Angel's Rest(104)

She packed her suitcases lightly, carried them to her car, then sat in the rocker in the library with Tiger at her feet.

She dialed Gabe’s cell phone. When he failed to pick up, she left a message. “I’m home. I’d like to talk to you. I’ll be here until six.”

She thumbed the disconnect button and waited.


Gabe stopped to buy flowers.

He knew he owed her much more than a dozen red roses, but he figured this would be as good a place as any to start. He had a lot of ground to make up. Walking out on her that way had been a lousy thing to do. He was counting on Nic’s forgiving nature to help him out of the hole he’d dug for himself.

Fleeing the hospital had been the single most cowardly act of his life. He still couldn’t believe he’d been such an ass. He’d peeled out of that parking lot as if the hounds of hell were at his back. He’d made the two-hour trip back to Eternity Springs in ninety minutes. On wet roads.

He’d driven home, grabbed the bottle of scotch, and taken a long, hot shower. When neither the hot water nor the potent whiskey warmed him, he’d gone to Angel’s Rest and worked outside, moving mud beneath a finally clearing sky. The physical work eventually chased away the numbness, and he’d nutted up the courage to call the hospital. Nic’s doctor had been as cold as Murphy Mountain in January when she’d given him the good news. Hearing that Nic and both babies were fine and on their way home had made him go weak in the knees all over again.

Then he’d thought about facing Nic, and his stomach took to rolling all over again.

Now the time had come to take his medicine. He’d showered and changed into clean clothes before leaving Angel’s Rest. As he pulled his Jeep into the drive, he wondered why Nic had left her car on the street. Grabbing the flowers, which the florist had wrapped in green tissue paper and tied with red ribbon, he drew a bracing breath, planned his opening sentence, and climbed the front steps. He opened the front door, spied Nic in her rocking chair looking ripe and beautiful and cold, and his smooth apology flew from his mind, leaving only the basic fact. Crossing the room, he handed her the roses and said, “Nic, I’m so sorry.”

She set the flowers aside with barely a look. “Yeah, Callahan, you are.”

So he was going to have to work for her forgiveness. He deserved that. He stepped back, noticing for the first time that the boxer sat at her feet. Funny—usually the mutt ran at him the moment he walked in the door. Hope he isn’t sick.

Dismissing the dog, Gabe rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t have excuses, just an explanation. Will you listen to it?”

“Gabe, there’s no—”

“Please?” he interrupted.

She closed her eyes and made a sweeping gesture with her hand.

“You probably figured out that I had what amounted to a flashback in the Jeep because I called you Jen. The two incidents were … totally different and yet eerily similar. Horribly similar. I snapped, Nic. That’s the long and the short of it. I went a little crazy thinking about losing the babies like I’d lost Matt, losing you like I’d lost Jennifer.”

He paused, expecting her to offer a word of comfort like she always did. This time, however, she remained silent. Quiet and cold.

It appeared that he’d screwed up even worse than he’d thought. Maybe it was time to pull out the big guns.

Gabe sat in the club chair opposite Nic, propped his elbows on his knees, and leaned forward earnestly. “Here’s what I’ve figured out, Nic. I can move on from Jen. I have moved on from Jen. Her face no longer haunts me. I don’t hear her voice in my head. You are the woman who haunts me now, Nicole. I’ve moved on to you. I’m in love with you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, her mouth twisted. “So what now? Do the heavens part and the angels sing? Are the babes in my womb supposed to leap for joy?”

Gabe sat back, shocked at her bitter tone and the flash of temper in her eyes as she picked up speed. “Well, guess what? That’s not happening. You had your chance, Gabe, and you blew it. I gave you everything I had—my sympathy, my compassion, my patience. I was your soft place to fall and you abused it. Abused me. You are worse than my father.”

“Wait a minute—”

“At least Bryce Randall never lied to me. He never pretended to care. Never pretended that he’d be there if I needed him. When he left us, he did it honestly. He never once gave me hope. That’s your sin, Callahan. You allowed me to hope and dream for my happily ever after. Let me tell you, this is more horror movie than chick flick happy ending.”