Baby, Come Back (3 page)

Hayes curved his fingers around the balustrade, so tightly his knuckles whitened. “That's where our thinking differs, Alice. He's not a man. He's still a boy. And I'm not his friend. I'm his father.”

She climbed the steps to even their heights. “You're pushing him away when he needs you most.”

“You overhear two minutes between us, and suddenly you're an expert on what our relationship is lacking. Oh, that's right,” he said sarcastically, “you're a professional.”

“Yes, I am.” She caught his arm. “If you're going to hang on to your son, you're going to have to learn to give a little. Too much longer, and it'll be too late.”

Hayes narrowed his eyes, his look black with fury. “Still trying to create the perfect little family, I see.”

She drew in a sharp breath and snatched her hand away. “That was low. But then, you never played fair.”

“See, you got out just in time.”

She didn't get out of his life. He'd booted her out.
Alice worked to hold on to her temper. To the anger that charged through her. “I came to talk about Sheri and Jeff,” she said stiffly. “I felt I owed it to them to try to help.”

“Help by convincing me to allow Jeff to marry this girl? No way.”

“Is that what Jeff wants to do?” she countered. “Does Jeff want to marry Sheri?”

“He doesn't know what he wants to do. He's confused. Truthfully, I don't even know if they've talked about it. He and I have talked about it.”

“And you forbade him to marry her.”

“Yes.” Hayes turned away from her. He crossed to the other side of the porch and stared at the flower garden, brown and barren from the long winter. “Getting married now would ruin Jeff's life. It would ruin both their lives.”

“Is that why you called Sheri's father?”

Hayes hesitated, surprised. “How did you— ”

“She came to me. Hysterical. He kicked her out.”

Hayes uttered an oath and looked away. “I felt her parents should know. I thought we could talk, come up with a mutually agreeable solu— ”

“Mutually agreeable solution!” Furious, Alice crossed the porch to face him. “Did you plan to meet Buddy Kane at the club for a drink? Like two civilized adults? You don't know anything about Sheri or her situation! You know nothing about her father. Buddy Kane doesn't bluff. He doesn't think before he reacts, and he reacts like an animal.”

“I didn't mean to cause her trouble,” Hayes said quietly, looking shaken. “And I had no idea she hadn't told her parents.”

“That's right, you had no idea. Why do you suppose she's part of the Hope House program? What did you think her problems were? And what did you think was their source?”

“Wait a minute. You stand here accusing me. What about you?” He took a step toward her, stopping so close she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. “If you had talked to me the other day, this wouldn't have happened. I would have asked your opinion— I would have known what Sheri's home situation was. But you were too busy being angry at me about our past to hear me out.”

She wanted to deny his words, but couldn't. She stuffed her trembling hands into her blazer pockets, fighting off the guilt rushing through her. “Shifting the blame, Counselor? But that's a lawyer's stock-in-trade, isn't it?”

“I think you're too blinded by your personal feelings to see what's best in this situation.”

“That's ridiculous!” She inched her chin up. “As you pointed out a minute ago, I'm a professional. I don't let my personal feelings interfere with my judgment.”

“I agreed to marry you, Alice. Even though I didn't think it was the right thing for any of us.”

Alice took an involuntary step back from him, stunned. He'd laid it right between them, out in the open. He'd always been brutally direct. Coldly honest.

She sucked in a quick breath, battling tears, battling the urge to fling herself against him and pummel him with her fists. “You were honorable. You did your duty. But when I lost our baby, you rescinded your offer.”

“I never meant to hurt you.” He reached a hand out to her, then dropped it. “Your hurt would have been much greater had we stayed together. Surely you see that now.”

“Now that I'm older and wiser?” To her horror tears flooded her eyes, threatening to fall. She fought them back. “Was your decision best for Jeff, too? He was happy, Hayes.”

For one long moment, Hayes said nothing. Then he shook his head. “He'd grown so close to you, so fast. I couldn't believe how quickly he bonded with you.”

“Is that why you ended our relationship? Because Jeff was growing to love me? Because he needed me?”

Hayes's expression twisted with pain. “You must think me as much of a bastard as Jeff does.” He turned away from her and gazed out at the elegantly landscaped yard. “I hated doing that to him. The way he missed you broke my heart.”

But that was the only thing that had broken Hayes's heart. Losing her certainly hadn't.

“He's never forgiven me, I don't think.” Hayes turned his gaze to hers. “And neither have you.”

Alice stared at him, her mouth dry, her heart fast. “No,” she whispered. “I guess I haven't.”

Without another word, she turned and walked away.

Hayes watched Alice go, his chest heavy and aching. He wanted to call her back, wanted to so badly her name formed on the tip of his tongue, begging to jump off. He opened his mouth, then closed it. What more did they have to say to each other? He'd already hurt her too much.

He curved his fingers into fists, remembering her expression of moments ago. The way her eyes had welled with tears, the way her mouth had trembled. Remembering her question,
Is that why you ended our relationship? Because Jeff loved me? Because he needed me?

She did think him a coldhearted bastard. Just as Jeff did.

But isn't that what he'd wanted? To push her away? To keep her and the whole damn world at arm's length?

But she'd gotten close anyway. Even after he'd struck out at her with every weapon in his verbal arsenal. She'd always had that ability. Had always been able to stand up to him.

He admired that in her, admired her pluck.

Hayes swore. If only his feelings stopped with admiration. They didn't. She'd always been able to stir his emotions. And senses. He breathed deeply through his nose. The scent of her perfume, something at once quixotic and mysterious, lingered, and his senses swam with it.

Whatever irrational chemistry had existed between them twelve years ago existed between them still. At least for him. As she'd faced him only moments before, he'd wanted to hold her, to touch her— even though they'd both been blazingly angry, even though he knew they were wrong for each other.

She'd been gone minutes already, yet the want pulled at him still. He swore again. Twelve years ago he'd given in to the pull, and in the process had almost ruined all their lives.

Jeff.

Hayes turned and strode into the house, not stopping until he reached the back deck. He frowned. He was losing Jeff. He saw it, he felt it, and yet he had no idea how to stop the deterioration of their relationship. He'd worked on them being together, scheduling plenty of father-and-son time, thinking that if they spent more time together they would grow closer. Instead the opposite had happened.

The deck overlooked the golf course's third hole, and as he watched, a golfer approached the tee and prepared to swing. The man wheeled back and hit the ball, with obvious force but no finesse. The ball sliced badly to the right and into the rough. The golfer teed up and did the same thing again, probably believing that if he flailed at the ball enough times it would finally bend to his will.

But it never would, Hayes thought. That golfer could flail at the ball a thousand times, and never get it right.

Would he ever get it right with Jeff? Or would he spend the rest of his life doing it all wrong, missing the mark every time?

Swearing, Hayes stooped and picked up a pine cone from the deck and flung it toward the golf course. He could walk into a courtroom, present a series of arguments and sway a jury or convince a judge. It was easy; he rarely lost.

But in personal relationships, he always lost. He always
felt
lost.

Thoughts of his wife, of his disastrous marriage, flooded his mind before he could stop them, before he could prepare himself. When he'd met her she'd been an outgoing and ambitious law student. They'd had similar backgrounds, similar goals. She'd seemed the perfect choice of life mate.

But their union had been a disaster. She'd been too emotional, he too cold. She'd needed something from him he hadn't known how to give her; for her, their relationship had always lacked something essential. Her occasional moodiness had become bouts of black depression after they'd married, intensifying with Jeff's birth.

He'd worked hard to try to make her happy. To try to make the marriage work. Not hard enough. Obviously. One day he'd gotten a call at the office. Isabel had run her car off the side of a bridge. It had been ruled an accident, even though the coroner had determined that she'd ingested a huge amount and variety of pills, probably just before getting behind the wheel.

Hayes flexed his fingers, remembering how stunned, how shocked he'd been. How hurt. He frowned. But it had been Jeff who had really been hurt. Jeff who had suffered. He'd vowed never to put Jeff in that kind of emotional danger again.

Yet he had— almost. With Alice.

And even though he'd saved them all just in time, Jeff had seen it as another betrayal. Another rejection. Another way his father had let him down.

Too much longer, Hayes, and it will be too late. You'll have lost him for good.

The truth of Alice's words burned in his gut. What would he do if he lost him? Hayes wondered, staring blindly out at the golf course. What would he do if it was already too late?

Unable to face the answers, Hayes turned and went inside.

S
heri awakened with a start. She pulled herself into a sitting position and, disoriented, glanced around the cheery, old-fashioned bedroom. Miss A.'s guest room, she thought. That's right. She saw her math book upside down on the floor by the bed and remembered: she'd been studying for her geometry quiz. She must have fallen asleep.

Sheri reached for the textbook. She'd been so tired lately. Bone tired. Staying awake during class, especially math and science, had been nearly impossible. But the doctor had said that would pass. As would her queasy stomach.

Yawning, Sheri leaned back against the mountain of feather pillows propped up behind her, snuggling into them. She really liked it here at Miss A.'s. Everything was so clean and sweet smelling. Nothing fancy or expensive looking, just...nice. Comfortable. Like Miss A.

Sheri smiled and smoothed her fingers over the delicately colored old quilt. A wedding-ring design, Miss A. had called it. Made by hand a hundred years ago. Sheri tilted her head. Silly, she knew, but the quilt made her feel...hopeful. Like everything was going to turn out okay.

A scuffling sound came from the window, and she jerked her gaze to the dark rectangle of glass. Just as she thought she'd imagined the sound, a face appeared at the window. A scream flew to her lips, her hand to her chest.

Then she realized who it was.

Jeff.

She scrambled off the bed and raced across the room. She unlatched the window and, as quietly as she could, slid it up. “You scared me to death,” she whispered, unhooking the screen. “What are you doing here?”

“Trying my best not to break my neck.”

She peeked past the window ledge. Jeff stood on a clay pot propped on top of a rickety old lawn chair. Every few seconds he had to sort of rotate his hips to keep from falling. She giggled. “I see that. But why are you here?”

“Can I come in?”

Her smile faded, and she searched his troubled expression. “What's wrong?”

“I had to see you.” He caught her hands and brought them to his mouth, almost losing his balance as he did. “I had to be with you. Please, let me come in.”

Sheri glanced over her shoulder. Light glowed from the crack beneath the door, and she heard faint strains of music from the other room. She bit her lip, torn. “I don't know...Miss A.'s still up.”

“I'll be a perfect gentleman. And quiet as a mouse.” He grinned, and the dimples she found irresistible cut his cheeks. “Scout's honor.”

She couldn't resist him, and he knew it. She saw it in his eyes. With a shake of her head, she held up the screen so Jeff could pull himself in. Once inside, he caught her to him, curving his arms tightly around her.

“God, Sheri, I love you so much.”

She slipped her arms around him. The cold air clung to his sweater and jeans, chilling her through her thin gown. “I love you, too, Jeff. So much it scares me.”

Easing away from her, he cupped her face in his palms. “Don't be scared, babe. We're going to be okay. I know it.”

“Oh, Jeff...” She lifted her face in invitation, and he caught her mouth. They kissed, one long, drugging exchange after another.

He dragged his mouth to her ear. “I want you so bad,” he murmured. “It hurts.”

“I know...” She arched as he moved his hands down her back until he cupped her bottom. “I want you, too.”

He groaned. “But we shouldn't. Not now. Not here.”

“No,” she repeated, curling her fingers around his shoulders, denial almost painful. She longed to lie with him and cling to him, longed for the safe feeling being with him gave her. Being with him would assure her, even if only for those minutes, that everything was going to be all right. “We can't.”

“I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, Sheri.”

“I'd die without you. I know I would.”

He groaned again and rested his forehead against hers. “I had a fight with my old man this afternoon. I haven't been back.”

A shudder of apprehension moved through her, and she tightened her fingers. “The fight was about me, wasn't it? And about the baby?”

He shifted his gaze. “Partly.”

“Tell me the truth, Jeff.”

“Come on.” He laced their fingers and led her to the bed. They climbed onto it and cuddled together against the pillows. After a moment, Jeff made a sound of frustration. “He forbade me to...see you.”

She caught her breath. “Oh, Jeff.”

He curved his arm tighter around her. “Don't worry,” he said grimly. “He can't keep me away from you. No matter what he does.”

Sobs welled in her chest and throat. “Why does he...hate me so much? What have I done to him?”

Jeff pulled her closer. “It's not you, babe. It's me. He thinks I'm a baby. He treats me like one. Like I can't think for myself, like I always make the wrong decisions.”

Jeff rubbed his cheek against her hair, and she sighed in contentment.

“He has my future all mapped out. He has my career planned. My life. What about what I want?” He met her eyes, the expression in his anguished. “What about what I feel?”

She reached up and stroked his cheek, liking the tickle of the beginnings of his beard. “At least he cares,” she whispered. “At least he loves you.”

“Does he?” Jeff shook his head. “I'm not so sure.”

“He wants the best for you.” She cleared her throat. “He's certain I'm not it. That our baby isn't it.”

“Then he's wrong. I know you're the best thing for me. I know it.” He cupped her face in his palms again. “I'm of legal age now. He can't tell me what to do anymore.”

“What about school?” She took a deep breath. “What about Georgetown? Your plans are set. And without your dad's support...” She let the words trail off, apprehension and misery settling in the pit of her stomach. “What are we going to do, Jeff? What are we going to do about...you know, the baby?”

He dropped his hands and looked away. “I don't know yet.”

“I see,” she said, her voice pinched.

“Don't sound like that. There's nothing to see. I just don't know yet.”

Sheri laid a hand protectively over her abdomen. “I won't have...an abortion. We haven't talked about this, but I won't. I love this baby...I want it. I couldn't—”

“I know.” He covered her hand. “And I wouldn't ask you to, Sheri. Not ever.”

“Then what are we going to do?” She met his eyes, tears trembling in hers.

He shook his head. “I have to think about this. I have to make a plan.”

“Jeff, I'm scared. I have this terrible feeling.” The tears spilled over. “I'm afraid that something's going to happen to us. That something's—”

“Shh...” He smoothed the tears off her cheeks. “Let's not talk about this now. I need a little time, that's all. Everything's going to be okay. I promise.”

She nodded, even as a sob shuddered past her lips.

He caught her to him. “I love you, Sheri. I do. You've got to believe me. I'm not going to let anything bad happen—”

A knock sounded on the bedroom door, and Alice poked her head in. “Sheri, are you all...righ...” Alice stared at Jeff, stunned silent.

The teenagers sprang guiltily apart. “We weren't doing anything, Miss A.!” Sheri said, her voice shaking and her cheeks hot with color. “Just talking.”

“Don't blame her,” Jeff chimed in, obviously as uncomfortable as Sheri. “It's my fault. I begged her to let me come in.”

“I hope you're not mad.” Sheri wrung her hands. “I didn't... I only...”

Sheri's voice faded. She looked at Jeff, but he stared at Alice, a puzzled expression on his face.

Alice returned his steady gaze, her chest tight. Little Jeffy. She couldn't believe how much he resembled Hayes. She couldn't believe that, after all these years, he sat in her guest room, all grown up.

Alice cleared her throat. “Do you remember me, Jeff?”

He cocked his head, frowning. “You do look kind of familiar.”

Sheri glanced from Jeff to Alice and back, obviously confused. “You two know each other?”

Alice met Sheri's gaze. “I dated his father a long time ago. Jeff was only five.”

“Holy...cow. It is you.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” Sheri's expression shifted from confused to accusing. “You should have told me.”

“I only realized the other day when you mentioned Jeff's last name and the fact that his father's a lawyer.”

“But that was
days
ago.”

“And a lot's happened in those few days.” Alice looked at Jeff once more and smiled softly. “After I...went away, I really missed you. I hope you knew that.”

“Yeah, I knew.” Jeff's expression stiffened. “Breaking up was my dad's doing. Not yours. He told me.”

Alice had to admire Hayes's honesty. It would have been so much easier, she knew, for Hayes to tell his young son that
she
had done the dumping. But then, Hayes had always been brutally honest.

“He let me keep a picture, though.”

Alice's throat closed with emotion. “A picture?”

“Of you and me. That time at the zoo. We rode the camel together.” He shrugged, all adult nonchalance. “You probably don't remember.”

“Oh, my,” she whispered, knowing how inane that sounded, but too moved to say any more. She blinked against the prick of tears at the back of her eyes. She did remember that day. Clearly. It had been just after she'd learned she was pregnant, just after Hayes had proposed. It had been when she still believed she and Hayes would have a happy ending.

Jeff was eyeing her expectantly, and she forced a shaky smile. “On the contrary, Jeff, I remember that day very well.”

“I still have the picture...somewhere. Maybe I'll...bring it by sometime?”

“I'd like that,” she said softly. “I'd like it a lot.”

A momentary silence fell between them. Sheri filled it. “I can't believe you didn't tell me,” she said again, frowning. “We've seen each other since then. A bunch of times.”

She didn't have an excuse for not telling Sheri, Alice realized. Not a good one. Sheri didn't trust easily, the bond they'd formed was extremely fragile. And keeping this information from her—even though harmlessly intended—had shaken that trust.

Guilt plucked at her. She hadn't wanted to share her feelings. She hadn't wanted the girl to know how much she had loved Hayes or how badly he'd hurt her. And she wouldn't have been able to hide it.

She hadn't been fair. She asked Sheri to share everything with her. She insisted to the girl that they had a mutually trusting relationship. She realized that wasn't completely true. And the hell of it was, Sheri probably realized it, too.

“Would you mind if we talked about it later?”

Sheri shrugged and looked away. “I guess.”

“Thanks. And, Sheri?” The girl met her eyes once more. “I'm not your father and you don't have to sneak around with me. Our guests call at the front door.”

The girl colored. “Yes, ma'am.”

“And speaking of fathers...” Alice turned to Jeff. “Does yours know where you are?” When Jeff shook his head, she arched her eyebrows in question. “Are you going to call him or should I? He has a right to know where you are. I'm sure he's worried sick.”

His expression tight, Jeff climbed off the bed. “He's my father—I'll call.”

“You can use the phone in the kitchen. Sheri—” she turned to her young charge “—slip into a robe and come on out. I'll retire so you and Jeff can visit in the living room.”

In the end, they all sat in the living room, talking and listening to the Cajun music that Alice loved. Jeff's call to Hayes was short and, from what Alice inadvertently overheard, terse. When he reappeared in the living room, his tight expression testified to the fact that the call had not gone well.

Sheri looked at Jeff nervously. “Everything okay?” she asked, making room for him beside her on the couch.

“Yeah,” he answered, shrugging with what seemed to Alice to be forced negligence. “No sweat.”

An hour later, Alice discovered her instincts had been correct. The call had not gone well, and everything was certainly not okay. Hayes stood on her front porch, looking ready to explode.

After darting a quick glance toward the living room and the teenagers, Alice slipped outside, softly shutting the door behind her. She leaned against it and tipped her head back to meet his eyes. “Don't do this, Hayes.”

“Don't do what?” he snapped. “I've come for my son. That's all.”

“I know.” She felt his anger and frustration as an almost palpable thing. It crackled in the air around them. She touched his sleeve lightly, attempting to reassure, to calm. “You're upset. So is he. If you go in there now, you're both going to say things you'll regret.”

“I didn't know where the hell he was. All day, Alice. And after the way he left, the mood he was in...I was afraid ...I thought maybe he'd been...” He choked the words, the thought, back, his mouth tightening. “Dammit to hell. Anything could have happened.”

“I know how you must have felt. How you must feel still.” She moved her fingers rhythmically across his arm, stroking, soothing. He hadn't taken the time to put on a coat, and his cashmere sweater was soft under her fingers, his flesh beneath the fabric hard and warm. Realizing what she was doing, she dropped her hand. “Let him be anyway, Hayes. Let him have this moment of independence.”

Hayes hesitated, obviously torn. “This is crazy. It's out of control. And even though I can see that, I haven't a clue how to fix it.”

Alice's heart went out to him. He was a man who avoided emotion, a man accustomed to being able to “fix” whatever he set his mind to. And now he found himself mired in an emotionally explosive situation that no amount of coolheaded reasoning could fix.