Carly's Gift (20 page)

Andrea turned to look at him. “Do you have voice mail?”

He shook his head. “I checked. There were no messages.”

She grew quiet again, not saying anything until they had pulled up to the front of the house. “If it's okay with you, I think I'll go right to bed. I'm really tired.”

When they were inside and he'd hung up both of their coats in the closet, he held his arms open to give her a hug. “I want to thank you for making this the best Christmas I've had in years,” he said. Then realizing how much it would mean to her, he added, “I'm sorry I wasn't there for your first fifteen.”

She tilted her head back to look at him. “You would have been if you'd known.”

“Nothing could have kept me away,” he said softly. Having Andrea with him these past weeks had given him insight into how much he had missed—both with Carly and by not having children of his own.

“Good night, David,” she said, standing on tiptoe to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. She let go of him and headed for the stairs.

He waited until she was halfway up before he called out to her. “Andrea?”

She stopped to look at him. “Yes?”

“Say hello to your mother for me.”

After several seconds, she asked, “How did you know?”

“It's what Carly would have done in your place.”

She hesitated, as if unsure whether she should say what she was thinking. “Do you ever wish she had gone to you instead of my dad when she found out she was pregnant?”

She might as well have doubled up her fist and hit him. “I try not to think about things like that,” he lied.

It seemed to satisfy her. “I'll see you in the morning,” she told him and started back up the stairs.

David waited until he heard her bedroom door close before he went into the study and poured himself a glass of scotch.

Seventeen

The spicy smell
of persimmon cookies hit Carly the instant she opened the door of Barbara's house. Shrugging out of her coat, she called, “Didn't you tell me less than two hours ago that you were going on a diet?”

“They're for Andrea. The last ones I sent got waylaid somewhere and she ended up with hockey pucks.” Barbara came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

Carly laughed. “You mean, what am I doing back here so soon?”

Barbara whipped around to stare at her daughter. “I do believe that's the first time I've heard you laugh in months. Is it this beautiful March weather we've been having or do you know something you're not telling me?”

Carly was fairly bursting with the need to share her excitement. “When I got home, there was an email from Andrea waiting for me.”

“And?”

“I've been trying not to read too much into it, but it sounds like she's close to throwing in the towel.”

Barbara's enthusiasm dimmed a little. “Nothing specific though?”

“I know, I've done this before and ended up disappointed. But I honestly think this time is different. She wrote more about home than she has since she left. Another thing—I forgot to tell you that I saw her friend Susan Gilroy the other day and she acted as if it were a foregone conclusion that Andrea would be home before summer. It seems reasonable that she's basing that feeling on Andrea's emails to her, wouldn't you think?”

“Yes, you would.” Barbara let out a frustrated sigh. “I still think there's something going on with Andrea that we don't know about. We were so sure she wouldn't last a month over there.” The timer sounded in the kitchen. Barbara headed that way, talking over her shoulder to Carly as she went. “How could we have been so wrong about something like that?”

Barbara was only echoing the thought that had haunted Carly the entire time Andrea had been gone. She followed her mother into the kitchen. “The only reason I can think of is that David has made it so comfortable for her, she feels torn between him and us. Knowing Andrea, she's probably caught up in worrying about hurting his feelings, too. Remember, she really believes he's her father. Did I tell you he bought her diamond earrings for Christmas?”

“If you did, I forgot.” Slipping a mitt on her hand, Barbara removed the cookie sheet from the oven and put another filled with dough in its place. “I thought he promised you he would do everything he could to make her want to come home.”

Carly took a cookie from the cooling rack. It was still warm. She broke it in half and saw that it was loaded with raisins and walnuts. This was the way persimmon cookies ought to be but never were when she baked them because Ethan was sensitive to walnuts and hated raisins.

God, she was getting petty.

“I wondered about that myself at first, but then I started thinking about the kind of person David is and there's no way he could do anything that would make Andrea feel she wasn't welcome. It isn't in his makeup to treat anyone that way, especially not a trusting young girl who thinks he's her father.”

“I don't know another man who would do what he's done for you and Andrea. David's either operating under his own private agenda, or he should be put up for sainthood.”

Carly grew quiet. “There are times you can have a pretty selective memory, Mother. Think about what Wally did for you and your daughter,” she said.

Barbara cast a sidelong glance at Carly. “All right, so there's more than one cut from the same cloth.”

“Wally stuck his neck out a hell of a lot farther than David could ever think of doing.”

“Can we talk about something else?”

There were times Carly ached to talk to her mother about what had happened to the three of them all those years ago. There were questions that needed answers, fears that needed to be put to rest, and absolutions that needed granting. “How about the party we'll have when Andrea comes home?”

“Let's not forget to involve Shawn and Eric,” Barbara went on, as if the emotional detour had never happened. “We don't want them to feel left out.”

Carly smiled. “No fatted calf for the returning Prodigal Daughter?”

“I can't tell you how good it feels to see a smile on your face again.”

“It feels good to me, too.”

The telephone rang. “Would you get that?” Barbara asked, wiping her hands on a towel.

Carly waited through another ring to swallow the last of her cookie. “Hello,” she said, her voice upbeat, reflecting her mood.

“Thank God,” Ethan said. “I've been looking everywhere for you.”

A warning chill shot up her spine. “Why? What's wrong?”

“The hospital in Linndale called me over two hours ago. They tried you first, but you weren't answering.”

How like him to give guilt before information. “The hospital?” she repeated. “In Linndale?”

“Shawn's been in an accident.”

Her stomach convulsed. “What kind of accident?”

“What is it?” Barbara asked, coming around the kitchen island.

“Motorcycle,” Ethan said.

This couldn't be happening. There had to be some mistake. She couldn't lose another child, not this way. Dear God, please let Ethan be wrong. “Damn it, Ethan, stop playing games and tell me if he's all right.”

“If who's all right?” Barbara insisted.

“I don't know,” Ethan said, his voice cracking. “He's still in surgery.”

Carly raked her hand through her hair as she turned to mouth the name Shawn to her mother. “Why did they have to take him to surgery?” she said, struggling to find something to hang on to.

“I'm not sure. I stopped listening.”

The sounds of his hyperventilation increased and she knew she was wasting her time trying to get any more information out of him. “I'll be there as soon as I can, but first, let me talk to one of the nurses.”

Barbara left the room.

“You can't,” Ethan said. “They're all too busy to come to the phone.”

Only knowing it would do her no good kept her from shouting her frustration at him. “Does Eric know?” she asked.

“He's here with me now.”

“You had time to find him, but not me?” She pressed her palm hard against her forehead. “Never mind, don't answer that. Just try not to let Eric see how scared you are.”

“That's easy for you to say.”

“I'll be there as soon as I can,” she repeated, still unable to hang up the phone. It was as if the connection to Ethan had become her only connection to Shawn. “If he comes out of surgery before I can get there, tell him I love him.”

“The doctor said it would be a couple of hours at least. We'll wait for you in the hallway by the operating rooms,” he said, and hung up.

Barbara came back in the room, Carly's and her coats in hand. As she was putting hers on, she went to the oven, turned it off and then took the half-baked cookies out and put them on the counter. “I called Wally on the radio. He'll be here in five minutes.”

“I can't wait that long,” Carly said, threading her arms into the sleeves of her jacket.

“Wally can get us there faster in the squad car.”

Carly hugged herself and let out a soft moan. “I can't just stand around here and wait. I'll go crazy if I don't do something.”

“Finish packing the cookies for Andrea.”

“
Andrea.
I should call her.”

“And tell her what? You don't know anything yourself yet.” Barbara put her arms around Carly. “It's going to be all right. Just remember Ethan isn't at his best under these circumstances. You can't take what he has to say as gospel.”

Carly couldn't move. “I'm so scared, Mom. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to Shawn.”

“Would you please put that overactive imagination of yours back in the creative side of your brain where it belongs? Shawn's going to be as good as new before you know it.”

She reached up to wipe a tear from Carly's cheek. “There, I think I hear Wally now.”

A half hour later, they walked into the surgical waiting area at Linndale Hospital.

“Thank God, you finally got here,” Ethan said, his relief mixed with accusation.

“How is he?” Carly asked. “Have you heard anything?”

Eric got up and threw his arms around Carly. “A nurse came by about five minutes ago and said everything was going the way it should,” he said.

Carly looked at Ethan for conformation. “Did she say anything else?”

“Just that the doctor would be out to talk to us as soon as she was finished.”

“How did Shawn get hit by a motorcyle?” she asked.

“He didn't get hit,” Eric answered before Ethan had a chance. “He fell off.”

Carly's mind couldn't take in what he was telling her. He might as well have been talking in a foreign language. “That doesn't make sense. What would Shawn be doing on a motorcycle?”

“It seems the oldest Bradford boy got one for his birthday,” Ethan said. “When he went off with a friend this afternoon, Joey Bradford talked Shawn and Eric into taking the bike out for a little spin.” He cast a meaningful look at Carly. “They went there looking for you because you weren't home when they got out of school.”

“Joey's brother is only a sophomore,” Carly said, refusing to rise to Ethan's bait. “What in God's name is he doing with a motorcycle?”

Eric buried his face in Carly's jacket. “His uncle gave it to him 'cause he got a new one,” he said, his voice muffled but loud enough to hear.

She could feel him catch his breath as if he were trying to hold back tears. “You rode it, too?” she asked him.

He shook his head without lifting his face from her coat. “I was supposed to go next.”

The image of Eric sitting on a motorcycle made her lightheaded with fear. She placed her hands on the sides of his face and gently forced him to look at her. “Thank heaven you didn't. Now I want you to tell me how badly Shawn is hurt.” It infuriated her that he had to be the one to answer her questions about Shawn's condition when it would have taken so little for Ethan to do so.

“He was crying and he couldn't move, because every time he tried, it made him hurt worse.” Eric winced at the memory. “He wasn't going very fast, Mom. The only reason he got so messed up was because the motorcycle landed on top of him when he hit the curb.”

“He was awake and talking to you the whole time before the ambulance came?”

“Uh-huh. He kept saying you were going to kill him when you found out.”

The band snapped from around Carly's chest and she could breathe again. She gave Eric a grateful, reassuring hug. “It must have been awful for both of you.”

“What are you going to do to Shawn when he gets better?”

“I need to stop being so scared before I can think about that.”

“What about me?”