Love Is Lovelier (16 page)

Deceit was deceit. He knew—he
knew
how she felt about the topic. Hadn’t she poured her heart out about what Remy’s dream meant to all of them? How critical it was to her and her girls that they preserve the work of nearly forty years?

Her work, damn it. She’d labored alongside Remy, strained herself nearly to the bone. Juggled family and business, worrying every second that she’d fail both. That she couldn’t be enough for everyone she loved.

William was accustomed to getting his own way. To ruling his world. Master of all he surveyed.

And love was something, yes. Something big. But respect was as critical.

By the time she’d reached his house, her anger was a slow, smoldering coal, ready to ignite with only a faint breath.

She parked the Corvette on the street. Strode up the walk. Averted her gaze from the spot on the porch where she’d kissed him.

Giggled with him when they’d been caught.

The door opened before she could knock.

He looked…guilty. Unsettled.

“I tried to call you.”

She shrugged. “I’m here. Beat you to the punch.”

He went silent while he examined her. Looking, perhaps, to assess her mood.

She couldn’t speak herself. The sight of him brought too many memories rushing in. Making her question every last one of them.

The moment was still…but not empty. Pregnant with the sense that everything could change, here and now. That what had been between them could vanish with a word. Her ears wanted to pop with the pressure of it, as on a plane, during ascent, when simple air seems unlikely to bear the weight of all the hopes and plans of the passengers.

“Will you come in?” he said with extreme politeness.

“No. I don’t—” Hated moisture hovered there, just behind her eyes. He wasn’t rushing to deny any of it. “I can’t. Not after what you’ve done.”

Astonishingly, though, his chin jutted. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what you think that is.”

Unbelievable. Her mouth gaped. “You defend it?”

His arms crossed over his chest. “I do.”

She snapped her mouth shut. Shook her head. “Are you sorry?”

“If I hurt you, yes. But it was necessary.”

She shook her head to be sure she was hearing right. “You truly don’t understand me, do you? You don’t have the slightest sense of who I am. What’s important to me.”

“You’re wrong about that,” he said softly. But no penitence.

She stared at him. “So you were aware, but you decided you knew better.”

“Anne, sometimes—”

“Answer me. You heard me tell you, over and over, that I wanted—no, needed, to handle this myself. But King William, empire builder, decided that the little woman couldn’t—or shouldn’t, doesn’t matter—possibly manage to work her way out of a fix, so he set his own plans into motion.”

“You make me sound like a villain. I was only trying to protect you.”

She could draw little comfort from knowing that she was right and Charlotte was wrong about his motives. “So you and your daughter weren’t playing some game with Charlotte and me?”

He frowned. Looked guilty again. “Judith proposed an idea, but I…” He shook his head. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

“Not important? Just as what I needed, what I wanted, wasn’t? You sat there, you listened to me, you—held me, for God’s sake, and dried my tears, all the while hatching your own plot?”

“Anne, that’s unfair. I was only—”

“Unfair?” The flames flared in one quick spark. “You lied to me, William. You told me you loved me—”

“I do love you,” he interrupted.

“—and deceived me with every breath.”

“Deceive is a harsh word, Anne.”

She threw up her hands. “I’m leaving before this gets ugly.”

“Ugly?” A strained laugh escaped. “This isn’t? You throw my love in my face? Discard everything good between us because I tried to help you? You expect me to love you and just stand by with my hands in my pockets? I protect those I love, Anne. It’s who I am.”

“I can’t talk to you now, William.” She turned to go, her legs shaky. She had to focus on each step as she struggled to maintain some sense of dignity.

He followed her. Clasped her arm and began to turn her. “Anne, don’t do this. Calm down and we can reason this out. I’m sorry that you’re hurt—”

She wheeled on him. “But are you sorry you did it?”

His gaze ranged over her features, and she could see the war in him.

Abruptly, she decided she couldn’t bear to hear his answer.

So she tore herself away.

And ran.

W
ILLIAM ITCHED
to go after her, but he was honestly unsure if it would help. Maybe he should give her some time instead, no matter how much he yearned to take her in his arms and restore them to the footing they’d had.

But somehow he couldn’t stop himself from following her steps. Watching her until she was out of sight.

She got in the car. Lowered her face to her hands. Her shoulders shook.

Screw it. He would go to her, anyway. Do whatever was required to make her see why he’d done it. Hell, he’d apologize. Give her the answer she wanted. Even
though he would do the same thing again, in similar circumstances.

She started the car. The best thing that had ever happened to him was driving away from him, and he couldn’t bear it. They’d shared laughter and the beginnings of love. Somehow he would make her see. She could yell at him, rain down curses on his head, just—

Forgive me, Anne. Please. It was a calculated risk.

And I lost. But I can’t lose you.

He took a shortcut through his yard, hidden behind a privet hedge for a few seconds.

He heard a scream. Frowned and sped up. Emerged from a gap in the shrubbery and caught a glimpse that nearly stopped his heart. “Hey!”

The door of her car gaped open.

A man was dragging Anne from it.

She was fighting him, but she was so small.

“Anne,” William shouted, and began to run. “Let her go—”

The man whirled and spotted him.

Anne scraped her nails down his face.

He cuffed her on the side of the head. Hard.

She clung to the car. Kicked at him.

“Anne, let go. Let him take it,” William shouted. “It’s only a damn car.”

The man shot a glance at him. Seemed to change his mind and shoved at her.

If he got her inside—
Dear God, help her
.

William had run for exercise for many years, but right now, his legs seemed to be pushing through
molasses as he stretched out to close the gap. His lungs burned with the strain, but he couldn’t let her be trapped in that vehicle. He’d never be able to catch them.

Just as the man grabbed Anne again, she gouged at his eyes.

He screamed and dropped her.

William poured everything he had into narrowing the distance.

The man rose awkwardly. Aimed a kick into Anne’s side where she lay.

A howl like a berserker rose in William’s throat.

She was scrambling to rise when the man wheeled in William’s direction, something in his hand.

William leaped. Spotted the muzzle flare.

A blow to his chest felt like he’d been rammed by an elephant.

“Anne—”
I love you
, he tried to say.

But everything went black.

A
NNE CRAWLED
toward William, sobbing his name.

“Bitch,” her attacker screamed. “Look what you made me do.”

She scooted as fast as she could to get between him and William, even though the rage on his face terrified her. “Get away from him.” Something resembling a growl emerged from her throat.

He started in her direction. “You will pay for—”

“What’s going on here?” A new voice. “I’ve called the cops. You’d better let her go or—”

She saw the gun rise again, toward the neighbor. Gathered her strength and shoved him.

He grabbed her hair and took her down with him.

Sirens screamed in the distance.

“Goddammit—” The man cast her aside. Leaped to his feet. “This isn’t finished, bitch.”

He ran to a car parked just down the block and took off.

“Are you all right, lady?”

“Help…get him help,” she pleaded as she crawled over to William.

The police arrived. “Back. Everyone back—”

“There’s a man who’s been shot,” her rescuer said.

“Call EMS, Charlie,” one cop said, racing to her side. “Ma’am, I need to look at him.”

But Anne couldn’t leave him. “I can’t tell if there’s a pulse. He’s hurt. He’s so hurt.” She brought her face to his. “William. Oh, love, please—”

William’s lashes stirred.

“Ma’am, please move aside.”

She scooted around but couldn’t let his hand go. There was blood, so much blood. “William,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you. Please don’t leave me.”

For a second, his eyelids parted. The blue was so hazy that she couldn’t be sure he saw her.

“You’re going to be okay,” she said, though she couldn’t imagine how he would be. “You hold on. Stay with me, William.”

His lips parted, but no sound emerged.

“Don’t talk. Oh, don’t talk. I’m here. I won’t leave you. Please—” she bit back a sob “—stay with me, William. I need you. I’m sorry, so sorry that we—”

His eyes slid shut.

“Ma’am,” said a new voice. “I’m a paramedic. I have to ask you to step back. I can’t save him if you won’t give him to us.”

“If I let go, I’ll lose him. I lost Remy when I wasn’t there. Maybe if I’d—”

A hand to her shoulder. “Move around to his head, then. Talk to him but don’t touch, just until I’m done.” All the while, competent hands moved over William’s body. Incomprehensible terms were tossed about.

Anne knelt behind William’s head, restless and
itching to make contact. She gripped her hands tightly to still the trembling and keep from breaking her promise, haunted by the memory of the awful words she’d flung at him only minutes before.

Please,
she prayed with everything in her.
Don’t let those be the last words we say to each other.

You make me sound like a villain. I was only trying to protect you.

A sob erupted, acid in her throat.

No, my love, you’re a hero. And I’m so scared I’ll never get to tell you.

Tell him now, ma belle
, said a voice in her head that could have been Remy’s. And nearly broke her.

She shivered with fear but kept digging until she found steel. She swallowed hard and squared her shoulders.

Bent to William’s ear. “You saved me, William, just as you were trying to protect me before. I’m sorry, so sorry I didn’t stay and let you explain.” Her voice cracked. She took a second to recover. “But I’ll listen to every word, I swear it. Put my pride aside and trust you. Let you have your turn to yell—” Her nostrils flared as she mastered another sob.

“I love you, William Armstrong. Stay with me. Give me the chance to tell you. Please.”

“Okay, ready for the gurney. On three—” The paramedics loaded William and turned to race him to the ambulance.

“Where—” She ran to catch them. “Where will you take him?”

One of them glanced back. “You want to go?”

“Yes.” She nodded through her tears.

“I need to talk to her,” said the cop named Charlie.

She turned anguished eyes on him. “Please. I’ll tell you anything, but—”

His eyes were kind as he nodded. “We’ll meet you at Mercy. Get yourself looked at, too, ma’am.”

“Let’s haul,” shouted one of the paramedics. “Call it in.”

Anne scrambled inside.

The paramedic turned to her. “If you’ll stay back about hip-level on him, you can hold his hand.”

The tears she’d been fighting spilled over then. She groped through the haze of them, feeling for William’s hand.

And held on tight, praying with every cell of her body, as the sirens screamed through the night.

Please. He’s a good man. And we’ve only just found each other.

Don’t take him from me.

C
HARLOTTE PACED
her office.

How long was enough when a heart is broken?

If she lived to be a thousand, she’d never forget the look on her mother’s face.

She’d put it there.
I had to tell her, didn’t I?

“Second-guessing?” Sylvie said from the doorway.

Charlotte sought her sister’s gaze. “I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

“About what? Protecting a woman who’s been hurt enough?”

“But I hurt her, maybe the worst.”

Sylvie snorted. “You always had delusions of grandeur.”

“It’s not funny.”

Sylvie’s eyes were soft. “No. No, it’s not.” She crossed Charlotte’s office. “He’s the one who did the damage, sweetie.”

Charlotte clenched her fingers. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told her. Should have confronted him instead. Told him to stay away.”

“So she’d just wonder why he’d dumped her? That’s really going to make her feel great.”

“I don’t know.” Charlotte pinched her nose. “I just—I can’t stand thinking about her, the expression on her face when I—”

Sylvie glanced at her watch. “I call it time. You’re not going to be able to settle down—none of us are—until we check on her.”

“You think?”

“Wow, you really are shaken. Big sis, asking my opinion. Be still, my heart.” She grinned.

“Smart-ass.”

Sylvie smoothed a hand over Charlotte’s hair. “Mama’s going to be okay. She’s incredibly strong.”

“Yeah. I hope.” Charlotte called out to Julie as they passed. “Tell Renee and Melanie we’re headed to Mama’s quarters. And you call my cell if something comes up.”

“Will do,” Julie said. “Hug her for me.”

Sylvie made small talk all the way down the hall and up the elevator, but Charlotte barely heard a word. At her mother’s door, she sucked in a deep, steadying breath.

And knocked. “Mama?”

No answer.

Knocked again. “It’s Sylvie and Charlotte. Please, just tell us you’re okay.”

They exchanged uneasy glances.

“Do we go in?” Sylvie asked.

“I don’t know. What if she’s asleep or something?”

At that moment, the elevator dinged, and Melanie and Renee rounded the corner. “She all right?” asked Renee.

“She’s not answering.”

“Go in,” Melanie urged. “We all have the keys she gave us.”

Charlotte debated, then pulled out her phone. “I want to respect her privacy.” The phone rang until voice mail picked up. “Oh, no.” Her fingers suddenly wouldn’t work as she fumbled with her key.

“Here, let me.” Melanie, ever impatient, pushed past the others and managed the lock.

When the door swung open, for an instant, all four of them hesitated, as if bad news lay inside.

Then Charlotte shook herself and stepped over the threshold. “Mama?” When no answer came, she moved ahead, terrified of what they might find.

No one in the bedroom, only the imprint, in the delicate curve of a sea creature, of their mother’s body on the spread.

“She’s not in the bathroom,” Renee announced. “So where is she?”

“She’s gone to him,” Sylvie said. “She never takes the easy path. She’d want to confront him herself.”

“So do we follow?” Melanie asked. “I can’t stand waiting.”

Everyone looked to Charlotte.

At that moment, her cell chirped. Every one of them jumped.

“Charlotte Marchand,” she answered.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Julie said. “Mercy Hospital just called. It’s your mother.”

Charlotte’s knees gave way. “Oh, dear God. Is she—”

“They won’t give me the information. They want to talk to you.”

“Give me the number.” With shaking fingers, she punched in the digits while her sisters crowded round, asking questions she couldn’t answer.

Oh, Mama. Oh, Mama, what have I done to you?

After what felt like years, she was transferred to the nursing station. She listened carefully, all the while staring into her sisters’ frightened eyes.

Then she disconnected.

“Mama’s been hurt. An attempted carjacking, they think.”

Melanie made a sound of distress. She was the one who’d insisted their mother not sell the Corvette.

Sylvie began to cry, and Charlotte wanted to join her.

“She’s going to be okay,” she managed. “She was beaten up pretty badly, but apparently, she put up quite a fight. But—”

“What?” Renee demanded.

“It’s William. He was shot, defending her. And he may not make it.”

A stunned silence strung out.

Then Melanie spoke, though her voice was shaky.

“I’ll get my car. Meet you downstairs.”

J
UDITH WAS PACKING
up her office and weeping at the same time. How could he? Tears raged through her at intervals, and she knew her father would counsel her to wait before making such a sweeping decision.

But her father’s advice meant nothing to her now. Had he ever really loved her or only considered her a burden? Pitied her or honestly cared?

Of course, he said he loved her, but how could he, if he’d pull something like this? She paused to blow her nose, then started through the next drawer of her desk.

“Judith.”

She glanced up. “Glen?” Oh, great. Her humiliation was complete. “You probably wonder why—” She indicated the boxes.

He crossed to her. “Judith,” he said again, and his tone sank in on her with a shiver.

“What is it?”

He gripped her upper arms. “It’s your father. He’s been shot.”

Her eyes flew wide open. “Shot? But what— Who would— Is he—how badly is he hurt?”

“Come on. I’ll drive you to Mercy.” With an arm around her shoulders, he started to walk.

“No. Tell me. It’s bad, isn’t it?” She covered her mouth. “Is he—” She couldn’t say it.

“He’s alive, but his condition is critical. They’re taking him into surgery.”

“Oh, Glen. I just—” She started shaking. “He—we—we had a terrible fight. Oh, God, if he dies—”

“Your father is tough. If anyone can pull through, he will.”

“Oh, God, oh, God—” She started searching for her car keys. “I have to get to him.”

“I’m having a car brought around front.” Glen took her arm and steadied her as she broke into sobs. “Hold on, Judith. He’s going to be okay. We have to believe it.”

If I lose him, I will never forgive myself.

Terrified and shaking, Judith let Glen lead her out.