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Authors: Francis Ray

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Zachary's black eyes blazed with equal fury. “The police think he was drunk. He had been arrested twice in the past three months for DWI.”
“He probably didn't get a scratch on him,” Madison said bitterly.
“Not then, but he tried to leave the scene and struck an abutment. He was pronounced dead at the scene,” Zachary said.
“So much misery because he couldn't or wouldn't stop drinking.” She lifted troubled eyes to him. “What do you think the odds are that he left a wife and children who loved him?”
“Probably high.”
“He's destroyed two families, then—his and that woman's—he won't add a third,” she said firmly. “Wes is going to be all right.”
“Yes, he is,” Zachary agreed.
Madison started down the hall again. “Do you think Manda's family would mind if I went up and saw her?”
“I don't think they'd mind at all,” Zachary answered, hoping his voice sounded normal.
Lord, what a mess
—and it could get a whole lot messier if the truth came out.
 
 
Friends and associates of both hers and Wes's crowded around them as soon as they entered the conference room, but stepped back for Wes's parents. Madison looked into Vanessa's eyes. During the years she had known Wes's mother, Madison had been the subject of her scrutiny. Those eyes had held everything from disapproval to disgust. Now they pleaded.
Madison thought of two years ago when she had looked into her obstetrician's eyes, begging for reassurance that he hadn't been able to give. Her marriage had died the day her unborn child had. Her fault or Wes's, she didn't know anymore. Nor did it matter.
“He was awake for a little while.”
“Thank goodness,” Vanessa said, blinking back tears. “Did he ask for me?”
Madison thought the question odd, but her expression didn't change. “He was only awake for a few moments. His concern was for the little girl, Manda. It was her mother that Wes had stopped to help. He was injured when he tried to push the woman out of the way of the car. She didn't survive.”
“He's a hero. Wes is one of the most compassionate men I've known,” a male voice rumbled.
Madison glanced around to see Louis Forbes. Murmurs of agreement to Louis's statement filtered across the room.
“My son is the best there is,” A.J. said proudly. “When can we see him?”
Madison faltered. “I forgot to look at the visiting schedule.”
“The next time is little over an hour and a half from now, at five,” Zachary said.
A.J. glanced at Zachary, then centered his attention on Madison. “Would it be all right if Vanessa and I visited first?”
“Of course,” Madison agreed, annoyed by Wes's parents' aloofness toward Zachary. They'd been the same way toward her when they'd first met. She hadn't been in their same social circles and they had let her know immediately how they felt. Only their love for Wes had gotten them to bend a bit, but she had always known they didn't think she was good enough for him.
The nouveau riche were permissible, as long as someone else sweated and toiled to do the hard work that earned them the money. Wes's father owned three car dealerships scattered around the Houston area. Madison knew for a fact that not one of his salespeople had even been to his magnificent home by the lake, fished from the pier, ridden in his speedboat. Vanessa, who had never worked, came from a family of bankers and referred to A.J.'s employees as “those people” and considered them “different.”
Madison knew nothing of Zachary's background, but his large hands were rough and callused, his speech was neither refined nor cultured, his clothes weren't tailored or expensive. Considering all that, he was completely unacceptable in Wes's parent's snobbish way of thinking.
Wes's parents were who they were, however, and although Madison disapproved of their attitude and behavior, now wasn't the time or place to bring it up. “I'm going to call my family, then I'm going to visit the little girl. Why don't you go downstairs to the cafeteria and get something to eat?”
“Not likely,” Vanessa said, her pert nose tilted. “The food here is probably horrid, if one is to judge by the coffee and the mediocre brand of tea. A.J. has already ordered for us from Crown's Deli. We know the owner.”
Madison's eyes narrowed; it was all she could do not to mention what other patients' families didn't have or how the hospital had gone out of their way to make this easier for them, but all she said was, “All right,” before turning to the people who had come to show their support. Somehow she managed to smile. “Thank you all for coming. I'll tell Wes when I visit him again. I'll keep Gordon posted on Wes's progress.”
The room emptied quickly until the only visitor remaining was Louis Forbes, his teeth clamped around an unlit cigar. He strolled over to Madison. “You tell Wes not to worry about KGHA. I spoke with Steinberg. They still want him and will hold the job for as long as it takes him to get well. Doesn't matter that the contract wasn't signed.”
The annoyance she had suppressed while speaking to Wes's parents surged forward full force. “How can you think about business now?” she asked, her voice strained and shaky.
He didn't back down. “Because it's my job and it's what Wes wants. We both know that.”
He was right. She shoved a hand through her hair. “I'm sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about—isn't that right, Forbes?” Gordon asked, his hard stare pinning the smaller man.
“No, not at all.” He worked the cigar from one side of his narrow mouth to the other. “I better go. People will want to know how Wes is doing. Good-bye.”
“Thanks, Gordon, but you should be going, too,” Madison said to her producer. “We've been here since this morning. The station can't run without you.”
He studied her closely. “I'd like to think so, but we both know it can.”
“Go on. There's nothing to do now but wait.”
“I don't want you waiting alone.”
“I'll be here,” Zachary said.
Madison flicked a glance in his direction. “You should go, too.”
“Wes and I go way back. I'm staying.” He stuck his hand out toward Gordon. “Wes admires you a lot. I know he'll feel better knowing you were here with Madison.”
“Thanks.” The handshake was firm. Gordon's attention went back to Madison. “If you need anything, don't think, just call.”
On tiptoes, she hugged him. “Thanks.” Then he was gone too.
She glanced at Wes's parents, who were sitting at opposite ends on the velvet couch. Madison felt a separation from her in-laws even greater than simply being across the room. Wes wasn't there so they didn't have to feign liking or accepting her. They simply ignored her. A wave of unexpected loneliness hit her.
“You're not alone. I'm here.”
Madison's gaze shot up to Zachary. She wouldn't have thought him perceptive, but it appeared she had been wrong. The tension in her shoulders relaxed a little. “Thank you for staying, but you have a business to run.”
“My people can work without me standing over them,” he told her easily. “Besides, even if I left, my mind would be here and I'd probably mess up anything I touched. Considering I was supposed to help frame today, I better stay here.”
She studied him a long time before she said, “I didn't know you two were this close.”
Zachary shrugged. “We traveled in different circles and both of us have
crazy schedules so we didn't see each other as much as we once did, but we always knew we could count on each other,” Zachary explained. “If it was me in ICU and I had a wife, I'd expect Wes to be there with her.”
Only if it was convenient for him
, Madison thought, then felt ashamed. Wes was fighting for his life. “I'm glad he has you for a friend.”
“Call your family, then we'll go see Manda and grab a bite,” Zachary said.
Madison went to call. Somehow she knew without asking that Wes's parents hadn't included her or Zachary when they ordered their food.
M
ADISON HEARD THE CRYING the instant the elevator door slid open on the third floor of Children's Medical Center. The cries were desolate and desperate. Pity swept through her. No child should ever sound that way. With each step down the brightly colored hallway decorated with rainbows and cartoon characters, the cries increased in volume and distress.
Zachary's fingers flexed on Madison's arm. “I hope that's not Manda.”
“If it is, she sounds heartbroken,” Madison said, quickening her pace.
Three doors from the nurse's station Zachary pushed open the door to the room the cries were coming from. Madison entered first and saw a nurse in a Disney-print smock trying to soothe the fretful baby in her arms. Madison's heart went out to the inconsolable dark-haired infant.
“Don't cry,” Zachary said, arms reaching.
The infant hiccuped and fastened tear-filled eyes on Zachary. He plucked the infant from the arms of the nurse and hugged her to his wide chest. “It's all right. You're all right.”
The infant hiccuped again, then quieted.
“You certainly have a way with children,” Madison told him as she moved closer.
Zachary gave an offhand shrug, his gaze not quite meeting hers. “I have a lot of friends with children. They like me, but in this case it's probably more of a familiar face.” He spoke to the nurse. “You just come on duty?”
“About an hour ago,” she confirmed. “Are you relatives?”
Madison bit her lips before answering. “My husband was injured trying to help her mother. I hope it's all right to be here.”
The young nurse's eyes rounded in recognition, her mouth opened, then
she shut it abruptly. “Mrs. Reed, I'm sorry to hear about your husband, but Dr. London is the best.”
“Thank you.” Madison rubbed her hand over the thick, curly black hair of the chubby infant whose cried had dwindled to sniffles, then glanced around the room.
Why wasn't there a relative or two hovering over the child? Wes's family was small, but she'd come from a big family, a close family. Even now, her parents and sister were probably on the phone spreading the word about Wes's accident. She'd tried to convince them not to come, but she'd be surprised if they didn't show up tomorrow.
And when they did they'd find Wes had gotten better. Determined to remain positive, Madison said softly, “Hello, Manda.”
The thumb of one hand jammed firmly in her mouth, the infant rubbed her eye with the other. Zachary's large hand continued to sweep up and down the infant's back, much as he had done to Madison.
“How old is she?” Madison asked.
“Nine months according to the information her mother had in her waillet, and as healthy as they come,” the nurse announced.
“And not liking it at all that you're by yourself,” Madison crooned to the baby. “I don't blame you. But your family should be here soon, sweetie.”
The burgeoning smile on the nurse's face died. She crossed her arms. “As far as we've been able to find out, the mother was a single parent. There's no information on Manda's father. The only relative they've found is an elderly aunt of the mother who is in a nursing home in Amarillo. Manda has to have competent care and apparently the great-aunt can't give it. If they can't find someone else or if the father can't or won't come forward, Child Protective Services will have to be contacted and she'll probably end up in foster care.”
“No!” Zachary snapped, pulling the child closer.
The baby's curly head came up at the brusque sound, her lower lip quivering. Instinctively Madison made a soothing sound. “It's all right, Manda.” She turned to the nurse. “Zachary's right. She's lost enough. Surely there has to be some other way. There are some very good foster homes, but we've all heard of stories where that isn't the case. Manda would be helpless to defend or speak for herself if she were placed in a unfit home.”
The nurse held up both hands, palms out. “Hey, don't kill the messenger. I wish things were different too.”
His expression deeply troubled, Zachary said, “Sorry. It's not your fault.”
“Don't sweat it. You're supposed to stay objective, but sometimes the children work their way into your heart. You can tell when they've been loved and hugged like Manda here. It sucks to have all that ripped from her.” She smoothed the blanket on the bottom of the crib. “Stay as long as you like. If you have time, could you give her a juice bottle? She hasn't taken enough fluids.”
“We have time,” Madison said without a moment's hesitation.
“Thanks. I'll be back in a jiffy.”
Taking the baby's tiny hand, Madison crouched down to eye level with the infant. “You hav—” Everything inside her froze. Straightening, she turned away from the little girl.
“What is it?” Zachary asked, careful to keep his voice hushed.
When Madison shook her head, he walked around in front of her. Now he was the one leaning down to eye level. “What is it?” he repeated.
Madison brushed the tears away with the back of her fingers. “She has hazel eyes just like Wes.”
Zachary stiffened, then said, “She made you think of the child you lost?”
Madison's head lifted. Although it was no secret that she had miscarried, few if any of her close friends at the time ever spoke of it. She had soon realized they were trying to spare her further hurt, but by not talking about the baby she lost, it almost made it seem as if it hadn't mattered. Zachary knew because he'd had to take out the nursery and alter the original floor plans of their house. “Yes,” she finally answered.
Zachary withdrew his hand from the infant's back and curved it around Madison's tense shoulders. “There's still time, Madison.”
Madison said nothing, simply held her hands out for the child, who, after a long moment, went to her. Cuddling the infant to her, the longing for a child that she had tried to suppress for so long swamped her. Her eyes closed. To have a child of your own to love and spoil, to care for and watch grow up happy and secure, had to be the greatest feeling in the world.
Her eyes opened as she thought that for her, motherhood might never happen. She and Wes hadn't made love in over a year. They had gone
their separate ways and communicated only when necessary. Could their marriage be saved? Was there time to find where their marriage had gotten off the track, fix it, and have a family?
She pressed her cheek against Manda's, smelled her baby smells, and lost a piece of her heart to the infant. Her own resolve strengthened. Somehow they'd work through their problems. They had time to start a family of their own. To think of them doing less would be as if she had lost faith that Wes would survive.
Zachary was right. There was time.
 
 
When Zachary and Madison arrived at ICU, it was almost five. Not wanting to lose one precious second of visiting time, people were already lined up at the door … except A.J. and Vanessa. They stood apart with another well-dressed couple Madison recognized as the mayor and his wife.
Wildly popular and respected, Doug Jones was the first black mayor of Dallas. He'd won his second term by an even bigger margin than his first.
“Madison,” the mayor said, taking her hand. “If there is anything I can do, please don't hesitate to let me know.”
“Yes, please,” Patricia, his wife, added as she reached out for Madison's other hand. She was an attractive, affable woman. It was well reputed that she was the solid rock that kept her husband grounded.
“Thank you.” Madison turned toward Zachary. “This is Zachary Holman, a friend of Wes's.”
Mayor Jones's shrewd eyes narrowed behind his signature horn-rimmed glasses. “Any relation to the owner of Holman Construction doing the restoration in South Dallas?”
“One and the same.”
“I've heard nothing but praise from the councilwoman and constituents in that district on your work in helping to revitalize that area,” the mayor said. “Very good work.” A nurse opened the door to ICU and people surged inside. The mayor switched his attention to Wes's parents standing a short distance away. “We'll be going, A.J., Vanessa, call if you need us.”
“Thank you for coming by.” A.J. extended his hand for a brief handshake, then he and Vanessa turned to enter ICU as the mayor and his wife left.
Madison bit her lower lip when the heavy double doors swung shut. “Perhaps I should have warned Vanessa how he looked.”
“She'll be all right,” Zachary said. “Vanessa may look fragile, but she's tough.”
“You know her?” Madison asked, startled by the revelation.
His face closed. “I know of her. I'm going to get a soft drink. You want one?”
Madison knew she was being put off. “No, thanks.”
“I should be back by the time they come out.” Hands in his pockets, Zachary strolled away.
 
 
“Why don't they come out?” Madison questioned, glancing again at the slim gold watch on her wrist. Eight-thirty. Visiting hour for ICU would be over in thirty minutes. She had tried to understand when Wes's parents hadn't come out the first time at five, but this was the last chance she'd get to see Wes for the night.
After visiting him the first time, Vanessa had emerged from ICU tearful and almost prostrate. Ann Crane, the hospital spokeswoman, had been there and immediately obtained a wheelchair to take Vanessa back to the conference room.
While Vanessa reclined on the couch, three of her friends arrived. Instead of helping, their presence caused Vanessa to cry more. A.J. had been totally inept at comforting his wife. Madison couldn't help but think, if only he'd touch her, hold her, perhaps it might help. It flashed through her mind that Wes wasn't much of a toucher himself unless they were making love. The thought made her feel guilty and on edge.
When Ms. Crane asked if she felt up to going with her for a brief news conference, Madison was more than ready. When she stepped on the elevator Zachary was by her side. He'd said he'd stay with her and he had, comforting her, helping her. “If you have trouble, focus on me,” he said.
She hadn't thought she would need to take his advice since she made her living being in front of a camera … until the reporters began asking questions about the extent of Wes's injuries, and Dr. London began explaining in detail about the surgery. Five minutes into it, she stood, looking blindly for an exit.
Thankfully, Ms. Crane and Zachary were there. They took her to a small enclosed garden. She sat on a stone bench beside a pool of goldfish and cried until her eyes and body ached.
Afterwards, they went back upstairs to the conference room where a chef waited to serve them. A.J. and Vanessa and their guests, who now numbered eight, were already seated around the oblong table, eating. Madison ate because she hadn't eaten earlier when Zachary had taken her to the hospital cafeteria. She now realized she had to, and not just because Zachary kept putting small amounts of food on her plate. She assumed Wes's father had ordered the food until the waiter presented the bill to Zachary. A.J. and Vanessa both stopped eating and pushed their plates away.
As the waiter began to clean up, Zachary said he was going to check on Manda. With an hour before the next visiting time at eight, Madison hurried after him.
In Manda's room they found her fretful, but not crying. She finished off a bottle Madison fed her in nothing flat, then, with her tiny hand clutching Madison's blouse as if to keep her there, she went to sleep.
“She likes you,” Zachary said.
Madison, in a rocking chair, glanced down at the peacefully sleeping infant, then looked up at him and smiled. “You're not the only one children like.”
“I see,” he said, returning her smile.

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