Chapter Thirty-one

Mrs. Walker?”

Clay looked up when the neurologist pushed open the waiting-room doors and scanned the small group on the other side, no doubt looking for an older woman. Sorry, doc. Meet the Dysfunctionals.

Jayna stood. “I’m his wife.”

To his credit, the doctor didn’t show any reaction. “And which one of you is Clay?”

Clay lifted a hand but didn’t jump out of his seat. The doctor turned to him and gestured. “Your father would like to speak with you.”

“He can talk?” Jayna exclaimed.

“A bit. The second stroke, which wasn’t nearly as severe as the first, actually stimulated some activity and brought him out of the coma. I’m going to explain all that to you in a moment, ma’am, but your husband is quite forceful, even after two strokes. He was adamant about talking to Clay, and I see no reason to deny him that.”

Clay finally stood. “I’ll talk to him.” Because the son of a bitch had a lot of explaining to do.

“Clay.” Darcie gave him a harsh look, fully aware of what was going on. She’d already used her laptop to confirm what Clay suspected, and they’d been hard at work trying to fix things while the docs tried to fix their father. “Be gentle.”

That earned an angry flash from the neurologist. “If you have any other intentions, son, don’t you dare go into that room.”

“I have no intentions other than to listen to what he has to say.” And get his shaky signature. But the doc didn’t need to know that.

He headed down the hall with slow, deliberate steps, not in any huge rush now that he’d gotten up here and found out what the old man was really made of. Not that he hadn’t already known, but this latest stunt?

Unbelievable.

So C-dub wanted to confess, beg forgiveness, remind Clay that everything he’d ever done was out of fatherly love and driving ambition to build a business. Blah, blah, blah. Just sign the papers and I’m out.

The ICU room was quiet again, the beeping machines tapping out a softer, more stable rhythm, and his father’s eyes were open. Not focused, but open.

For a moment Clay thought he might be dead. But the easy rise of his chest proved him wrong.

Clay approached the bed slowly, leaning over so C-dub could see him.

“Two strokes,” Dad said through clenched teeth, his lips not even moving.

“One more and you’re out,” Clay said gently. “So take it easy, old guy.”

Dark blue eyes shifted toward Clay, but his father’s head didn’t move. “I’m not going to die.”

“I don’t think anyone’s worried about that. Just how nasty you’re going to be when you get home is the real concern.”

“Not going to be nasty anymore.”

Clay snorted. “Then why’d you buy those two properties in Barefoot Bay?”

“I liked the land.”

What the hell? “That gave you the right to undermine the whole project?” Clay worked to modulate his voice and keep the nurses at bay.

“I didn’t know I was undermining you,” his father said through a stiff jaw. “My office got a call about the project and I sent someone down to look at it. Standard procedure.”

Lacey had mentioned that she’d called Walker Architecture after he’d left her on the beach the day they met. Of course that phone call would have set some exploratory wheels in process.

“The land looked good,” his father said. “And my pre-project guys said there were two lots available for purchase. I bought ’em. You know we’d never put the name of a company on a purchase like that. It’s a red flag to others.”

The angry fist in his chest loosened its grip. “You didn’t know I was involved?”

“I didn’t, Clay. But I found out later you were competing for the project and…” He closed his eyes, a soft grunt of pain drawing Clay closer.

“And what?”

“That’s when I had that damn TIA that started all this.”

The first mini-stroke? “Never knew you to suffer from guilt pangs.”

“I was driving home to call you when it happened. I wanted to tell you, but”—a hint of a smile crossed his lips—“I got scared, Clay.”

“Scared of what?”

“I knew you’d never believe me. You’d think I was out to screw you again. You’d hate me more.”

Clay couldn’t deny that, so he just stayed silent, the sound of his father’s steady heartbeat on a monitor the only noise in the room.

“I have to tell you, son, Jayna has taught me about what it means to be a parent.”

Clay gave a dry laugh. “The irony in that statement is damn near incalculable.”

“Don’t I know it. But I’m afraid I’ll never have a chance to make it up to you,” Dad admitted on a sad sigh.

“Darcie drew up an ad hoc contract to give me the land. Sign it and we’re good.”

“I will.” He blinked back some moisture that on any other man might have been a tear. But this was C-dub, so Clay would bet it was just a bit of garden-variety watery eyes. “But, son, I don’t want to die knowing you still hate me.”

“You aren’t dying.” God, I hope not. “So don’t sweat it.”

“Clay, hold my hand.”

He took the old man’s hand and got a gentle squeeze.

“Only one thing matters, son.”

What? Winning the game? Having the most toys? The youngest, prettiest wife, the biggest bank account, the most famous name? He knew what mattered to C-dub, but he came closer anyway. “What’s that, Dad?”

“I love you, Clayton Walker.” A single tear rolled slowly down his father’s cheek, meandering to the side until it fell on the hospital pillow. “I love you.”

Dad’s heart monitor sped up just a little, eerily matching what was going on in Clay’s chest. He couldn’t remember the last time his father had said those words.

“Bring me those papers,” C-dub ordered. “So I can prove it to you.”

Clay stepped away, toward the door, turning before he left. Say it, say it, say it.

“I hope you get better, Dad.”

Dad managed to look at him. “Three little words, Clay. Can’t you say them to me?”

He tried to swallow, but something closed his throat. Those unspoken words, of course, balled up inside of him and keeping him from breathing, talking, or loving.

“Please?” The request was barely a whisper from his father’s lips, so soft he may not have wanted Clay to hear him beg.

Clay turned away. “I… can’t.”

Behind him he heard the old man sigh. A sad, resigned, pathetic sound of regret. Clay knew if he released his father, he could release himself.

And about seven hundred miles away, on an island bathed in sunshine and happiness, there was a woman who needed Clay to be free.

“Dad,” he said as he slowly turned around. “I forgive you.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

For the first time in years, they smiled at each other.

Lacey blinked through a haze of sleep, aware that everything hurt as she tried to turn in bed. No, no, she wasn’t in bed. She was on a window seat on a piece of foam rubber that doubled as a guest bed in a hospital.

The dawn’s earliest light peeked through the blinds, and with it came the harsh memory that the doctors had insisted on keeping Ashley overnight for observation.

She blinked at the sight of someone standing next to Ashley’s bed, then gasped when she realized who it was.

“Oh my God, you’re here.”

Jocelyn smiled and came around the bed to the window, holding out her hands. “Of course I’m here. I got on a red-eye when Tessa called. See? I have the red eyes to prove it.”

Of course she didn’t have red eyes or bed head or morning breath, unlike Lacey, who no doubt had them all.

“My cavalry comes again.”

“The other two-thirds of your cavalry is asleep in the waiting room.”

“Oh.” Lacey sighed. “Where would I be without you guys?”

“You’ll never have to know.” She glanced at the bed. “Please tell me it looks worse than it is.”

“It does,” Lacey confirmed. “She has a concussion, but nothing permanent. We’re lucky.”

Jocelyn put both hands on Lacey’s cheeks. “And how’s Mom?”

“A wreck.”

“What about the big meeting?”

“It starts in…” She looked around the room for a clock. Naturally, Jocelyn wore a watch, which was already set to local time. Lacey took her wrist and did a quick calculation. “Less than three hours. And I’m two hours away. Shit.”

“Is that your excuse?”

“No, I have a better one. I’m not leaving Ashley. She’s been through enough.”

“Poor thing.” Jocelyn reached out and touched the blanket but not the sleeping girl. “We’ll stay with her. You go and fight the good fight, Lace.”

Not a chance. “The meeting’s at ten, Joss. I’d have to leave in the next hour to even get down to Mimosa Key in time, let alone shower, dress, and get my act together.” She glanced at her sleep-worn T-shirt and jeans, the flip-flops on her feet, and—no, she didn’t even want to think about her hair.

“We can go.” Zoe stood in the doorway, looking a lot like Lacey felt. “You can stay here with Ashley.”

“We can be down there with time to spare,” Tessa said, coming up behind her with a sleepy yawn. “We’re co-investors. We’ll fight the old-school bastards.”

Ashley stirred, stopping the conversation as Lacey practically leaped to her side.

“Hey, Princess Pot-Pie. How ya feelin’?”

“’Kay.”

“Did she just call her Princess Pot-Pie?” Zoe nearly choked. “Did I hear that right?”

“That’s what she calls me.” Ashley smiled and brought her stuffed unicorn up to her chin, then her eyes flew open. “Oh! Aunt Jocelyn’s back.”

Jocelyn reached over and hugged her. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Are they going to let me go home, Mom? I really want to go home.”

“Not for a few hours, honey.”

“Long enough for us to get back to Mimosa Key in the rental car I got at the Tampa airport,” Jocelyn said. “We can handle the meeting, or at least start it. When you’re done here, you follow. By then we could have the whole zoning issue resolved.”

“You can’t present,” Lacey said, digging for her phone to check for a message she knew wasn’t going to be there. “You have to be a resident of Mimosa Key.” Nothing on the phone.

How long would she keep checking and hoping for word from Clay?

“Then let’s do what Zoe suggested,” Jocelyn said. “We’ll stay with Ashley and you go.”

“Yeah, Mom, that’s the best plan.”

“No.” Lacey shook her head. “I have to sign you out, honey. You’re a minor.”

“We’ll spring her,” Zoe said. “Throw her on a gurney and sneak her out the back like they do in the movies.”

Ashley giggled. “Fun!”

“C’mon, Lace,” Tessa prodded.

“Well, let me talk to the nurse and find out if I can pre-sign or something, then if I leave now… but I—”

“Lacey!” They all said her name in perfect unison. “Quit making excuses!”

“Okay, okay.” She rounded the bed, kissed Jocelyn on the cheek, gave high fives to Zoe and Tessa, then leaned over and gently hugged her baby. “God, I love the four of you.”

She’d made it out the door and down the hall a few steps when Ashley called out, “Mommy! I love you!”

“I love you, too, Pot-Pie!”

The nurse complied with the discharge paperwork, and in less than twenty minutes Lacey was powering the big Rubicon down I-75. By nine-fifteen she was in gridlock Fort Myers morning traffic, swearing as she watched the digital numbers on the dashboard clock click closer to ten.

Running out of time would not be her excuse for missing this presentation, damn it.

By nine-forty she crossed the causeway to Mimosa Key, flew across Center and whipped right on Palm, minutes from the house. She could do this. Hell, she might even have time to throw on some makeup and brush her hair.

She could do this!

She pulled into the driveway, ran up the walk, and stopped dead in her tracks when the front door opened.

No, no. This wasn’t possible. Anybody, anybody, but—

“Mother, what are you doing here?”

“I live here.” Marie Armstrong reached out to yank Lacey closer. Not hug, really, because Lacey’s mother didn’t actually embrace others. She squeezed them into submission.

“We got a call from David that Ashley had an accident. Where is she?”

“You know about Ashley?”

Her mother scowled. “Of course I know. We flew down last evening after David called us. He said not to bother you at the hospital but wanted us to know about Ashley. And David!” She said the name with nothing less than reverence. “It was such a thrill to hear from him, Lacey. He sounded wonderful.”

She managed to get inside, brushing by her mother, hoping for her dad, and scanning the living room for the…

The presentation materials were gone. “What did you do?”

“Lacey, you left an open bottle of wine here. I hope you and your friends weren’t drinking and driving, and all those—”

“Where is everything?” Lacey demanded. “The boards? The model? The papers?”

“That mess? I had Dad put it all away in a guest room closet, and that room was not exactly tidy either, I have to say.”

White lights practically popped in Lacey’s head. “Mother, I’m presenting to the town council in ten minutes!” She started toward the hall, but her mother grabbed her arm.

“Where is Ashley?”

“She’s still in the hospital.”

“And you left her? What kind of mother leaves her child in the hospital for a—a garden club meeting?”

“There’s my girl!” Dad came bounding out of the hallway, all bright and white-haired, big and happy. Exactly the opposite of the woman he’d married. But Lacey couldn’t even sacrifice one precious minute to throw her arms around him.

“Dad, I need all the materials you just—”

“Paul, Ashley’s alone in a hospital somewhere!” Mother cried. “Lacey left her there! We have to go to her right this minute.”

“She’s not alone,” Lacey said through a clenched jaw. “She’s with my friends. Tessa and Jocelyn and Zoe are with her.”

“Zoe? That wild one? I don’t think—”

“Mother!” Lacey snapped the word like a whip in the air, and Marie reared back, penciled eyebrows raised high into her forehead.

“Excuse me, young lady.”

“No,” Lacey said, her voice low and quiet now. “I won’t excuse you. I won’t listen to you insult my friends or tell me I’m not a good mother because I left my daughter in their care. In a hospital, I might add.”

“But David said—”

“David’s gone,” Lacey replied, using the shot of adrenaline from her rebellious speech to ease her father out of her way. “Now, you guys could really help me or you can just get out of my way. Right now I’m on a mission to change my life and I’m not going to argue with you about it, Mother.”

“We are not going to help you,” her mother said. “We are going to the hospital to take care of Ashley.”

“She’s taken care of. In fact, she might already be on her way here. Dad, please.”

“What’s going on, Lacey?” he asked. “Are you sure Ashley’s okay?”

“I’m positive. And what’s going on is too complicated to explain right now. I just need your help.”

“Of course. You know what I always say.”

As she walked down the hall, she smiled. “There’s a reason God gives you two parents?”

He chuckled. “I say that tough things make you tougher. And that granddaughter of mine is one tough cookie.”

“Yep, she’s going to be fine. I wouldn’t have left her if I didn’t believe that.”

“And what about her mom?” Dad put a hand on her shoulder, a loving, strong, guiding hand that had always been there for her.

“Going to be fine,” Lacey said. “If I don’t get derailed by disapproval.”

Almost instantly Mother was in the room, glowering at them as if her very presence could break the father-daughter bond. But it couldn’t; that was one thing Marie Armstrong never could control.

“Her mom is very busy instructing me to back off,” Mother said in response to Dad’s question.

“Then maybe you should listen, Marie.”

That got him a vile look. “Forgive me for doing my job and giving her advice. I’ll never stop, no matter how old I am or how old she is. She doesn’t have to listen, do you, Lacey? You never have, anyway.”

That was the problem: She’d been listening for far too long. At any other time in her life, this would be the point where she would say something to make her mother feel better and back away from the conversation. Instead, she looked up at her father.

“Dad, I wonder if you would do me a huge favor?”

“Anything, sweetheart.”

“Come with me and charm the town council.”

“Is that hag Charity going to be there?”

Mother choked. “Charity Grambling is my friend.”

“On Facebook,” Dad shot back, then winked at Lacey. “I never accepted her friendship. She doesn’t floss, you know.”

Lacey laughed. Only Dr. Armstrong, Mimosa Key’s only dentist for three decades, would know that.

“You are not going to confront her in the town hall,” Mother said. “Especially looking like that.”

“Like what?” She hoisted the 3-D model. “I think I look just fine.”

Mother sputtered. “Your hair looks like you combed it with a rake.”

“Marie, she looks fine,” Dad said.

“And, Lacey, have you put on weight since this hurricane?”

She rolled her eyes and tilted her head toward the front of the house. “Grab the boards, Dad.”

He marched right past her mother, who stood with her hands on her hips. “Paul, where are you going?”

“To help our daughter, Marie.”

It was going to be okay. Lacey really could do this. She might not have Clay, but she had a little backup and—backbone. Now it was time to use it.