A Father's Vow Page 9

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  AFTER A FEW moments of soaking up the warmth Ben offered her, Carolyn raised her head and smiled self-consciously. “At the risk of appearing like an overly dramatic heroine who prefers to stay locked in a tower rather than face her demons, I have to be honest and tell you that wanting to be a bone marrow donor for Lucy was purely selfish on my part.”

  He smiled at her, stroking her hair as she spoke.

  “It’s true,” she insisted. “I want you to be happy. I always knew children would make you happy, and the only way I could have a part in giving you one would be to—”

  “Hush,” he told her. “I never thought you were an angel, Carolyn, if that’s what you’re trying to tell me. I know that because of your family, you work extrahard at being calm and levelheaded, but inside you beats the heart of a carefree gypsy.”

  She looked up at him silently.

  “And you tamp her down diligently so she’ll stay put, and you won’t make any mistakes which will cost you. I know.” He pressed a kiss at her hairline as she reclined against him. “We’re kindred spirits that way.”

  “Do you think so?”

  He shrugged. “Sure. I loved my teaching stint in Africa and South America. I would like to have worked for a humanitarian organization in some capacity, but then I met Marissa. Once I had a little girl, it seemed safer to stay closer to home while she was young. Besides, deep in my heart, I knew Marissa would probably never be much of a mother. I mean, she loves Lucy, but she just can’t do the role of housewife and Brownie leader. So I do it. There are days when I think I’d be safer off in some jungle than surrounded by a pack of little Brownies.”

  She smiled, putting her head back against his chest.

  “A gypsy heart comes in handy when it meets tough circumstances,” he told her.

  “Really?”

  “Sure. When we learned Lucy was sick, I kept sane by thinking of all the places I want to take her when she gets well.”

  “She’ll like that.”

  “Yeah. Your gypsy heart has stood you in good stead, too, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t know… .” She didn’t think she’d handled anything about her situation very well.

  “Carolyn, you’ve got the gypsy under wraps right now, but your heart was free enough to let me go without telling me you couldn’t give me what I wanted. Other women might have needed the man to know, needed his support. You chose not to need me—not to make me feel guilty. That makes you quite a woman.”

  She had known he’d want children. Hearing him say she’d done the right thing somehow hurt, though.

  “So now that we’ve gone through these phases of our lives without each other,” he continued, “maybe we know more about what a relationship takes to succeed than we did before. I’m divorced, my mom is gone, my daughter, who is my shining star, is ill. Your family situation is awkward, Christine is still out there winning no awards for sisterhood, and you can’t have children.” He held her a little tighter as he spoke. “It’s a lot to go through alone.”

  She closed her eyes as she touched the cable-knit sweater he wore. “Are you saying that the older versions of us might be better than the ones six years ago?”

  “Would you have volunteered to be a bone marrow donor back then?”

  Her eyes opened wide. “Absolutely not. I’m terrified of needles.”

  He chuckled. “I’m terrified of needles being put in my daughter.”

  She stared up at him. “How do you watch that?”

  Slowly, he shook his head, his gaze on hers. “It’s not easy. I hold Lucy and wish I could feel the pain instead of her. I’ve learned that real bravery is holding a sick child in your arms while they’re undergoing treatment. I have the highest regard for all the parents who have gone through it longer than me and suffered a loss I hope I never have to.”

  She put her hand up to touch his cheek. “You are a hero.”

  “It’s necessary for my daughter to think that. Only you can know that my tough exterior is surrounding a soft, marshmallow center.”

  She smiled. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  “So…share.”

  “Share what?”

  “I shared my survival story.”

  “Oh.” He wanted her to confide in him, and Carolyn didn’t know if she could reciprocate. “It’s really not very attractive.”

  “What’s not? The story?”

  “Well, that, and the final results.”

  “Somehow I have this image of us crossing a bridge,” he said softly. “Back on the other side we were kids, but six years of living has made us adults, and now we’re on the other side of the bridge, we’ve found out we’re stronger.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “This is hard.” She felt his arms tighten, his hands run along her back and shoulders. This was a part of her she’d kept hidden for years. Telling him wouldn’t change the future for them; she still felt the same way she had about not being able to give him children.

  But talking about it would be closure. And somehow, she knew that he was right. She’d crossed the bridge; there was no changing the past. It was time to be honest with him.

  “I had been sick off and on for some time with stomach pain, strange periods. There were days when I couldn’t work because the pain was so bad. At first, I thought it was stomachaches, maybe ulcers or something. I finally realized these episodes had a cycle to them. So I went to a doctor, and he performed a laparoscopy.”

  “You told me you’d had a cyst.”

  “Well, that was a possibility, too.” She looked up at him, suddenly drawing away slightly as the disturbing memories washed over her. “Once he went in, he found damage from endometriosis and adnomyosis. Parts of my body had been stuck together with the adnomyosis.” She sat up straight on the sofa, twisting her ring as she spoke. “If it had just been endometriosis, he might have tried cauterization and hormonal treatments afterward. But he had serious concern that there would be further spreading, and possibly a rupture in other areas from the adhesion he’d seen. We scheduled a hysterectomy, and a few weeks later I was—“ she shrugged, as if to downplay the seriousness “—a postmenopausal twenty-year-old.”

  “I wish you had told me.” He sat up next to her, not touching her, but staying close beside her.

  “I didn’t want anyone to know. There are so many misconceptions people have about endometriosis. It’s in a woman’s mind, it’s caused by sexual promiscuity—whatever. And then there were the scars. Forget about bikinis. You know how some girls show off belly button rings—well, I have a lap scar, too. Not that it’s significant, you know, but I’m not going to be piercing that area of my body.”

  “Why do I have trouble seeing you as the type of girl who’d want a belly button ring?”

  She pushed at him with her shoulder. “It’s not that I would. It’s that I can’t.”

  “You could always rebel in other ways.”

  “I wear a hormone patch,” she said softly. “It’s not big, just an oval piece of tape. I shouldn’t complain, because I’ve never had any hormone problems, but there’s a secret side of me that envies Christine and her beauty and her ability to have children, while I wouldn’t even want to be naked with a man anymore.” She stared directly in his eyes. “So, if you thought I was being some kind of good martyr for wanting to donate to Lucy, now you know the truth. I was a preliminary match, but they decided that my medical history was a negative. I thought being able to give your daughter life might make up for the fact that I could never bear a child of my own. So I’m actually quite selfish, you see,” she told him quietly. “Now you know I’m a woman who envies her sister and has ulterior motives where your daughter is concerned.”

  They stared at each other for a few
moments.

  “I’m glad you told me,” he said. “I needed to know.”

  Slowly, she nodded. “Yes,” she said, her voice sad. “Closure is very healing.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE APARTMENT doorbell rang, delaying whatever Ben was about to say to her. Carolyn jumped to her feet, glad to spare him the sympathy she knew he would probably offer—and which she didn’t want. She hurried to the door, and her heart stalled at the sight of her glamorous sister on the other side. “Christine! What are you doing here?”

  “Breaking up a tender moment with your ex-boyfriend?” Christine asked, her brow arching as she looked at Ben. “Hello, Ben.” Her glance took in Carolyn’s casual shirt and jeans. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  “You’re not.” Ben nodded at her. “I was just leaving.”

  Carolyn gaped at him.

  “It’s good to see you again, Christine,” he said. “I’d stay and chat, but I’ve got to get home.” He passed by Carolyn, leaning down to give her a swift kiss on the cheek. “Remember the bridge,” he told her. “You’ll be better on the other side.” And then he left her alone with a sister she had hardly communicated with for years.

  “I didn’t know you and Ben had gotten back together.” Christine walked inside and sat on the sofa where Ben had been a moment before.

  “We haven’t.”

  “Where’s Marissa?”

  Christine eyed her sister, and Carolyn immediately felt dowdy. Marissa and Christine had a lot in common, she decided. “On a modeling assignment, I think.”

  “You really shouldn’t have an affair with a married man.”

  “Thanks for the advice, Sis,” Carolyn said sharply. “But I’m neither having an affair nor seeing Ben, who is divorced, by the way. Anyway, what are you doing here?”

  “Well, taking my own advice, I suppose.” A shadow passed over her pretty face. “I fell in love with a married man, so I decided it was best to come home to Tara for a while. Do you mind if I stay with you? I could use some of your levelheadedness.”

  “I don’t have any to spare,” Carolyn said between gritted teeth.

  Christine sighed. “I would really appreciate it if you could put me up for a day or so.”

  “There are hotels in New York, California and Paris, all your favorite haunts. Why do you have to stay here?”

  Christine was silent for a few minutes. “Carolyn, can I ask you something?”

  “If you must. What is it?”

  “Why don’t you like me?” Christine asked. “I mean, why aren’t we close?”

  The distress Carolyn felt at seeing her sister was increasing. “I don’t know,” she said, more sharply than she’d intended. “You’re older than me. Our interests are different. We want different things out of life. Are those enough reasons?”

  “But all that could be true and we’d still at least be close on some level,” Christine said. “With this new crisis in my life, I’m trying to figure out why I keep making mistakes.”

  Carolyn sat on the floor cross-legged. “You’re not having a crisis. A crisis is when you’re dying of leukemia and you may never see your tenth birthday. That’s why we’re not close, Christine. You come barging in here without calling and start talking about your love life and yourself, and it isn’t something I admire in my older sib.”

  Christine sat back against the sofa cushions. “I never saw myself like that before. You have a point.”

  Carolyn sighed. “And I’m being inconsiderate, too. You happened to arrive when Ben and I were discussing something we’ve waited too long to talk about, and—”

  “And I barged in.”

  Carolyn winced as Christine repeated the word she’d used to describe her unexpected arrival. “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s perfectly all right. I always thought you and Ben—“ At the warning look on Carolyn’s face, she cut herself short. “Okay, maybe I didn’t think anything at all,” she muttered.

  “Now you’re getting somewhere.” Carolyn sighed. “Let me get you a glass of iced tea or wine. I’m sure you’re tired from your flight.”

  “Without sounding pitiful, I am. Tea, please.” Christine got up and followed her sister into the small kitchenette, which was connected to the living room.

  “Being on the lam from a married man sounds tiring,” Carolyn observed dryly. “Don’t date married men, Christine, if you’re sincere about finding happiness in your life instead of crises.”

  “I’m not dating him yet,” she said hastily. “I’m avoiding temptation. He’s rather Rasputinish, if you know what I mean.”

  Carolyn thought about how un-Rasputinish Ben was and smiled to herself.

  “No, I’m serious,” Christine exclaimed, mistaking her sister’s smile. “He’s tall and dark and very magnetic, and I want him like I want the world’s best chocolate delivered right to my door every morning—only more!”

  Carolyn laughed at her, handed her a glass of tea, then walked back to the living room, this time to sit at the opposite end of the sofa from her sister. “So what’s holding you back? I’m not sure I could resist that, either.”

  “Oh, you could,” Christine said. “You’re so practical.”

  Carolyn rolled her eyes. “I am not as practical as everyone believes me to be.”

  “Well, there is no way you’d be fooled by my latest. He’s not like Ben. Ben is so solid, isn’t he, and, well, kind of boring.”

  “I think you’ve just listed the fundamental reason you’re not happy, Christine. You don’t want anyone ‘solid’ and ‘boring.’“

  Christine gasped. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “And what man could risk comparison with the world’s best chocolates being delivered to your door every morning? That’s tough on the male psyche.”

  “Well, maybe it wouldn’t have to be every morning…”

  They shared a laugh, which felt good to Carolyn. She couldn’t remember the last time she and Christine had had a normal conversation. “I find Ben’s solidness very sexy, very comforting, yet he—“ Carolyn blushed and decided not to continue. “There has to be a reason you fall for men you know are not available.”

  “I’ve never had it happen with a married man before. And, Carolyn, I haven’t even kissed this one. I just needed space away from him so that I could break the spell.” Christine stared at her nails, ovals of pearl that matched the shining pearl half moons on her eyelids. “And the real truth is that I always leave a man before he can stop liking me so that I won’t have to endure the pain of him not being under my spell.” She pressed a palm to one of her tiger-striped boots. “So, are you going to marry Ben?”

  Carolyn was startled. “No. Absolutely not.”

  Puzzlement wrinkled Christine’s perfectly plucked brows. “Why not? He sure seemed happy to be here with you.”

  “I’m helping him with a case,” she replied carefully. “And we started talking about old times. That’s all.”

  “Does he have any children?”

  “An adorable little girl named Lucy.”

  “Oh, you’d get to be a stepmommy,” Christine said in a gently teasing voice. “Even if you can’t have any of your own, a little girl for you to love would be kind of nice.”

  Carolyn wrapped herself against the hurt she knew her sister didn’t mean to cause. “I’ve thought about it, believe me, but it’s just not that simple. I’m not interested in getting married, and Ben may want more children one day.”

  “Why do you think neither one of us wants to get married?”

  She sighed, not wanting to go down that lane, either. “If our parents were happily married, it might have made a difference. But since we have no experience with happily-ever-after, it seems better to avoid it.”
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  Christine was quiet for a few seconds, and Carolyn sipped her drink, thinking about Lucy and how much she’d love to have a sibling.

  “Would you really want to avoid marriage if you hadn’t had your hysterectomy?” Christine asked suddenly.

  “Well, I certainly wouldn’t avoid it the way you’re avoiding Rasputin, I’m sure.” The truth was, she’d probably jump at the chance if it were Ben doing the asking.

  “Carolyn, was it very bad? I mean, I’m afraid of needles and doctors and people looking at my anatomy.” Christine stared at her. “I should have come to be with you, but…I avoided it. Selfishly. I was afraid you’d know how frightened I was for you, and I finally worked myself up into such a state that I realized I wouldn’t be a comfort to you at all.”

  Carolyn raised a brow. “It was me having the operation.”

  “I know. But it isn’t easy to watch someone you care about suffer. And I’m not good with needles and hospitals and things. I figured I’d be more of a hindrance than a comfort, and I didn’t want to drag you down with having to worry about me.”

  “I didn’t know you were that concerned.”

  “Why ever not? I sent flowers.”

  “Christine, I didn’t need flowers. At the very least a card would have been more personal and made me feel less…alone.”

  “I actually found a card especially for the occasion. It said, ‘Congrats! No more tampons!’ But then I wasn’t sure you’d think that was funny. I’ve always known how much you wanted children, Carolyn. The truth is, I couldn’t believe it was me who had perfectly healthy organs, someone who never wanted any of the little brats. I’m sorry I didn’t come to be with you. I felt very, very guilty that it was me, the wild sib, who was still functioning.”

  Carolyn closed her eyes, not sure the old wounds would heal quickly. She didn’t know what to say. “I missed you,” she finally whispered. “I understand now, but I didn’t at the time, and I was quite depressed about everything.”

  “I did call you once, in the hospital,” Christine said. “Did they tell you? You were sleeping at the time.”