Читать книгу The Runaway Bride - Patricia Johns - Страница 12

CHAPTER THREE

IT WAS THREE in the morning, and Liam stood in the middle of his living room in a pair of pajama bottoms and an undershirt, with Ike screaming in his arms. When Leanne died, he’d gone down to her apartment and gotten Ike’s things—toys, clothes, diapers. Her parents had died years ago, and she had a cousin who had some addiction issues, but no one else. Liam hadn’t put together a funeral. Leanne had been cremated, and he’d sprinkled her ashes in a field.

She hadn’t owned her home or anything like that, so besides paying off her credit cards, there hadn’t been too much to deal with. He’d left the last of her things in the apartment for the landlords to clear out. It might not have been their job, but he’d done as much as he could with the help of his foster brother, Tim. He couldn’t face any more.

A few local moms had dropped off some hand-me-down clothes for Ike over the past few weeks, but the boy was wearing pajamas with trains on them that Liam had brought from the apartment. They were a bit small, but he seemed to sense that they were part of his life with his mom, and he wouldn’t wear anything else. Liam didn’t push the matter. The poor boy had enough change to deal with.

Ike’s face was wet with tears, and his crying hadn’t slowed. They’d both been up for an hour already.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, raising his voice above Ike’s wails. “Let’s talk about this.”

Ike didn’t seem so inclined, and Liam heaved a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment, looking for his own calm. He understood Ike’s anger—his mom was gone, and he was with a bunch of strangers who couldn’t possibly make up for her absence. But Liam was trying.

For the past month, Ike had responded to being held, liked some stories. Liam had let Ike stay awake in front of the TV until he dropped off in exhaustion and slept through until daybreak. But tonight was different—something had triggered a meltdown, and Liam couldn’t help but wonder if it had been Bernie’s arrival. Ike had been raised without a father, and maybe right now he needed a woman’s touch.

Ike’s sobs weren’t abating. His hands were bunched into rage-filled fists, and he stiffened like a board as he howled.

“Hey, buddy...” Liam looked across the street, and there was a light on in the kitchen at Lucille’s place. That meant she was up, and he wouldn’t be imposing. Not too much, at least. Lucille had been here for him for all the bumps this month, and while he always swore he wouldn’t impose again, he always did. He picked up the cordless phone and dialed his neighbor’s number. It rang twice before a female voice picked up.

“Hello?” She sounded cautious, and was barely audible above Ike’s crying, but Liam could tell it wasn’t Lucille.

“It’s Liam, across the street,” he said.

“Hi, it’s Bernadette. Is the little guy okay?”

“Not really. I can’t seem to calm him down. I was trying to reach Lucille to see if she’d give me a hand. Is she up?”

“No, just me. Don’t worry. I’ll be right over.”

Liam blinked at the phone when he realized she’d hung up, not giving him a chance to decline. Not that he wanted to, exactly. He needed help; Ike needed help. He’d just preferred that help from the neighbor he knew.

“Come on, Ike,” Liam pleaded. “I know you’re upset...”

He really had nothing to offer, though. He couldn’t bring Leanne back—and maybe Bernie had reminded him of her. But something suddenly occurred to him.

There was a knock on the front door, and Liam pulled it open to see Bernadette standing there in a white terry cloth housecoat. Her hair was back in a ponytail, and she looked like a different woman from the tattered bride of earlier. Ike blinked at the new arrival in surprise, his howls stopped for the moment.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she said softly. “Hug?”

Ike reached for Bernie, and she took the toddler into her arms, snuggling him close. Seriously? How did she do that? He’d been hugging the kid all evening, and again ever since he’d woken up at two in the morning. How did she simply show up and make it all okay? He resented that. He was the one Ike had, and he was doing his best, but tonight it wasn’t enough.

“If you could just hold him for a couple minutes, I have an idea,” Liam said.

He didn’t wait for an answer, he just walked away, his nerves completely frazzled. A crying kid was difficult in a way he’d never imagined before. Somehow, he hadn’t thought parenthood would be like this.

Liam opened the door that led to the basement stairs and flicked on the light. He’d shoved all the pictures of Leanne into boxes after she’d left and dumped them down here. He’d added the few boxes of personal items he’d taken from Leanne’s apartment after she’d died. He’d meant to go through it all eventually, but there hadn’t been time. While pictures of his estranged wife didn’t do much to comfort him, they might help Ike.

He had to rummage through a few boxes before he found what he was looking for—a framed photo of Leanne smiling into the camera. He’d taken it the summer before she left him. She’d probably already started her affair with the senator at that point.

He headed back up the stairs, and when he came into the living room, he found Bernie seated on the couch, Ike leaning his tear-stained face against her shoulder, his breaths coming in shuddering gasps.

“I brought something for you, Ike,” Liam said. “It’s a picture of Mommy. Do you want it?”

He held it up for the boy to see, and Ike stretched out one pudgy hand and pulled the picture against his chest. Maybe it would help. Maybe it wouldn’t, but he had to try. Liam was most definitely out of his depth here.

“So that’s her.” Bernadette craned her neck to get a glimpse of the photo.

“Yup.”

He couldn’t explain the pain attached to that photo. He’d still thought he had a happy marriage at that point, totally oblivious to the fact that her new interest in politics had more to do with the senator himself than with his political platforms. And he’d held on to that photo because deep down, he’d always hoped that she’d come back. She’d married Liam. The senator hadn’t left his wife. So maybe she’d come back eventually.

Some days he imagined her coming back to him and settling back in again, happy to have a decent, hardworking man instead of some philandering politician. Other days, he imagined getting the chance to tell her exactly what she’d lost, and he’d do the rejecting. The fantasies depended on his mood, but he still hoped she’d come back.

Obviously, she never had.

He leaned back, rubbing his hands across his face. How did Bernie manage to look so fresh in the middle of the night?

“Why are you up?” he asked.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She smoothed a hand over Ike’s sweat-damp curls. “I can’t stop thinking about yesterday.”

Yeah, that also made sense. He felt a wave of sympathy. He’d been dealing with Leanne’s betrayal for three years; she’d only started with Calvin’s.

“Did you see it coming?” Liam asked. “The cheating, I mean.”

She shook her head. “No. That’s the thing. I didn’t notice at all...until the last minute, that is.”

“That was the same for me,” he admitted. “I thought she was just really into politics. I didn’t know there was a problem until she told me she was pregnant and she was leaving me.”

“So there’s a chance Ike is yours?” she asked.

He wished. If he’d been the father, maybe it would have changed things for Leanne. Maybe she’d have seen something worth staying for.

“No. I can’t have kids.” That was uncomfortable to talk about, but it was the truth. When Leanne had announced her pregnancy, it had been like a kick in the stomach. He knew what it meant, and she’d been holding a suitcase at the time. He’d begged her to stay. They could figure it out. But she didn’t want to, and she’d walked out to the waiting cab.

“Do you still miss her?” Bernie asked quietly.

“Sure.” He nodded. “I guess I miss what we had—what I thought we had. We’d both changed over the last three years, so I doubt we’d ever have been compatible again, even if she’d lived.”

“Hmm.”

Bernie looked like she wanted to cry, but she was holding it back. Her eyes got misty, and she pressed her lips together.

“You want to know how long this is going to hurt, don’t you?” Liam asked.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

She was just at the beginning, and he knew exactly what that felt like—like being gutted and left alive.

“It’ll hurt for a while. But it’ll get better and easier. Some days you’ll forget. And guaranteed, the days you actually forget him are the ones he’ll call you up and remind you of his existence.”

“Did Leanne do that a lot?”

Leanne had never fully gotten over Liam, either, it seemed. She’d call about twice a year just to see how he was doing and tell him she missed him... That was hardest. It brought him right back to the starting line again for a day or so. For the first year, she seemed to believe that Vince would leave his wife since he was financially supporting Leanne, but then the senator must have tired of her, because he told her straight that he wasn’t leaving his wife and kids. His career depended upon his honesty and his credibility. At that point, Liam and Leanne had discussed possibly reconciling, but that hadn’t been possible. He couldn’t do it. There was no going back to blissful ignorance.

“She’d call every once in a while,” he admitted. “I sent her money a couple of times. It hurts a lot when they call—it reminds you of better days. But you get over it. And while it’s hard to have that reminder, it also confirms how far you’ve come.”

Ike’s eyes had closed, and Bernie leaned her head back against the back of the couch. She was rubbing the toddler’s back with her palm in slow circles. She didn’t belong here—not in Liam’s living room, and not in Runt River. She was too pretty for this place, too polished.

“You mind if I ask you something?” he asked.

She turned her head to meet his gaze. “Sure.”

“Why aren’t you going home to New York?”

“Because my parents will side with Calvin.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he said.

“You don’t know my family.” She sighed. “He’s going to be running for president in the next few years. He has all the party backing. He’s the Republican golden boy. My parents wouldn’t try to make me marry him, but they would insist that I protect his reputation. My dad has already invested too much money in him, and backing a successful candidate is good for business. Calvin would owe my dad big-time once he was in the Oval. We don’t back presidents out of patriotic fervor alone.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. Wow. This wasn’t just a wedding between two people who’d fallen in love; it was a political alliance. That was a world he was glad to avoid.

“What business is your dad in, exactly?”

“Real estate development, and he owns a line of hotels, and has some heavy investments in the oil industry. After the wedding, my dad was going to hand one of his hotel chains over to me to get some hands-on experience.”

“That sounds...fun.” It actually sounded stressful.

“Totally.” She didn’t seem to pick up on his tone. “But I’m not sure it’ll happen now. Dad doesn’t react well to being crossed.” She looked down at Ike and smiled. “I think he’s out.”

As quickly as that, the window into her strange political world was shut. She glanced from Ike toward the hallway. “Should I put him to bed?”

“Yeah.” Liam slowly stood. “Thanks. He really seems to like you.”

Bernie attempted to get up, then chuckled. “I’m going to need a hand here.”

Liam paused for a moment, then held a hand out to her. Her fingers felt cool and silky soft in his rough grasp, and he tugged her to her feet, Ike balanced in one arm. She came up to his chin, but when she looked at him, her lips parted in a gentle smile, he found himself thinking how easy it would be to bend down and kiss her... He cleared his throat and took a step back.

“I’ll show you the way,” Liam said.

He’d bought a twin-size mattress and put it on the floor in his bedroom. He thought Ike might be comforted by having someone close by...and Liam would sleep better knowing the toddler couldn’t wander off in the night.

“Sure,” she said. “Lead the way.”

Bernie put Ike down on the mattress on the floor, but Liam knew he wouldn’t stay there. It didn’t matter. He was in the right room for the night, at least.

When Leanne had left, she’d taken with her the soft scents, the tinkle of laughter and a reason to come back at a reasonable hour. This house, so full of memories, had become a purely male abode: Liam cooked with barbecue sauce; his soaps were deodorized, not scented; and he came and went as he pleased.

Having a woman walk down his hallway with a sleeping toddler in her arms, leaving a waft of sandalwood in her wake—it reminded him too keenly of what he’d been missing these past few years.

He’d told Bernie that it got better, and it did, but what he didn’t say was that trusting again was next to impossible. When you missed something that big, you stopped believing that you saw what was really going on. And he was pretty sure he couldn’t survive that again. Bernie would sort out her family issues and head back to her life in New York soon enough. He just had to hold out until then.

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING, Bernie woke up late, having finally fallen into an exhausted coma somewhere around four. When she did wake, it was to the sound of a lawn mower outside the open window, the smell of fresh-cut grass wafting in. She lay there for a couple of minutes staring at the popcorn ceiling. The light fixture was an old-fashioned square plate of glass. She’d never seen such a thing before, and she stared at it for a long while, wondering if this was how the rest of the country lived. Could they? It seemed impossible, but here she was in a bed with a hand-made quilt on top of her and a light fixture that looked like nothing more than a bent piece of frosted glass covering a light bulb. It felt poor, and at the same time, strangely liberating. There wouldn’t be any cameras waiting for her outside, no pressure to appear happy and collected, to look perfect from every angle to avoid any tabloid speculation about why she looked tired or bloated.

Her cell phone vibrated on the plain white bedside table. She’d finally turned it on when she got back from Liam’s place. She picked it up and looked at the caller—her dad.

She could answer and have this conversation now, or she could put it off. She let the phone buzz twice more in her hand before she heaved a sigh and accepted the call.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Bunny! Thank God. We’ve been worried sick. Are you okay?”

He sounded like dear old dad, right now, gruff and stressed. If only she were a decade younger and her father could still fix most of her problems.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I mean, I’m heartbroken, but fine.”

“What happened, exactly?” her father pressed. “Because Calvin is a wreck, and he says he has no idea what you’re talking about.”

The liar. Anger started to seep into the sadness, and she pushed herself up onto her elbows.

“I don’t really care what Calvin says,” she retorted. “I know what I saw.”

“I believe you.” And by the tone of his voice, he did, which was comforting. “Still, we could have done this a little more gracefully.”

“No, I couldn’t have.”

Why did she owe any of them grace right now? She sat up and turned her gaze out the window where a middle-aged man pushed an old mower in straight lines across the grass.

“All right, all right...” Her father muttered. “We can discuss that later. What matters right now is getting you home and deciding on the family position.”

“How about Calvin McMann is a cheating louse?” she suggested.

“You aren’t helping.”

Of course not. The truth was seldom the option when it came to spinning a scandal.

“Where are you?” her father asked. “I’ll send the security team to bring you home.”

“I don’t need to be fetched,” Bernie retorted. “I need some space, time to think. I don’t want to come back just yet.”

“Are you in the Bahamas?” her father pressed. “You could stay for a week or so, but we need a consistent story we can all stand behind with reporters.”

“No, I’m not in the Bahamas. Look, Dad, I need you to promise to leave me alone for a bit. I promise not to breathe a word of anything to reporters.”

“Where are you, for crying out loud?” he demanded.

“I need your word.” For all of her father’s insistence on a public face, he’d honor a promise to his daughter. He always had.

There was a moment or two of silence, then he sighed. “Fine. Now where are you?”

“Runt River, Ohio.”

There was silence again, this time complete as if he were holding his breath. Then he exploded. “What?”

“I drove out here after the wedding. I didn’t really mean to—I just hit a highway and kept going. Then I remembered Aunt Lucille was out here, and I figured I could use a bit of family support.”

“From Lucille? After all I’ve told you about her—”

“She’s pretty harmless, Dad.”

“She’s not harmless. She has a vendetta against me, and you’re my daughter. She is not the person to trust with something this volatile—”

“Too late,” Bernie confessed. “I told her what happened. But I’ll be careful. I’ll keep a low profile—wear something unattractive. I’ll blend right in with the locals.”

“This isn’t funny,” her father snapped. “Your face has been on the covers of magazines and newspapers for the past four months because of this wedding. You are not going to blend in.”

“I don’t care!” Her anger was rising again. “Dad, if I get into a bind, you’re my first call. That’s a promise. But give me space, or I will find the nearest reporter and give him an exclusive about Calvin McMann’s cheating ways.”

“Don’t you threaten me.”

“I’m half joking.” She sighed. “Dad. Space. Please.”

“Fine. But don’t believe anything your aunt tells you. She’s a master manipulator.”

Lucille hardly seemed like the manipulative shrew her father made her out to be, but Bernie hardly knew the woman, either. Maybe it would be wise to tread carefully with her aunt.

Except that Liam trusts her.

She hardly knew Liam, either, and the men in her life hadn’t exactly been the most trustworthy lately. Calvin had cheated on her, and her father seemed more concerned with the family political future than he did with his only daughter’s emotional state. At this point, she was wary of everyone.

“I’ll be careful, Dad. I promise. But I’d better hang up. I’m hungry. Tell Mom—” She sighed. Her mother would be furious. Tell her mother what, exactly? “Tell her I’m okay.”

After their goodbyes, she ended the call and got out of bed. She needed to get dressed and face the day. One step at a time.

There was a tap on her door.

“Yes?”

“Everything okay?” her aunt asked.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and Lucille peered at her cautiously, a folded, faded towel in her hands. “Sorry about the thin walls. Was that your father?”

So her aunt had heard that conversation? Bernie was used to more privacy than this.

“Yes.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Aunt Lucille, could you tell me something?”

“Sure.” Lucille deposited the towel on the top of the dresser.

“Why not just give my father the ring?” she asked. “It’s been, what, thirty-five years?”

“Forty,” her aunt countered. “And for the record, he didn’t want the ring to propose to your mother. This was before he met her. He wanted it to propose to one of the kitchen workers in our family’s home. Everyone was against it—even the girl’s family. It’s rather ironic that he had such a problem with Arnie, and he was a lawyer! Just not blue enough blood.”

Her father had wanted to marry the kitchen help? That didn’t sound like the Milhouse Morgan who hardly knew the names of the squadron of people who kept his home immaculate.

“And you were against that engagement, too,” Bernie surmised.

“They were all wrong for each other.” Lucille shrugged. “And she was after the money.”

“Oh.” All this time, she’d imagined that ring belonged on her mother’s finger, but the story was never quite what it seemed. “So why not give it to him now?”

Lucille was silent for a moment, then a small smile tickled the corners of her lips. “Because I don’t want to.”

Bernie stared at her aunt in surprise. That was it? She didn’t want to? A country of politicians pandered for her father’s support, and this one stubborn woman could thwart him with a whim? Laughter bubbled up inside her, and she shook her head.

“Okay, then,” she said.

“The towel is for your shower.” Her aunt turned back toward the hallway again. “The hot and cold are switched, and it takes a few minutes for the water to warm up. Not what you’re used to, I’m sure, but it does the trick.”

None of this was what Bernie was accustomed to, but she couldn’t help but feel mildly envious of the aunt who got to do what she wanted to and felt no obligation to the Morgan family.

But what did Bernadette want? She wanted to get to know this aunt who held odd family secrets, and she wanted to hide from all the fallout of her failed wedding. And now that she’d met Ike, she wanted to get to know this tiny Morgan who had lost his mother too early.

Family had to be about more than influence and politics, didn’t it?