Читать книгу The Phoenix Encounter - Linda Castillo - Страница 11

Having spent the last two years in a country decimated by civil war, hunger and indiscriminate violence, Lily thought she had endured every kind of shock a human being could endure. She’d seen things she couldn’t fathom. Things she refused to think of once the lights were out and she was alone in her bed. A few minutes earlier, she’d thought she could handle just about anything fate saw fit to throw her way.

She’d been wrong.

Not even the horrors of war had prepared her for seeing Robert again. She simply couldn’t believe he was standing in her living room, as warm and alive as the last time she’d seen him. The night she’d hurt him terribly and then watched as he’d been cut down by shrapnel.

God in heaven, how was she going to handle this? How was she going to tell him everything that had happened since he’d left? Things that would change both their lives forever. The questions gnawed at her like voracious little beasts. Questions that terrified her more than the threat of any bomb or soldier’s bayonet or stray bullet. Questions she had absolutely no idea how to answer.

Standing next to the hearth, Robert regarded her with hard, suspicious eyes. He may look the same, she mused, but the last months had changed him. Made him hard. Maybe even bitter. She considered the bitterness in her own heart and wondered if the last months had been as hard for him as they had been for her. She didn’t see how.

Still, the steely gaze that swept the length of her remained starkly familiar. The pull was still there, too, she realized, and a shiver rippled through her hard enough to make her hands shake. She endured his scrutiny with stoic silence, hoping he couldn’t hear the deafening rush of blood through her veins or see her shake.

Refusing to be cowed, Lily stared at him, trying to keep her thoughts on the business at hand and failing miserably. He offered a commanding presence that unnerved her as much as the sight of any enemy soldier. Broad shoulders. Lean hips. Legs slightly bowed with muscle. He seemed taller than she remembered even though she knew that was an impossibility. He had the most fascinating face of any man she’d ever seen. Intelligence and a subtle cunning burned bright and hot behind piercing blue eyes. Laugh lines cupped a mouth that was much more harsh than it had been when she’d known him. A five-o’clock shadow darkened a square jaw that lent him a hostile countenance. Even from three feet away she could smell him, an out-of-doors scent that reminded her of mountains and rain—and a time when he’d ruled her senses as surely as he’d held her heart in the palm of his hand.

Lily cut the thought short with brutal precision. Now wasn’t the time to remember how well she’d once known this man.

“You can’t possibly be my contact,” he said after an excruciating minute.

“I am.” Having lost her appetite for the tea, she took it to the sink and dumped it.

“Lily, for God’s sake, I thought you were dead.”

For a while, Lily had thought she’d been dead, too, only to realize that sometimes it was much more painful to be alive. The old pain roiled inside her as the memories shifted restlessly. Memories she’d refused to think of because the pain was too great. Memories that had eaten at her from the inside out for nearly two years. If it hadn’t been for Jack, she wasn’t sure she would have survived. Sweet, precious Jack had given her hope when the last of her hope had been all but ripped from her heart.

Gathering her frazzled nerves and the tangled remnants of her composure, she turned to face him. “As you can see, I’m very much alive.”

“I can see that. But…my God, how—”

“I was injured.” Self-conscious, she touched the scar at her temple and tried not to remember that her physical injuries had not been the worst of what she’d endured.

He stared at her with those hard eyes, and she knew the shock of seeing her was giving way to the need for an explanation. A explanation she had absolutely no idea how to relay. She’d consoled herself with anger in the weeks she’d been held captive, tried hard to convince herself that Robert had abandoned her. Some days she’d even believed it. Days when it was easier to be angry than it was to hurt.

“Why didn’t you contact me?” he asked incredulously. “Why didn’t you let me know you were alive?”

Because she hadn’t the slightest clue how to answer him without opening a Pandora’s box of pain that would change both of their lives irrevocably, she turned to rinse the cup. Stacking it neatly on the rack, she crossed to the fire to warm her hands, aware that Robert had trailed her.

“I can’t discuss that right now,” she said.

He stared at her, his expression incredulous and angry. “I deserve an explanation, damn it. We were…together.”

Pulse pounding like a jackhammer, she stared at him. “It’s in the past, Robert. Let it go. I’ve moved on. Maybe you should have, too.”

Robert felt as if he’d been slapped. “I want to know what happened.”

“No, you don’t.” Because she couldn’t bear to look at him and think of those terrible days, she walked into the small living area and motioned for him to take one of two chairs in front of the hearth.

Never taking his eyes from her, he started for the farthest chair, but had to cross in front of her to reach it. Feeling as if she’d suddenly strayed too close to a rogue tiger in a flimsy cage, she backed up a step, trying not to notice the way he winced when he sat down.

“You’re limping,” she said, watching him closely.

“It’s an old injury.”

She wondered which were worse, the injuries that left scars on flesh or the ones that left an indelible mark on the psyche and shattered the heart. “If you want to get into some dry clothes, I can hang yours near the fire.”

He looked at the sweater and jeans that clung damply to his frame. “I’ve got a change of clothes in the duffel.”

“You can change in the back. There’s a room for you.”

Robert grabbed his duffel and slung it over his shoulder. Lily rose and walked through the kitchen to the small room that had been added to the cottage as a pantry many years ago, back when people had had food. With wood plank floors and shelves holding a meager supply of canned vegetables and fruits, it was barely large enough for the cot, let alone a man of Robert’s size. But it was all she had and it was going to have to do.

He stepped into the room and set his duffel on the narrow cot. The mirror above the sink caught his stare, and their eyes met, held.

Lily felt the contact like the blast of a mortar. Looking quickly away, she stepped back. “There’s no door, but Jacques put up this curtain to give you some privacy.”

“This is fine.”

“I’ll just…be in the living room.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

She wasn’t sure why she hesitated. Maybe because there was so much more she needed to say. Maybe because she wasn’t quite sure if he was a figment of her imagination. But she couldn’t stop looking at him. By the time she realized what she was doing, it was too late for her to escape.

Never taking his eyes from hers, Robert reached for the hem of his sweater and pulled it over his head. Lily’s breath stalled in her lungs as his magnificent chest loomed into view. She saw a thatch of dark hair. The ripple of muscle beneath taut flesh. Vivid blue eyes that discerned a hell of a lot more than they revealed. The sight of him shook her, and for a moment she couldn’t move. She’d faced a lot of terrible things in the years she’d been in Rebelia, but oddly none of those things had unnerved her as much as the sight of Dr. Robert Davidson taking off his shirt.

“Maybe you want to stay while I change pants, too,” he said.

Feeling a hot blush burn her cheeks, she yanked the muslin curtain closed and fled.

Lily’s heart was still beating heavily against her breast a few minutes later when Robert walked into the living area and found her at the hearth.

“Where do you want me to put my clothes?” he asked.

She turned to find him standing right behind her, his wet clothes in a bundle. He’d put on a flannel shirt over a black T-shirt. The faded jeans he wore fit him loosely, but there was no denying the sinew of his legs or the bulge of his manhood beneath.

Barely sparing him a glance, she took the clothes from him. Pulling a ring set into the wall over the hearth, she stretched the thin cord to the opposite wall and secured it to a small hook. Once the line was taut, she set about draping his jeans, shirt and jacket over the cord. She could feel his eyes on her as she worked, but she didn’t dare turn to face him. She had to get herself calmed down first.

“How is it that you’re here?” he asked when she’d finished.

Because she didn’t feel capable of explaining something so complex at the moment, she hedged. “I could ask you the same question.”

“All right. I’m working with a group of French doctors on a humanitarian—”

She swung to face him. “That doesn’t explain why you’re here. In my house. I wasn’t expecting an American.”

“Exactly who were you expecting?”

“Someone…who needed information. For the cause.”

“The freedom movement?”

“That’s right.”

He shrugged. “You got me.”

A vague sense of uneasiness rippled through her. Robert Davidson might be a smart man, he might even be brilliant, but he’d never been a good liar. “I don’t understand what part you’re playing in this.”

“Maybe you don’t need to know. Maybe I just want you to talk to me about what you know. About what you’ve been hearing.”

“Why are you here?”

“Let’s just say I’m not here for the weather.” He rolled his shoulder. “I want information.”

“What kind of information?”

“You’re involved with the freedom movement.” He shrugged. “Maybe you know something that could be useful.”

“Like what?”

He hit her with a direct stare. “What do you know about Bruno DeBruzkya?”

Another ripple of uneasiness went through her, only stronger this time and she fought a slow rise of panic.

When she didn’t answer, he smiled, but it was a cold, hard smile. “Okay. If you don’t want to talk about DeBruzkya, we can always go back to him.” He looked around the room. “Maybe you could start by telling me what you’re doing here. Why you’re living here. Like this.”

The question shouldn’t have startled her. She’d known he would eventually begin asking more personal questions. Risking a look at him, she found him watching her intently and felt his stare all the way to her bones.

“That’s not a difficult question, is it?” he asked.

No, she thought. He wasn’t asking the difficult questions yet. But she knew they were coming. And she had absolutely no idea how to answer any of them.

“I’m involved with the freedom movement. I get food and medical supplies to the sick children. The orphans. I raise money, collect food and toys and try to give them hope, let them know someone in the world cares.”

“You still working?”

“I wrote for the Rebelian Times Press for a while.”

“And now?”

“A few months ago DeBruzkya took control of the media, and I just couldn’t do it any longer.”

“Censorship,” Robert said with distaste.

Lily nodded, feeling the same distaste all the way to her bones. “I kept writing. About the war. About the people. The children. They’ve all got stories to tell. Some of them are quite amazing.” She grimaced. “I didn’t have an income, but by then the economy was so bad it didn’t really matter. I sent pieces to the Guardian in London and the New York Times. One thing led to another, and before I knew it I had started a sort of underground newspaper.”

He cut her a sharp look. “Jesus, Lily…”

“The Rebellion is printed weekly. For some people, it’s the only way they can find out what’s going on in their own country that isn’t fabricated by the government or part of DeBruzkya’s propaganda.”

He stared at her intently. “DeBruzkya doesn’t tolerate journalists who print the truth. He’s murdered them in the past. Damn it, Lily, he’s brutal—”

“He doesn’t know about the Rebellion.”

“Lily, for God’s sake, how can you be so naive?”

“I may be a lot of things,” she snapped, “but naive isn’t one of them.”

Rising abruptly, Robert limped to the fire. Setting his hand against the mantel, he leaned and stared into the flames, the muscles in his jaws working angrily. “DeBruzkya is ruthless. If he wants to find you, he’ll stop at nothing until he does.”

The words chilled her, but Lily didn’t let herself react. She might be afraid on occasion, but she refused to live her life in fear. She refused to let it make her decisions for her. “I’ve been careful. I write under a pseudonym. He doesn’t know I’m an American. He doesn’t know where I live.”

“I don’t understand how you can believe that, unless you’re into denial.”

“I’m not denying anything.”

“He’s a dangerous son of a bitch, Lily. Especially to the people who’ve crossed him.”

“I haven’t crossed him.”

He cut her a hard look. “I’d say running an underground newspaper in the midst of his dirty little war qualifies as crossing him. Information in the wrong hands can be a dangerous thing to a dictator.”

“It would be a thousand times worse if I sat back and did nothing.”

For the first time the layers of anger thinned enough for her to see the raw pain beneath, and she knew his concern for her was real. The realization touched her, and she felt her emotions shift dangerously.

“Why do you do it?” he asked quietly.

For the lost ones, she thought. “Because I have to.”

He contemplated her like an angry dog that had just been swiped by a unassuming feline. Lily stared back, wondering how he would react if he knew everything.

And as she gazed into the electric blue of his eyes, the endless months they’d been apart melted away like steel in a smelter. The pang of longing was so powerful that for a moment she couldn’t catch her breath. The urge to go to him pulled at her like a dangerous tide. A riptide easing a hapless swimmer into a treacherous sea.

But because she knew he represented a very real danger to her—because she represented an even bigger threat to him—Lily banished the thoughts. She could never think of Robert in those terms again. Going to him, touching him, getting too close were things she couldn’t allow herself to do. Giving in to the feelings coiling inside her might just get them both killed.

A cry from the bedroom at the rear of the cottage jolted her. She felt Robert’s questioning stare on her, but she didn’t dare meet his gaze. In her peripheral vision she saw him glance toward the rear of the cottage, and a shudder ran the length of her. For a instant, she stood there, frozen with indecision, a hundred emotions pulling her in a hundred different directions.

“Is there a child here?” he asked.

Trying in vain not to shake, Lily rose from the chair. “That’s…Jack.”

“Jack? Who is Jack?”

She started toward the bedroom, keenly aware that Robert was following her and that she didn’t have the slightest idea how she was going to explain a one-year-old baby to a man who had every right to know.

Lily closed her eyes. “Jack is…my son.”

Behind her, she heard Robert stop dead in his tracks, but she didn’t slow down. She didn’t turn to look at him. She wasn’t sure what her eyes would reveal if she did. She’d never been able to lie—not to Robert. She wouldn’t lie now—even if the truth was more brutal than any lie she could have fabricated.

Jack is my son.

The words reverberated like the echo of a killing shot inside Robert’s head. He stood in the semidarkness of the hall and watched Lily disappear into a small bedroom at the rear of the cottage, his head reeling.

Lily had a child. He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe she’d moved on so easily while he’d spent the last twenty-one months crippled by the past. The thought angered him, shook him more than he wanted to admit. He tried to blame his reaction on exhaustion and stress and the shock of seeing her again after believing her dead for so long. But he knew there was more to it than that. Knew it went a hell of a lot deeper than any of those things.

Movement down the hall yanked him from his dark reverie. He looked up to see Lily holding a small bundle wrapped in a blanket. A blue blanket. He wondered how, in a country as devastated as Rebelia, she’d managed to find a blue blanket for her baby boy.

He stared at her, then the child, trying desperately not to think about what her having a child meant.

I’ve moved on. You should have, too.

The full meaning of the words penetrated his brain. Evidently, she had, indeed, moved on. Judging from the size of the baby, she hadn’t waited too long after Robert had left to do so. He wondered who the father was and tried like hell to ignore the knot of jealousy that tightened in his gut. He knew it was stupid to feel that way. His relationship with Lily had been over for a long time. Any feelings he’d once had for her had been replaced by bitterness.

The bitterness surged forth now with such force that Robert could taste its acrid flavor at the back of his throat. He watched her approach, then pass him without acknowledging him. Feeling angry and out of place, he trailed her to the living room, then paused to watch her spread a blanket on the sofa and lay the child down to change him.

“He’s your…son?” he asked.

She didn’t look at him but continued tending the baby. “Yes.”

Robert felt the affirmation like a physical punch. Lily had a son. He couldn’t believe it. His brain simply refused to absorb the information. “How old is he?”

She did look at him then, but her hazel eyes were cool. “About nine months.”

Mentally he calculated the months, felt a hot cauldron of anger begin to boil. No, she hadn’t waited very long at all.

“His name is Jack,” she added.

“Jack.” He repeated the name, thinking of the young man who’d brought him here. His name was also Jacques, but he’d had a French accent and pronounced it differently. Robert wondered if Jacques was this child’s father.

Robert thought of the endless months of grief. The kind of black grief that ate at a man’s soul and changed who he was. He thought of all the surgeries that had been required to repair the shattered bone in his thigh. The ensuing months of rehabilitation. The knowledge that he would never be the same. He thought of the secret hope he’d held in his heart that Lily would show up alive and smiling and ready to spend the rest of her life with him. God, he’d been such a fool.

It infuriated him that while he’d been going through all those things, she’d taken up with another man—and had a son with him.

Anger and jealousy melded into a single, ugly emotion and snarled inside him like a rabid beast. He wanted to lash out at her. The words were poised on his tongue, sharp as a knife and ready to cut. But he knew better than to let that beast out of its cage. Knew it would take him apart if he let it.

With the mission foremost in his mind, he couldn’t let that happen.

Relieved that Lily was busy tending to the baby, Robert closed his eyes, willing away the emotions swamping him. She’d moved on. He had to accept it. She was alive. That was the important thing. It would have to be enough.

“He’s been ill,” she said, fastening old-fashioned diaper pins at Jack’s pudgy hips. “I’ve taken him to the doctor in the village, but Dr. Salov hasn’t been able to give me a diagnosis.”

Robert’s attention snapped to Lily. “The baby has been sick?” For an instant, angry male and concerned doctor clashed. Then his physician’s mind clicked into place. “What are the symptoms?”

Lily lifted the child, then pressed a kiss to his forehead. “The symptoms haven’t been consistent, but several times I’ve noticed that his fingers and toes are blue. Sometimes he’s cold to the touch. He had a low-grade fever last week, but it went away after a couple of days.” She looked at the child in her arms, worry creasing her brows. “Sometimes he’s…lethargic. He sleeps a little too much. Some days he doesn’t eat enough.”

Robert glanced at the child and for the first time got a good look at him. Jack was a beautiful baby with vivid blue eyes that were alert and intelligent. He had thick brown hair with a cowlick at his crown and the face of an angel come down from the heavens. Robert had never been partial to babies. But the sight of Lily’s baby awed and amazed him nonetheless.

“Nice looking kid,” he said.

“Thanks.” Robert saw the quick flash of pride in her eyes and the smile she couldn’t quite hide. “He’s everything to me.”

“Do you mind if I examine him?”

She cast him a startled look but made no move to hand over the baby.

“Lily, for God’s sake, what do you think I’m going to do? Throw him out the window? Come on. I’m a doctor. Let me examine him and see if I find anything out of the ordinary.”

“All right.” She glanced toward the rear of the cottage. “I can put him down on the bed in the bedroom,” she said and turned to carry Jack down the hall.

Snagging his medical bag off the floor, Robert followed, entering the bedroom just in time to see Lily lay Jack on the bed. He knew he should be paying attention to the child and not the bed, but he couldn’t help but notice it was little more than a twin-size mattress set up on a homemade wooden pedestal. Hardly big enough for Lily, let alone Jack’s father. The thought of her sharing that bed with another man disturbed him a hell of a lot more than he wanted to admit, and another wave of jealousy seared him.

As if realizing his thoughts, Lily said, “I thought you’d have more room if I laid him on the bed.”

“This is fine,” he snapped.

She unwrapped the blanket, and Robert found himself staring at a perfect baby boy wearing pajamas with little blue ducks and tiny booties that had been made to look like traditional Rebelian shoes. And he found himself smiling despite the knot of tension at the back of his neck. “What’s up, doc?” he said in his best Bugs Bunny voice.

Jack kicked out his legs in delight. “Gah!”

“That’s what I thought,” Robert said.

Lily leaned forward. “What is it?”

“A Bugs Bunny fan,” he said deadpan.

She didn’t quite laugh, but he heard her release the breath she’d been holding and figured the level of tension wasn’t going to get any lower.

“Let’s have a look at you.” Struggling hard to keep his mind on the business at hand, Robert dug into his medical bag for his stethoscope and thermometer and quickly examined the baby. All the while Jack cooed and kicked his feet in quiet protest.

“Temperature is slightly elevated,” Robert said.

Lily pressed her hand to her breast and looked worriedly at her son. “He’s got a fever? What does that mean?”

Robert held up his hand to silence her. “Heartbeat is regular and strong. Pulse is good.” Using his penlight, he checked the baby’s eyes and ears, then moved on to do a quick check of his extremities. The blue tone of his fingers and toes worried him. Taking one of Jack’s fingers between his thumb and forefinger, Robert pressed and watched the tiny pad turn white. When he released it, the blood returned slowly. A little too slowly in Robert’s opinion.

“Okay, big guy. I think that’ll do it.”

Leaning forward, Lily pulled on his pajamas then carried him to the crib. “Why is his temperature elevated?” she asked over her shoulder as she laid him in the crib.

Robert walked to the crib and looked at Jack in time to hear him giggle and was surprised to find himself smiling. He didn’t have much to smile about at the moment, but there was something contagious about the sound of a baby’s laughter. “I don’t know. The fever isn’t high, certainly not anything to worry about at this point. I can give him a dose of acetaminophen to take it down.”

“All right.”

“He appears to be just fine at the moment, but I’d like to run a couple of blood tests.”

Lily turned on him, her eyes huge and concerned. “Blood tests? Why? What did you find?”

“I didn’t find anything definitive, but just to be safe I’d like to rule out a few things.”

Never taking her eyes from his, she came around the crib, a mother lion facing off with a big male who’d just threatened her cub. “Don’t give me some vague doctorlike answer, damn it. What are you looking for?”

Robert didn’t want to worry her needlessly, but he had to tell her what he thought, regardless of how difficult the truth might be.

“I’m not looking for anything specific at this point,” he said. “But from the cursory exam I performed, I can see that his circulation isn’t quite normal. I don’t think it’s anything serious at this point, but it definitely warrants a few nonobtrusive tests.”

“Circulation? Oh, my God.” She pressed a hand to her breast. “What could it be?”

He shrugged. “It could be something as benign as a slight case of anemia. Any number of things that aren’t too serious—”

“But…it could be serious?”

He hated to be the one to put that sharp-edged worry in her eyes, but he didn’t see any way around it. “I don’t know, Lily. That’s why I’d like to run some blood tests. Just stay calm. This is nothing to get worked up about, okay?”

Biting her lip, she looked over her shoulder at the baby cooing in the crib. “He’s everything to me,” she said. “I could never bear it if something happened to him.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to him,” he said firmly. “These are routine tests. Chances are the pediatrician will prescribe some vitamins with iron, and Jack will be just fine.”

She didn’t look convinced, but at least she no longer looked as if she were going to jump out of her skin. He supposed they’d both learned that fate didn’t always bestow a kind outcome.

The instincts he’d developed in the course of his experience as a doctor told him to reach out and touch her, just to reassure her that her child was going to be fine. But Robert didn’t dare touch her. Deep down inside he knew it wasn’t the physician who wanted to touch her, but the man who’d never gotten her out of his system.

“I’d like to take him to the hospital in Rajalla where there’s a pediatric unit and laboratory facilities,” he said.

Lily visibly paled, but masked it by quickly turning away. Noticing that her hands were shaking, Robert watched her closely and wondered about her level of anxiety at the mention of the hospital in Rajalla. “Is there a problem with Rajalla?”

“No. Of course not.” She looked directly at him and smiled, but Robert saw the shimmer of nerves beneath the surface. “It’s just that the city has…changed since you were last there.”

Rajalla was the capital city of Rebelia. Robert had spent a good bit of time there and remembered it as a pretty, bustling metropolis with several sleek skyscrapers, ancient stone churches, a bazaar where local farmers and artisans sold stone-baked bread and Rebelian stained glass, and some of the most beautiful parks in all of Europe.

Robert had researched Rajalla carefully before leaving the United States. He knew DeBruzkya’s soldiers had invaded the city. He knew those soldiers had destroyed many of the buildings, including several historical cathedrals. He knew the once-healthy economy had slumped, that people had fled to the nearby country of Holzberg to become refugees.

But he was getting some odd vibes from Lily and wanted to hear her view. “How has it changed?”

She moved away from the crib as if what she were about to say was somehow harmful to her son. “DeBruzkya is in control of the entire city now. There are armed soldiers everywhere, including the hospital.”

“The soldiers don’t know who you are, do they?”

The hairs at his nape prickled when she didn’t answer.

“DeBruzkya himself has spent a fair amount of time at the hospital,” she said. “His sister is pregnant. The general is fanatical about his sister’s unborn child because that child will become his only heir.”

“Does DeBruzkya know who you are?” he asked.

Lily turned to look at him, her expression troubled and stubborn at once. And suddenly Robert got a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Does he know who you are?” he repeated.

“He knows my face.”

Robert cursed.

“He doesn’t know I’m with the freedom fighters,” she said quickly.

“Does he know what you do?”

She stared at him, a hunted animal trapped in the crosshairs of a high powered rifle. “No.”

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I can’t believe you would do something so incredibly foolhardy.”

“Robert, I can handle this. I know what I’m do—”

“You’re so far over your head you don’t know up from down,” he growled.

“I’m not afraid of him,” she snapped.

He shot her a hard look. “You’re too damn smart not to be afraid.”

She evidently didn’t have anything to say to that, so she turned away. Robert contemplated her in profile, liking what he saw even though he was dangerously furious.

He wanted to believe he was just being paranoid, but his instincts were telling him there was a hell lot more to the situation than what she was letting on.

Lily was lying to him. She was hiding something important. Something dangerous. And for the first time in his life Robert found himself hoping his instincts were wrong.