What a Girl Wants (33 page)

“What if my relatives are insane?” She gave him a weak smile. “Could account for some of my stunts. Medical student, huh? What if he was the doctor who operated on my arm?”

“Playing the what-if game will make you dizzy.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I wish I could get the answers for you. But nobody can.”

Laying her head back, she remained silent.

After a few minutes, she said, “There’s a man out there who has no clue whether he fathered a boy or girl, or how many children he created. His parents probably don’t know they have a grandchild out here.” She bit her lip. “This sucks.”

“Yes, it does.” He held her face in his hands and his gaze warmed her sadness. “I don’t care how you got here. I’m just happy you were born.” He rubbed noses with hers. “Real happy.”

With careful ease she inhaled a deep breath. “Yeah, me too.”

He kissed her. A long, slow, soulful kiss. The tenderness shot right to her heart, giving it a much needed lift. “
Aloha au `ia `oe
,” he said against her lips. He returned for a toe curling kiss. “I’ve never said that to another woman.” He smiled. “You figure out what it means yet?”

“I did.” She closed her eyes and snuggled into his shoulder, grinning. “I love you too.”

Chapter Thirty-One

“Not everything that is faced can be changed—but nothing can

be changed until it is faced.”

—Lucille Ball

The next morning, Maddie sat on the edge of a bed in the rehab room, working with Jonathan the physical therapist—aka Jonathan the drill sergeant. “On a scale of one to ten, how’s the pain?” he asked.

She bit down hard on her lower lip and repeated the exercise, extending her arm out as far as possible without screaming in agony. “The same as it was five minutes ago when you last asked.”

“Did you take any pain meds today?”

“No.” She shot him a dirty look. “Those pills make me bitchy.”

 “So you’re just cranky now?” He stared at his watch. She tried not to cuss him out. “Straighter. Come on, Cujo, you have two minutes left. Give me a longer extension.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to straighten her arm more. “I can’t…go…further.”

“Bull. Try harder. Anyone who’s crazy enough to jump a cliff can do better than that.”

“You’re all heart, Sergeant.” She put more force into straightening it. “I mean…all…hard-ass.”

“You want physical therapy or a hug? You going all soft on me?”

“Are you setting yourself…up,—” she breathed in and out, hoping to ease the sharp, penetrating twinge racing from her elbow to her wrist, “—on purpose?”

He rolled his eyes then opened the small fridge and took an ice pack out. “Okay, relax the arm.”

She let out a relieved breath and placed her arm on the pillow next to her. “Sorry, it was the pain talking.”

Shaking his head, he gave her elbow a once over. “Wound is healing nicely.” He wrapped a towel around the ice pack and adjusted it under her elbow. “Nurse should be here soon for your shot—”

“What shot?” Her voice hitched. “No freaking way. Nobody said anything about any—”

“Psych.” He shrugged and set the timer. “Sorry, it’s the hard-ass talking.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes.

He pulled out a sheet from a file folder. “I’m going to show you some exercises for you to do on your own to improve your range of motion.”

For the next ten minutes, he demonstrated the exercises.

“You have to work harder and push through the pain if you want to avoid stiffness and achieve full arm extension.” He wrote something on a sheet. “I hear you’re leaving in a couple of days.”

“Try not to cry for me.”

“I’m all choked up.” He pretended to wipe a tear. “I’ll miss you. You’re the only one around here who gets my charming personality.” He closed the file. “Same time tomorrow.”

She watched him leave, and it was then she noticed Felicia sitting in a chair, reading a magazine on the other side of the rehab room.

Felicia locked gazes with Maddie, got up and walked over. “You’re looking pale.”

Oh brother. “I have my period.”

“From what I heard it sounded like you have the whole sentence.”

“What are you doing here? Two-week rule, remember?”

Felicia pointed to the ice pack. “Are you done with that?”

The timer went off. “I am now.” She stood and put the ice pack and towel in the plastic bin.

“I’m busting you out of this place for the afternoon.” Felicia cupped Maddie’s good elbow. “I bought you a new sundress and sandals. Hope you like what I picked.”

Maddie had no choice but to fall in step next to Felicia, who dragged her along with determined strides toward her room. “You’re out of control.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Felicia swung the door open when they got there. “Okay, let’s get you dressed.”

An hour later, Maddie sat under a patio umbrella at the Pineapple Moon Oceanfront Restaurant with a million-dollar view of Kaanapali Beach. She was decked out in flowered Manolo Blahnik sandals and a violet sundress—crisscrossed in the back with a sweetheart neckline. She had every intention of returning the dress and the Manolos to Felicia later, even though her mother claimed they were a belated birthday gift
.

After Felicia had helped Maddie get washed and dressed, she whisked her outside where Alex—the big traitor—waited in a rented car and drove them to the restaurant.

“So, tell me,
honey,
” Maddie added a heavy dose of sarcasm to the endearment,
“in what alternate universe did you two become chummy enough to arrange this?”

“Excuse me,” Felicia said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She headed inside the restaurant.

Alex slid his chair next to Maddie, wrapped his arm around her bare shoulder and smiled. “Did I mention you’re steaming in that dress?” He pulled her to him and gave her a quick kiss.

“I’m fighting a fierce desire to kick your ass. But I think I’ll wait.”

He chuckled. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“Seriously, what the hell were you thinking?”

The waiter interrupted, placing two frosted glasses of iced tea on the table. He arranged two place settings and two menus. Maddie thanked him and raised her brows at Alex. “Two?”

“I’m not staying.”

“Neither am I.” She coughed. “I’m an invalid.”

“Nice try.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Told you that won’t work with me.”

“I swear, Donovan, once I’m at one-hundred percent, I’m going to give you one-hundred-and-fifty percent attitude like you’ve never seen before.”

He smiled. “You’re such a flirt.” He took hold of her hand. “After I followed up on the information I got from Reece, I called Felicia and asked if she would authorize the release of the medical information in her file.”

Light-bulb moment. “Felicia was your reliable source?”

He nodded. “She didn’t hesitate. She was willing to do whatever it took for you to get some answers.” He picked up the iced tea and took a sip. “She called me this morning and asked me for a favor.” He handed her the glass. “And here you are.”

She drank some iced tea. “You didn’t have to sell my
soul
to thank her for the info.”

“Babe.” He nuzzled her neck. “It turns me on when you get all dramatic like this.”

“Smart ass.” She sighed. “You owe me. I think you should write a book about this. You can interview me. I’m sure your new buddy Felicia will give you input—”

“Now who’s being a smart ass?”

“I’m actually serious. This is an issue that needs to be discussed. You could research men who donate. How many times did they donate? Do they ever think about the kids they created? Did they tell their wives and families they donated? How do people who know how they were conceived handle questions about their fathers? How do they handle the stigma?”

“Sounds like
you
have a book in you.” He regarded her with a warm intensity. “
Ti amo.
”

Struggling not to smile like a fool, she rolled her eyes. “Can you say I love you in Pig Latin too?” She feigned an irritated frown. “I
amo
you too. But I’m still going to kick your ass.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “You’ll be at one-hundred percent in no time.” He kissed her and stood. “I’ll see you in a few hours. Going to visit with my family—”

“Take me with you.” She clung to his wrist. “I’ll dress up as Maryanne and bake a pie—”

“Mmmm, nice visual. Deal. When you’re a hundred percent.” She pouted and he shook his head. “That still doesn’t work.” He kissed her. “You’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”

“That’s not the best advice you’ve ever given me.”

Felicia came back and sat across from Maddie. “Thank you for helping me with this, Alex.”

He nodded. “Skip the cherry with your sundae, sweetheart.” He winked. “Enjoy lunch.”

Alex left. Maddie mentally counted down the minutes. Felicia scanned the menu.

“What would you recommend?” Felicia asked.

“Psychotherapy?”

They ordered lunch and ate in silence. Felicia picked at her grilled mahi-mahi and steamed vegetables, Maddie nibbled at her hamburger. When she was done, she pushed her half-eaten burger away and took in the beauty of the azure water, rippling with foamy waves. The sand on the beach was as white as dazzling snow in sunshine. The trade winds rustled the palm fronds and the scent of sea air was a welcome respite from the sterility of the hospital. She wished it wasn’t her mother who had doled out this reprieve from therapy, the hospital’s medicinal stench and pills.

Felicia slid her barely touched lunch to the side, leaned forward and rested her arms on the table. “I’m glad I got the right size. That dress looks like it was made for you
¾
the color, style.”

Silence
was
golden. “Don’t worry, I won’t give it back to you on a wire hanger.”

“You can compare me to anyone but Joan Crawford. Please, those eyebrows.” Felicia half smiled. “I bet Alex has no idea he wears his heart on his sleeve. The way he looks at you
¾
”

 “Maybe it’s gas.”

 Felicia sighed. “I’d hoped we could talk, enjoy an afternoon together—”

“Should have guessed.” She stared at Felicia’s ringless finger. “I don’t have the energy or desire to console you about another broken engagement.” She turned her chair to face the sea.

“That’s not what I want to talk about.” Felicia rose and leaned against the wooden railing across from Maddie. “I don’t tell you enough how proud I am of you.” She smiled. “You’re a lot more together and accomplished than I ever was at your age.”

“Wasn’t hard. You didn’t set the bar that high.”

Felicia nodded. “I was wildly promiscuous during my teenage years and emotionally absent during yours.”

“I so don’t need that visual again.”
Alex Donovan, I’m going to smack you for this.

“I see you want to stay in our combat zone.” Felicia crossed her arms. “But this time I’m not going to walk away, no matter what you say. I would like to know how you feel—”

“You want to know how I
feel
?” Maddie grabbed the napkin off her knee and threw it on the table. “You want to know how I feel about what? Your past? The fact that I’ll never know who my father is? Never know if I have any siblings? About the lengths you went to win Maxwell Hollister? The lengths
he
went to with Uncle George to get me here? I’m trying to come to terms with the absurdity of it all, so excuse me for ruining this cozy little Norman Rockwell mother-daughter luncheon.”

The waiter arrived and cleared their lunch dishes. “Can I get you any dessert? Coffee?”

They both declined. Felicia wiped her glistening forehead. “I was never more scared than when Alex called Maxwell to tell us you had been in an accident. I will never take you for granted again.”

Maddie shrugged. “I know it must have been upsetting to receive the news. I’m fine now.”

 Felicia crouched, facing Maddie. “I’m not going to apologize for my life before you were born.” She clutched the arms of Maddie’s chair. “I will apologize for everything I’ve put you through since you were born. I hope someday you’ll forgive me and learn from my mistakes.”

Maddie lowered her head, tracing a pattern on her dress. “I’ll remember that and come to you for advice if I ever decide to turn tricks.” Cripes, that was the meanest thing she’d ever said. She blew out a breath. “That was way out of line. I’m sorry.” But what did Felicia expect after yesterday? Talk about too much information.

“You have every right to be angry,” Felicia said. “I deserve to be used for target practice. I want you to vent your frustrations if it will help. I told you, I won’t walk away.”

“Damn it.” Maddie shoved her chair back with one hand and stood. “Why couldn’t you just leave me alone for a while?”

“Because you’re my daughter. I’m desperate to finally make things right with us.” She touched Maddie’s shoulder. “Let’s enjoy the sunshine. I’ll take small talk or no talk.”

Maddie shrugged. She didn’t trust herself to speak. She concentrated on the jet skiers in the ocean with longing. She had planned a jet skiing day with Alex and had dared him to a hike and a zip-line adventure, too, before her elbow, spirits and hopes for finding her father were crushed.

Felicia stood beside her. “You’re looking at those jet skiers like they’re chocolate fountains. You get your love for sports and everything sweet from my father.”

Maddie closed her eyes and rubbed between her brows to ease some of the tension away. She didn’t know anything about her grandparents except they’d been killed in a car accident. Felicia and her uncle had always refused to talk about them and their own childhoods. She’d always sensed their family had to have been indescribably messed up.

As a consequence, her mother had major issues—ha, that was the understatement of the year—but she
was
the only mother she had. Maddie returned to her chair and sat. “Tell me about your parents. Your childhood.”

Felicia hesitated for a few beats. “It’s not a pretty story.”

“Well, the chapters I’ve read so far haven’t exactly been
¾
” Maddie breathed a calming breath. “Okay, sorry again. Wisecracks are now off the table.”

Felicia grinned and glanced at her watch. “Shall we time you?”

Maddie nodded. “Let’s see if I can break a record. So what were my grandparents like?”

“I don’t want your pity about anything I tell you, and I don’t want you to think that I’m making excuses—”

Maddie rolled her eyes. “You don’t know me, do you?”

“I’m hoping to change that.” Felicia dragged her chair closer to Maddie and sat. “My parents died when I was eleven years old. My father was a truck driver. He loved sports, his motorcycle, books, Shakespeare and
chocolate
.” She smiled. “My mother was a seamstress and a great cook. She told bad knock-knock jokes and loved to rattle my father’s chain. She pulled pranks on her family and friends.”

Maddie had to smile. “I come by it honestly.”

“My mother’s sister, Shirley, was ten years younger than my mother. I don’t think my mother knew how wild her sister was.” Her lips twisted cynically. “I guess I come by
that
honestly. After my parents died, their lawyer explained that Aunt Shirley had been appointed our legal guardian. The house and life insurance money were willed to her so she could take care of us.”

“Did you have grandparents or any other uncles or aunts?”