Hardball (38 page)

Tyler gave her a weak smile.

“Any idea how long that might be, Dr. Bell?” Mrs. Crump asked.

“We’ll have to see how it goes,” Holly said. “Every patient is different. I’m afraid I can’t be more specific than that. Hopefully not too long.” Holly put her hand on the woman’s thin wrist. “May I speak with you for a couple of minutes outside, Mrs. Crump?”

“Certainly.” She patted Tyler’s hand, then moved the lever on her motorized chair and backed away from the bed. “I’ll be right back, dear.”

“I’ll check in on you again soon, Tyler.” Holly stepped out into the corridor with Mrs. Crump right behind her.

She crouched until she was eye level with Mrs. Crump, gripping the arm of the wheelchair to keep her balance. “Have you talked to your son-in-law since the court order came down?”

The woman nodded. “He called to tell me that the hospital had won the case. Actually, I was quite surprised to hear from him, since he wasn’t returning my calls.”

“I don’t suppose he was very happy about it,” Holly said.
Spitting nails is more likely
.

Mrs. Crump’s mouth turned down. “I told him again he was wrong, and that he should be happy that Tyler was going to get the surgery he needed. But he called me a stupid old bitch again. I’m used to his filthy mouth, but then he said something that really did shock me.”

Holly’s grip on the chair tightened involuntarily. “Go on,” she said.

“Doctor, he told me that if the surgery goes ahead—and he said “if”—he might not be around to take care of Tyler.” The woman put her hand over Holly’s. “I’ll tell you, I almost fell out of this chair.”

Holly’s throat tightened. “Did he say anything else?”

“When I got my wits back, I managed to ask Lance what he meant. He just said that he couldn’t take it anymore. Then he hung up.” Suddenly, she looked terribly anxious. “Doctor, I’m the only one Tyler has in the world, apart from his father. And I’m a crippled old lady with barely enough money to live on. How am I possibly going to take care of the boy if his father abandons him?”

Holly let go of the chair and stood up. “Do you think he really meant what he said, ma’am? He’s obviously a mercurial man, and he must have been bitterly disappointed over the court order. Perhaps he’ll calm down and change his mind.”

She had precious little hope of that happening, but Mrs. Crump didn’t need any negativity from her.

“Part of me wants him to disappear,” the woman said in a bitter voice. “But what will happen to the boy, then?”

Mrs. Crump’s agonized face wrenched Holly’s heart. The poor woman had suffered so much, and now she might have to face the burden of trying to care for Tyler. Or, more likely, see him taken into the social services system.

That was so not going to happen. Not if Holly had anything to say about it. And she’d bet her life Nate would be willing to help out, too. She could ask him to sponsor a fundraiser. With his prominence and contacts, she was sure they could raise some serious money for a child in such dire need.

“Whatever happens, Tyler will be taken care of,” she said. “There are so many resources we can call on. And please don’t think that once the surgery is over I’ll be walking away. I’ll be there for Tyler and for you, and so will everyone else at this hospital. In fact, I’ll contact his social worker today and ask her to set up an appointment with you. How would that be, Mrs. Crump?”

The woman reached her hand forward and grasped Holly’s, her old eyes filling with tears. “God bless you, dear. God bless you for saving my grandson.”

Holly gave her hand a final pat and told her she’d stop by later to check on Tyler. She headed toward her office, pondering the best way to help the little boy. If she’d needed any confirmation that she’d done the right thing by facing down Lance Arnold, Mrs. Crump had just given it to her. Arnold had every intention of getting his son out of his life, and he didn’t care how he did it.

Holly had so much fun at dinner at Maddie and Jake’s that she almost lost track of her worries.

Almost.

Since talking to Mrs. Crump earlier in the day, she’d been puzzling over Lance Arnold’s behavior. If he disappeared from Tyler’s life, it would be hard on the boy and hell on the grandmother. But could it be worse than if he stayed? He’d already heaped psychological abuse on both of them. Physical abuse couldn’t be far away. If Arnold left, it would be bad. If he didn’t, it would be worse, especially given his history of violence.

Either way made her heartsick, and she couldn’t get the family out of her mind.

Still, Holly knew one thing for certain. She could give Tyler Arnold a new heart valve—one that would significantly improve his chances of long-term survival. She told herself to concentrate on that and leave the rest behind, at least for now.

Maddie had cooked vegetarian lasagna to die for, and Jake replenished Holly’s wine glass with her favorite wine. After dinner, they sipped decaf green tea and coffee and played Scrabble. In her case, hopelessly. Holly was good with words, but both Jake and Maddie had trounced her. She’d expected it from Maddie, a journalist with a Swarthmore degree, but from farm boy turned baseball player Jake Miller? That surprised her.

Still, it was all good fun, and Holly was grateful that neither Jake nor Maddie brought up the subject of Nate. Not once, thank God, because she would have turned into a blithering idiot if they did. Her knees still went weak every time she thought about that outrageous encounter in her hallway, and it terrified her how much she wanted Nate back in her life. And he seemed to want to be there with her, although all the big questions between them remained unanswered.

Yet, he’d been a rock during one of the worst crises of her life, and that had to count for something, didn’t it? And that remark he’d tossed at her on his way out the door…
everything’s changed.
Did he mean
he’d
changed? Or did it mean that her sexual surrender to him made him think she’d capitulated to his take on how their relationship should work? If that was the case, he was in for an unpleasant surprise, because no way would Holly give in on that point—no matter how painful the subsequent breakup would be. She’d done it once, and she’d do it again if she had to.

In the meantime, she could nothing but stew about it and hope things really
had
changed for him, because one thing was certain. She loved Nate Carter with her entire body and soul, and giving herself to him in that wild moment of passion had confirmed it. Maybe it wasn’t so wrong to hope, after all, and to give the man a chance to prove himself.

If only she knew how to do that.

Jake drove her home at eleven. They barely saw another car in her dead-quiet neighborhood. Despite Holly’s protests, he insisted on accompanying her into the house and doing a quick check to make sure everything was safe. Only when she snicked the deadbolt into place behind her did she hear the sound of Jake’s footsteps moving off the porch.

She went from room to room turning on even more lights, not exactly sure why. She only knew the house felt empty without Nate. How easy it had been to get used to having him around. To rely on him to make her feel safe.

Muttering to herself, she made one last circuit to check all the doors and windows. Her safety was her responsibility, and she’d keep telling herself that until it sunk in. Eventually the situation with Arnold would resolve, and then she could turn her mind to the unresolved issues with Nate.

Holly returned to the kitchen and put the kettle on, hoping a cup of chamomile tea and a hot bath would help her sleep. As she waited for the water to boil, she glanced at the stove’s digital clock.
Eleven-fifteen
. What would Nate be up to now? The game would have been over for at least an hour. Was he back at the hotel? Or out at some bar or nightclub with his teammates?

Flirting and dancing with other women?

Why did she have to think like that? For once, couldn’t she just trust him, especially after what had happened this morning? Nate deserved better than speculation and suspicion from her, at least until proven otherwise.

Maybe she could give him a quick call, just to ease her anxiety. But what would she say if he answered?
Hi, I had a nice dinner at Jake and Maddie’s. Just thought I’d touch base. By the way, what are you up to, anyway?

He’d think she’d lost it. Or that she couldn’t stand to be without him.

She heaved a little sigh.
Grain of truth there.

The kettle whistled. She poured the boiling water into her cup, dropped in a tea bag, and went to retrieve the novel she was currently reading from the kitchen counter. Best to just take her bath and get some sleep. Nate would be home tomorrow, and all questions could be asked and answered then.

She’d just grabbed her book when a thunderous crash sounded behind her.

* * *

Holly
.

Nate couldn’t believe how guilty he felt about leaving her. By the time he’d walked out to the mound at six o’clock, his concentration had been shot.

And, man, did it ever show.

The Ottawa fans must have thought it was some Nate Carter impersonator out there. From the first inning, he’d had to struggle to get the ball to do what he wanted. And when he did manage to find the strike zone, it was too often over the heart of the plate. When that happened, the Syracuse batters licked their lips and teed off on him.

By the top of fifth, the manager had seen enough and yanked him out of the game. Nate had managed to retire only twelve batters, and had given up five earned runs in four innings—a miserable performance. The same crowd that had given him a standing ovation when he was introduced was deathly quiet as he’d trudged back to the dugout. In frustration, he’d fired his glove against the Gatorade cooler and headed straight into the clubhouse.

Ten minutes in the shower had made him feel only slightly more human. His revolting outing had wounded his pride. Five earned runs to a bunch of minor leaguers?

But he’d get over it. What he couldn’t get over was worrying about Holly, all alone at home with that bastard Arnold still in the picture. Every moment he was away from her, Nate’s sense of urgency mounted, grinding away at his gut. He’d spent all day trying to convince his sorry self that Holly would be safe until he got back tomorrow, without any positive results.

And when he wasn’t thinking about her safety, he was thinking about how she’d felt wrapped around him, her luscious body taking him deep inside. Either way, thinking about the woman was driving him crazy.

Getting back into his street clothes, he glanced at his watch. Just after eight o’clock. It was early, because he’d only lasted on the mound about an hour and a half. He’d planned on staying in Ottawa overnight because he couldn’t count on being done until nine-thirty, or maybe even later if the game went into extra innings. But after the pasting he’d taken, no one would criticize him for not hanging around until the game was over. And even if they did, at this point he could live with it. He didn’t want to stay in Ottawa any longer than it took him to get a cab to the airport and fire up the Bonanza.

His stink bomb pitching had one positive outcome. It wasn’t too late for him to fly home tonight.

And get back to Holly, where he needed to be.

He only had two calls to make. The first to Holly, to let her know he was coming. The second to the airport flight services center to ask them to get the Bonanza ready for an immediate departure. He got Holly’s voice mail, as he expected, since he knew she’d still be at Jake’s place. He thought briefly about trying her there, but decided instead to leave a message at her house. It would be a welcome surprise for her to get home and find out he was already in the air.

And even if she wasn’t overjoyed to see him, there was no damn way he was leaving her alone a minute longer than necessary.

* * *

Holly whirled toward the sound, racing from the kitchen into the hall. There she froze, her heart thudding as adrenaline flooded her body. For a few seconds, her mind refused to register what her eyes saw.

Lance Arnold
—
Lance Arnold picking himself up off the hallway floor
. He’d hurtled through the door leading inside from the garage. Half off its hinges, the door must have rebounded off the wall, knocking him down.

She knew instantly there was only one way out for her—through the back door. But she also knew she’d never make it. By the time she got the key for the deadbolt and undid the safety chain, Arnold would be all over her.

Panting, she raced back into the kitchen and reached for the phone. She managed to get her hand around it and press “9”, but Arnold slapped her arm so hard that the phone flew across the kitchen counter. As she started to scream, he clamped a hand around her mouth.

Holly’s scream died, muffled by his sweaty palm. Pain from his slap radiated into her shoulder. Grunting, she twisted her body and stomped her heel against his foot. But he barely reacted. She realized that he had some kind of work boots on and hadn’t even felt her pathetic effort.

“I told you we’d be meeting soon,” he snarled in her ear. His breath stank of alcohol, and his stiff stubble rasped against the soft skin of her cheek. One meaty arm clamped hard around her waist, something cold—metallic—pushing up under her shirt against her skin.

Holly struggled to free herself, but Arnold’s weight and strength overwhelmed her. He drove her forward, pinning her body against the counter. She jerked in pain when her hip bone made contact with the granite, but he held her immobile. His hand pressed down hard on her mouth, and his pelvis and thighs drove hard against her. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t bite his hand—couldn’t even get off a kick. She was no weakling, but his brute strength terrified her with its raw, animal power.

Horrifying scenarios flashed through her mind at lightning speed—all of them bad. All ended with her dead, probably raped and brutalized. Whatever happened, Arnold was going to kill her. He was insane, but not crazy enough to ever let her go in one piece after this.