скачать книгу бесплатно
They ate in silence. In the past, Isabella had been comfortable with Cole’s contemplative moods. But today she knew he wasn’t thinking. He was seething. Fire was in his eyes as he stole glances at her between bites. But why?
She was the one with the right to be angry. He had left her, accepting the scholarship for pre-med and, eventually, the residency at New York’s Hospital for Special Surgery when she’d thought he would come back to New Orleans for her.
She’d been sold out for a ten-thousand-dollar grant. If Isabella had known that was how much money Cole could be bought for, she would have written the check from her own trust fund.
But, then, she hadn’t known she’d needed to buy his love.
Adrian looked up at Cole, happiness shining in his eyes as he sat with his real-life hero in the flesh.
Cole returned the look, adding a smile and passing Adrian a napkin. Adrian took it from Cole’s hand instead of insisting Cole lay the napkin on the table. That kind of trust usually took a carer weeks to establish.
The intercom blared, paging Dr. Lassiter to the first-aid tent. “I’ve got to go.”
As he stood, a storm built in Adrian’s face.
Please, not a meltdown. Not now. Isabella braced herself for the scene she would be dealing with the moment Cole walked away. At fourteen, Adrian’s pubescent temper tantrums were becoming more and more difficult to deal with. She began digging in her purse for Adrian’s scarf, hoping the scrap of fabric would have a calming effect should Adrian’s emotions overcome his learned behavior.
Cole turned to face Adrian, without doubt noting the mottled red in his face.
Would Cole judge her to be a bad mother? Many people would, if they had never had to cope with autism.
He looked Adrian in the eye, not flinching away as his son’s whole body started to shake. While taking the scarf from Isabella and handing it to Adrian, he subtly put himself between her and her son. Did he realize his protective maneuver? Did he think she needed to be shielded from her own son?
Isabella herself prayed that day would never come.
Adrian twisted both hands in the scarf, his thumbs tracing the pile of the heavy cut velvet while he raised the satin side to his lips, taking deep breaths like they’d practiced.
Isabella held her own breath as she watched Cole.
If Cole showed any sign of belittlement or disdain for Adrian’s self-soothing, it could set off Adrian’s barely restrained emotions.
Cole gave Adrian a respectful nod. “Good job, Adrian. A man controls his temper around a woman.”
He took a card from his wallet, scribbling on the back. “Here’s my cellphone number, in case you ever need me.” His glance took in both of them.
He put the card down within Adrian’s reach then once again walked out of her life, leaving his empty promise behind.
CHAPTER TWO
COLE walked away, feeling Bella’s eyes burn into his back.
Maybe he had overstepped the mark, giving Adrian his card. But an inexplicable compulsion deep within him had prevented him from cutting off his connection with the boy.
There was no connection—could never be a connection—between him and Isabella. She had severed that with a knife in the back.
The rest of the morning dragged by with only one other patient, a mother with a minor ankle sprain. While he tried to explain that four-inch heels and bleachers didn’t mix, she attempted to seduce him with invitations for drinks on the veranda after her ex-husband picked up the children that evening.
She was exactly the kind of Southern belle he always imagined Bella would have turned into. Not that he thought of Bella often. He’d had to train himself quickly to put her out of his mind or he would have never made it through medical school.
But forgetting about her after seeing her today took all his mental prowess.
While he’d rather head to the hotel to put a heat pack on his aching neck, he headed toward the classrooms instead. He’d promised his office manager he would pick up some information on early recognition of learning difficulties. Her daughter’s pediatrician was starting to suspect a problem. And heat packs wouldn’t cure his problem anyway. Only time would heal a neck and shoulder strain—just like only time would heal his heartache. But how much time? Fifteen years should have been long enough.
He ducked into a full auditorium and leaned against the door frame. The man next to him handed over a sheaf of lecture notes that Cole took with a politely absent nod, intending to drop out as quickly as he dropped in.
That was when he noticed the speaker, Isabella Allante, at the podium. A video on a giant screen behind her showed Adrian in his younger years, staring into the camera, while other children enjoyed a birthday party.
“So you see, I understand. I’m one of you.” She met the eyes of parents scattered around the room. “My son has autism and I can’t cure him.”
A frisson of emotion quivered through him, an emotion that was too big to name.
He had to look away from Adrian’s stare.
Cole frowned and glanced at the paper he held then glanced at his watch. Wrong time zone. He was late for the workshop on early detection by an hour.
As unobtrusively as he could, he turned to leave. From the podium, Bella fell silent. Just a pause. Just a beat. Just enough to make everyone turn and look at him.
He’d never been one to be swayed by general consensus—unlike Bella. How had sweet, pliable Bella managed with a son as challenging as Adrian? Still, he chose to stay to keep from disrupting Bella’s talk any further.
“I’ve learned to deal with the ups and downs of life with honesty about my strengths and weaknesses.” She stumbled on her closing sentences before she found her rhythm again. “And honesty about my emotions.”
If that was true, she’d certainly changed.
The ring of sincerity in her message kept the crowd enthralled. “As many of you know, my background is in cognitive behavior therapy. But my specialty is in pain management, not autism. Like you, I can’t stay immersed in the study of my child’s disability to the exclusion of all else. Also, like you, I want to do everything within my power to help my child live a contented and worthwhile life. And that includes taking care of myself, mentally, physically and spiritually, and asking for help when I need it. I encourage you to do the same.”
Was Bella staring straight at him? How could she even see him through the crowd? He must be imagining her focus on him, imagining her eyes accusing him of—of what?
When Bella stepped down from the podium and a website address and phone number flashed on the video screen, replacing the birthday scene, Cole felt like he’d been given a reprieve.
Back when Cole had known her, Isabella had been the kind of girl who’d avoided confrontation at all costs. But she was no longer that insecure, unconfident girl she’d been. She rushed to catch Cole, almost running in her three-inch wedges, hoping her favorite shoes would hold together long enough to overtake his long-legged strides.
In the parking lot, he stopped next to a BMW with a rental sticker on the window and took a look behind him, pinning her with his stare. “You want to say something to me?”
Isabella glared right back. “Why are you here?”
She winced when her confrontational words came out soft and breathless. Her wispy tone had nothing to do with the flaring ferocity of emotion in Cole’s eyes but was completely due to her being out of shape. She needed to start running with her son—if she could find a free slot in her schedule.
Cole gave her a once-over, a quick assessment from head to toe. She resisted the impulse to smooth her hair behind her ear or cross her arms over her chest.
“I’m consulting on a few cases with the sports clinic.”
“It’s hard to imagine you working with the SC.”
Cole had always wanted to work for charity, not for big money. In fact, he had been a bit of a reverse snob about money. He’d definitely gotten over that hang-up.
“It’s hard to imagine you as the mother of a teenage boy.”
She smirked. “Time does have a way of changing us—some of us for the better.”
“You, Bella?”
“Definitely. And you?”
He lifted an eyebrow then redirected the conversation. “Where’s Adrian?”
She had the petulant instinct to answer, None of your business. But she was more mature than that. Besides, wasn’t it better to figure out his intentions instead of antagonizing him, so she could be prepared?
“At a boy-girl mixer.”
Getting back on track, she asked, “How long will you be in town?”
“I’m not sure yet.” He said it defensively, tensing his shoulders with a grimace.
His evasiveness set off warning signals. In her profession she had learned to trust her instincts and to read the unspoken message behind tone of voice and body language.
“You have changed, Cole. You were never unsure before. You were always so cocky and full of bravado.”
“Bluffing my way through was the only way I could get where I needed to go. A poor boy on scholarship to one of the wealthiest college prep schools in the United States has to convince everyone—incuding himself—that he’s good enough to be there.” He stood incrementally taller. “I don’t have to prove myself to anyone anymore.”
Sadness swamped her. Sadness for what could have been. But Cole had chosen ambition over her and their child—when he could have had it all if he had stayed. “You never had to prove yourself to me.”
“That’s not how I saw it. You needed approval from your family and friends. Therefore, I needed their approval to be with you. You never even told your father we were dating, too afraid he’d forbid it if he found out.”
“He would have, too, if David’s mother had advised him to. And you know Mrs. Beautemps. She would have made sure we couldn’t see each other.”
Isabella loved her father with all her heart, but he had been totally overwhelmed at raising a teenage daughter after her mother had died, and had turned over all decisions, major or minor, to her mother’s best friend, Marjorie Beautemps. Trying to honor her friend, David’s mother had taken Isabella to her bosom, almost smothering her, until the divorce.
Even though Mrs. Beautemps’ hostile rejection hurt, Isabella could now draw a full breath without being reminded of society’s proprieties.
Where would she and Cole be now if she had been a rebellious wild child instead of a submissive and insecure teenager? Of course, getting pregnant with Adrian could have gone a long way toward eroding her good-girl image if David hadn’t married her, letting the world assume Adrian was his child.
But Cole wasn’t part of that world. She’d done everything in her power to let him know the truth and he had chosen to ignore it. She searched his eyes for a sign, a flicker of guilt or remorse. All she saw was cold, hard pride.
Cole gave Isabella a tight smile. “What we were, what we might have been—that’s all in the past, isn’t it? Anything between us is best forgiven and forgotten.”
Isabella thought of her beautiful son as Cole shrugged off their past together. How could Cole dismiss Adrian so easily? He had seemed genuinely interested in their son earlier. Something wasn’t adding up.
What about the letter written in his scrawled handwriting that was locked away in her jewelry chest? For the first time since she’d ripped open that envelope, a niggling of doubt wormed its way into her thoughts. There was no way he couldn’t know—was there?
“Cole, maybe we need to talk.” Her phone vibrated a warning alarm, reminding her it was time to pick up Adrian. “But not now.”
He gave her a hard frown that finally softened around the edges. “Anytime, Bella. For old times’ sake.”
It was the last day of the games. It seemed they’d gone on for four years instead of four days. Isabella was exhausted. She wanted to rub her eyes with the back of her hand, but smeared mascara wouldn’t make the fashion statement she was going for.
To say her nerves were frayed was like saying the Titanic had hit an ice cube. This morning she felt like she was going under just as fast and fatefully as that famous ship.
All because of Cole Lassiter.
She’d been waking up in the middle of the night, going over and over in her mind those weeks she had spent trying to get a response from Cole.
Cole had to know about Adrian, right? After all she had done to inform him, how could he not know? How could he act so unparent-like toward Adrian? But, then, it took more than sperm to be a father, didn’t it?
At her side, Adrian’s hand rhythmically beat the air. Such big movements only happened when his world was off-kilter.
Her son was picking up on her mood. Out of the blue, he’d decided he didn’t want to brush his teeth this morning. Heaven help her, she’d resorted to her old method of persuasion and told him that his father always brushed his teeth so he wouldn’t have stinky breath and people would like him. That had promptly taken care of the problem.
It had also set her to wondering what woman got to take advantage of Cole’s minty-fresh breath nowadays—even while she castigated herself for caring.
She took a look around the field where the coaches organized their teams while waiting for the start of today’s activities. Since Adrian didn’t play soccer, he would have to stay by her side while she took care of her volunteer duties.
For the past few days Isabella had invoked all her willpower to give Adrian the privilege of wandering the grounds within her eyesight instead of making him stick with her. She was trying her best to let him have more independence, but was having a hard time letting go.
But today had nothing to do with independence but with mother’s intuition. She could tell by the rebellious glint in his eye that she couldn’t trust him to stay out of trouble by himself.
“Hi,” drawled a deep Southern male voice behind them.
Isabella’s heart skipped a beat until her head caught up with her and she realized it wasn’t Cole.
The man was the father of one of Adrian’s friends.
Why was she jumping every time she heard a man speak? She’d been doing that every day since her first encounter with Cole, and not once had he approached her.
Just because today was the last day of the games, did she think he would seek her out to say goodbye? Not likely.
“Could Adrian hang out with us today? My wife is helping on the field and we could use the company.”
“Sure.” She watched as the two boys raced each other up into the stands safely under proper supervision. The resourceful father produced two pair of cheap binoculars from his bag.
Adrian held a pair of binoculars up to his eyes and scanned the field, looking for his own father, his hero come to life.
Because she couldn’t stop herself, Bella took a look toward the medical tent with little expectation of finding Cole there.
Everyone took pride in the special games being conducted as safely as possible and this week’s regional competitions were no exception. Which left a doctor with too much time on his hands. Apparently, sitting in a stifling medical tent while awaiting a medical incident wasn’t Cole’s style.
For the last several days he’d been everywhere, helping out at the registration table, chaperoning the non-competitive activities and handing out medals, which pleased her athletic son beyond imagining as Cole presented him with a slew of blue, red and green ribbons for his various competitions.
Everywhere Cole could be found, there was Adrian. And all that time Cole had said nothing, done nothing, to acknowledge Adrian as his son.
He’d seemed to be avoiding her, too. Not that she had sought him out. She didn’t have to. That same awareness of each other they’d shared all those years ago gave her a sixth sense in knowing where he was the whole time he was on the stadium grounds.
What was his game? That was the thought that had been uppermost in her mind the past four days.
She had reverted, she was ashamed to admit, back to that passive girl who waited for answers to come to her.
Well, she had waited long enough.
Today she would make him listen. She would look him in the eye to make sure there was no misunderstanding and tell him he was too late. Neither she nor Adrian wanted him in their lives …
