was funny.

“They need to go away,” he insisted. “They can go back where they came from and take their money with them.”

“No, they can’t,” she said. “Abram, this is a second chance for all of us. Not only for the sick children you’ll save, but for you and your work.”

“I don’t want a second chance. I want to be left alone.” He stood and walked into the lab, the one place he could lose himself in his theories and find peace.

“It’s not going to happen,” she said. “You have to look at the résumés and choose the best people for the research. Time is precious. Children are sick.”

He didn’t ever think about the children. Not thinking about them allowed him to go through the slow, methodical process that led to discoveries. He didn’t hurry, he didn’t push. He went one step at a time, as he should, following promising leads when they appeared, but always returning to the original premise.

“I can’t do this again,” he told her, sitting at his computer, staring at a blank screen. “You can’t ask me to.”

“What are you talking about? You always said that with just a little more funding, you could find a way to control the disease.”

“That was before.” Before the nightmare that had ruined everything.

“Nothing bad is going to happen,” she assured him.

He turned on her. “Do you remember? Do you remember the explosion, the fire? People died. Good people died. Everything was destroyed. We were left with nothing and now the town is dying, too, and I can’t stop it. I won’t do it again. I won’t take the risk.”

She walked toward him. “Abram, no. You can’t mean that. You have the money. You need to find a cure.”

“At what price? I killed them, Linda. Me. I’m
supposed to heal people, to make the world better, but I didn’t. I put off the repairs and in the end, they were dead. I won’t destroy anyone else. I will live out here, doing my work and when I’m gone someone else can take the money and continue.”

“No,” she said firmly. “You’ll do it. No one blames you for what happened. But you have to move forward. If you don’t, more children will die. Don’t you think the people who lost their lives would want you to continue?”

He stared at her. “No, they wouldn’t.”

“You’re wrong.”

He turned away. “It doesn’t matter. I want you to send them all away. Return the money, if you can. Otherwise, leave it for whoever comes after me.”

He reached for his lab coat, but before he could slip it on, he heard her say, “No.”

He glanced at her. His usually calm, pleasant assistant stared at him with a look of fury in her eyes. Abram wasn’t one to guess at other people’s emotions—when he tried he usually got it wrong. His ex-wife had said it was because he didn’t care enough to pay attention and she’d mostly been right. But there was no escaping Linda’s rage as she glared at him.

“You can’t refuse to do this,” she said.

“I already have.”

“No.”

“Tell them to take back the money.”

“Tell them yourself.”

“What?”

She’d never spoken back to him before. Never been anything but supportive.

“Tell them yourself, you selfish bastard. This is wrong, Abram. It’s bone wrong and you know it. You’re brilliant and with that great mind comes an obligation to the world. You have always believed that. God has expectations. Isn’t that what you said?”

“This is different,” he muttered, feeling strangely small and embarrassed.

“It’s exactly the same and you know it. I won’t be part of this.” She raised her hands and let them fall back to her sides. “I can’t believe it. I’ve given my life to you because I believed in your greatness, but you’re just afraid. You’re terrified to lose again, so you’ve stopped trying. You’re not a great man. Greatness is measured by how one faces adversity. Everyone can be committed when things are going well. I’m so ashamed of you right now. I expected better of you, Abram. So much better.”

And then she was gone. With her stinging words still echoing in the lab, she walked away from him. Something, in the twenty years they’d been together, she’d never done.

She would be back, he told himself. Of course she would. Linda took her obligations seriously. She cared about him. She’d always been there for him. He couldn’t imagine a world without her.

Determined to wait her out, he settled down in
front of his computer to study the results of his latest experiment. He believed in his gut that the disease was a defective autoimmune response. If he could isolate the…

He pushed away from the computer. It was too quiet. The silence seemed a living thing that pressed down upon him, pulling the air from his chest.

He usually enjoyed the quiet, but that was before. When he knew Linda would be in her office, or showing up later. Before she’d said he was nothing and that she was ashamed of him.

He tried to tell himself she didn’t mean it, but he wasn’t sure. And with that quiet doubt came unexpected pain.

“Y
OUR TWO-O’CLOCK IS HERE
,” Nathan’s secretary told him.

“Send him in,” Nathan said, then regretted the invitation when Grant Pryor walked into the office.

Nathan leaned back in his chair and studied the man. “And here I thought I had an appointment with a reporter.”

Grant crossed the room and sank down into one of the leather chairs without being asked. He was short and balding, pushing forty, with a forgettable face. He worked for the Seattle tabloid that passed itself off as an independent press. In truth, the rag was nothing more than an excuse for poor journalism. Grant Pryor had joined their staff about five
years ago and had decided that Nathan King was his ticket to the big time. He made it a point to cover Nathan’s doings, always putting a spin on them that made Nathan look like the devil trying to destroy the fair and innocent citizens of the Emerald City.

“I was at the charity event on Saturday,” Grant said. “Always a good time. I saw the lady you were with.” He consulted his notes. “Kerri Sullivan. Not your usual type.”

“Maybe I’m stepping up to the next level.”

“We all know that’s unlikely,” Grant said. He pulled a pen out of his inner jacket pocket. “So who is she? I mean, you can tell me now and save me the research. Not that I expect you to do me any favors.”

“Kerri and I are friends.”

“Bullshit. You, friends with a hairdresser from Songwood? No way.”

Grant had a point, but Nathan wasn’t going to concede it. “Have you ever stopped to consider that in all the years you’ve been doing stories on me, you’ve never found anything out of the ordinary? I’m just a businessman, Grant. Nothing more.”

Grant ignored that. “So what’s the deal with her? You’re workin’ something. I just have to figure out what it is.”

Nathan wished briefly for a legal system that made it easier to get a restraining order against the press. But as Grant hadn’t committed any crimes, Nathan was left with the pain in his ass and little he could do about it.

“No matter how hard you try,” he said, “you’ll never get into real journalism. Not now. You’ve been a hack for too long. The
New York Times
won’t come calling.”

“That depends on what you’re hiding.”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

Grant stood and grinned. “That’s what they all say. But none of them are telling the truth. Neither are you, Nathan, and I’m going to find out what’s really going on.”

K
ERRI HUMMED
as she dropped spoonfuls of chocolate-chip batter onto the baking sheet. She always tried to be a positive person, but these days it was actually easy. For once, everything was going well.

Cody’s string of good days continued, making her secretly dream about an unexpected remission. Gilliar’s Disease wasn’t especially kind to its victims, but there had been rumors, more urban legend than documented medical fact, about remissions. Sometimes for months.

Please God, let it be so, she thought, knowing time was what she needed the most. Time for Dr. Wallace and his team to find a way to, if not cure the disease, then at least stall it.

In her battle against time, she felt like Captain Hook, of Peter Pan fame, constantly hearing the steady approach of the end. But for the first time in years, the ticking wasn’t quite so loud.

She finished with the first pan and put it in her
oven, then set the timer. She’d just started dropping batter onto the second pan when someone knocked on her front door.

For a moment, Kerri wondered if it could be Nathan and found herself excited at the thought of seeing him again. She wouldn’t mind another round of tweaking the tiger’s tail and if he wanted to kiss her just to prove something, she wouldn’t object, even though she should.

She was still grinning at the thought when she opened the door and saw Linda standing there. But her normally well dressed, pretty, calm friend looked disheveled and blotchy.

“What’s wrong?” Kerri asked as she pulled her inside. “You’re not okay, so don’t pretend you are.”

Tears filled Linda’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Desperately sorry. I didn’t know. I knew there were problems, that he blamed himself for what happened, but I never thought it would matter. That it would get in the way. I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.”

Kerri went cold without even knowing why. “What are we talking about? What’s wrong?”

Linda swallowed a sob, then wiped her face. “Abram. At the lab. He says he won’t hire the researchers, won’t open the lab up again. He says he’s the reason those people died before, when it exploded. That he killed the town and he won’t risk hurting anyone again. I told him no one blames him, but he
doesn’t believe me. I don’t think I can change his mind, Kerri. I walked out. I don’t know what to do.”

Kerri went cold. It was as if her body temperature dropped fifty degrees. She expected to see chilly clouds when she exhaled.

Pain was everywhere, starting at her heart and radiating out to her fingers and down her legs. The death of hope was excruciating.

Then she turned her head and stared down the stubby hallway to the closed door of her son’s room. Cody was finishing his homework in anticipation of a Mariners game on TV that night. She saw his happy smile, his trusting gaze. She remembered her promise to his late father.

“I’ll talk to him,” she told Linda. “I’ll go see him and convince him. He’s going to get that lab up to speed again and they’re going to find a cure.”

She would buy a gun and threaten Abram Wallace’s life if she had to, she thought grimly. Because they were too close to a cure to stop now.

A
BRAM WALKED
through the quiet office as he headed for his lab. Normally he enjoyed the silence, but not today. Nothing had felt right since Linda had left that morning. He tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter, that she would be back later to scold him about how he wasn’t eating or make him walk out in the sun. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.

She’d never been anything but supportive, anything but caring. She’d kept him going through the darkest hours of his life after the explosion. After he’d found out people had died because of him.

Solace, he thought grimly. All he wanted was solace. A chance to forget, even for a minute. But he never forgot. He couldn’t.

A soft chime caught his attention. He glanced at the security monitor and saw a woman had entered the lab. She wasn’t alone. There was a boy with her. A boy on crutches.

Abram wanted to bolt for freedom, but something kept him in place. He watched the different cameras as she made her way down the long corridor, following the wide path to the only room with lights on. Then she pushed open the double swinging doors.

“Dr. Wallace?”

She didn’t look like any of the people who had died in the explosion, yet there was something about her. It was as if all their ghosts had taken up residence in her and returned to look him in the eye.

He thought about how some of his colleagues would be surprised that he believed in ghosts. He was a man of science, after all. But he’d learned that there were many things in the world he would never understand and for which explanations would never be found.

“I’m Dr. Wallace,” he said slowly, willing to accept the punishment in any form.

“I’m Kerri Sullivan. This is my son, Cody.”

Cody looked at his mother, who nodded, then the boy moved forward and held out his right hand.

Abram didn’t want to touch him. He didn’t want to feel his skin or look at him. Because Abram knew what was going to happen to him in excruciating detail.

Then the scientist in him took over. He shook Cody’s hand, then walked around him, noting the way he stood, the weight he put on his feet and how he used his crutches.

“He’s old,” Abram said.

“Nine.”

“So the disease has progressed slowly.”

“So far.”

He turned to Cody. “How do you feel?”

Cody rolled his eyes. “Mo-om, do I have to do this?”

Kerri shook her head. “You want to wait back in the reception area?”

“Uh-huh.”

The boy went out into the corridor. Kerri turned to Abram.

“He’s having a lot of good days, lately. Not so much pain. He’s not on anything strong. Yet.”

But he would be, Abram thought. Soon. Very soon. Then he would be in a wheelchair, then a hospital bed and then he would die.

Kerri grabbed his arm. “You could save him.”

Abram took a step back. “No. I can’t.”

“You can and you will. You have a gift. God
decided to make you brilliant and with that comes responsibility.”

Linda had said much the same thing, he mused, again telling himself she wouldn’t stay away permanently. She would forgive him and return. She had to.