Twenty-Two
Phoebe Rylander
The weekend in Westport with Hutch was incredible and wonderful and exciting. Those were only a few of the words Phoebe could think of to describe their time together.
The condo overlooked the Pacific Ocean on one side and Gray’s Harbor on the other. The community was filled with quaint shops, delectable seafood restaurants and antique stores and seemed completely unspoiled.
Holding hands, they’d walked barefoot along the beach and on Saturday afternoon, Hutch assembled huge, complicated kites for them to fly. Phoebe stood on the shore and laughed hysterically at Hutch’s attempts to keep their strings from tangling. Later on Saturday, after a dinner of Phoebe’s seafood linguine, they sat on the beach in front of a campfire that crackled and shot sparks in the air. Hutch slipped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. They didn’t talk; conversation seemed unnecessary. Instead, they’d looked into the mesmerizing flames as the driftwood burned and simply enjoyed being together.
Sunday morning, Phoebe insisted on making a cheese omelet, which Hutch praised as lavishly as he had her pasta the night before. They both grew subdued that afternoon, preparing to return to their respective lives. Phoebe regretted having to leave this idyllic place.
Hutch had kissed her several times, and Phoebe loved being in his arms. He didn’t pressure her to sleep with him, which was a pleasant change from other men she’d dated—Clark in particular.
It was while she sat staring into the fire that she’d realized the biggest difference between the two men and the reason she’d always found an excuse to delay her wedding to Clark.
Hutch was sincere, genuine, kind, while Clark had shown little evidence of those qualities. Clark’s entire world revolved around him—his career, his ambition, his needs. The more time she spent away from him, the more Phoebe saw how blind she’d been. His infidelity had been a blessing wrapped in pain and betrayal. How grateful she was now that she hadn’t married him.
As she sat by the fire on the beach, thinking about Clark, Phoebe’s eyes had welled with tears. She could only feel thankful that she’d recognized the truth before it was too late.
Hutch seemed to believe that her emotions were connected to the death of her fiancé. Phoebe wanted to tell him the truth and knew she needed to do it soon. She regretted the lie. When she’d first introduced herself to the class, it had just seemed easier than launching into a complicated explanation. This was the weekend she’d planned to tell him about Clark, but she’d been afraid. She hadn’t wanted to ruin their time together, so she’d put it off yet again.
Hutch dropped Phoebe at her apartment around eight on Sunday evening. After giving Princess a few minutes’ attention and refreshing her food and water, Phoebe checked her phone. The message light was blinking wildly. Caller ID informed her that the majority of calls had come from Clark.
Without listening to any of his attempts to contact her, Phoebe deleted each message until she got to her mother’s.
“Phoebe, where are you? Why aren’t you answering the phone?” Her mother’s voice rang with urgency. “Clark’s father suffered a massive heart attack. He’s in the hospital. No one knows what’s going to happen. Please call Clark as soon as you get this. I just pray it isn’t too late.”
Phoebe gasped. She’d always been fond of Clark’s father, and the thought of losing Max shook her badly. Without thinking she grabbed the phone and dialed Clark’s cell.
“Phoebe!” he said. “Thank God you called.”
“How’s your father?”
“He had emergency bypass surgery on Saturday morning. Where were you? No one seemed to have any idea.”
“That isn’t important,” she told him. Phoebe didn’t owe him any explanations and she certainly wasn’t about to tell him she’d been in Westport with Hutch.
Her words had a sobering effect on him. “You’re right, of course,” he said. “Listen, Phoebe, Dad asked if you’d come and see him. Will you do that? You know how special you are to my father.”
“Of course I’ll visit him.”
“Would it be possible for you to come now?” Clark asked softly.
“Now?”
“Please. It would mean the world to Dad.”
“I... I suppose.”
Clark gave her Max’s room number at Swedish Hospital, which she wrote down on a pad near the phone. “I have one request,” she said.
“Anything.”
Clark was acting far too agreeable. Perhaps she was being cynical, but past experience had taught her he wasn’t to be trusted.
“If I go to see your father now, you can’t be there.”
“But...” Clark hesitated.
“Agreed?”
“Phoebe, I—”
“That’s my stipulation and either you agree or I’ll arrange another time to come by the hospital.” She’d visit Max during working hours because the one thing she could count on was that Clark wouldn’t show up if it interfered with law-firm business.
Again he paused. “You’ve changed, Phoebe.”
She wouldn’t deny it. “Thanks to you, I’m not the same gullible woman I used to be. I refuse to play your games anymore.”
His tone sobered. “My father’s close to dying, Phoebe. This isn’t a game.”
“I’ll come, Clark, but if you’re anywhere in the vicinity, I guarantee you I’ll walk right out the door.”
Clark laughed.
“You think this is amusing?” she demanded irritably. She refused to let Clark manipulate her as he so often had in the past.
“I like the new you,” he said, cajoling her. “I’ve seen that stubborn streak before, but there’s a new determination in you that intrigues me. If this is how you want it, Phoebe, then so be it.”
“I mean it, Clark.”
“I don’t doubt you for a moment. I won’t be anywhere near the hospital. I promise.”
She wasn’t sure she could trust him and said nothing. If he did “just happen” to stop by, she’d keep her word. She’d simply leave.
As she hung up the phone, Phoebe closed her eyes. Why Max wanted to see her right now, she couldn’t begin to guess. Was his condition really so dire that she had to rush to the hospital immediately?
Reaching for her sweater and purse, Phoebe hurried to the parking garage. All the way to the hospital, she resisted the urge to call Hutch and tell him about this unexpected turn of events.
But she couldn’t discuss Clark with Hutch because he thought her fiancé was dead. That was the problem with a lie: it occasioned other lies and soon you’d created an ever-increasing spiral of them. And when it came to revealing the truth—well, that was difficult. She’d wanted to tell him; Hutch deserved to know about Clark. Yet she hadn’t. She was afraid her deception would taint their relationship. And the longer she delayed, the more embarrassing and awkward the truth became.
Phoebe found a parking spot on a street that would be well lit once the sun went down and walked the short distance to Swedish Hospital. She wasn’t all that far from Blossom Street.
Really, when she thought about it, she had a great deal for which to thank Clark. If not for him, she would never have met Alix, Lydia and Margaret, or for that matter, Hutch. Just thinking about him produced a sense of anticipation.
She had Max Snowden’s room number, so Phoebe took the elevator directly to his floor and entered the surgical ward.
In the room, Phoebe found Marlene Snowden sitting by her husband’s bedside, holding his hand. Thankfully, Clark was nowhere in sight.
When she saw Phoebe, Clark’s mother released Max’s hand and rose to her feet. “Phoebe! I’m so grateful you’re here.”
Max opened his eyes and smiled, stretching out his arm. “My dear.”
“Oh, Max.” He looked pale and weak, so unlike the robust man she’d known. “I’m so sorry this happened.”
“He’s going to get better soon. It’s only a matter of time before he’s back on the golf course and we’re dancing at the country club again. Isn’t that right, Max?” Marlene gazed down at her husband. “Of course, we’ll be making some small lifestyle changes and—”
“Yes, Marlene,” her husband said, cutting her off.
Marlene Snowden sighed. “I know Max wants to talk to you privately,” she said, patting her husband’s hand, “so I’ll leave you to chat.” She leaned forward and kissed Max on the brow. “I’ll go get a cup of coffee.”
Phoebe watched her go, then turned to Max. “What can I do for you?” she asked, frankly curious.
“You know I’ve always loved you,” Max said hoarsely.
Phoebe nodded; the affection was mutual.
“I’m the one who talked you into taking Clark back the first time.”
“Yes,” she acknowledged. Pressure had come from all sides, including her own mother, but it was Max who’d convinced her to give Clark another chance. “You were so sure it would never happen again. Only it did, Max, and frankly I don’t think Clark will ever stop.”
Max shook his head in disgust. “My son can be an idiot.”
She squeezed his hand, echoing his sentiment.
“I would’ve enjoyed having you as my daughter-in-law—the daughter I never had.”
It went without saying that she would’ve enjoyed being part of the Snowden family, too.
To her horror, Max’s eyes filled with tears. “Is there any possibility that you’d be willing to forgive Clark and marry him?”
Phoebe hardly knew how to respond. “I—”
“You don’t need to tell me that Clark deserves to lose you. If he hadn’t done this before...” He let the rest fade and turned his head to stare out the hospital window. “In my heart I know Clark loves you. You’re good for him, Phoebe. When he’s with you, Clark is a better man.”
“I’m not sure that’s true. I—”
Again Max interrupted her. “Although Marlene insists I’m going to be as healthy as ever, I’m not convinced. As far as I can tell, I’m living on borrowed time.”
“Oh, Max.” Phoebe bit her lower lip. She had only vague memories of her own father, who’d played such a minor role in her life. From the first she’d felt a bond with Max, who was like a second father to her.
“I want to see my son married and settled down. I’d be grateful to hold a grandchild in my arms one day, God willing. Now, I don’t know if that’ll ever happen.”
“You’ve had a fright,” she told him.
“It’s more than that, Phoebe.”
She swallowed hard. “Do you know something the doctors haven’t told your family?”
Max didn’t answer but he looked away, and she realized then that he did. She tightened her grip on his hand.
“I love my son,” Max murmured. “I know his strengths and his weaknesses. I also know he regrets this mess and that he misses you terribly. He’d do anything to get you back.”
“I don’t think that’s possible anymore,” Phoebe whispered.
“If you’d be willing to reconsider, I could have a stipulation put in my will.” Max’s gaze implored her. “If Clark ever again commits any form of infidelity, I’d disinherit him.”
“Max, I—”
“Hear me out,” he pleaded. “You alone would inherit—not Clark. You and any children the two of you might have.”
Aware of how much it must’ve hurt him to make such a suggestion, Phoebe pressed the back of his hand against her cheek. “Max, I’m sorry but I really don’t think that’s a solution.”
“Consider it. That’s all I ask.” Max smiled up at her, although the effort seemed to drain him.
“You need to rest.”
“I do,” he said, “but I’d sleep a whole lot easier if I knew you’d reconsider marrying Clark.” He paused as though gathering his strength in order to continue. “Clark might not admit it, but he needs you, Phoebe.”
She didn’t confirm or deny that. Knowing Clark so well, she believed he didn’t need her as much as the evidence that he could manipulate her. What Clark craved above all was control, of everyone and everything around him.
“You’re a good woman.”
“Thank you, but...”
Max closed his eyes, his strength nearly gone. “Clark’s learned his lesson.”
“Does he know why you wanted to see me?” She had to find out whether Clark had a role in this before she could promise Max she’d reconsider.
“Yes,” Max whispered. “He’s desperate to have you back, on any terms, Phoebe, and asked me to help persuade you.”
Oh, very clever of him, she mused skeptically. Being an attorney, a very skilled one, meant that his father’s wishes wouldn’t stand in his way. Clark would uncover a loophole. He certainly wouldn’t allow her to take away his inheritance. None of that mattered, though.
Phoebe shook her head. “Max, I don’t want a husband tied to me because of a stipulation in a will,” she said softly. “If the bonds of love and commitment aren’t enough, then there’s nothing left to say.”
“I agree...”
“Then why—”
“The fact that I’d even ask such a thing of you proves how badly I want to see my son settled. You’re his equal in every way. Clark isn’t an easy man to love—he’s already proven that.”
Despite herself Phoebe grinned.
“I wouldn’t suggest this if I didn’t believe he was truly sorry. He swore to me that it’ll never happen again.”
“He swore that to me, as well,” Phoebe reminded him. “The first time.”
Max frowned. “Like I said earlier, he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness or your love.”
Phoebe debated how much to tell Max, then decided she couldn’t mislead him. “I’ve met someone else, Max.”
Max’s eyes dulled and it was several minutes before he spoke. “Clark doesn’t know that, does he?”
Phoebe looked away. “I told him, but he didn’t take it well. That’s one of the reasons I insisted he not be here, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to come.”
Max sighed. “Forgive an old man for trying to make things right.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. You love your son.”
“I love you, too, Phoebe. I wish this had worked out differently.”
“So do I.”
Max squeezed her hand. “Thank you for being honest with me.”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention our conversation to Clark.”
“I won’t,” he assured her.
“Phoebe,” Marlene Snowden said, startling her as she stepped into the room, holding a cup of coffee. “You’re dating someone else now. It didn’t take you long, did it?”
“Marlene,” Max protested.
“Clark told me. He was in the cafeteria because you refused to see him. You were with that other man this weekend, weren’t you?” Marlene Snowden demanded in a shrill voice. “No wonder we couldn’t reach you.”
Phoebe ignored the accusation.
“How dare you accuse my son of cheating!” Marlene continued. “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”
“I think it’s time I left,” Phoebe said. She kissed the back of Max’s hand and walked out of the room.
Thankfully, Clark’s mother didn’t follow her. She wished Max the very best, she’d miss him painfully, but she could never marry his son.