Tangled Web (14 page)

He couldn't know what she'd done, Hope thought. But one look into his eyes told her that he knew everything. “What are you saying?” she asked hoarsely, fighting a panic that was almost debilitating in its intensity. She and Edmond had both feared this might happen someday. As the years had passed, they'd been lulled into a false security. And now she was paying for it.

His voice lowered dangerously. “You have a choice. Either you
give me back what is mine or lots and lots of cash. Enough to put my company back on the road. I'm a generous person, so I'll leave that decision up to you.” He paused then spoke heavily, “You can give me whatever you wish, as long as you satisfy me.”

“I don't have any more cash,” she whispered miserably, feeling a fear more intense than any she had ever known. Finding out about her past and her involvement with Russell would destroy her son.

Russell lifted a shoulder in an indifferent shrug, oblivious to the pain he was causing her. “You
are
in a quandary, aren't you, dear Hope?” He pushed his glass away and picked up the envelope containing the money. He slid it into the inner pocket of his bright orange blazer. “I'll give you two more weeks to come up with the additional one hundred and fifty thou. Two weeks, Hope. Or I see you in court.”

He didn't have to explain. She knew precisely what he meant.

 

“W
HY CAN'T
I have a pet?” Hope's son demanded petulantly.

“Joey, we've been all through this,” Hope said, realizing from the hurt, stubborn look on his face that he wasn't about to listen to anything she had to say. “Animal dander will aggravate your asthma.”

Joey stabbed at the chicken Parmesan on his plate. “How do you know that?” he challenged.

Was it her imagination or did he look a little wan? Hope wondered. “Because the doctor told me.”

Color flooded Joey's face. “Well, he's wrong. I was around a puppy all afternoon and I didn't have one bit of trouble!”

She stared at him, hardly able to believe he'd been so foolish.

“Aw, Mom, come on, don't get mad,” he said, before she had a chance to say a word. “I had my inhaler with me, but I didn't even need it. I was fine the whole time. And that puppy was so cute, Mom.” His appeal was straight from the heart. He was so in love with the little animal it made her heart break just to hear him talk about it. “It was a little cocker spaniel, the buff-colored kind,” Joey continued earnestly, while Hope sat and let her own dinner get cold. “The lady who breeds them still has some for sale. But if you like another kind of dog that'd be okay, too,” Joey hurried to reassure her. “I wouldn't mind. Big or small it
wouldn't matter. It wouldn't even have to be a puppy. It could be older and already housebroken. And I'd take care of it all by myself. You wouldn't have to do a thing.”

How well she knew that. Feeling like the cruelest mother in the history of the earth, Hope put down her fork slowly. “Joey, it's not the work and you know it.”

He let out an impatient breath, ignoring her compassionately issued statement. “I told you. I was around a puppy all afternoon and my asthma was fine.”

Hope sighed. His breaking the rules was another issue, one they'd have to go into later. Right now they had to settle the question of a pet, once and for all. “I'm sorry, Joey.”

“You're sorry! Think about how I feel! You won't let me do anything,” Joey accused. He stood, his eyes bright with tears. “I can't go camping with my friends or have a pet or anything. I hate having asthma! I hate it!”

He bolted from the room and ran up the stairs. The door slammed behind him, exacerbating the silence of the big, empty house. Hope remained where she was, her heart heavy with despair. As much as she yearned to go after Joey, she knew he needed time to cool off and accept her decision. Then she would go and try to make him understand she wasn't refusing him an animal to be mean. She just loved him and wanted him to stay healthy.

She picked up the work she had brought home from the office but found herself unable to concentrate on anything but the broken-hearted little boy upstairs. She put it back down again.

Thinking there might be something for her to do in the kitchen, she made her way to the rear of the big house. It was as spotless as Carmelita had left it. Going over to the window above the kitchen sink, Hope noticed that the guest house windows were completely dark. Chase's Jeep was gone. She wondered where he was, what he was doing and who he was with. Not that it should matter to her, she chastised herself firmly. He was a free man, able to do as he pleased. And, after her meeting with Russell, she had spent most of the day avoiding him, afraid he would be able to see that something was wrong.

At the same time she had yearned to talk to him and pour out her troubles. If anyone would understand how much she loved Joey, and would do anything to protect him, it would be Chase.

Restless, she moved toward the front hall. Without warning, Joey was at the top of the stairs. He had his hands to his throat and a terrified look on his face. He was wheezing audibly and his chest pinched in with every harsh, rapid breath. Her own heart pounding, she ran toward her son.

 

T
HE LIGHTS
in the big house were blazing when Chase pulled into the driveway at 2:00 a.m. Wondering why, he parked beside the guest house and made his way across the lawn. As he approached the back door, he could see Hope standing at the kitchen counter. She was in a robe and slippers. She looked distressed. Knowing she'd probably heard his Jeep, he rapped on the glass. She walked over to let him in.

“Everything okay over here?” he asked.

Her eyes bright with emotion, Hope nodded. “Yes. Joey had an asthma attack tonight.”

Unwilling to acknowledge, even to himself, how much that news disturbed him, Chase shut the door behind him and asked calmly, “Is he okay?”

Hope nodded again. Aware her coffee had stopped brewing, she went to pour herself a cup. “Want some?”

Chase nodded; it was all he could do to stop himself from pulling her into his arms and holding her close. “How long did the attack last?” he asked.

“A couple of hours.” Hope answered his question with a sigh.

“We were able to control it with his bronchilator, but it shook him up just the same. He's pretty low.”

“Is he awake?” Chase asked softly. He didn't want to disturb the little boy; he did want to see him.

Hope hesitated, and unconsciously tightened the belt on her robe; it was a long fluffy white terry-cloth thing with blue satin piping. Like Chase, Hope seemed suddenly acutely aware of her nighttime apparel, modest as it was. “I don't know.”

“Would you mind if I looked in on him?” Chase asked.

Hope shook her head, signaling it was okay, but kept her hands clasped protectively against her, one at her throat, the other at her waist. Watching her, Chase wondered at her unexpected prudency. It seemed so at odds with the self-assurance she exuded during the day. But then, maybe this, too, was to be expected, he thought
pragmatically. After all, they were both single people of the opposite sex. She'd been widowed for some time. The were approximately the same age. He knew damn well he was attracted to her and that she felt the same about him.

Hope wished she were still fully dressed. It was awkward being with him when all she had on was a nightgown and robe. Forcing herself to let go of the stranglehold she held on the belt to her robe, she followed him up the back stairs and down the long hall to Joey's room. Joey was curled up on his side, his battered teddy bear in his arms. What he really would have preferred, Hope knew, was a puppy sleeping at the foot of his bed. But he couldn't have that. Considering what had happened earlier tonight, she couldn't think of giving in.

Joey looked up as he heard Chase come in. “Hi, buddy,” Chase said, sitting down beside him on the bed.

Joey fingered the black silk tie that hung over Chase's pleated white tuxedo shirt. “Where you been?” he asked sleepily.

“At a boring party.”

“If it was boring, why'd you go?” Joey asked.

Chase grinned. “Because I was the guest of honor and it would have been rude of me not to show up.” His eyes darkened with regret as he looked at Hope. “I'm sorry I couldn't have invited you. There were some people, medical researchers and friends of mine. You would've enjoyed meeting them.”

“It's okay,” she said, glad he hadn't slighted her deliberately.

“I realize you weren't the host.”

“So what were you doing there?” Joey asked.

Chase turned back to her son. “I was trying to raise some funds for my next project.”

Joey perked up at the hint of adventure. “Are you going back to the rain forest?”

Chase nodded. Realizing Chase would be leaving them again in the process, Joey's face fell. Hope knew exactly how her son felt; thinking about it, she was disappointed, too. She kept fantasizing Chase would decide to stay on here, even though she knew that was unlikely in the extreme.

Chase smoothed back Joey's hair. He noticed, as did Hope, that Joey still held his inhaler tight in his hand.

“Well, we better let you get some sleep,” Chase said softly.
“But I'll be here the rest of the night if you need me,” Chase continued.

“Okay. Thanks, Chase.” Joey sighed. Curling on his side, he closed his eyes.

Hope kissed Joey good-night and they left the room. As they walked down the hall, Chase asked, “Can you hear him from the kitchen?”

Hope nodded. “I've got the intercom turned on in his room, so I can listen in.”

All scientist, Chase asked, “Any idea what brought this attack on?”

Hope gestured to a seat at the kitchen table. “He disobeyed the rules and went to see a friend's new puppy this afternoon.” Hope shook her head unhappily as she poured them both a fresh cup of coffee and got out the cream and sugar. “You should have heard him tonight, Chase. He wants a puppy in the worst way. I feel like Simon Legree, being unable to give him one.”

Chase made an emphatic sound as he lifted the coffee cup to his lips and blew on the steaming liquid before taking a first sip. “Poor kid. I know how he feels. I wasn't allowed to have a pet when I was a kid, either, for completely different reasons. My mother thought animals in the house were déclassé and if left outside, they tore up the yard.”

“What did your father say?” Hope couldn't imagine the soft-hearted Edmond refusing Chase a pet for those reasons.

“I never asked him.”

Hope looked up in surprise.

Chase shrugged and eased out of his tuxedo jacket, hanging it on the chair behind him. “I knew he'd probably say yes. That would've made my mother furious and put me in the middle of World War III. I had no desire to go through that, so I contented myself by seeing other friend's pets. And now I can't have one, of course, because he'd have to be in a kennel at least half the time.” He sat back in the chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “What about you?” he asked lazily. “Did you have a pet?”

Hope smiled, dwelling on the one part of her childhood that had brought her nothing but happiness. “Lots of them, as it happened. We lived in the country and people were always dumping animals out there. So we always had a number of dogs and several
farm cats.” She rested her chin on her upturned hand, her voice softening contentedly. “I loved those animals. Which, of course, makes it all the harder for me now.” She straightened and as she did so, her robe gaped open slightly, revealing the V-neck of her lace-edged blue cotton gown. All too aware Chase had just had a good look at the shadowy cleft between her breasts, she drew the edges of the robe together self-consciously. “I really wish I could give Joey a puppy.”

With effort, Chase kept his eyes trained on her face, and not what he had just inadvertently seen. “But you can't.”

“No,” Hope said, still holding on to her robe with one hand.

“And he resents me for it.”

Trying not to notice the color in her face, or wonder if her thoughts were as voluptuous and ill directed as his own, Chase soothed pragmatically, “He'll get over it.”

Hope thought about that a minute. She got up restlessly and walked over to freshen first her coffee, then his. “I don't know, Chase,” she confessed as her eyes filled with tears. “You didn't see him earlier tonight. He was so upset.”

“And that's when he had the attack, after the two of you argued?” Chase asked.

Hope nodded. Looking somewhat relieved, she admitted shakily, “Fortunately it was over pretty quickly.”

She sat down across from him again, aware of the restless feeling deep inside her that was wholly unrelated to the asthma attack.

Beneath his surface calm, Chase looked edgy, too. “You planning to stay up all night?” Chase asked practically after a moment.

As strung out as she was, Hope knew she couldn't sleep. She ran a hand through her dark hair, sweeping it back away from her face. “I think I should, in case he has another attack.”

Chase's gaze darkened sympathetically. “You look exhausted,” he said softly. “Why don't you let me stay with him? I'll go up and sit with him in his room.”

“You wouldn't mind?”

“Not at all,” Chase reassured her with an easy smile. “Just don't expect to see me at the store before noon.”

Hope returned his grin. “If you stay up all night, I don't expect to see you there at all,” she qualified.

“You've got a deal on that,” he said. Together, they headed up the stairs.

Hope awakened to see early-morning sunlight streaming in her windows and Carmelita carrying a tray into her room. “Breakfast in bed?” she commented bewilderedly. That wasn't part of the morning ritual and never had been. Wealthy or not, she and Edmond had always had breakfast together in the dining room.

“Mr. Chase says you need it. You were up very late last night,” Carmelita said, fitting the tray across Hope's lap.

Hope asked worriedly, “How is Joey this morning?” She wasn't used to having anyone else care for Joey during these times. Even when Edmond was alive, she had always been the one who sat up nights with Joey.

“Joey is still asleep. Mr. Chase sends you a message. He says not to worry, Joey is fine.”

“Thank heavens for that,” Hope said. Her limbs felt heavy and uncooperative, and she struggled to sit up against the pillows.

“Now, is there anything else you need?” Carmelita asked. She removed the stainless-steel covers on a steaming Denver omelet and fluffy buttermilk biscuits with fresh strawberry jam and real butter. Juice and coffee rounded out the meal.

“No,” Hope said, taking her first heavenly sip of caffeine. “Just make sure Chase has a good breakfast, too.”

Carmelita grinned. “I already have. He had a Denver omelet, too.” She paused. “He said to let Joey sleep as late as possible. Is that okay with you?”

Hope nodded. “I think he's going to have to skip school today.”

Carmelita took the news in stride, which made Hope wonder if
she was the only one, besides her son, who had trouble coping with Joey's asthma. “What about you?” Carmelita continued officiously. “Are you going in to the office?”

“Probably later, after Joey is up.” But right now, she thought, still feeling groggy and exhausted, there was no hurry.

To Hope's relief, her morning went much more smoothly than the previous evening. Joey woke up cranky but fine. Considering all he had been through and the disappointment he was dealing with, Hope considered that status quo. She phoned the school and picked up his assignments. Chase was in her son's room when she walked in. He was wearing jeans and a Rice University sweatshirt. His jaw was freshly shaven and bore the traces of a brisk after-shave. His layered blond hair curled damply around his collar.

“Well, you all are busy,” she said, looking down at the playing cards they held in their hands. She too had taken the time to shower and dress in a favorite navy suit and silk blouse. Joey was still in his pajamas, sitting propped up against the pillows. He was pale and washed-out, but like Chase, had a devilish glint in his eyes. The kind little boys got when they were up to a harmless bit of mischief and knew it.

“I'm teaching him how to play poker, a skill no man should be without,” Chase said with comically exaggerated seriousness. He gave her son a discerning glance and placed a firm hand on Joey's thin shoulder. “This boy has a lot of potential, Hope. A lot of potential,” he stressed.

Hope rolled her eyes. “Thanks, heaps, Chase.”

He ducked his head modestly, as if accepting the highest praises. “Oh, anytime.”

Hope dumped Joey's book bag on the bed. “Your homework, sire.” She turned serious. “I told your teacher I thought you'd be back in school tomorrow.”

Joey nodded, his expression turning glum. Chase soothed, “Sitting in a classroom is that bad, huh?”

Joey shook his head, the gaiety of moments before forgotten. He shuffled the cards in his hand. “It's not that.”

“Then what is it?” Chase asked gently.

“It's the stupid asthma.” Joey's chin trembled and he refused to meet either of their eyes. “I'm never going to be able to do anything! I can't have a pet! I can't play ball worth a darn. I can't go camping. I—”

“Whoa, whoa!” Chase held up a hand. “There is nothing stopping you from being an A-number-one athlete, kiddo.”

“What do you mean? You know I can't even run all the bases without getting out of breath.”

“Yeah, but that's typical of a lot of kids your age,” Chase said. Joey sent him a pained look. “Okay,” Chase conceded on a slightly less optimistic note, “so they don't all have to use an inhaler. But there are plenty of people who have succeeded athletically who do have to use an inhaler.”

Joey folded his arms across his thin chest and sent Chase a challenging glare. “Name one.”

“I'll name two. Baseball pitcher Jim ‘Catfish' Hunter.”

Joey did a double take. “He has asthma?”

“Not only does he have asthma, he's pitched in the World Series,” Chase affirmed. “And then there's Olympic track star Jackie Joyner Kersee. She has asthma but she didn't let it stop her. You can have a normal life, Joey, a good life, but you've got to work for it and stop feeling sorry for yourself. Now, I know you're disappointed about not having a pet, and I'm sorry about that, but things could be worse, you know.”

“Yes, they could be,” Hope chimed in softly, glad Chase was talking so honestly with her son. Times like this, she needed someone to back her up, both emotionally and verbally, where Joey was concerned. And Chase, bless him, was doing just that.

Briefly Joey looked ashamed for his temperamental attitude. He hung his head and drew a design on his bedspread with his fingertip. “I know. I could be homeless, or not have a mom or any toys or anything.”

“That's right,” Chase said. “And instead, you have a wonderful home and a great mom.” He reached behind him and taking Hope's hand in his own larger, warmer one, pulled her forward.

“If you ask me, pal, you have a lot to be thankful for.”

Chastened, Joey gave a little sigh, this one accepting. He still wasn't happy but he wasn't nearly so unhappy, either. He looked from Hope to Chase, and seeing the mingled forgiveness and empathy in their eyes, said, “I guess I better get started on my homework.”

“I think that's a great idea,” Hope said. Chase, all easy grace and sinewy strength, dropped his hold on her hand and got laconically to his feet. Trying not to notice how empty her hand felt
now that he was no longer holding it, Hope continued tongue in cheek, “Not that poker playing isn't a much needed skill.”

“But.” Chase leaned forward and tapped Joey's math book.

“You gotta learn how to add up all those winning points, first.”

Joey grinned. “Yeah, right,” he drawled in the same comically exaggerated tone.

Hope and Chase left Joey's room together. “You going into the office?” he asked, his attitude suddenly becoming businesslike.

She nodded, trying not to feel disappointed. She wasn't as close as her son was to Chase. She gave him a direct, appreciative look. “Thanks for spending the night and giving Joey the pep talk.” She shrugged. “I tell him the same things but he doesn't seem to hear me.”

“Of course not.” Chase agreed, as if that were the most natural thing in the world. He laced a comforting arm around her shoulders. “You're his mother. Who ever listens to their mother?”

At that, Hope had to smile. She hadn't listened to her mother, either. They reached the front hall and he dropped the casual hand he had laced around her shoulders.

Chase stuffed both hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I had an idea last night about how to make Joey feel better.”

“I'm all for that,” Hope said tiredly.

“I think part of his problem is that he doesn't feel enough like a regular guy. And he had a point about the camping—”

“He can't go to the mountains with his friends, Chase.”

“I agree with you there. But he could rough it somewhere here in Texas. Say down in Galveston or Padre Island or up in the state park in Bastrop.”

Hope's expression grew apprehensive. “What if he has an attack?”

“There are hospitals close by,” he soothed. “And I'd be there,” Chase continued. “As far as his medical condition goes, we'd talk to his doctor first. Make sure we had everything we needed in terms of medications, peak flow meters, nebulizers, and so forth. You could even go with us if it'd make you feel better.”

Hope knew Chase was more than qualified to handle any problems that came up, medical or otherwise. Still, it was hard for her to let go; Chase saw that.

“You don't have to give me an answer right away,” he interjected gently, touching the back of his hand to her face. “Just
think about it for a few days, okay?” Exerting the tiniest pressure, he lifted her face to his, continuing softly in the same velvet-edged tone, “Consider how much this would mean to Joey and how much better it would make him feel about himself, how much more normal. Think about how much fun he'd have cooking his meals over an open fire and tromping through the woods. And then give me your answer.”

She knew he was right. Joey would have a blast. She sighed, still feeling torn. Her intellect said to let him go, her mother's instinct said to keep him home. Chase wasn't making it easy for her to say no.

 

“I
AGREE
with your stepson, Mrs. Barrister,” Joey's physician said later the same day. “A camping trip of the sort Chase has in mind sounds like excellent therapy for Joey.”

Hope paced back and forth nervously, the telephone receiver pressed to her face. “What about the pollen?”

“We can put him on some medication, short-term, to help lessen his potential reaction to any pollens he encounters. And you can take his peak flow meter and inhaler. With Chase there with you, you shouldn't have any problems. And even if you do, he'll know what to do.”

That wasn't what was bothering her, Hope admitted to herself after she thanked the doctor, and hung up the phone. It was the idea of being in the wilderness with Chase and Joey for three or four days.

She was just too aware of Chase, as a man. She couldn't get rid of the image of how he had looked last night, coming through her back door, in his black tuxedo. Or how fresh he had looked this morning, despite his lack of sleep. She couldn't forget the way he laced a companionable arm around her shoulders or how gently he touched her face. He made her feel like a woman again; he made her feel vulnerable. He made her aware of how acutely alone she had been, the past year.

But that wasn't all. He had been so sweet when he had talked to Joey last night, so caring. So sympathetic to her, too. And then so boyishly mischievous when he had been caught playing poker with Joey. There was so much life to Chase, so much energy, and so much fun. The more she saw him, the more she yearned to be
close to him, and not in any way remotely connected with their current familial ties.

No, she wanted to get to know him the way a woman gets to know a man she's interested in. And that couldn't happen. Chase was a man who wanted the truth from a woman, the whole truth. He had demonstrated as much by his angry, frustrated reaction to her meetings with Russell Morris. He had expected her to confide in him, and when she hadn't, he'd been deeply hurt.

She knew all she would have to do is level with him. If she told him the whole ugly story, he would understand her reluctance to confide in him. But she couldn't do that, either, not without destroying all he held near and dear about his father. Not without destroying his image of her. No, she had promised Edmond his secret was one she would carry with her to her grave. It was a promise she still had to keep.

 

“C
OME ON
, Joey! Get a hit for us!” Joey's teammates yelled two days later as he stepped up at bat for what was to be the first game of the season.

In the stands, Hope sat tensely. Beside her, Chase seemed just as anxious for Joey.

Glancing over his shoulder at the two of them and then his coach, a white-faced Joey choked up on the bat as he had been told to do. He faced the pitcher determinedly. To Hope's silent lament, the first pitch was a strike. So was the second.

“Oh, man!” one of the Bateman twins yelled at Joey from the bench. “Can't we get a pinch hitter for that nerd?”

At the words, Hope's jaw clenched, and it was all she could do to stay in her place. Chase, who seemed to be handling the rude heckling better than Hope, touched her arm lightly. “Relax. He's doing okay,” he murmured.

Her son
was
handling the twins better than she was. Hope took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down as the pitcher wound up and threw the third pitch. There was no reason this should be getting to her the way it was, she thought. Determined to maintain control of her erupting temper, she concentrated on the pitch. It was too low and Joey didn't swing. “Ball one,” the umpire cried.

“See,” Chase said triumphantly, every bit as proud of Joey as
Hope was. He reached over and briefly squeezed her hand. “He knows what to do, Hope.”

Hope relaxed slightly. Somehow, it was easier sitting through this with Chase at her side.

The next pitch came. Joey swung, and a solid cracking sound filled the air as the wooden bat made contact with the ball. A cheer went up from Joey's team. He tossed down the bat and trotted off to first, long before the ground ball was returned. “Way to go, Joey!” Chase shouted.

Next up to bat was a Bateman twin. “Let's see how he does,” Hope murmured, hoping rather mean-spiritedly that the obnoxious twin wouldn't do nearly as well as her son.

The twin missed the first pitch but recovered and hit the second, sending the ball flying out into left field. As Bateman sped toward first, he already had his eye on second. The opposing team's outfielder had the ball seconds after it hit the ground, but Bateman, determined to make this a double, was already flying toward second base, waving and yelling at Joey. “Go, go!” he shouted.

Joey took a trembling look at third, at the outfielder, and at Bateman, then did the only thing he could. He took off for third; he had an impossible task ahead of him. Bateman should have stayed on first instead of trying to hotdog it.