Another Man's Child. Tara Quinn Taylor
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beside her desk and flipped on the light so she could study the results. Her heart sank.
Little Willie Adams’s back was broken; he wouldn’t be playing Little League any more this season, and probably not next, either. Depending on the damage to his spinal cord, he might never be playing it again. Reaching for the phone, she punched in the number for one of the best neurosurgeons she knew, all the while thinking of the little redheaded boy lying so still in the hospital bed across the street. Willie was one of the patients Lisa saw gratis, courtesy of state welfare. He was one of six kids, the only boy, that his mother was raising single-handedly. His father had run off before Willie was born. The one good thing in Willie’s life was his success in Little League.
Lisa pulled into the gate at home two hours later, weary in body, but even wearier in soul. She’d spent an hour with Willie until Dr. Shea had come; she’d told Willie and his mother Willie’s prognosis, she’d answered all of his mother’s questions and watched Willie’s face turn to stone, but she’d never seen him shed a tear. Considering the amount of pain he was in, that was amazing in itself, but to have just had his one hope of getting out of the ghetto snatched away…
Lisa left her Mercedes in the circular driveway, then trudged up the steps, her briefcase weighing on her exhausted muscles as she let herself in. It was late, long past dinnertime, and she knew Hannah, the parttime housekeeper who saw more of Lisa and Marcus’s home than they did, bad left hours before. She started to call out for Marcus, needing him desperately, but closed her mouth before she wasted her breath. He’d been out until midnight or later most every night lately, attempting to keep Blake’s, a family-owned chain of department stores in Rhode Island, from going bankrupt. She didn’t begrudge him the time. Not really. She knew her husband well enough to know how good it made him feel to be able to help save someone else’s dream. Especially since he couldn’t seem to save his own.
But that didn’t stop her from needing him.
Taking her briefcase into the home office she shared with Marcus, she shrugged out of her suit jacket and rubbed the stiff muscles along the back of her neck. Sometimes she wondered if she was meant to be a doctor. She’d never been able to develop that impenetrable shell they’d talked about in medical school.
“Rough day?”
At the sound of Marcus’s voice she whirled around, filled with the instant warmth that still came to her every time he walked into a room.
“Yeah.” She didn’t elaborate as she once might have, rubbing at her neck again.
He looked relaxed, wearing slacks and a polo shirt, instead of one of the suits he always wore to work. She wondered how long he’d been home and was instantly disappointed that she hadn’t been here with him. The gorgeous Connecticut June weather was perfect for evenings sitting out under the stars, sharing a drink. Or more.
His eyes were loving, sympathetic, as he moved closer to her.
“You want to tell me about it?” He pushed her hands aside and began massaging her tense muscles with the expertise born of experience.
Lisa bowed her head, giving him easier access to her neck. “A patient of mine, an eleven-year-old boy, broke his back today playing baseball. He was sliding into home and the catcher fell on top of him.”
“God, the poor kid.” Marcus’s hands continued to work their magic.
“He’d just had an offer from a city team. He’s good, Marcus. And he’s inner city. Baseball was his one shot out.”
“He’s young, Lis. He’s got time to mend.” Marcus pulled her fully into his arms and Lisa soaked up his strength, nestling her head into her usual place on his shoulder.
“He’s paralyzed. The damage may be permanent.” As she said the words out loud, words she hadn’t yet had the heart to tell Willie or his mother, the dam inside her broke and she started to sob, not only for the stalwart little boy lying so still across town, but for the man who held her, for the permanent damage that long-ago fever had done to him, for the damage it was still doing to them.
Marcus held her until her emotion was spent. And then he started to kiss her, long, slow, tender kisses. The healing kind. Offering her forgetfulness in the one way that always worked. She clung to him desperately, and when they moved upstairs to their bedroom, arms wrapped around each other, she gave him all the love within her, all the passion only he could raise. He was her husband, her lover, her best friend. And just as she was going to do everything in her power to help Willie Adams, including footing his bills anonymously if she had to, she was going to do whatever it took to fix the problems between her and Marcus.
Her life’s work was saving lives, but her life was nothing if she didn’t have her soul mate beside her, sharing it with her.
WITH HER NEWFOUND RESOLVE still burning inside, Lisa approached her tenth wedding anniversary the following week with optimism. She checked in on Willie that morning, satisfied that he’d come through his second surgery better than they’d hoped, and then took the rest of the day off. She had some primping to do.
Stopping at the mall on the way home, she wandered through a couple of exclusive lingerie shops until she found just what she was looking for—a black pure-silk teddy. Marcus was a sucker for silk.
“Will there be anything else, Mrs. Cartwright?” the saleswoman asked when Lisa handed over her charge card.
“Is that lavender bubble bath?” Lisa gestured toward the display beside the counter.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s not too overpowering, though, and it’s full of moisturizers. I use it myself. Would you like to try some?”
“Sure, why not?” Lisa said, feeling a little decadent. These days she rarely had time for more than a quick shower, let alone a leisurely bubble bath, but her husband had always liked the scent of lavender. And she’d bet he could think of a few interesting things to do in a lavender-scented tub. He was wonderfully inventive.
She hurried home and stayed there only long enough to pack a few things for herself and a bag for Marcus. Telling Hannah not to bother with dinner, she jumped back in her car and headed out of New Haven. She knew exactly where she was going. Haven’s Cove, the beautiful private resort on the coast between New Haven and Milford. It was the perfect place for her and Marcus to celebrate. If the memories they’d find there didn’t remind them of all that they were to each other, nothing would.
She spent half an hour or more reacquainting herself with the grounds, glad to see that little had changed since the last time she’d been there, and then whiled away the afternoon in the salon, treating herself to the works. She was going to bring the hungry look back into Marcus’s eyes.
At five o’clock on the nose, she sent a telegram to Marcus: MEET ME AT HAVEN’S COVE. I NEED LOVIN’. And then she waited.
Some of the best hours in Lisa’s life had been in the cabanas at Haven’s Cove. It was where Marcus had first told her he loved her. Where, months after they’d become lovers, she’d finally seen the knowledge of her love for him dawn in his eyes. Where he’d asked her to marry him.
And now she hoped he still believed in them enough to join her.
MARCUS WAS BEAT when he arrived back at his office. He’d just come from an afternoon meeting that had lasted twice as long as it should have. The Rhode Island department-store venture had to be pulled into the nineties if it was going to have any hope of surviving, and George Blake, the old gentleman who sat at the helm of the family business, while seemingly agreeable to every suggestion Marcus and his team made, was having a hard time letting go of the only way of life he’d ever known.
Marcus didn’t have to take the time to consider the man’s feelings. Not legally. But he couldn’t just take over a man’s life’s work and leave him with nothing. He wanted Blake to understand the changes, to be able to continue to sit at the helm of his company after Marcus had him set up and running again. So he was taking the time to teach the