Love on Call (16 page)

He stood up then and ran his hands down her jaw-line. “Owen is driving, so I'm leaving the car if you want to go out.” He kissed her gently, one last time. “I won't be long.”

Mallory heard the promise in his voice as surely as if he'd said he couldn't wait to get her into bed again.

When he disappeared through the door and left she felt alone and restless. She dressed quickly in shorts, a shirt and sandals. The weather was unseasonably warm for this time of year, but Mallory had no complaint. She would be back in Philadelphia soon, where fall was giving way to winter, with the prospect of
snow for Thanksgiving. A few days in the sun were to be relished.

Checking her watch, she decided Brad and Owen probably wouldn't be back for at least an hour. She took the keys and left the room to go for a ride. Half an hour later, Mallory turned into the driveway of the Austin Rehabilitation Center. Dr. Diaz was on duty and spotted her as she walked through the door.

“Dr. Russell, I didn't think we'd see you so soon.”

“I thought, if it's all right, I'd like to visit with Mrs. Yarborough for a few minutes.”

He smiled kindly. “I'm sure she'd like that.”

They started toward the back of the building, heading for the hall that led to her room.

“Did she show any reaction after we left yesterday?”

“I'm afraid not,” he said with obvious disappointment in his voice. “I thought if anything was going to draw her out of the state she's in, it would be her children. That is most times the case. But with Mrs. Yarborough it didn't work.”

They'd reached her door. It was blue like the walls, and like all the hallways, it needed to be repainted. Mallory stopped and turned to face Dr. Diaz. “Why do you call her Mrs. Yarborough?”

“According to her file, when she was admitted to the hospital after the police discovered her, she weighed only eighty pounds. Her brain was damaged and she was unable to speak or write. When she was transferred to this facility she was very agitated and made many sounds, but nothing coherent. One of the
nurses thought she said her name was Sharon, and so they began calling her that.”

“And her last name? Yarborough?”

“Same thing. ‘Yarborough' sounded like what she was trying to say when she tried to speak.”

“Actually, Sharon is her grandmother's maiden name,” Mallory provided. “She might have been trying to say that for a different reason.”

The doctor's frown made her go on and explain how she knew that information. “Dr. Clayton hired a private investigator to find his mother. I've seen the report from the investigation. He discovered her here by going further back into her family tree and using combinations of names she might have used. He discovered the Jane Doe in the hospital and then the transfer here under the name of Sharon Yarborough.”

Dr. Diaz nodded. “Since we know her real name now, we'll change her records and begin calling her that.”

Mallory smiled as he left her. She opened the door, hoping to find Brad's mother in an alert state. But with her coma patients, she was often disappointed in discovering them exactly as she had left them.

Brad's mother sat in the same position, in the same chair, with the same blank expression on her face that had been there twenty-four hours ago.

 

The moment Brad recognized the rental car he and Mallory had used since they arrived in Texas, his blood started pumping. He knew why she was here: to see his mother. She seemed to be in a comalike
state, and Mallory was an expert on comas. Had she talked his mother into coming back from wherever she had hidden herself?

When he and Owen opened the door, Mallory looked up. None of the surprise he expected her to display was in her eyes, only a reserve he'd seen time and time again, starting with the Wayne Mason incident in the emergency room.

“Hello,” Owen said.

Mallory shifted her attention to him and smiled. “Hello,” she replied.

“We know what happened to her,” Brad murmured. Mallory came toward him. Together they walked back to the waiting room where Dr. Diaz had talked to them yesterday, and sat on the government-issued furniture.

“The police report had the details listed under ‘Jane Doe.' No one knew her name, and even when she got here her real name was never discovered.”

“That's why no one ever contacted you or your brother.”

He nodded.

“What about fingerprints? Wouldn't they try to identify her using those?”

“Her prints weren't on file anywhere, but even if they were, with the state of government and the cost associated with what was essentially a closed case, I doubt it would have been done.”

“Closed case?”

“No. They'd found her raving in a house on the outskirts of Austin. It was little more a shack, appar
ently. She'd been held there for months, by a crazed man who'd repeatedly raped and beaten her. She was delirious for weeks after they found her, and when eventually she woke up, she could tell them little.”

Mallory shuddered at what she must have gone through. Brad tried to keep his voice steady and sure, but there was a rage inside him that needed an outlet.

“The man holding her was shot and killed trying to escape capture on an unrelated charge. He'd been running toward the house where my mother was.” Mallory took his hand and kissed his knuckles, then kept it close to her. “They took her to a hospital, but one day she just walked out. No one knows where she went. They assumed she lived on the streets for several months. Then she was involved in a traffic accident and was taken back to the same hospital. One of the nurses recognized her as the Jane Doe from the previous visit.”

“The man was her first husband, Dawson Armstrong.”

“How do you know that? Did she talk to you?”

Mallory shook her head. “Mrs. Seleig told me the story. I had to keep her on track. She wanders a lot, but I got the details out of her.”

“What else did she tell you?” Owen spoke from the doorway. He came all the way into the room and took a seat in the chair across from Mallory.

“The day she left for work he was waiting for her. She hadn't seen him in years, but he apparently had been stalking her. He kidnapped her and took her to a house not far from here. He kept her there for
months. She didn't know how long it was, but it felt like years, and all the while she wondered what had happened to you two. She stayed alive for her sons.”

Mallory swallowed. Brad saw the workings of her jaw. She was giving them a moment to let it sink it.

He wanted to hit something. All the while he'd cried in the night, alone and wondering, his mother was being abused and thinking of him. All the times he'd hated her for never coming back, it wasn't her fault. She couldn't return. And when she did, they were gone.

“The police found her and took her to the hospital. She ran away from there to try and find you. But she couldn't talk. Her vocal chords were swollen from a rope that had been tied around her throat to keep her in the cabin when Dawson Armstrong wasn't there. She couldn't talk and she couldn't write. So she went to find you.”

“The state had already taken us away.”

“Not quite.”

Brad looked at Owen, then they both stared at Mallory.

“She saw Brad.”

“Me! When?”

“You were running. She ran after you, trying to call your name, but she couldn't speak. There was a cop chasing you and you went over a fence. She was too weak to keep up with you, but she tried. But when you ran across a street and she followed, she was hit by a car and woke up in a hospital. After that she was moved here.”

“I thought she said she saw me at the airport.”

“It was the Airport Road,” Mallory corrected.

When Mallory finished, both brothers were quiet, astounded by the story and too stunned to move.

“I can't believe it,” Owen finally said. “All these years I've hated her, hated her memory, hated her for leaving us, and all the while she was trying to reach us, trying to return to us.”

“Don't beat yourself up over that, Owen,” Mallory said. “You were a child. It was a natural reaction. You felt alone and abandoned. But what matters most now is that you both know she loved you and would never have left you of her own accord.”

“Why won't she talk?”

“I don't know why she only talks to Mrs. Seleig. Her speech is very impaired. It's hard to understand her, Mrs. Seleig says. One reason she remains silent might be fear.”

“Fear?” Brad asked. “Why?”

“She saw you being chased by the police. Owen wasn't with you. She couldn't protect you and she was afraid something might happen to you if she talked to the police, so she told no one.”

“Except Mrs. Seleig.”

“Mrs. Seleig is her voice in the dark.”

Brad understood what that meant. He was sure Owen didn't.

“Dr. Russell spends a lot of her time with coma patients,” Brad explained. “She talks to them, usually in the dark.” He looked at Mallory and smiled. “She's had a lot of success in getting them to wake
up. Mrs. Seleig was there to talk to…Mom.” He'd said it. He cleared his throat. “Or to listen to her when she talked.”

“So why won't she talk to us?” Owen repeated.

“If she didn't react yesterday when you two went in the room…” Mallory trailed off.

“She's not likely to?” Owen finished.

“Not likely to what?”

Mallory immediately stood up. Mrs. Seleig stood inside the door. Next to her was Brad and Owen's mother.

“Mariette,” Mrs. Seleig said, and looked at the gray-haired woman. “I can call her that now?”

Mallory nodded.

Brad and Owen got to their feet. Each of them moved slowly, as if there was a heavy hand on their shoulder.

Mrs. Seleig looked up at the two tall men who stood in front of her, straightening her stooped shoulders.

“She wanted to see you,” she stated.

Every eye in the room was trained on Mariette Joyce Randall.

C
obblersville, Texas, was a pretty little town thirty miles east of Austin where two of Brad's siblings lived. And they were all waiting to hear the news Owen and Brad had to tell them.

“It's about time.” Rosa greeted them without preamble. “Why didn't you tell me the real reason you were coming here?”

“Hello, Rosa,” Brad replied. He took Mallory's hand and pulled her forward. “You remember Mallory?”

Rosa smiled at her. “It's good to see you again.” She threw a glance at her brother. “I'm not finished with you.”

“Hi, Uncle Brad.” A small child of about six bounded over to them. Brad stooped down and scooped her into his arms.

“Look at you,” he said, that wide smile reserved for children on his face. “You are so big.”

“I am six years old,” she told him proudly.

“Oh, that is really old. I guess you'll be getting married soon.”

She giggled. “I'm not old enough for that yet.”

“Well, you be sure to tell me when you are. In the meantime, let me introduce you to Dr. Mallory Russell. Mallory, this is Samantha Yvette Pierce Clayton.”

“Are you a children's doctor, too?” she asked.

“No, I'm training to be another kind of doctor.” She knew the word
neurology
would mean nothing to the child.

By the time Brad set Samantha on the floor, several other people had joined them. He introduced her to his family. Digger and Erin were the child's parents. His sister Luanne was a social worker, and her husband, Mark Rogers, was an oil geologist. Owen and Rosa she'd already met. Dean was a film student, away on location, so he was missing from the gathering.

“Sit down,” Luanne urged them.

“I'll get the kids busy in the playroom,” Erin said. “Don't wait for me. Digger will fill me in.”

“All right,” Rosa insisted. “Tell us.”

Mark and Luanne passed out glasses of iced tea as everyone settled around the large kitchen table. In the center was a dish of tortillas and a bowl of jalapeño dip.

Owen told them the story of finding their birth
mother, the detective Brad had hired, the report, the police department, everything right up to her walking into the waiting room and looking at them.

Everyone sat silently while he talked. When he finished, they appeared spellbound.

“Did she say anything?” Luanne asked.

“She tried.” Brad picked up the story. “Her eyes focused on us and she tried to say something, but only a low sound came from her throat.”

“Dr. Diaz examined her and said he could see nothing wrong in his preliminary examination, but he'd have to run some tests.”

“But she knew who you were?” Rosa asked.

Both brothers nodded.

“How did you feel?” Luanne asked.

“Numb, like an eleven-year-old,” Owen said. “I wanted to laugh and cry and shout all at the same time.”

“Brad?” Luanne looked at him.

“I wanted to apologize.”

She placed her hand over his. “You have nothing to apologize for. And don't go playing the ‘if only' game. You did what you could. You were nine years old. And there was nothing you could do to stop what happened.”

Mallory immediately liked her. She was the social worker, and Brad seemed to take her words seriously. He didn't show it, but then he never did. Only when Mallory was in his arms did she know his true feelings.

For several minutes more they talked about Brad
and Owen's mother, asking what the two planned to do now and when they were going to tell their foster mother about her. Mrs. Clayton lived in Dallas and rarely traveled anymore.

Owen said he knew of several nursing homes near Dallas. He'd have Mariette moved as soon as possible and get her better care. With luck she'd recover and resume her life. It seemed she had been waiting for her boys to find her, and now that they had, she could return to the living.

Eventually the conversation moved on to other things. And finally it came around to Mallory. “They have these little powwows all the time,” Mark said to her. “I'm sure Brad has mentioned them.”

“He said his family was very supportive.” And they were. From what Mallory had seen, they were concerned about each other, always ready to pitch in and help if needed. She wished she had the kind of support they shared. She and her sister had only each other, and while they would do anything for one another, it wasn't like having a large network to fall back on.

“You two work at the same hospital?” Luanne asked.

“We do,” Brad answered for her. “She's a first-year resident and she's not planning to be a pediatrician.”

“Well, you only need one in a family,” Rosa interjected.

Mallory was uncomfortable. His family had assumed they were a couple. She was in love with Brad,
but she had no indication he felt the same. Mallory had no idea what would happen when they returned to Philadelphia. This was a little like being on a ship, but they had to return to land soon and resume the lives they had there. They worked at the same hospital and she already had one secret to keep.

 

Mallory left Brad in Texas. He took her to the airport and kissed her goodbye, but he stayed to take care of details regarding his mother's new living arrangements. Mallory felt bereft without him, but knew she had to get used to the idea of being without Brad. His family was close and supportive, and she wouldn't be surprised if he used this time to find employment in a Texas hospital.

“Margaret, you should have seen his face.” Mallory told the coma patient everything that had happened at the conference—her discovery that she was in love with Brad, his birth mother's recovery and his family's welcoming support. Despite their closeness, Mallory thought she and Brad were as far apart as two people could get. “I'm really scared, Margaret. There's nothing holding him here. He has family in Texas. He can go home anytime. And then what would I do?”

A week had passed, and Brad hadn't so much as called her. Mallory went through the motions of the day, doing her job without thinking about him. She had a lot to do—even more with filling in for him—but in those minutes between patients she had time to
miss him, and in the darkness of her bedroom at night she ached for him.

Mallory cut her visit to Margaret short and headed for home. She didn't exactly feel at her best tonight worrying that the longer Brad was gone, the more he would want to stay there. He had family, and now a mother who needed him. He'd want to be with her. Mallory couldn't fault him for that. If she had the chance to be with her mother again wouldn't she want to go wherever she was? Mallory was anchored in Philadelphia. Her sister lived only an hour away. She would be at the hospital for the remainder of her residency. Even if she wanted to go she was committed to staying here.

She pulled her car into the garage and closed the door. She didn't bother with lights. She started for her bedroom, dropping her purse on the kitchen counter as she passed through it. Halfway up the stairs she heard the doorbell ring. She stopped. It was three in the morning. Who could that be?

Brad! Her heart jumped into her throat as she rushed to the door and looked through the side window. He stood there.

Yanking the door inward, she jumped into his arms. Brad's arms closed around her and she felt safe. “I missed you,” she whispered, her voice so reverent she could be praying.

“I missed you, too.” He kissed her, pushing her into the house and closing the door.

It felt so good to be back in his arms. Mallory tugged his jacket off and heard it hit the floor as her
own arms tightened around his neck and she went up on her toes. His mouth devoured hers and she reveled in the feel of him. In seconds a hot frenzy seemed to flash through them both and they rained wet kisses all over each other. Mallory tried to discard his clothes without separating from him and he tried to do the same to her. Slowly they moved toward the stairway dropping garments as they went.

At the base of the stairs Brad stopped, his hands cupping her breasts, his mouth drugging hers with a long, languid kiss that robbed her of the strength to stand. He lifted her, carrying her up to her bedroom. They crashed onto the bed like teenagers having their first sexual encounter and afraid their parents would come home and catch them.

It had been a week, a long, lonely, solitary week, during which she missed having his hands on her, having him kiss her and make love to her. Her body ached for him, burned in the most intimate places, wanting his to satisfy her, free her from the need that gripped her.

Rational thought seemed to leave her whenever she saw him. She went on instinct, following an urge that had no origin in her well-ordered world. She was in love and love commanded her actions. Love made her forget everything except the pleasure that flowed through her like a river.

Brad's hands smoothed over her hips, traveling over sensitized skin until they reached her breasts once more. She moaned with pleasure as he touched
her—inside and out, and cried out in ecstasy when he once again took her to the stars.

Afterward, Brad held her close as their ragged breathing mingled. It felt like a century since she had made love with him. She had never been so aggressive, so uninhibited. Every time they made love she lost control, but tonight some deeper element in her being had been released.

She slipped off of Brad, but remained in his arms. She never wanted to be anywhere else. And never wanted this night to end. She'd like them to stay this way forever, in each others arms, surrounded by the afterglow of a love so pure and sweet it seemed to fill the whole room.

Mallory closed her eyes and listened to the beating of Brad's heart. “Welcome back,” she murmured.

He kissed the top of her head and pulled the covers over them. She looked up at him and he dropped a kiss on her mouth.

“What happened this week?”

Other than letting out a long breath, nothing changed about Brad. He still held her lightly in his arms. His hand rubbed across her back and down her hips, yet she knew something inside him shifted.

“We found her a rehabilitation hospital in Dallas. She was moved last Thursday. Her recovery will be slow, but the doctors believe in time she can return to a normal life.”

“Is it close to Owen's?”

“Yes, the hospital isn't far from his office. He'll be able to visit her often and monitor her progress.”

“And you?”

Brad released her and shifted away. He got out of bed and pulled on his boxer shorts. His pants were somewhere on the stairs or the floor outside the bedroom.

“I'm moving back to Texas.”

Mallory was stunned. She'd thought of it. In the back of her mind probably known this was coming. He'd searched for his mother most of his life. Now that he'd found her it was natural he'd want to be close enough to see her regularly. Mallory would have wanted the same thing if it were her mother. Yet when Brad had said the words they were the last thing she expected to hear.

Her hand came up to her breast, hiding the rift in her heart she was sure he could see. They had become a couple although there was no spoken commitment between them.

“What are you thinking?” Brad asked.

Mallory sat up, holding the sheet against her. “I'm thinking you've already made a decision.” She didn't bother to keep the anger out of her voice. “You made up your mind before you ever got on the plane.”

“Mallory—”

“Don't Mallory me.” She got out of bed unmindful of the fact that she had no clothes within reach. “I can't believe you've come to this decision without even talking to me about it.” She snatched up her abandoned clothes and headed for the bathroom. “Rosa told me about the woman who left you. Not your mother,” she said as she shrugged into clothes
that protested her treatment of them. “The woman you wanted to marry. She decided to leave you without a word.” Mallory went to the door. She hadn't bothered to look in the mirror. Her hair hung over her shoulders. She quickly pushed it out of the way. “Well, you're no better.”

“Mallory, I am talking it over with you.”

“Are you?” She stepped farther into the room. “Look me in the eye and tell me you haven't already decided to go. That you haven't already told Owen and Rosa and…and…” She groped for the names of his other brothers and sisters.

Brad looked directly at her, but said nothing. Her point was taken. She'd wanted it to be different. She'd wanted him to say the words, tell her that he hadn't made up his mind, that he wanted to weigh his decision, look at it from all the angles, and get her input, but it wasn't to be.

“Don't think about me. Don't consider the hole you will leave in the hospital, all the residents who respect your talent despite your mood swings and grumpiness. Don't think of them and don't think of the children in the shelter who've come to trust and rely on you. Think about yourself. Because in the long run that's what it comes down to.”

“Stop it!” Brad shouted, and took a step toward her. For a moment Mallory was immobile. She stared at him, stopping his approach with a withering look. Hostility hung in the air like loose wallpaper. Then she swept past him and headed for the door. She was close to tears and she wanted to get as far away from
him as possible. She stopped in the doorway and held it open. It was the last time she would see him.

Her voice was quiet when she spoke. “Good bye, Brad.”

 

A numbness surrounded Mallory as she went through her duties at the hospital the next day. She hadn't had any sleep. She knew Brad would be turning in his resignation, and while she felt as if she had a knife sticking into her chest, she would still have to see him on the floor every day until he departed.

Life was not fair. Mallory repeated the cliché to herself. She knew it, had dealt with the fact often. Life threw you curve balls and lemons to make it interesting, except this wasn't interesting, it was devastating. She'd vowed to steer clear of men, but Brad had touched her heart in a way no one else had. He'd gotten through to her by finding the cracks in her system and slowly slipping through them. Now he was entrenched in her life. When he left, she would be so alone.