The Debra Dilemma (The Lone Stars Book 4) (3 page)

She could never make up for the things that she’d done…all she could hope for was a tiny bit of good karma, because she’d finally wised up and was trying to make a difference now. It was too little too late, but it was better than nothing.

“Really, I can have anything?” Ellie was skeptical…they were always skeptical.

“You can have anything you want for free. And it’s yours forever…no take backs.” They only ever took one toy. She never got used to that—these kids needed so much—but every single child she brought to the toy room only took one item, usually something small and easy to conceal. No one could take it from them if it was hidden. The psychologist had told her that it was a coping mechanism. Children of abuse learned to fade into the background. They had to hide, and the things they loved had to hide with them.

Ellie walked slowly around the room and finally settled on a small pink stuffed bunny. “This one.”

The toy selection process was always fun to watch. It fascinated Debra. The criteria seemed to change for every child.

Children really were a blessing, and maybe someday she’d be blessed with another child. She was finally getting her life together once and for all and this time she would be a better mother—the perfect mother.

Ellie glanced at Debra and then the bunny and then back at Debra. She was waiting for Debra to hand it to her. It wasn’t real until the toy was in Ellie’s hands. Debra picked up the soft pink bunny and gently handed it to the little girl. Her eyes locked on the bunny and her whole body radiated happiness. Children did everything at full power—they hugged with their whole bodies and when they cried, their whole bodies drooped. They were all or everything.

Ellie ran her hand over the soft pink fur and she looked up at Debra with love shining in her eyes. “It’s so pretty and soft.”

Everything in Debra wanted to hug this little girl and make sure she had a lifetime of pretty and soft, but touching had to be initiated by the client. This sweet child deserved a closet full of frothy pink dresses and shiny black patent leather shoes and hair bows the size of helicopter blades, but all Debra was allowed to give her was a small pink bunny.

It wasn’t nearly enough.

“Let’s go pick you out some new shoes.” Debra held her hand out for Ellie.

This time the little girl took it without thinking. That made Debra smile and she took a millisecond to revel in that one small accomplishment.

“Debra, I need a favor.” Dr. Ben Mathews stuck his head out of the exam room. He glanced down at Ellie, making sure that his body was blocking the gruesome scene of her mother getting patched up.

He had soft, kind brown eyes and a gentle manner that put everyone at ease. He was the only male on staff and usually dealt with any husbands that found their way here looking for their wives.

“Sure, let me just finish up with Miss Ellie and I’ll be right back.” Debra nodded. Rule number one when dealing with abuse victims was to never hand them off to another person. Once a rapport had been established, staying with the client was paramount.

“Sounds like a plan.” He bent down to Ellie’s level, but kept his hands at his sides. He smiled broadly. “Your mother is an excellent patient. I should be finished with her by the time you pick out your new shoes. I’m going to need your help though.” He winked conspiratorially. “I need for you to make sure that she keeps her bandages clean. Think you can do that?”

Ellie’s chest swelled with importance. “Yes.”

He pointed to the bunny. “Who’s that?”

“That’s my new friend. Her name is Lady Bunny.” Ellie waved one bunny arm but didn’t offer the bunny for him to hold.

Debra was pretty sure that she wouldn’t let go of that bunny for several days.

“Lady Bunny. I love that name.” Dr. Mathews waved back at Lady Bunny. “I can’t wait to see your new shoes.”

Ellie giggled. “The shoes aren’t for Lady Bunny, silly, they’re for me.”

“Oh, that makes so much more sense.” He made a big show of nodding. “Have fun shopping in the clothes closet.”

He straightened and turned back to his patient.

“He’s nice.” Ellie smiled up at Debra.

And just like that, another female had fallen in love with Dr. Ben Mathews.

It was good that Ellie could see some men as nice. She didn’t want to dash Ellie’s hopes, because she was pretty sure Ben was gay.

An hour later Debra sat at the back of the Starbucks on the corner of Highway One Eighty Three and Anderson Mill Road stirring her Trenta hot chocolate with three extra pumps of mocha. The errand Ben had needed her help with involved meeting someone who wanted to donate ten thousand dollars. The fact that it was well after nine at night and this was probably a husband trying to find his wife had occurred to both Ben and her, but the promise of money was money.

Usually Ben met anyone who was male, but he needed to stay with Ellie’s mother, and a new patient had walked through the door when Debra was on her way out..

Years of Krav Maga had taught her how to defend herself, but this meeting was still risky. God knew, she’d give ten thousand dollars not to be here. No one knew that she was the anonymous donor funneling money into Safe Place nine thousand dollars at a time. Any more than that and she’d have to disclose her name. When she went to work, they only saw her as Debra Covington and not as Media mogul Ty Covington’s daughter. Even in death, the man cast a big shadow, one she was still trying to crawl out from under.

She sipped her hot chocolate and waited and waited and waited. She glanced at her Tag Heuer wristwatch. It was almost ten o’clock. Mr. Moneybags was late.

She abhorred late people. There was something arrogant about people who made others waste their precious time because of poor planning. Even at her worst, she was never late.

Debra needed to get back to work helping others instead of sitting here debating the merits of ordering another hot chocolate. An anemic moth-eaten fake Christmas tree sat off to one corner next to a cardboard fireplace with drawn-on flames. It was lonely and pathetic and tired…just like her. Sitting here alone gave her time to think and that was a bad thing…a very bad thing. She tried to never be alone with her conscience. Most nights she slept at the shelter in case she was needed for intake. But here and now, in this lonely Starbucks surrounded by empty seats, she couldn’t help the self-pity and reflection.

Tomorrow was December fourteenth, the worse day of the year. She checked her watch again. And it would be here in less than two hours. It rolled around every single year and every single year she wasn’t prepared for it. Last year, she’d actually taken the scissors and cut that day from her wall calendar, but it hadn’t helped. December fourteenth still came and with it all the heart ache of loss.

Her sweet, beautiful baby boy, August John, had been born on December fourteenth and died one minute later. The nurse had called him an angel baby and had told her that he was living with the angels now. Debra had wanted to punch her in the throat and to tell those fucking angels to give her son back.

She bit her bottom lip so hard that she tasted blood. She would not descend into self-pity yet. It wasn’t midnight, she had a little less than two hours left. Tomorrow she’d allow herself to go down that rabbit hole—one day a year, she gave herself over to the grief and the rest of the year, she pretended like nothing had happened.

“Debra?” The male voice was so familiar.

She rolled her eyes up to find Warren Daniver. Her heart rate kicked up a notch so she took a long, calming breath and let it out slowly. This was all she needed. On the eve of her son’s death, she had to face down his father.

What exactly had she done to piss off God? On second thought, she really didn’t want to know. There had been so many things, maybe God hadn’t been able to pick just one.

“Don’t tell me
you
are the anonymous donor?” Debra tried not to sound angry, but that seemed to be her go-to emotion when it came to Warren. He looked perfect in his tailored navy pinstripe suit. His tie was missing and the top two buttons were undone. His black hair looked like he’d combed his fingers through it a couple dozen times and his sharp royal blue eyes now had faint lines at the corners. How was it possible that he’d gotten more handsome?

The fucker.

God was most definitely a man because a woman would have given Warren male pattern baldness and a beer gut in repayment for leaving her high and dry when she’d needed him most. She tried to picture him with a beer belly and no hair, but all that kept coming to mind was how much he looked like Superman minus the cape and red boots.

“Yes.” He took the seat across from her. “How are you?”

She shook her head. “Small talk, really?”

“I just…you know…wanted to make sure….you know…that you were okay.” He wiped his palms on his thighs.

Her eyes zeroed in on the golden crumbs sprinkled down the front of his white shirt. He still ate potato chips? It seemed so odd that this well-put-together, thirty-five-year-old man still ate enough potato chips that he wore the crumbs on his chest like a badge of dishonor.

She was pretty sure that Superman didn’t eat potato chips or for that matter, anything. Come to think of it, did he ever have to use the bathroom? Getting in and out of those tights must be a pain in the ass.

Warren and his potato chips were none of her business.

“I’m fine,” she lied, and held out her hand. “Where’s the check?”

“I thought we could have a cup of coffee and catch up.” He tried to sound nonchalant, but his voice was a little high and squeaky. He rubbed his hands on his thighs again.

“Why?” With the exception of reliving the birth of her son, she couldn’t think of anything more terrible than catching up with Warren.

“You know…I thought we could be friends.” He sounded so hopeful. His huge eyes drank her in.

She wanted to ask if he was high, but since it was Warren who was the most uptight person in the world, mind altering anything wasn’t an option.

There was a time when she’d have given her life to have him look at her like that, but that was a long time ago. “I think there’s a better chance of me winning an Academy Award.”

“I didn’t know that you’d taken up acting?” He smiled and those damned, heart-melting dimples popped out on both cheeks.

“I haven’t.” She watched his face transform, as he finally understood what she’d meant.

“Oh.” His whole body deflated.

She slammed the door on the part of herself that cared.

“Now if you can just give me the money you promised Safe Place, we can both stop pretending that this meeting is anything but a horrible coincidence.” Though she had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t. Why would he go out of his way to see her when he’d spent the last ten years going out of his way to avoid her?

“Of course.” His voice was all business. He slid his right hand into the left breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a check. He put it on the table and slid it over to her.

The check was for ten thousand dollars. She took it, folded it, and slid it in her left back jeans pocket. It was more than ironic that he’d given her money that he’d made off of the million her father had given him not to see her anymore. Warren’s money was as tainted as her father’s—they were definitely made from the same cloth.

“Goodbye, Warren.” She stood and would have brushed past him, but he touched her arm, and the warmth traveled all the way to her toes. After all these years, she still felt something for the bastard. How was that even possible?

She was halfway to the exit door when she heard, “I know you didn’t have a choice.” His sounded as tired as she felt. “I’m sorry for that.”

She couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d sprouted wings and flew around Starbucks. When she’d told him that she was pregnant, he’d dismissed it as a desperate plea from his drama queen of an ex-girlfriend. When AJ was born, she’d told herself that he hadn’t known, and somehow that had eased her suffering.

But it had been one more lie stacked on top of the mountain of lies that had been their relationship. Her father had told her that nothing good would come from screwing the help, but as always she hadn’t listened. For once he’d been right. Where would she be now, if Warren hadn’t become their pool boy?

What-ifs were too little too late.

She turned around and faced him across the room. “You’re despicable. ”

She walked out of Starbucks and didn’t look back. He was a bastard and he’d known about AJ. If Warren wanted her forgiveness, he was out of his damned mind. She was not a forgive-and-forget kind of person. Since she wasn’t likely to forgive herself, why in the hell did he think she’d forgive him?

Warren sat at the empty table just staring idiotically at the chair Debra had just vacated. He deserved all of her hatred and then some. What he’d done to her was hands down the worst thing one human being could do to another…he’d betrayed her. Back then, he’d thought he was doing the right thing, but he doubted she’d agree. Part of him wanted to run after her and beg forgiveness, but some things were simply unforgivable.