Unlikely Hero. Marta Perry
Читать онлайн книгу.
“Of course I don’t.” Brendan looked taken aback at her vehemence. “But Ted has every right to know he’s fathered a child.”
“Right?” Her voice rose, and she snatched her hand away from his. What on earth was she doing holding hands with him anyway? “Ted doesn’t have any rights. He forfeited them the minute he hit her.”
Brendan’s gaze didn’t waver. “I can understand how you feel, but the law might not see it that way.”
She had to make him understand. She couldn’t let him put Stacy or the tiny life she carried in jeopardy.
“What if you tell him, and he has a momentary urge to do the right thing and marry her? What if she does?”
“She wouldn’t do that.”
“She might.” I did. Her head throbbed with painful memories, battering at her like fists. I went back. I believed the promises. And I lost my baby as a result.
The doors of memory were wide open now, and the dark pain came surging over her, blinding her to everything else. The small part of her heart that had never stopped grieving that little life, lost before it could even begin, wept bitter, salty tears.
She took a breath, forcing the memories back. She would not let herself give in to them. They were the past, and she was all about the future.
“Claire? Are you all right?” Brendan was looking at her as if he knew.
No. He couldn’t know. No one could.
“I’m fine.” She managed to get the words out, managed to detach herself from the pain. It had taken a miscarriage to make her see that he would never change—that she had to get out or die.
She wouldn’t let Stacy pay that high of a price if she could prevent it.
“Look.” She put some force behind the word. “You’re talking about Ted’s rights, but it’s Stacy we’re trying to help here. Stacy is the injured party.”
“I know that.” Brendan’s expression was troubled, his eyes dark and serious.
Hoping he was wavering, she pressed on. “Besides, we don’t have the right to tell Ted. That’s Stacy’s decision to make, not ours.”
And she’d do everything in her power to make sure Stacy didn’t decide any such thing.
Three vertical frown lines etched themselves between his brows. “I’m counseling Ted. How can I withhold something like this from him?”
She blinked, trying to absorb the words. “You’re doing what?”
“I’m counseling Ted.” There was a thread of defensiveness in his voice.
She didn’t know where to hit first. “You’re counseling the abuser. Don’t you think that’s a conflict? You can’t help both of them.”
“They both need help.”
“Ted is an abuser.”
“Ted is also a troubled kid who needs my help. I may not like what he’s done, but that doesn’t mean I can turn my back on him. My ministry extends to Ted, too.”
“Your ministry.” She threw the words at him. “What kind of ministry is that? I suppose you think they ought to whitewash everything and get married, just to do the proper thing.”
If her words hurt him, he didn’t show it. “No, I don’t think any such thing. You know that.”
She did, but she wouldn’t admit it, not when he’d let her down so badly. “You’re the one who got me involved with helping Stacy. And all the time you were undercutting what I was doing.”
“No, I wasn’t.” He reached toward her, and she drew back. His hands dropped instantly. “I wouldn’t do anything to harm the good you’re doing with Stacy.”
The pounding in her head had reached mammoth proportions. She’d like to believe him, but she couldn’t. And not just because of her own experience.
“That’s not true, Brendan. It can’t be.” The words tasted bitter. “Because if you really believed that, you’d have told me what you were doing.”
He stared at her, the color of his eyes almost black. He didn’t have an answer. He couldn’t, because there wasn’t one.
The closeness she’d felt such a short time ago was gone entirely now, replaced by a chasm. Wide and deep and dark.
Chapter Four
Brendan hung up the phone after leaving a message for Claire. It would probably qualify as a miracle if she called him back. The two days since their disastrous exchange about Stacy and Ted had been enough time to kick himself a thousand times about the way he’d handled that situation.
He leaned back, his desk chair squeaking in protest. No use telling himself that he’d been too shocked by the revelation to respond tactfully. If he had that conversation to do over again, he wasn’t sure he’d do any better, no matter how much time he had to prepare.
He’d unintentionally burned bridges between them, personal as well as spiritual. She wouldn’t forgive him easily.
“Do you have a minute?”
He nearly toppled over backward at the sound of Claire’s voice. He righted his chair. It would probably help not to act like a total idiot just because she was here.
“Of course. Come in.” He couldn’t help the flood of pleasure at the sight of her, but he could try to contain it so that she wouldn’t know. He gestured toward the phone. “I just left a message for you.”
And apparently miracles did happen.
“I know.” She held up a palm-sized cell phone and then dropped it into the leather bag that was slung from her shoulder. “I’d left the office already, so I thought I’d stop by instead of calling.” Her tone was as cool and remote as if he’d called to sell her insurance. “You have some information for me?”
His mind scrambled for the reason he’d called her, swamped by the sheer surprise that she was actually in his office again. Information. Yes, he had that, as well as a suggestion, and both things were going to require a little tact. Correction, a lot.
“I have the counselor’s name and phone number here somewhere.” He shuffled through the papers that covered his desk, even though he knew exactly where the information was. “Please, have a seat.”
Claire hesitated for a fraction of a second, looking at the visitor’s chair as if she’d never seen it before. Then she swung her bag off her shoulder and sat down, dropping the bag lightly beside her feet.
Today she wore a pale cream jacket over a green shirt. The combination turned her eyes the same mahogany color as her hair, and she looked cool and elegant in spite of the fact that it was the end of the workday and the June sunshine had brought the outside temperature over eighty.
Focus. Figure out how to approach her about this. Don’t let how she looks distract you.
Good advice. Now if he could just manage to take it, he might handle this situation better.
“Here’s the counselor’s card.” He rounded the desk to take it to her. No point in having a piece of furniture between them when he hoped to sway her to his way of looking at things. He sat in the other visitor’s chair, watching as she frowned at the card.
“You’re convinced this woman is the best person for Stacy? I haven’t ever heard of her.”
“Would you expect to have heard of her?” It seemed unlikely that someone like Claire would have had any experience of Suffolk’s counseling community.
She shrugged. “People talk.”
He took a breath, trying to find the right way to phrase what