Chapter 15

 

By Saturday morning, Max had pretty much exhausted himself, but he dressed to run anyway. Nervous energy still pumped through him, though he wasn’t sure why. He’d barely slept and prowled the house all night long, thinking of Whitney’s desertion and her absolute devastation. He finally fell asleep in front of a gory horror movie. When an ad for a romantic movie came on a commercial, he’d thrown a sneaker across the room.

His doorbell rang. At first, his heartbeat sped up. Had Whitney come home? But no, he told his stupid self. She had a key, wouldn’t ring the doorbell, and besides, she didn’t want to be with him. Shit!

He stalked to the door and yanked it open. Gabe Marino stood before him on the stoop. Terror streaked through Max. “Did something happen to her?”

“No. I did talk to Connor. She slept most of the day yesterday.”

Turning away, he walked into the condo. He was spoiling for a fight and there was no reason to take it out on a nice guy like Gabe. “I don’t want to know anything about her.”

“Of course you do, asshole.”

He whirled around. “Me? I’m not the one who walked away at the worst time in our lives together.”

“I know.” Gabe said the words gently, and Max’s throat closed up. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

“I’m a mess. Pissed off at everybody and everything. It’s not a good time for you to be here.”

“I figured. That’s why I came. Grab your racket and gear. We’re going play a few games at the training center.”

“I shouldn’t be with her family. I’m too raw. I’ll say the wrong thing.”

Gabe had this stern expression on his face that Max had seen before when he was trying to control an unreasonable trainee. “Actually, you’re getting a free pass with that.” When Max looked at him questioningly, he added, “I figured you wouldn’t spout off to your dad, since he had a heart attack. So I’m giving you two hours to get it all out with me.”

“You have to be kidding. I can never tell you all the rotten feelings I have about her right now. You love her.”

Again, gently, Gabe said, “So do you. But if you don’t want to get it all out, then we’ll just play a few games of racquetball.” He reached out and closed his hand around Max’s arm. “You know we all think of you as another brother. Let me be here for you.”

Max fought back the emotion. “I guess. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m gonna beat the pants off you.”

They listened to a sports station all the way to Maryland because Max didn’t want to talk. Gabe got the message and cooperated. They arrived at the training center forty-five minutes after Gabe had shown up at his door. A court had been reserved for them.

After they changed into shorts and sneakers and donned googles, they got in position. The space was big and airy, with a faint smell of sweat lingering in the air. Gabe handed him the little blue ball. “You serve first.”

“Don’t let up on me because I’m a wreck.”

“In your dreams.”

Max spiked the ball so hard his arm hurt. The little blue sphere hit the corner, where the wall met the floor, and bounced far over their heads, hit the back wall and sliced right into Max’s leg. He swore vilely.

Gabe only said, “Lucky break I couldn’t get to it.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m the luckiest man on earth.” Even to his own ears, he sounded like a sulking child. His turn to serve again, but this time, he held back some. The ball sliced into the front wall, but Gabe was quick. He punched it back. Max got it again. They volleyed and finally Max won the point.

Max stood in position to serve again, bouncing the ball in front of him. He didn’t know if it was because he was playing with her cousin, or something else, but everything suddenly started to pour out of him. “Fuck it, Gabe. How could she be so callous and leave me this way?”

“You’re right. She was selfish.”

Max served, and they volleyed. The exercise strained his calves and his shirt dampened with his effort. Gabe was breathing hard.

Before Gabe took over the serve, he faced Max. Max pounded the tip of his racket on the wood floor. “Son of a bitch. I can help her. She should have let me help her through this.”

“Yep.” Gabe turned away and raised the ball. “She should have stayed.” He slapped one fast and Max missed the point.

When Max won the serve again, more blurted from his mouth. “It’s over between us. I can’t live on this roller coaster she’s had me riding anymore.”

“Not if you think she isn’t worth it.”

More serves. More volleys. More talk.

Max: “Women. All they do is mess you up. She’s screwed with my head for five years. Well, no more.”

Gabe: “I understand. I never thought you were a good match anyway.”

Max stopped in his tracks. “What? Why the hell not?”

“You’re ten years older. Eventually, you wouldn’t be able to handle her.”

His masculine pride asserted itself. “I’ve done pretty well so far.”

“Have you?”

“Until all this happened.”

“Hmm.”

They finished the game. Gabe won and Max could barely walk. But somehow the world didn’t seem so grim.

“I have one thing to say,” Gabe told him. “In my opinion, Whitney’s reverted to her old ways. Only depending on herself and her family. My guess is she can’t handle your pain right now. Call that selfish if you want.”

Max sighed. “That makes sense. Though it doesn’t make her absence any easier.”

“You feel better though, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Gabe snorted. “If you ever tell her I let you say nasty things about her, I’ll break your arm.”

Max snorted. “Okay.”

Gabe came in closer and looked him straight in the eye. “Get past your rage, Max. Give her some space. She’ll come back to you.”

An arched brow. “I thought I was too old for her.”

Gabe smiled. “Let’s go get a beer.”

“At eleven a.m.?”

“Yeah. At eleven a.m.”

o0o

Whitney awoke on Saturday, rested. She turned over on her back and stared at the ceiling. It was real. She’d lost the baby. She hated this first-thing-in-the-morning reaction to something bad—everything is fine, then you remember what happened to you. As a teen, she’d tried to figure out her world in this room, tried to make the right decisions for her future. She thought she had.

Tears threatened, but she held them back. She had to deal with the loss. She couldn’t sleep all day or prowl around like the mother of all zombies. She hated this weakness in herself but couldn’t seem to get strong now. Which was one of the reasons she’d come home. Max had his own pain, which she’d be no help with in her current condition. And God forbid if he squelched it to deal with hers.

Today, though, she’d be better. Try to move forward. But no way was she talking about the miscarriage.

A knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Connor’s head poked inside. “You’re up.” He shoved the door fully open. He carried a breakfast tray. The scent of strong coffee and fluffy pastries accompanied him into the room.

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“I thought we’d share breakfast.”

“I’d love that. But I don’t want to talk about what happened.”

“Fine. Wanna watch cartoons?”

Exactly what they did when they were young. In good times, they had a blast nestling in bed, eating cereal from a box, giggling. In the hard times, the shows kept them occupied. This routine to cope with their lives had stayed with them into high school, which everybody but them thought was weird.

So she asked, “Is Toby still on, you think?”

“Let’s see.” He sidled in next to her on top of the pink duvet, grabbed the remote and clicked on the television.

She stared at the coffee, a bit of steam rising up from the surface. The smell no longer made her ill. She swallowed the avalanche of regret. But she took a sip. At least the brew tasted wonderful and Connor had spiked it with the right amount of milk. Suddenly, she was very glad he was with her.

“Hey, here it is.” He’d been searching the guide. Reruns. Of Toby, the Great and Powerful Investigator.”

“Who would have guessed?”

They watched an episode. Connor laughed out loud at Toby’s adventure at the Louvre. “I don’t think we saw this one.”

Even she chuckled at the little mouse’s antics around the Mona Lisa.

When that episode ended, they clicked into another, then another, sipping coffee and munching on Aunt Deidre’s blueberry muffins. After they’d both had two, he asked, “This enough?”

“Yeah. Thanks. It was just what I needed.”

He got up and removed the food, put the tray on the night table. “What would you like to do now?” he asked.

A frown. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

He made a disgusted teenage sound with his mouth.

So she said, “How cold is it outside?”

“The sun’s shining.”

“I feel okay. Medically, you think I can walk today?”

“Yeah. We’ll go slow at first and see.” He scooped up the remnants of breakfast. “Get dressed and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

When he left, she sighed at how her family rallied around her. And guiltily, she wondered how Max was. He wouldn’t go to his dad, who was recovering from serious surgery. Did he have anyone else to talk to? To take care of him, like her family did her?

Max. Baby. Max. Baby.

She threw off the covers. She couldn’t go there yet.

o0o

When he called to check on his father, Max had avoided mentioning Whitney’s absence to protect his dad, but John Blackwell was a stubborn man and had phoned him Sunday. “Enough. Lorelei told me what happened. Get over here and plan to stay for supper.”

The tone in his voice was familiar and Max knew better than to argue. At times, John Blackwell brooked no argument.

Max arrived at two. Lorelei met him in the foyer of the brownstone. Her expression was one of total empathy. “Hello, Max.”

After removing his coat and boots, he asked, “Lorelei. Does me being summoned here mean he’s doing well?”

“You can’t imagine. He’s already asking to do things. I’m glad you’ve come. You’ll distract him.”

“Me, too. For both of us.”

“I’m so sorry, Max.” She squeezed his shoulder. “I don’t know all the history with you and Whitney. Your dad is protecting your privacy. But he did say you two wanted the baby.”

“Yeah. And he can tell you everything. You’ll probably think Whitney and I are both crazy.”

“Love is never crazy. I know that.”

He felt more of the darkness inside him lighten. “Lorelei, in case I was out of it when we first met, I’m very happy for you and my dad. He’s been alone too long.”

“He was never alone, Max. He has you. But thank you for the acceptance.” She led him to the back of the house. His father sat in his favorite mahogany leather chair with a book on his lap. When Max got a glimpse of his face, his dad looked rested and stronger.

“Well, it’s about time.”

“Don’t be mad.” God he sounded whiny.

“I’m not. I wish you weren’t in this situation. I know you were shielding me from your pain. Are you ready to talk to me about it?”

Like the little boy he used to be, who needed his father’s advice, he shrugged. “Some. If it gets too hard, I’ll stop.”

In halting sentences and having to pause at times, he let the story pour out of his mouth. His dad’s face was grim during the entire recitation.

“We’d come so far, Dad. When I pulled that shit with Angie, Whitney and I were both confronted with the truth about our feelings for each other. Then she said she’d have the baby. I thought we were going to spend our lives together.”

“Life can trip you up.” His expression was sad. “I remember when your mother died. I didn’t think I could survive. Or that I wanted to.”

“I’m sorry you went through that.”

“How is she? I take it she didn’t want to come to see me.”

“She left town and went home to Lakeville.”

“Ah, that makes sense for Whitney, but I’m not excusing her for abandoning you.”

He sat back, weary again. “I suppose.” After yesterday with Gabe, his anger seemed to have drained. He told his father what Gabe had done.

“Those Marinos. Always there when you need them.”

“Except for her.”

“Give her space.”

“Yeah, that’s what Gabe advised.”

“And give me a chance to be here for you. Stay for supper. Hell, stay overnight. Let us take care of you for a bit.”

“You had major surgery.”

“Yeah, but I’m better off than you are.”

A chuckle. “That’s probably true.”

“And, besides being gorgeous and a sweet person, Lorelei is a great cook.”

Max chuckled. His dad was smitten.

He nodded to the TV. “Football? Those Bills Whitney likes so much are playing.”

He wondered if she had the game on today. When he sank back against the pillows and stretched out his legs, he could breathe a little easier.

o0o

She was a coward. But she couldn’t call Max. Her fingers wouldn’t punch in his number. But at 8:00 a.m. Monday morning, she phoned Drew Michener. She didn’t know if he’d give her the vacation time she’s accumulated or a leave of absence, but she’d have to convince him. No way could she go back to D.C. now.

“Michener.” Her boss always came in early.

“Hi, Drew. It’s Whitney Dwyer.”

“Hey.” A hesitation. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

“Yeah, me, too.” She had to clear her throat. “I called about work.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I can’t come back right now. I need some time.”

A pause. “Which you’ve already gotten.”

“Excuse me?”

“Thank President Manwaring. He called me over the weekend and asked us to give you whatever you need.”

“Who called him?”

“He didn’t say. Probably your brother. He told me he owed you a favor from last summer, which of course we knew because the story made the rounds in the office.”

“I’m sorry if you felt pressure.”

“The president’s call wasn’t necessary, Whitney. I’d planned to give you and Max as much space as needed.”

“Is…is he taking time?”

“Um…” He’d wonder why she didn’t know. “I guess not. He just walked through the door. Want to talk to him?”

“No, Drew. Thanks. I’ll be in touch, though, when I’m ready to come back.”

o0o

The common space at threat assessment was practically empty, and because of that, Max noticed through Drew’s open door that he was on the phone. His boss’s expression was odd, but he waved Max over and hung up when Max reached the office.

Drew dropped down on his chair behind the desk. “You didn’t have to come in today.”

“Yeah, I did. For my mental health.”

“I guess I understand that.”

“What’s wrong, Drew? Something about the call?”

“Um, that was Whitney on the phone.”

Max hadn’t sat down but gripped the back of the chair with both hands.

“She called to ask for vacation time.”

“How long?”

“She didn’t say.” He explained about Manwaring. “Did you call the president?”

“That wasn’t my place. It was probably Nick, President Manwaring’s brother-in-law. Whitney’s cousin.”

Drew nodded. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told her. Each of you can have whatever time you want, especially because you’re in between cases. And the president didn’t need to mandate that.”

“Thanks. You’ve been patient with us through all this.” He bit the inside of his jaw, wanting to know how Whitney was. But, damn it, he wasn’t going to ask his boss for that information. Instead, he said, “Do you have a case for me? I know we passed on an interesting assignment. I’ll take anything.”

“You sure?”

Max nodded.

From behind his desk, Drew picked up a stack of manila folders. “These are upcoming. There’s legwork that needs to be done. Decide now, though, because I have to activate them.” He added, “Sit. I’ll get us some coffee while you check the files.”

While Drew was gone, Max scanned the cases. When he saw Mike Ross’s name on one, he remembered Whitney’s comment about the young agent wanting to work with him. And the case seemed interesting. When Drew returned, Max held up the folder. “The Crane file.”

“I’ll be glad to have you on this one.”

Max stood. “Thanks. For everything.” He turned to leave.

“Wait a second.” Drew came around the desk. “Max, if you want to get a beer after work, I’m free. We don’t have to talk about anything serious. Or we can. Whatever.”

He was touched by Drew’s offer. “I’ll let you know at the end of the day.”

Max walked out of the office. At least he still had this job he loved and coworkers he wanted to be with.

Absent one.

o0o

“What are you doing, A leanbh?”

Whitney pulled her head out of the oven. She hadn’t been called little one in a long time. “I’m cleaning the oven.” Her aunt hadn’t updated to a self-cleaning appliance. She motioned to the kitchen. “I’m cleaning the whole house, actually. And before you object, Connor said I was physically fine to do it.”

Connor. She still hadn’t been able to get him to tell her about what happened with Calla. He didn’t want to talk about her. She understood that.

Her aunt feigned an insulted expression. “You think my house is dirty?”

“I saw your note on the calendar, Mama. It said ‘cleaning day.’ But I wish you’d let us hire someone to do all this on a regular basis.”

“I’m ready for that. The house is too big for me to take care of by myself.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She smoothed back her hair. “I hate cleaning.”

“We’ll get you someone before I go back.”

She worked alongside her aunt in the kitchen. Then they attacked the living and dining rooms. Whitney decided to tackle the windows.

As she sprayed on the foam, she was hit by a memory. She and Max were outside his condo, which was on the first floor. It was summer and he wore only a bathing suit. As he sprayed, wiped, sprayed and wiped, the muscles of his back rippled. He’d turned around and caught her ogling him.

The windows did not get finished that day.

Her throat clogged at the memory. Of sex. Of closeness. Of good times. Huh. At least she could admit that.

They stopped for lunch of minestrone and bread, then scoured the rest of the house. The activity felt good. Her body was tired. Too tired. “Before you make me, I’m going to take a shower and then a nap. Wake me so I can help with dinner.”

Her aunt crossed to her. Tipped her chin. “You seem…better today.”

“I am. A little at a time, I guess.”

“Have you called Max?”

“I can’t yet, Mama. I know it’s selfish of me and I wish I could take on his pain…” Her voice grew hoarse. “But I’m barely dealing with my own.”

“Gabe spent time with him over the weekend.”

“Did he? I’m glad. After his dad’s heart attack, he wouldn’t let go with John.”

“He did with Gabe.”

As she climbed the stairs, she wondered what Max said to Gabe. Her family loved him. So did she, but she couldn’t help him. She had to help herself first.