Rock Him (24 page)

“Taking after you?” Asher echoed, horrified.

Sterling gave him a long, sad look. “Yeah. That’s what Dee told me. You don’t see
it. You don’t see that you’re a workaholic — ”

No. He wasn’t anything like the old man.

“ — afraid to create your own family because of the mess I made of mine.”

He fixed his father with a narrow-eyed glare. “Bullshit. The timing, my career — ”

“Asher, you’re almost forty.”

“And I have about a good life. Good friends.”

His father nodded. “Oh, I know. I know all about Alec and Kate, Shane, Justin. You
have people you love and people who love you, but have you ever gotten to that place
with a woman, where you wanted to spend the rest of your life taking care of her?”

Something in his face must have given him away, because his father’s expression registered
surprise, followed by pity.

“Like you’d know something about that,” he said hotly, though immediately he regretted
his outburst. He sounded like a teenager.

Sterling leaned forward. “Just because I made bad choices about women, son, doesn’t
mean you have to. Is that the lesson you took from my poor choices? That it’s better
not to love? At least I tried.”

“Did you? Did you love Jacqueline and Irene and Katherine?” Asher forced out through
a stiff jaw.

“Yes, and that probably says more about me than about them. I loved all of them, maybe
for the wrong reasons.”

“Even Jacqueline? I find that hard to believe.”

“Especially your mother.” Asher watched his father’s knuckles turn white on the crystal
tumbler. “I’d made my first million, and there were a lot of women interested in me
for my wealth. Your mother didn’t care about money. She had a career and money of
her own. She was beautiful, smart, accomplished, and charismatic. At least that’s
what I saw.”

Asher’s lips curled.

“It’s hard to reconcile what I thought she was with who she is.” He sighed. “She’s
disturbed, Asher. She always has been. We had a whirlwind courtship. I was madly in
love with her and thought she felt the same. People tried to tell me about her problems,
but I wouldn’t listen. She was incredibly manipulative and highly intelligent, and
I made excuses for her, tried to change my behavior to make her happy. After she gave
birth to you, the writing was on the wall; there was no interest, no empathy, no maternal
instinct — only manipulation and drama — and it was a lot more frightening with a
child involved.”

Asher eyed him, suspicious. They had never discussed his mother’s problems. “She’s
been diagnosed?”

“Oh yeah. Personality disorder, lack of empathy, call it what you will.”

“What about the other two?”

“I married Irene because I thought she’d make a good mother. She was emotionally stable
and wanted kids of her own. She insisted I give custody to Jacqueline. Back then mothers
always got full custody. I wouldn’t hear of it so that ended in less than a year.”

“Wow. Uh … thanks.”

“You don’t have to thank me, son. These were my mistakes, but I wasn’t going to compound
them.”

“So, Katherine?”

He shrugged. “What can I tell you? She was the opposite of your mother. Contained
and calm, but cold — about people, anyway. She gave everything in her to those damn
horses. There was no room for anything else. I didn’t try too hard to make that work,
and I was no great prize.”

“How can you say that?”

“Asher, I was a self-absorbed, workaholic control freak until about five years ago.
I was a lost cause. And I can’t be sorry about Katherine either; she gave me your
sister, a gift I didn’t appreciate until it was almost too late.” Tears filled his
eyes and he fumbled for a handkerchief.

For the second time that night Asher lost his own battle with emotion. He forestalled
his tears through sheer force of will, but he covered his face with his hands.

His dad rubbed at his eyes, cleared his throat and twisted the cloth in his hands.
“I’ll never be able to thank Delilah for keeping me close — no, for forcing me into
her life after she got pregnant despite my initial resistance. I didn’t know how to
be a father or a grandfather, but Dee and Ella showed me the way and it has been a
humbling experience. So the least I can do Asher is share the love I feel for you
the way they shared their love with me. I want to be a family with you again. I hope
my apology is a first step. I know it can’t happen overnight, but I’ll do whatever
it takes,” he gave his son a hard look, “with one exception.”

“And what is that?” Asher asked, but he already knew.

“We do what is best for Ella. Not you. Not me. Ella.”

“And I suppose you know what that is?”

Maybe this was one long, elaborate manipulation after all.

“No. I don’t,” he said. “I got wind that you were investigating Ben and his family,
so I did too. By all accounts, they are church-going, loving, and close-knit. No skeletons
in the immediate family, though there’s a cousin with a terrible meth problem.”

Huh. He hadn’t gotten information on the drug addicted cousin.

His dad smiled. “I’ve been at this a lot longer than you, son.”

“Why didn’t she tell anyone who the father was?” Asher asked. “If he’s such a great
guy with a good family, why didn’t she want Ella to know her dad?”

“I can’t answer that and if her journals don’t, then I guess we’ll never know.”

“So, now what?” Asher asked.

“Now we figure out what to do.”

When the cough started a week earlier, she hadn’t thought much of it. It was inevitable
that she would get sick — after all, she lived with a five year old and it was winter.
Everyone around her seemed to be sick.

After that scene with Asher, it was no wonder she was overwrought and exhausted. But
why did her body ache so? These chills were new, and she’d had enough fevers in her
life to know something was seriously wrong. Breathing was increasingly difficult and
painful, and she couldn’t seem to stay awake. It was easier to breathe if she propped
herself up on a few pillows so that’s how she’d been sleeping. Dozing really. Good
thing she brought water in with her on her last trip back from the bathroom. The last
time she’d tried to stand up, she almost ended up on the floor.

God, it was miserable being this sick and alone. She needed to get to her purse in
the living room and make a call to her doctor. Later. She would do that later. Now
she needed sleep.

It was dark when she woke again — early morning, evening, overcast? No clue. Time
to get that phone. She fought the befuddlement, the pounding headache. Why was it
so hot in here? Why was she back here at her apartment? Oh yeah.

Asher. Had his dad arrived? Did he hate her now? It was too tiring to think about.
She tried to sit up all the way. Nope. Too dizzy. She lay back on her stacked pillows,
resting, then tried again to lever herself up incrementally. Not good. She needed
to call the doctor. Maybe get someone to take her there. She certainly couldn’t drive
in this condition. Slowly she swung her legs over the side of the bed, and slid out
the side, ending up on her hands and knees on the thin, worn carpet.

Gingerly, half-crawling she made her way into the doorway, where she rested. Had she
ever been so out of breath? She coughed to try to clear her lungs.

God
. Instant, sharp, debilitating pain seared her chest. She continued to make her way
toward the living room, crawling down the hall, panting. Her purse was there, on the
coffee table. Not far now. She made her way over to it, reached inside for her phone,
its weight comforting. She pulled it out and stared. Pushed the buttons. Nothing.
Dead. Panic stirred. Her charger was at Asher’s. She had no landline. Maybe a neighbor?

She pulled herself up until she was leaning against the couch. A bone-jarring shudder
went through her. Her hands rose to her face, hands that no longer seemed connected
to her body. She was hot. Really, hot. Panting, she sat, stuporous with fatigue.

She swam up to consciousness to the sound of pounding. That damn neighbor blasting
his music again. She sighed inwardly. She hated to go confront him about it, but it
was really much too loud. Her walls were shaking. Hmmm. That had never happened before.
She heard her name. More pounding. She tried to raise herself up from where she was,
prone on the floor. No. Too weak. Ah.
Asher
. She could hear his voice now. Frantic. She tried to call out to him but couldn’t
do more than whisper. That sent her into a coughing fit. Paroxysms of pain swept through
her and she moaned.

There was a crash, then arms encircled her aching, ultra-heated body. Asher’s arms.
She opened her eyes. “Asher,” she whispered.

He didn’t reply. He was talking to someone on his cell phone.

“Sick,” she said. She looked up into his face and saw tears in his eyes. His face
was taut with grief and pain and something else. Fear. His eyes were wild with it.
She could hear him talking, but the words slipped away, her feverish brain unable
to decipher them. He adjusted her position until she was more upright. She gasped
with pain, but she could breathe a little better. She wanted more than anything to
raise her arm to stroke his beautiful, tortured face, but her body refused to cooperate
as her hands laid listless against her body. Another chill swept through her. Bone-jarring
like the last. He stroked her hair with gentle hands. Sometime later, through blurry
eyes, she watched an endless stream of people in uniform come through her door. That
was all she knew.

• • •

She lay quietly in the bed, eyes closed. Hospital room. She’d been in enough of them
to know. The smell of plastic and disinfectant was unmistakable. Opening her eyes,
she took in the bright morning sun. She slowly turned her head and started. Asher
was lying next to her on the bed. Huh. She turned her head the other way. This was
an awfully big hospital bed if two of them could sleep next to each other. She gazed
over at the chair in the far corner and blinked. What on earth was her mother doing
here? Her mom looked up from the book she was reading and smiled. Closing her book,
she got up and came to Maddy’s side.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?”

“Okay,” Maddy whispered back but it came out like a croak. Her mom held a cup with
a straw to her lips and she drank, gratefully.

Maddy looked over at Asher then back to her mom.

Her mom laughed quietly.

“Oh, Maddy. You caught yourself a live one there.”

“Why is the bed so big?”

“He made them get the bed they reserve for very large people, threatened to bring
in his own if they didn’t.”

Maddy managed a small smile.

“I got here last night. You were admitted yesterday morning. You were very sick, Maddy.
They were on the verge of putting you on a ventilator.”

“I know Mom, but it hit me like a ton of bricks … ” she excused herself lamely.

Her mother’s gaze was direct. “The doctors think the new medication you were on turned
a cold into pneumonia in record time. They want to try something different. They should
be in soon to talk to you about it.” She looked past Maddy and frowned. “You should
still be sleeping,” she scolded.

Asher’s deep voice answered, “Yeah, yeah,” and the bed moved as he stretched.

Maddy turned her head to look at him, heard her mother’s footsteps retreating and
then the swish of the hospital door opening and closing.

Hot tears stung her eyes, making trails down her cheek, across her lips and chin.

Asher said something inaudible and gathered her gently to him, careful not to disturb
her IV, murmuring and begging her not to cry, that it was his fault — all his fault
— and it would never happen again.

“Ella?”

“She’s fine. She’s with my dad and Ben, but she’s chomping at the bit to come see
you. She was so agitated her psychologist thought it was important for her to see
you — to see you were sleeping, not dead, so she came last night when you were out
of it. She talked to you. I told her you could hear her and she said yeah her mom
could too and — ” Asher broke off and buried his face in her neck, with a keening
sound, his hands clenching and releasing the rough cotton of her hospital gown spasmodically.
His hands were gentle, but his body shuddered, against hers.

Maddy tried her damnedest to choke down a sob but it slipped out, then another. Asher
waited until the storm of weeping subsided, stroking her hair gently from her face.
Even crying exhausted her. She pawed weakly at his shirt until he figured out she
was trying to pull it up. He rose up on an elbow, yanked it over his head and threw
it down the bed. She laid her cheek against his chest, comforted beyond reason by
his familiar citrusy smell, hot skin and the steady thumping of his heart.

She drew back as his words sank in. “With her dad? With your dad? Wait … what?”

He had pulled his phone out of his pocket and was busy texting.

“In a minute, Maddy, I promised my Dad and Ben I would contact them when you woke
so Ella could come, okay?”

“Of course.”

He sent the message.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Mmm.” She tried to turn on her side but tethered as she was to the IV pole, it was
a tough business. They finally managed, turning so she was lying on his arm and they
were facing each other. Asher reached behind her for the bed controls and elevated
it a smidge.

She trailed her hand with the IV attached at the wrist down his chest.

The door swung open.

“Good morning!” Maddy’s rheumatologist greeted them as he entered, followed by a group
of people in white coats and Maddy’s mother.

Asher helped Maddy sit up. She noticed a couple of the doctors and interns trying
not to stare at Asher’s tattoos and failing miserably. She snickered and he looked
down in surprise. He was oblivious to the stares apparently and listening intently
to the plan for her care. Despite her fatigue, she concentrated on Asher’s questions.