THE SUN WAS peeking out from between heavy storm clouds. Both figuratively and literally. At least as far as Chelsea was concerned. A good omen.
Jessi’s mom was home and recovering after her bypass surgery. Clint had seen Jessi in passing, but she had her hands full at the moment with her job, her mom and her daughter.
Which brought him back to the item on his desk.
Transfer papers.
Or rather a request to terminate his temporary assignment in Richmond and head back to Cali, where, from what he’d read on the internet that morning, all was sunny and bright. Not a cloud in sight.
And, hell, he could use a little more light right now to clear his head.
To sign or not to sign, that was the question.
No, it wasn’t. He’d eventually put in that request. It was only a matter of time. And willpower.
Willpower he’d been sorely lacking in the past several weeks. To stay would be a mistake. Something he’d convinced himself of time and time again.
His presence here in Richmond brought back memories of not-so-happy times for all of them.
How many times had Jessi mentioned Larry’s name? Hell, he hadn’t even known the man had died when he’d arrived here, much less the reason for it. And Jessi had been carrying that around for all these years.
And being here with her was a definite reminder of his own bitter childhood. People from his past knew more than he’d realized—judging from Mrs. Spencer’s comments at dinner. They’d evidently talked amongst themselves about his father’s problems.
And Clint’s explosive reactions when he was around Jessi? Also reminders of what a lack of control could cause—had caused. He might have enjoyed it at the time, but there were consequences for everything in this life.
He’d have to leave some time or other. Why not now? Chelsea was scheduled to be released from the hospital next week. She’d continue her sessions as an outpatient … a victory he should be cheering, instead of acting like he was about to be shot off to the moon, never to be heard from again.
Maybe he’d request deployment instead. That should take him far enough away. Or he could just let the army decide where he was needed, rather than ask to return to San Diego.
Chelsea popped her head in, as if she’d heard his thoughts. “Have you heard anything about my grandmother yet?”
He slid the transfer papers beneath a file folder, not willing to let her see it. No need to cause a panic. It would take time for the orders to go through, anyway.
“No, just that she’s been released.” He smiled at her. “And you really should learn to knock, young lady. I could have been with a patient.”
He motioned at the chair across from his desk.
Her lips twisted. “You’re right. Sorry.”
“No problem.” He tapped the eraser end of his pencil on the smooth gray surface of the desk, the hidden papers glaring at him from their hiding place. “As I was saying, your grandmother seems to be doing pretty well, according to your mom. She just has to take it easy for a few weeks.”
Just like he did. He’d seen firsthand the problems that jumping into something with both feet could bring.
“Hmm …”
“And what does that sound mean?” He forced a light smile, although it felt like the corners of his mouth were weighted down with chunks of concrete.
Chelsea’s own light attitude vanished. “I was hoping to do something, but I guess it can wait until Nana’s feeling better.”
“Anything I can help with?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe. I was telling Paul that I’d like to hold a memorial service for my … for the baby. He said he’d like to come. So did some of the others in our group.”
Paul Ivers, a young man who’d moved over to sit by Chelsea during one of their group sessions. When had this particular conversation taken place?
“I don’t see why that couldn’t happen at some point.”
“I’d want you there as well, if that’s okay. You’ve helped me so much.”
“I haven’t done anything, Chelsea. You’ve come this far under your own power. I’ve just been here to listen and facilitate.”
“Maybe you don’t think you’ve done much, but I do. And you said you knew each other before. I asked Mom about that, and she said you, she and my dad were all in school together. My dad’s not here anymore, so it would mean a lot if someone who knew him came.”
Me and Larry, neck and neck.
He’d been a stand-in for the man back then. The last thing he wanted was to be one now.
Was that what he’d been when he’d made love to Jessi back at her house? A stand-in for a man who was dead and gone? A man whose death he’d helped cause?
“Please, Dr. Marks?” Chelsea’s voice came back again.
Clint sat there, conflicted. He believed in keeping his word whenever possible, something his father had never seen fit to do.
In fact, a lot of the strict rules governing his life had come about because of his dad’s poor judgment. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Those rules had served him well, until he’d come back to Richmond. “I can’t promise anything, Chelsea, but if I’m still here, I’d love to come.”
Her eyes widened then darkened with fear. “You’re thinking of leaving?”
He hurried to put her mind at ease. “I simply meant if you hold the service five years from now, there are no guarantees I won’t have been transferred somewhere else by then.”
His buzzer went off before he had time to think.
When he answered, his assistant said, “Mrs. Riley is here.”
His already tense muscles tightened further. Hearing Jessi referred to as Mrs. anything stuck in his craw.
Jessi Marks. Now, that had a nice ring to it.
No, it didn’t.
Hell. This day was turning out to be anything but the good omen he’d hoped for fifteen minutes earlier. It was morphing into a damned nightmare.
“Oh, good,” said Chelsea. “We can ask her what she thinks.”
Perfect. He had a feeling Jessi was going to love this almost as much as he did.
He responded to his assistant, rather than to his patient. “Send her in.”
Jessi scooted through the door, her face turning pink when she spied her daughter sitting in one of the chairs. Then her eyes crinkled in the corners. “Hi, sweetheart. I was just headed down to see you.”
“Were you?” Chelsea’s lips slid into a smile. “Guess you decided to stop by and see my doctor first.”
Pink turned to bright red that swept up high cheekbones like twin beacons of guilt.
Chelsea waved away her mother’s discomfiture and stood up to catch her hand. “Anyway, I’m glad you did, because we have something to tell you.”
“We do?”
“You do?”
He and Jessi both spoke at once, then their eyes met. Hers faintly accusing as she met him stare for stare. She was the first to look away, though.
Chelsea blinked as she glanced from one to the other. “I don’t actually mean ‘we’ because I kind of sprang this on Dr. Marks.”
That was one way of putting it.
She glanced at him again. “Is it okay if I tell her?”
“That’s completely up to you.” He had to force the words out as invisible walls began to close in around him. So much for his quick, silent escape. What a damn mess. No matter which way he spun, seeking the nearest exit, he only dug himself in deeper and deeper.
Pulling her mom over to the chairs, they both sat down, then Chelsea told Jessi what she’d told him, in almost exactly the same way. As if she’d been rehearsing the words over and over until she’d got them perfect.
His insides coiled tighter.
Once her voice died away there was silence in the room, except for Clint’s phone, which gave a faint pinging sound as it received a message of some type.
Jessi licked her lips, her gaze flicking to Clint for a mere second before going to rest on her daughter. “I think that’s a lovely idea.”
“I asked Dr. Marks about letting the group come … and I invited him, as well. He said he’d be there, if he was still in Richmond.”
“‘Still in Richmond’?”
The words curled around a note of hurt, the sound splashing over him in a bitter wave.
This wasn’t how he’d wanted her to hear the news.
Chelsea’s hand covered her mother’s. “No, I mean he said that if I had the service five years from now, he might have been transferred somewhere else by then.”
Jessi’s body relaxed slightly.
Did she care that he might move away?
Of course not. She had to know as well as he did how utterly foolish it would be for them to go any further than they already had. And she’d withdrawn a little over the past week, changing their working relationship into one of professionals who were collaborating on a patient they had in common. Only to Jessi she was no patient. She was her daughter—someone she loved with all her heart and soul. He saw the truth of it each time the women looked at each other and in the way Chelsea touched her mom, as if needing the reassurance of her presence.
To be loved like that would be …
Impossible. For him, anyway.
And he needed to pull himself together before someone realized how jumbled his emotions had become.
“Of course I’ll be there.” The words came out before he had time to fully vet them. So he added, “If I can.”
“When do you want to do this?” Jessi’s voice became stronger, as if she saw this as a way for her daughter to close this chapter in her life and move on to the next one. One that Clint hoped with all his being would be full of laughter and happiness. This family deserved nothing less, they’d been through so much over the years.
He did not need to add more junk to the pile. They both had enough to deal with right now. He decided to change the subject. “How’s your mom?”
“Good. The home nurse is with her this morning. She’s getting stronger every day. In fact, she said today that finding out … er … finding out about her blockage might have been one of the most positive, life-affirming experiences she’d ever gone through. She feels tons better and is raring to get out of bed and go back to work on her garden and play with Cooper.” Jessi shook her head and squeezed Chelsea’s hand. “I think I know where you got your stubbornness from.”
“Mine?”
Laughing, Jessi said, “Okay, mine, too.”
That was one thing Clint could attest to. This was one strong trio of women, despite the momentary flashes of pain that manifested themselves in physical reactions: Abigail’s heart blockage. Chelsea’s suicide attempt. Jessi’s reaching out to an old flame during a crisis?
Yes. That was exactly it.
It should have made him feel better—set his mind at ease about leaving in the months ahead. Instead, a cold draft slid through his body and circled, looking for a place to land. He cleared his throat to chase it away. It didn’t work. It lay over him in a gray haze that clung to everything in sight, just like the morning dew. What it touched, it marked.
And that mark was …
Love.
He reeled back in his seat for a second, trying to process and conceal all at the same time.
He loved her? Heaven help him.
How could he have let this happen? Any of it? All of it?
He had screwed up badly. Had let his emotions get the best of him, just like he always had when he was around this woman.
The transfer papers seemed to pulse at him from beneath the binder with new urgency. The sooner he did this the better.
And his promise to Chelsea?
“What do you think Nana would want me to do?” Even as his own thoughts were in shambles, Chelsea’s were on the brink of closing old wounds and letting them heal.
“I think Nana would want you to be happy, honey.”
“Can we have the service next week, then? I don’t know how long the members of the group will keep coming to sessions. We can have a private memorial for just our family later, if Nana feels up to it.”
“We can have it anytime you want.”
And in that moment he knew he had to see this through. He had to be there for Jessi, just as she had to be there for Chelsea. Abigail wasn’t up to taking on that role yet. And Larry was no longer there.
And he wanted to. Wasn’t that what love was about? Sacrificing your own comfort and well-being for someone else’s?
Like he’d done once upon a time?
He peered into the past with new eyes. Eyes that saw the truth.
He’d loved her even then. Even as he’d been preparing to hand her over to another man. One whose father didn’t drink himself into a rage and let his fists do the talking.
A normal, mundane life.
Something Clint hadn’t been able to give her. Because back then he’d had anger issues, too. Toward his father, who’d dished it out. Toward his mom, who’d sat there and taken it. Toward the world in general, for turning a blind eye toward what had been going on in homes like his.
The military had helped him conquer most of his anger, but only because it had instilled discipline in its place, and had channeled his negative energy into positive areas.
But his life still wasn’t peaceful. It was filled with patients like Chelsea, who scrabbled and clawed to find some kind of normalcy.
Jessi had been through enough. She’d deserved better than him back then, and she still did today.
She deserved a professor or architect or poet. A man who brought beauty into her life. Not memories of days gone by.
I’m going to have to give her up all over again.
And he was going to have a few more scars to show for it.
He realized both pairs of female eyes were on his face, both wearing identical expressions of confusion. One of them had said something.
“I’m sorry?”
Chelsea bit her lip. “I asked if next Sunday would work for you? Or do you have other plans?”
“No. No plans.” Once he’d said it, he realized he could have come up with an excuse. Like what? A date? That would go over really well with Jessi. Besides, he’d meant what he’d thought earlier. He wanted to be there for her … and for Chelsea. Like the family he’d never had?
Maybe. Maybe it was okay to pretend just for a few hours—to soak up something he’d never be able to have in real life.
Like a wife and daughter?
Yes.
Even if they both belonged to a man who could no longer be there for them.
So he would act as a stand-in once again. For an hour. Maybe two. And he could pray that somehow it was enough to get him through the rest of his life.