Unfinished Business (19 page)

Vanessa felt the tears burn the back of her eyes. She had to know, to understand. “You were lonely.”

“Oh, God, yes.” Loretta's voice was choked. She pressed her lips together. “It's no excuse—”

“I don't want excuses. I want to know how you felt.”

“Lost,” she whispered. “Empty. I felt as though my life were over. I wanted someone to need me again, to hold me. To say pretty things to me, even if they were lies.” She shook her head, and when she spoke again her voice was stronger. “It was wrong, Vanessa, as wrong as it was for your father and I to rush together without looking closely.” She came back to the bed, took Vanessa's hand. “I want it to be different for you. It will be different. Holding back from something that's right for you is just as foolish as rushing into something that's wrong.”

“And how do I know the difference?”

“You will.” She smiled a little. “It's taken me most of my life to understand that. With Ham, I knew.”

“It wasn't.” She was afraid to ask. “It wasn't Ham that you… He wasn't the one.”

“All those years ago? Oh, no. He would never have betrayed Emily. He loved her. It was someone else. He wasn't in town long, only a few months. I suppose that made it easier for me somehow. He was a stranger, someone who didn't know me, didn't care. When I broke it off, he moved on.”

“You broke it off? Why?”

Of all the things that had gone before, Loretta knew this would be the most difficult. “It was the night of your prom. I'd been upstairs with you. Remember, you were so upset?”

“He had Brady arrested.”

“I know.” She tightened her grip on Vanessa's hand. “I swear to you, I didn't know it then. I finally left you alone be
cause, well, you needed to be alone. I was thinking about how I was going to give Brady Tucker a piece of my mind when I got ahold of him. I was still upset when your father came home. But he was livid, absolutely livid. That's when it all came out. He was furious because the sheriff had let Brady go, because Ham had come in and raised holy hell.”

She let Vanessa's hands go to press her fingers to her eyes. “I was appalled. He'd never approved of Brady—I knew that. But he wouldn't have approved of anyone who interfered with his plans for you. Yet this—this was so far beyond anything I could imagine. The Tuckers were our friends, and anyone with eyes could see that you and Brady were in love. I admit I had worried about whether you would make love, but we'd talked about it, and you'd seemed very sensible. In any case, your father was raging, and I was so angry, so incensed by his insensitivity, that I lost control. I told him what I had been trying to hide for several weeks. I was pregnant.”

“Pregnant,” Vanessa repeated. “You— Oh, God.”

Loretta sprang up to pace the room. “I thought he would go wild, but instead he was calm. Deadly calm.” There was no use telling her daughter what names he had called her in that soft, controlled voice. “He said that there was no question about our remaining together. He would file for divorce. And would take you. The more I shouted, begged, threatened, the calmer he became. He would take you because he was the one who would give you the proper care. I was—well, it was obvious what I was. He already had tickets for Paris. Two tickets. I hadn't known about it, but he had been planning to take you away in any case. I was to say nothing, do nothing to stop him, or he would drag me through a custody suit that he would win when it came out that I was carrying another man's bastard.” She began to weep then, silently. “If I didn't agree,
he would wait until the child was born and file charges against me as an unfit mother. He swore he would make it his life's work to take that child, as well. And I would have nothing.”

“But you…he couldn't…”

“I had barely been out of this county, much less the state. I didn't know what he could do. All I knew was that I was going to lose one child, and perhaps two. You were going to go to Paris, see all those wonderful things, play on all those fabulous stages. You would be someone, have something.” Her cheeks drenched, she turned back. “As God is my witness, Vanessa, I don't know if I agreed because I thought it was what you would want, or because I was afraid to do anything else.”

“It doesn't matter.” She rose and went to her mother. “It doesn't matter anymore.”

“I knew you would hate me—”

“No, I don't.” She put her arms around Loretta and brought her close. “I couldn't. The baby,” she murmured. “Will you tell me what you did?”

Grief, fresh and vital, swam through her. “I miscarried, just shy of three months. I lost both of you, you see. I never had all those babies I'd once dreamed of.”

“Oh, Mom.” Vanessa rocked as she let her own tears fall. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It must have been terrible for you. Terribly hard.”

With her cheek against Vanessa's, she held tight. “There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think of you, that I didn't miss you. If I had it to do over—”

But Vanessa shook her head. “No, we can't take the past back. We'll start right now.”

S
he sat in her dressing room, surrounded by flowers, the scent and the color of them. She barely noticed them. She'd hoped, perhaps foolishly, that one of the luscious bouquets, one of the elegant arrangements, had been sent by Brady.

But she had known better.

He had not come to see her off at the airport. He had not called to wish her luck, or to tell her he would miss her while she was gone. Not his style, Vanessa thought as she studied her reflection in the mirror. It never had been. When Brady Tucker was angry, he was angry. He made no polite, civilized overtures. He just stayed mad.

He had the right, she admitted. The perfect right.

She had left him, after all. She had gone to him, given herself to him, made love to him with all the passion and promise a woman could bring to a man. But she had held back the words. And, by doing so, she had held back herself.

Because she was afraid, she thought now. Of making that dreadful, life-consuming mistake. He would never understand that her caution was as much for him as it was for herself.

She understood now, after listening to her mother. Mistakes could be made for the best of reasons, or the worst of them. It was too late to ask her father, to try to understand his feelings, his reasons.

She only hoped it wasn't too late for herself.

Where were they now, those children who had loved so fiercely and so unwisely? Brady had his life, his skill, and his answers. His family, his friends, his home. From the rash, angry boy he had been had grown a man of integrity and purpose.

And she? Vanessa stared down at her hands, the long, gifted fingers spread. She had her music. It was all she had ever really had that belonged only to her.

Yes, she understood now, perhaps more than she wanted to, her mother's failings, her father's mistakes. They had, in their separate ways, loved her. But that love hadn't made them a family. Nor had it made any of the three of them happy.

So while Brady was setting down his roots in the fertile soil of the town where they had both been young, she was alone in a dressing room filled with flowers, waiting to step onto another stage.

At the knock on her door, she watched the reflection in the dressing room mirror smile. The show started long before the key light clicked on.

“Entrez.”

“Vanessa.” The Princess Gabriella, stunning in blue silk, swept inside.

“Your Highness.” Before she could rise and make her curtsy, Gabriella was waving her to her seat in a gesture that was somehow imperious and friendly all at once.

“Please, don't get up. I hope I'm not disturbing you.”

“Of course not. May I get you some wine?”

“If you're having some.” Though her feet ached after a backbreaking day on her feet, she only sighed a little as she took a chair. She had been born royal, and royalty was taught not to complain. “It's been so hectic today, I haven't had a chance to see you, make certain you've been comfortable.”

“No one could be uncomfortable in the palace, Your Highness.”

“Gabriella, please.” She accepted the glass of wine. “We're alone.” She gave brief consideration to slipping out of her shoes, but thought better of it. “I wanted to thank you again for agreeing to play tonight. It's so important.”

“It's always a pleasure to play in Cordina.” The lights around the mirror sent the dozens of bugle beads on Vanessa's white dress dancing. “I'm honored that you wanted to include me.”

Gabriella gave a quick laugh before she sipped. “You're annoyed that I bothered you while you were on vacation.” She tossed back her fall of red-gold hair. “And I don't blame you. But for this, I've learned to be rude—and ruthless.”

Vanessa had to smile. Royalty or not, the Princess Gabriella was easy to be with. “Honored and annoyed, then. I hope tonight's benefit is a tremendous success.”

“It will be.” She refused to accept less. “Eve— You know my sister-in-law?”

“Yes, I've met Her Highness several times.”

“She's American—and therefore pushy. She's been a tremendous help to me.”

“Your husband, he is also American?”

Gabriella's topaz eyes lit. “Yes. Reeve is also pushy. This year we involved our children quite a bit, so it's been
even more of a circus than usual. My brother, Alexander, was away for a few weeks, but he returned in time to be put to use.”

“You are ruthless with your family, Gabriella.”

“It's best to be ruthless with those you love.” She saw something, some cloud, come and go in Vanessa's eyes. She would get to that. “Hannah apologizes for not coming backstage before your performance. Bennett is fussing over her.”

“Your younger brother is entitled to fuss when his wife is on the verge of delivering their child.”

“Hannah was interested in you, Vanessa.” Gabriella couldn't resist a smile. “As your name was linked with Bennett's before his marriage.”

Along with half the female population of the free world, Vanessa thought, but she kept her smile bland. “His Highness was the most charming of escorts.”

“He was a scoundrel.”

“Tamed by the lovely Lady Hannah.”

“Not tamed, but perhaps restrained.” The princess set her glass aside. “I was sorry when your manager informed us that you wouldn't spend more than another day in Cordina. It's been so long since you visited us.”

“There is no place I've felt more welcome.” She toyed with the petals of a pure white rose. “I remember the last time I was here, the lovely day I spent at your farm, with your family.”

“We would love to have you to ourselves again, whenever your schedule permits.” Compassionate by nature, she reached out a hand. “You are well?”

“Yes, thank you. I'm quite well.”

“You look lovely, Vanessa, perhaps more so because there's such sadness in your eyes. I understand the look. It faced me in the mirror once, not so many years ago. Men put it there.
It's one of their finest skills.” Her fingers linked with Vanessa's. “Can I help you?”

“I don't know.” She looked down at their joined hands, then up into Gabriella's soft, patient eyes. “Gabriella, may I ask you, what's the most important thing in your life?”

“My family.”

“Yes.” She smiled. “You had such a romantic story. How you met and fell in love with your husband.”

“It becomes more romantic as time passes, and less traumatic.”

“He's an American, a former policeman?”

“Of sorts.”

“If you had had to give up your position, your, well, birthright, to have married him, would you have done so?”

“Yes. But with great pain. Does this man ask you to give up something that's so much a part of you?”

“No, he doesn't ask me to give up anything. And yet he asks for everything.”

Gabriella smiled again. “It is another skill they have.”

“I've learned things about myself, about my background, my family, that are very difficult to accept. I'm not sure if I give this man what he wants, for now, that I won't be cheating him and myself in the bargain.”

Gabriella was silent a moment. “You know my story, it has been well documented. After I had been kidnapped, and my memory was gone, I looked into my father's face and didn't know him. Into my brothers' eyes and saw the eyes of strangers. However much this hurt me, it hurt them only more. But I had to find myself, discover myself in the most basic of ways. It's very frightening, very frustrating. I'm not a patient or a temperate person.”

Vanessa managed another smile. “I've heard rumors.”

With a laugh, Gabriella picked up her wine and sipped again. “At last I recognized myself. At last I looked at my family and knew them. But differently,” she said, gesturing. “It's not easy to explain. But when I knew them again, when I loved them again, it was with a different heart. Whatever flaws they had, whatever mistakes they had made, however they had wounded me in the past, or I them, didn't matter any longer.”

“You're saying you forgot the past.”

She gave a quick shake of her head, and her diamonds sizzled. “The past wasn't forgotten. It can't be. But I could see it through different eyes. Falling in love was not so difficult after being reborn.”

“Your husband is a fortunate man.”

“Yes. I remind him often.” She rose. “I'd better leave you to prepare.”

“Thank you.”

Gabriella paused at the door. “Perhaps on my next trip to America you will invite me to spend a day in your home.”

“With the greatest pleasure.”

“And I'll meet this man.”

“Yes.” Vanessa's laugh was quick and easy. “I think you will.”

When the door closed, she sat again. Very slowly she turned her head, until she faced herself in the mirror, ringed by bright lights. She saw dark green eyes, a mouth that had been carefully painted a deep rose. A mane of chestnut hair. Pale skin over delicate features. She saw a musician. And a woman.

“Vanessa Sexton,” she murmured, and smiled a little.

Suddenly she knew why she was there, why she would walk out onstage. And why, when she was done, she would go home.

Home.

 

It was too damn hot for a thirty-year-old fool to be out in the afternoon sun playing basketball. That was what Brady told himself as he jumped up and jammed another basket.

Even though the kids were out of school for the summer, he had the court, and the park, to himself. Apparently children had more sense than a lovesick doctor.

The temperature might have taken an unseasonable hike into the nineties, and the humidity might have decided to join it degree for degree, but Brady figured sweating on the court was a hell of a lot better than brooding alone at home.

Why the hell had he taken the day off?

He needed his work. He needed his hours filled.

He needed Vanessa.

That was something he was going to have to get over. He dribbled into a fast layup. The ball rolled around the rim, then dropped through.

He'd seen the pictures of Vanessa. They'd been all over the damn television, all over the newspaper. People in town hadn't been able to shut up about it—about her—for two days.

He wished he'd never seen her in that glittery white dress, her hair flaming down her back, those gorgeous hands racing over the keys, caressing them, drawing impossible music from them. Her music, he thought now. The same composition she'd been playing that day he'd walked into her house to find her waiting for him.

Her composition. She'd finished it.

Just as she'd finished with him.

He scraped his surgeon's fingers on the hoop.

How could he expect her to come back to a one-horse town, her high school sweetheart? She had royalty cheering her. She could move from palace to palace for the price of a
song. All he had to offer her was a house in the woods, an ill-mannered dog and the occasional baked good in lieu of fee.

That was bull, he thought viciously as the ball rammed onto the backboard and careened off. No one would ever love her the way he did, the way he had all of his damn life. And if he ever got his hands on her again, she'd hear about it. She'd need an otolaryngologist by the time her ears stopped ringing.

“Stuff it,” he snapped at Kong as the dog began to bark in short, happy yips. He was out of breath, Brady thought as he puffed toward the foul line. Out of shape. And—as the ball nipped the rim and bounced off—out of luck.

He pivoted, grabbed the rebound, and stopped dead in his tracks.

There she was, wearing those damn skimpy shorts, an excuse for a blouse that skimmed just under her breasts, carrying a bottle of grape soda and sporting a bratty smile on her face.

He wiped the sweat out of his eyes. The heat, his mood—and the fact that he hadn't slept in two days—might be enough to bring on a hallucination. But he didn't like it. Not a bit.

“Hi, Brady.” Though her heart was jolting against her ribs, she schooled her voice. She wanted it cool and low and just a little snotty. “You look awful hot.” With her eyes on his, Vanessa took a long sip from the bottle, ran her tongue over her upper lip and sauntered the rest of the way to him. “Want a sip?”

He had to be going crazy. He wasn't eighteen anymore. But he could smell her. That floaty, flirty scent. He could feel the hard rubber of the ball in his bare hands, and the sweat dripping down his bare chest and back. As he watched, she leaned over to pet the dog. Still bent, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and sent him one of those taunting sidelong smiles.

“Nice dog.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I was taking a walk.” She straightened, then tipped the bottle to her lips again, draining it before she tossed the empty container into the nearby trash bin. “Your hook shot needs work.” Her mouth moved into a pout. “Aren't you going to grab me?”

“No.” If he did, he wasn't sure if he would kiss her or strangle her.

“Oh.” She felt the confidence that had built up all during the flight, all during the interminable drive home, dry up. “Does that mean you don't want me?”

“Damn you, Vanessa.”

Battling tears, she turned away. This wasn't the time for tears. Or for pride. Her little ploy to appeal to his sentiment had been an obvious mistake. “You have every right to be angry.”

“Angry?” He heaved the ball away. Delighted, the dog raced after it. “That doesn't begin to describe what I'm feeling. What kind of game are you playing?”

“It's not a game.” Eyes brilliant, she turned back to him. “It's never been a game. I love you, Brady.”

He didn't know if her words slashed his heart or healed it. “You took your damn time telling me.”

“I took what I had to take. I'm sorry I hurt you.” Any moment now, her breath would begin to hitch, mortifying her. “If you decide you want to talk to me, I'll be at home.”