Chapter 58
She didn’t care that the sky was black by the time she arrived in Greenville. She needed to know if her suspicions were correct. She pulled her car to a stop in front of the familiar wrought-iron gates of the cottage and reached toward the intercom.
An instant before her finger pressed the button, her breath hitched and her courage faltered. What was she doing here? It was late. He wasn’t expecting her. Besides that, if she pressed the buzzer, and he answered, he wouldn’t let her in. He despised her.
I know the security code.
She chewed on her bottom lip, pondering whether to be so bold. The next second she was typing 1–2–3–4 into the keypad. As expected, the gates creaked open.
“Too late to back out now, Sarah.”
She drove up the driveway, willing herself to be confident and brave. She reached the cottage, parked in her usual space in the carport, and stepped from the car. When she turned toward the cottage, Charles was standing in the doorway. The expression on his face could have rivaled a pissed-off bear’s.
Uh-oh. He was not happy.
She was about to take a step toward him when he spat, “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you. Leave before I have you charged with trespassing.”
He turned. It was now or never.
She blurted, “Not even about Joan’s dementia?”
He wheeled about so fast, she was sure he could have burned a hole in the doorway.
He glared at her, but his tone hinted at anxiety when he replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes. You do.” Fire raged in his eyes. She was making him angrier. To appease him, she added, “I’m not here to cause trouble.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I––”
He wouldn’t let her finish. “Do you want to ruin my mother? Because that’s what you’ll do if you go to the press with these lies. I’ll––”
Sarah raised her palms in a calming action, “Whoa. I have no intention of going to the media . . . and we both know they’re not lies.”
He pressed his lips together and looked away. Defeat colored his features. It made him look vulnerable again.
She approached him and placed her hand on his upper arm, “Your secret is safe with me. I’m sorry for everything I said. If you, or Joan, need anything, let me know.”
She glanced down and was about to move away, when his hand stopped her.
“I’m sorry too.”
She shrugged. “Is there anything I can do?”
He shook his head, “I’m already doing everything that can be done for her.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
She meant it.
He smiled and locked his gaze on her. She felt her world dissolve again. He still held that power over her even after the time apart.
He broke the spell by asking, “Would you like some tea? You must be tired after the long drive?”
She nodded, “Sure.”
When she followed him inside, she felt the chasm between them shrink until it seemed like it had never been there.
***
She would keep the secret. He couldn’t help smiling when she peeked over her shoulder at him. The simple gesture made his heart slam against his chest. He wanted to reach out, pull her into an embrace, and kiss her in a way that showed how much he’d missed her.
Instead, he indicated with his hand at the sofa. “Make yourself at home.”
She complied, taking a seat at one end.
Neither of them spoke as he made tea. Every few seconds, he peered over at her. She was wearing her nurse’s uniform. She’d come straight from work. Ignoring the nurse fantasies that wanted to invade his mind, he set a cup of tea on the coffee table in front of her.
He settled himself at the other end of the sofa. “So. Why don’t you tell me how you figured this all out?”
She inhaled. “I was flipping through the copy of the manuscript your mother gave me in our first session together when I discovered all the notes on it were in your handwriting. I didn’t think too much of it, other than more evidence of your control over your mother.”
She flashed him an apologetic look.
He waved it off, “It’s okay.”
“I was at work today and one of the patients with dementia had an episode. It didn’t hit me until after the shift. I was thinking about Joan and suddenly everything made sense. She’d never been alone in a session with me, you were always there. To keep an eye on her, I’m guessing?”
“Yes.”
“Plus, you always made the notes. Probably because her writing has become illegible at times.”
“That’s right.”
“Then there was the instance when she’d insisted the spelling of ‘park’ was ‘p-a-r-c’ and grown agitated when told she was wrong. Both signs of dementia.”
He nodded but said nothing.
She continued, “Also, I wondered whether that first session, when she gave me the cottage address instead of her apartment one, had been an early clue that I missed.”
“It was.”
“There’s also the fact the cottage security code is 1–2–3–4. Easy to remember.”
“Yes.”
“Also, you not wanting your mother out of your sight, the short sessions, the reason for a nurse being with Joan when you weren’t there. Even the power of attorney form makes sense when you consider the possibility of dementia.”
He shook his head, “You don’t know the full story about the power of attorney form yet.”
“You don’t have to tell me. I trust you have your mother’s best interest at heart.”
“Thank you.” His heart warmed at her display of faith in him. “But I need to tell you . . . if things between us are going to go any further.”
Her heart fluttered with the words. “Okay.”
“I started to notice minor things a couple of years ago, but put it off as aging. Things started to ramp up a few months before the mentorship last year. Mom went to a specialist, who confirmed the early stages of dementia. That’s when I moved up here, to the cottage, and Mom moved into the apartment. It’s a managed-care facility that specializes in dementia. The place is designed to look as home-like to the patients as possible. It’s part of the treatment.”
Sarah nodded, “I’ve heard those have been successful in Europe.”
“That’s right.” He would work his way into telling her about the one in Germany. “Unfortunately, Mom was contracted to two more years of the mentorship. The doctor assured her she could keep her diagnosis a secret over that time, as long as I was there to help.”
“But?”
“But we hadn’t planned on Linda Scott-Jackson. She thrived on publicity. She’s sold a lot of books because of the controversy she caused. Then Mom’s agent started asking questions. She’d noticed spelling errors in Mom’s manuscript and the fact she was taking so long to finish. That’s why we had to get rid of them both. We can’t afford for people to find out.”
“Why not? People will understand and support you both.”
He shook his head, “I mean that literally. We can’t afford for people to find out. Mom still has to pay a large monthly alimony to my father and there’s the cost of the facility she’s in now.”
He paused. Now to ease a little further into the Germany topic.
He drew in a deep breath and avoided eye contact with her when he said, “I tracked down a center in Germany that is at the forefront of dementia treatment and research, but it’s expensive. We need the money from the sales and advance of this latest book to pay for it . . .”
She frowned, “I see.”
He hesitated. “There’s more.”
“Oh great.”
“There’s no way Mom can finish the book. She wrote the outline and finished a rough first draft, but she struggles with spelling, punctuation, and grammar so often now. The first time I came to your apartment, to do the session, I couldn’t read some of the notes she’d added to my list.”
She nodded, “I remember you acting oddly with those notes.”
He continued, “Another time, she insisted on going to the cottage to write. But every few pages I printed out, there was an obvious mistake that only an amateur writer would’ve made. She can’t write the book by herself.”
He shot her a look. There was a moment of confusion then realization spread over her features.
“You’ve been writing Million Dollar Lover for her!”
“Yes.”
“That’s why you always look so tired? You’ve been staying up late to finish it by the deadline?”
“Exactly.”
“And if her publisher found out the Joan wasn’t writing it, she would lose her advance, as well as the money from sales, and she wouldn’t be able to go to Germany?”
He nodded, “That’s about the size of it.”
“Oh, Charles. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” He offered her a grateful smile.
She reached out and pumped his hand. The slight pain it caused against his still-healing burn wounds reminded him of the day it had happened.
He looked at her, “Do you remember that day you and Mom had the picnic in the garden while I slept?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Mom had put a saucepan with nothing in it on the stove and left it on. She told me later she’d been wanting to make some chocolate custard as a surprise for us.”
“She told me to pick a spot to eat because she had something she had to do first then went back inside.”
“I woke up to the cottage smoking. She’d forgotten about the custard. She could have burnt it down, with me in it.”
Sarah’s hand came to her mouth, “Oh my God.”
“That’s when I knew for sure that my plan to take her to Germany was the right one. She needs to be properly supervised twenty-four hours a day and at the same time receive cutting-edge treatment.”
“I can understand that.”
“The treatment center in Germany is the purpose of the power of attorney form you saw. It is part of the entry requirements.” He faltered. How would she react to the full confession? He looked into her eyes. “And the person in charge of their lives must attend too.”
Her eyes bulged with the knowledge of what he was admitting. “You’ll be going to Germany too?”
“I am.”
***
She felt her expression deflate. How was she supposed to respond? He was moving to Germany. How did she feel about that? They’d only been together a short time before calling things off. Did she have a right to be upset? She certainly felt upset, along with a host of other emotions: anger (why hadn’t he told her earlier?), panic (would she ever see him again?), confusion (where did this leave them?).
They descended into silence once more. She studied his features. As usual, he looked exhausted with black bags under his eyes, redness streaking his eyeballs, and an unshaven face. It had to be due to the deadline he had to meet. For Joan’s book.
The thought made her ask, “When is the book due at the publishers?”
“I have two weeks as of this Friday?”
“How far along are you?”
“Maybe halfway?”
“Halfway! That’s not much time to get it finished.”
“I know. It’s been difficult.”
“Because you don’t write romance?”
“Not only that. I have to write in her style too and I have my own deadlines looming. Taking care of her needs is another time stealer.”
She paused, unsure of whether to voice the idea that popped into her head.
He noticed and asked, “What is it?”
“Why don’t I help you? I know your mother’s style and I’m used to the genre.”
He waved her offer away, “Oh no. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t, I offered. No, I’m insisting.”
His mouth curled into a smirk. It took the worn-out sheen from his eyes.
“You’re insisting? Like the time you wouldn’t let me drive my car?”
She laughed at the memory, “Exactly like that.”
“I guess I can’t refuse.”
She smiled back, “No, you can’t.”
Her gaze drifted to his. After a few seconds, he broke the connection by turning his attention to a spot on the coffee table in front of them.
“Maybe you should go? It’s getting late and you have a long drive ahead of you and I don’t want you driving tired.”
She nodded, “Okay.”
But neither of them moved.
It would be perfect if you kissed me right now.
As if he’d psychically read the thought, he closed the gap between them and placed a tender kiss to her lips. She settled into it and lifted her arms to his shoulders. He tugged her as close to his body as nature would permit. The time for words was over.