One More Chance Read online

  He deposited her on the cream-colored couch and propped pillows behind her back and head. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

  She gave him a wan smile. She'd hardly spoken on the ride from the hospital. "Piece of cake." She sounded tired.

  The stocking cap slipped off and fell to the carpet beside her. She didn't seem to notice so he left it there. He didn't find her super-short hair a big deal, now that he was past the initial shock. It was already growing back and it looked as soft and silky as a baby's.

  "I'll bring in the rest of your stuff." He started for the door, but her voice stopped him.

  "Would you mind handing me the telephone first? There's a—" She groped for the word. Finally she burst out, "You know, one of those without wires?" Her frown screamed at him, "Help me!"

  "Cordless phone."

  She sighed with relief. "A cordless phone in the kitchen, through there." She pointed.

  He wanted to tell her no, he wouldn't bring it to her. In his opinion, she needed rest, not a telephone. But she'd looked so scared when she couldn't think of the word that he didn't have the heart to throw her any curves.

  So he brought her the telephone and set about emptying the Mercedes. He hadn't wanted to drive it to pick her up, but Paige had pointed out the obvious, that it would be more comfortable than his pickup. Juliana hadn't even seemed to notice he was driving her wheels as if he owned them. He didn't think she'd have noticed if he'd picked her up in a tank.

  He piled the few things from the hospital in the front hall and walked back into the living room. She lay as he had left her, clutching the telephone. She stared straight ahead, her eyes wide but unfocused. He was sure she hadn't moved a muscle since he put the phone in her hand, not even to dial.

  He felt an unwelcome surge of sympathy and ruthlessly tamped it down. He needed to keep his distance, damn it. He said brusquely, "I'll fix you a cup of tea and then I'm outta here."

  She started as if she'd forgotten he was even in the house. "You're not going to leave me alone!"

  He glanced at his wristwatch. "Paige'll be here within thirty minutes. You want a baby-sitter?"

  That stiffened her spine. "No, and I don't want a cup of tea, either. If you're in such a hurry, go."

  "I'm used to your temper tantrums so I'll ignore that. You'll take the tea and like it." He turned toward the kitchen, but not before he caught a glimpse of her crestfallen expression. "Want a sandwich or something with it?"

  "No!"

  "Not even a loaf of bread or a jug of wine?" He already regretted speaking to her so sharply, but it was for her own good. She has to get used to not having me at her beck and call, he thought almost desperately. She's not an invalid and I won't encourage her to act like one.

  "… a book of verse—and thou beside me singing in the wilderness." She seemed to have completely forgotten her displeasure. Quick excitement sparkled in her eyes. "Omar Khayyam I remember, but I forget… what the hell kind of telephone? Detached?"

  He chuckled. "Cordless. Cordless. But if you had Miss Patch for English, I'm not surprised. She had a real thing for old Omar."

  "Yes, yes." She looked feverishly intent. "And Mr. Hugo for biology and Mrs. Blanchard for math and…"

  Ben nodded, sensing that she needed to test her memory and command of the language for some reason he didn't fully understand. He sat down beside her on the sofa, pressing her bent legs aside to make room. His hip settled comfortably against hers and he looped his left arm over her knees.

  She laid the telephone on the coffee table and shifted to make room for him. "And Mr. Gonzalez. Did you have Mr. Gonzalez for Spanish?"

  "Nope. I took French. Parlez-vous Français?"

  She laughed. "No, and neither do you if you took French at Summerhill High School."

  "Tout de suite. Does that mean 'right on'?"

  Her expression brimmed with almost manic gaiety. She reached up and took his hand, the one dangling in front of her thighs as he leaned against her. She seemed to be practically begging his forgiveness. "Thanks for humoring me."

  "Moi?" He tried to disentangle his fingers, but she hung on. Something about the way she looked at him, the way her fingers curled around his, made the hair on the back of his neck prickle in warning. Her lips looked soft, soft and inviting, now that she was eager and smiling instead of raising hell. He wondered how it would feel to curve his hands over the beautiful shape of her head and—Judas Priest! She's barely out of the hospital. What the hell's the matter with me?

  He stiffened, but she didn't seem to notice. "My memory seems a little… uncertain. Paige said I asked her the same questions over and over again, and I suppose I did the same with you."

  He licked his lips and tried to concentrate on her words, tried to ignore the growing tightness in his chest. "Hey, who's counting? The doc said to expect a few little glitches in your memory computer. Just be glad your lease didn't expire prematurely. That's a little real-estate humor."

  She groaned and clutched her stomach as if in pain. The moment of anxiety passed for him; he drew a steadying breath and relaxed.

  She rolled her eyes. "A little humor is right—very little,"

  So he'd imagined it—whatever the hell had just happened. What a jerk.

  The doorbell pealed. She jumped and her eyes opened wide. "I don't want to see anyone," she said in a breathless rush. "Don't let anybody in—please! I can't let anyone see me until… until I can…"

  He realized she didn't know how to finish her thought— until when? Until her hair grew back? That would take months. Until she had regained all her strength, both mental and physical?

  He stood up. "You can't hide forever," he said, speaking bluntly because she'd just given him an uncomfortable moment. The fact that she didn't know it cut no ice with him at all. He'd felt things he hadn't felt in a hell of a long time and it was her fault.

  She stared at him, her expression one of shock.

  He was relentless. "You've never been a coward. Don't start now."

  "I'm not! It's just that…"

  He could see her struggle. The old poker face was gone and her every thought and emotion seemed nakedly exposed. Jeez, he thought, maybe she's right. Maybe she should be careful who she saw until she got everything under control.

  Maybe the last person on earth she needs to see is me.

  She took a deep breath and relaxed back onto the cushions. "All right, damn you. Answer the door."

  She didn't smile, but he didn't care. At least she wasn't cowering and begging for mercy.

  Juliana heard the voices at the door.

  "Boss lady here?"

  "Sure, Stella, come on in."

  Stella sailed into the living room, Ben moving on through to the kitchen.

  "He always was a good kid." Stella grinned after him. "Lillian positively doted on her baby brother, and if truth be told, so did I."

  She turned toward Juliana. "How's the boss?" Stella laid an armload of files on the coffee table and placed a briefcase on the floor. She pulled up a chair and sat down.

  "Okay, I guess. How's everything at the office?" Even as she uttered the words, Juliana realized she didn't much care. No, that wasn't true. She cared, but she didn't feel ready to face it.

  "Not the mess you'd imagine, given how long you've been away." Stella picked up the top file. "I don't want you to think we're getting along fine without you because we're not, but the roof hasn't fallen in or anything. Everyone's pitched in—they all send their best and want to know when they can come see you."

  Juliana tried to keep the anxiety she felt out of her voice. "Not for a while. I… I'm just not up to it yet."

  Stella's expression softened. "Honey, if it's your hair—"

  Juliana yanked her hand away from her head; she hadn't even realized she was running one palm over the stubble.

  Stella leaned forward and patted Juliana's cheek. "If it bothers you, why not get a wig?"

  "That's so phony."

  "Then tie a pretty scarf
around your ears and it'll look like you planned it."

  Juliana laughed ruefully. "How long do you think it'll take to grow out?"

  Stella considered. "Long enough to get a cut with some style in it, I'd say… oh, six months or so."

  "Six months!" Juliana groaned. "I can't wait six months to go out in public."

  "It won't take you six months to do that." Stella spoke confidently. "It's just a matter of getting used to it, Juli. After a while you won't give it a thought."

  "Don't think so, huh?" Juliana gave her friend and secretary a doubtful glance. "You're talking with a lot of authority, here. Do you know something I don't?"

  Stella sighed. "Do you remember my sister, Irene?"

  "The one who lives in Tulsa?"

  "That's right. About five years ago when Irene was sick and I went back there—remember?—she had a brain aneurysm."

  Juliana was aghast at her own insensitivity. "I guess at the time it just didn't mean anything to me. I mean, I was sorry it was your sister, but I didn't understand what the problem was."

  "There was no reason you should." Stella picked up a file. "Let's plow through these papers so you can get some rest."

  "But how is Irene?" Juliana, crushed by her faux pas, tried to redeem herself.

  "Fine." Stella softened the brusque word with a quick smile. "Now if we can just get started…"

  It was tough, trying to concentrate on what Stella was saying. When she would pause for directions or for a simple yes or no, Juliana would hesitate, then force herself to respond. But all she could bring herself to utter were inane things. "Whatever you think… Ask John to look this over… Sounds good to me."

  Soon Stella closed the briefcase and smiled. "That should do it for the moment. I'm really sorry I barged in, but we needed guidance."

  Juliana tried not to let her disbelief show. She doubted she'd been any real help at all. Before she could say so, Ben entered, carrying a cup.

  "Coffee, tea or… something else?" he asked Stella, wiggling his eyebrows and setting the cup with its trailing tea bag tag on the coffee table.

  "I'm tempted, but no, thanks. Gotta run." She picked up the briefcase and the files and smiled at Juliana. "Anything I can do for you, hon?"

  "One thing." Juliana took a deep breath. "Cary Goddard—he must know what happened to me, since I didn't keep our date for the Valentine Ball, right?"

  Stella and Ben exchanged guarded glances. Juliana wanted to scream in frustration.

  "Mr. Goddard knows," Stella said, turning away.

  "Wait a minute." Juliana's frown took in both of them and she began to tap an anxious rhythm on the coffee table with the fingers of one hand. "Who spoke to him?"

  The silence stretched on and on. Then Ben shrugged.

  "You did," he said.

  4

  "I don't believe you! I haven't seen Cary Goddard since—" Juliana's eyes widened; she obviously didn't know how to finish her sentence.

  Ben hated feeling sorry for her. "Take it easy," he ordered gruffly. "It was the first or second day you were out of intensive care. I got to the hospital just as Goddard was leaving. We… spoke briefly in the corridor."

  True, Ben had "briefly" offered to rearrange Goddard's face if he showed it outside Juliana's door again. Such a warning probably hadn't been necessary; the guy'd looked green and offered no argument.

  Juliana groaned. "Was my head still bandaged or did he see me…this way?" She rolled her eyes up, indicating her nearly naked scalp.

  "You're really shallow enough to care?" Ben shot back.

  "I saw Mr. Goddard at the office," Stella volunteered. "He said he'd be in touch." She hesitated. "He hasn't."

  Juliana groaned. Stella gave Ben a concerned glance. He gestured toward the door with a slight movement of his chin and she took the hint and left.

  Ben leaned against the back of the chair she'd vacated. "Anything else before I split?"

  "I want a cigarette."

  "No chance."

  "I'm not joking—I want a cigarette. Who are you, my mother?"

  "No, and I'm not your daughter or your ex-husband or anybody else you're used to pushing around."

  He glared at her and she glared back, until her lips began to tremble. He relented, but only slightly. "You don't really want a cigarette," he said cajolingly.

  "Well, I want something!" She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked straight into his face. "You play dirty."

  "I play to win. How do you play?"

  "Currently, with half a deck." Her smile looked only partly forced. "I just want things to be the way they were."

  "You sure?" He was egging her on and he knew it. "Your life was perfect, then. No room for improvement."

  She lifted her chin, her long-lashed hazel eyes stormy. "I never claimed to be perfect," she shot back at him.

  "Sure you did. All the way through high school."

  "I hope you're joking." Color flooded her face. "I wouldn't put money on it, though. You never did like me very much."

  "No, not much."

  "At least you're brutally honest." She glared at him.

  "If it's any consolation, I like you a little better now than I did then." He said it reluctantly.

  "Well, whoopty-do," she scoffed. "I guess that's what they call damning with faint praise. What changed your mind?"

  He'd wondered himself and finally came to a conclusion. "Sharing adversity. I've seen you with your hair down, so to speak."

  She gasped and lifted both hands to her head. "You've seen me with my hair gone. A nice person wouldn't rub it in."

  "I never claimed to be nice."

  She pursed her lips disapprovingly while he tried to keep his face as blank as an unsullied page. She looked thoroughly disgruntled. "I'm not perfect and you're not nice. We make a great pair."

  He thrust his hands into his jean pockets and rocked back on his heels. He had no intention of being half of anybody's pair. "Pair of what?"

  "Pair of jerks," she threw back at him.

  He shrugged and turned away.

  "Give me a break," she called after him. "I am going to be a better person. Everything's going to be different now. You might even learn to like me."

  "Riiiight." He kept on walking. "I'll hold my breath."

  Paige pulled into the driveway as Ben walked to his pickup. She jumped out of her car and ran up to clutch at his arm.

  "Is Mother inside? How'd it go?"

  He shrugged. "Not too bad." He stopped at the driver's side of the truck and leaned against the door. "She's making progress. It's slow, but it's progress."

  Paige sighed. "I know. I try to be patient, but I'm not very good at it."

  "Better than she is."

  Paige laughed, as Ben had intended, but she seemed distracted. He tilted her chin with gentle fingers and gazed down at her quizzically. She wouldn't look at him; her eyelids drooped, concealing her expression. "Okay," he said. "Let's have it. What's on your mind?"

  She drew in a slow breath, then expelled it in a rush. "I'm going to work at the hospital. As a volunteer, I mean."

  "What brought that on, as if I need to ask?"

  She darted him an anxious-looking smile. "You know. I… I can't tell you what it meant to me, to see what they did for Mother. It was like magic, Ben." Her big hazel eyes widened even more. "She was as good as dead and they saved her, they brought her back. I'll never be able to repay them for what they did except by… by…"

  Her furtive glance told him what was coming. "By joining them."

  "Yes." She hung her head, the shining fall of brown hair obscuring her expression.

  Ben frowned, puzzling over her nervousness. Did she think her mother would object to a little grateful do-gooding? But what if it were more? "We're not simply talking volunteering here, are we? We're talking career change."

  She said nothing, just stared guiltily at the ground.

  "Paige?"

  Slowly she raised her face. "Yes," she whispered, her expr
ession terribly vulnerable. "I want to help people, the way my mother was helped. I suppose that sounds really dumb and naive but… but… I never wanted to be a business major anyway!"

  Ben blinked at the passion in her voice. "Then why are you?"

  She wrung her hands together, her soft lips trembling. "I had to declare a major and I couldn't think of anything better. She was always after me about it so I just did it to get her off my back."

  Ben groaned. "You plan to tell her right away?"

  Paige took a step backward, one hand flying to her throat. "Good grief, no! Not until she's recovered—and in a good mood. A really good mood."

  "Do moods get that good?" Ben muttered.

  "What?"

  "I think it's a good idea to wait awhile. You may change your mind after you see what nursing is really like."

  "Maybe."

  She obviously didn't think so. He knew when he was being humored.

  She grinned. "I feel better already, having you to talk to." Without apparent self-consciousness, she wrapped her arms around his waist in an enthusiastic hug.

  He kept his own arms stiff at his sides. "Just take it slow and everything will be fine." He didn't want to commit further than that but heard himself adding, "if you need me, you know where to find me." He gave her shoulders a last light squeeze and set her aside to open the truck door.

  "Thanks, Ben."

  "It was nothing, kiddo."

  "It was everything. I couldn't have survived this without you."

  He settled himself on the seat and closed the truck door. "Sure you could. You're your mother's daughter, which means you can survive anything."

  He winked and started the engine; it caught with a whine followed by a snarl.

  She blew him a kiss and stepped back. He read her lips as he turned the vehicle out of the curved driveway: "Thank you."

  Glowering out at the brilliant spring day, he guided the pickup toward Buena Suerte Canyon. Somehow he didn't feel he'd managed to untangle himself from the Robinson women.