A Mother's Wish
Page 39

With a shudder, Cole locked his arms around her waist and pulled her close, burying his face in the curve of her neck as he dragged deep gulps of air into his lungs.
“Come inside and I’ll get us some coffee,” Robin suggested.
Cole murmured agreement, but he didn’t seem in any hurry to release her. Nor she him. Her hands were in his hair and she rested her cheek against his, savoring these moments of closeness now that the panic was gone.
“I lost my son,” Cole whispered and the words seemed to be wrenched from the deepest part of his soul. His voice held an agony only those who had suffered such a loss could understand. “In a car accident six years ago.”
Robin kissed the crown of his head. “I know.”
Cole broke away from her, slowly raising his eyes to meet hers. Mingled with profound grief was confusion. “Who told you?”
“Joyce Wallach.”
Cole closed his eyes. “I could use that coffee.”
They both stood, and when Cole wrapped his arm around her waist Robin couldn’t be sure if it was to lend support or to offer it.
Inside the house, Jeff was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, his knees under his chin. Ever loyal, Blackie lay beside him.
Jeff looked up when Robin opened the front door. “I saw the car,” he repeated. “You’re getting upset over nothing. I hope you realize that. Hey, what’s wrong with Cole?” he asked abruptly. He glanced from Robin to their neighbor and then back to his mother. “He looks like he’s seen a ghost.”
In some way, Robin supposed, he had.
“You all right, sport?” Cole asked. “I didn’t hurt you when we fell, did I?”
“Nah.” He bit his lip, eyes lowered.
Cole frowned. “You don’t sound all that certain. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Jeff nodded reluctantly. “I will be once I find out what my mother plans to do to me. I really was gonna stop at the curb. Honest.”
The kid would make an excellent attorney, Robin thought wryly.
“I think I might’ve overreacted,” Cole said. He held open his arms and Jeff flew into them without a second’s hesitation. Briefly Cole closed his eyes, as though in silent thanksgiving for Jeff’s safety.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Jeff murmured. “I would’ve stopped.”
“I know.”
“I promise to be more careful.”
“I certainly hope so,” Robin said.
Cole released Jeff and sighed deeply, then looked at Robin. “You said something about coffee?”
She smiled and nodded. “I’ll get it in a minute. Jeff, you can go outside, but from now on if you’re playing ball with Blackie, do it in the backyard. Understand?”
“Sure, Mom,” her son said eagerly. “But—” he paused “—you mean that’s it? You aren’t going to ground me or anything? I mean, of course you’re not because I did everything I was supposed to—well, almost everything. Thanks, Mom.” He tossed the red ball in the air and caught it deftly with one hand. “Come on, Blackie, we just got a pardon from the governor.”
Robin followed the pair into the kitchen and watched as Jeff opened the sliding glass door and raced into the backyard with Blackie in hot pursuit. Reassured, she poured two mugs of coffee while Cole pulled out one of the kitchen chairs. She carried the mugs to the table, then sat down across from him.
Cole reached for her hand, lacing her fingers with his own. He focused his concentration on their linked hands. “Bobby was my son. He died when he was ten.”
“Jeff’s age,” Robin said as a chill surrounded her heart.
“Bobby was so full of life and laughter I couldn’t be around him and not smile.”
Talking about Bobby was clearly difficult for Cole, and Robin longed to do or say something that would help. But she could think of nothing to ease the agony etched so deeply on his face.
“He was the kind of boy every father dreams of having. Inquisitive, sensitive, full of mischief. Gifted with a vivid imagination.”
“A lot like Jeff,” she said, and her hands tightened around the mug.
Cole nodded. “Bobby used to tell me I shouldn’t worry about Jennifer—she was my ex-wife—because he, my ten-year-old son, was taking care of her.”
Robin held her breath as she watched the fierce pain in his eyes. “You don’t need to tell me this.” Not if it was going to rip open wounds that weren’t properly healed.
“I should’ve told you before this,” he said, frowning slightly. “It’s just that even now, after all this time, it’s difficult to talk about my son. For a good many years, I felt as though part of me had died with Bobby. The very best part of me. I don’t believe that anymore.”
“Jeff reminds you a lot of Bobby, doesn’t he?” Robin doubted Cole fully grasped that he was transferring his love from one boy to the other.
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Bobby had a huskier build and was taller than Jeff. His sport was basketball, but he was more of a spectator than a participant. His real love was computers. Had he lived, I think Bobby would have gone into that field. Jen never understood that. She wanted him to be more athletic, and he tried to please her.” Cole’s gaze dropped to his hands. “Jennifer and I were divorced before the accident. She died with him. If there’s anything to be grateful for in their deaths, it’s the knowledge that they both went instantly. I couldn’t have stood knowing they’d suffered.” He paused long enough to take a sip of the coffee, and grimaced once. “You added sugar?”
“I thought you might need it.”
He chuckled. “I have so much to thank you for.”
“Me?”
“Do you remember the afternoon Jeff ran away?”
She wasn’t likely to forget it. With Jeff around, Robin always figured she didn’t need exercise to keep her heart in shape. Her son managed to do it with his antics.
“I left on a business trip to Seattle soon afterward,” he reminded her.
She nodded. That was when Jeff had looked after Blackie for him.
“Late one afternoon, when the meeting was over and dinner wasn’t scheduled for another couple of hours, I went for a stroll,” Cole said. “It was still light and I found myself on the waterfront. The sky was a vivid blue and the waters green and clear. It’s funny I’d remember that, but it’s all so distinct in my memory. I stood alone on the pier and watched as a ferry headed for one of the islands, cutting a path through the waves. Something brought Bobby to my mind, although he’s never far from my thoughts, even now. The most amazing thing happened that afternoon. It’s difficult to find the words to explain.” He hesitated, as though searching for a way to make Robin understand. Then apparently he gave up the effort and shook his head.
“Tell me about it,” Robin said in a quiet voice.
“Well, standing there at the end of the pier … I don’t know. For the first time since I lost my son, I felt his presence more than I did his absence. It was as if he was there at my side, pointing out the Olympic Mountains and asking questions. Bobby was always full of questions. My heart felt lighter than it had in years—as though the burden of pain and grief had been lifted from my shoulders. For no reason whatsoever, I started to smile. I think I’ve been smiling ever since. And laughing. And feeling.
“When I got back to the hotel, I had the sudden urge to hear your voice. I didn’t have any excuse to call you, so I phoned on the pretense of talking to Jeff and checking up on Blackie. But it was your voice I wanted to hear.”
Robin smiled through the unexpected rush of tears, wondering if Cole realized what he was saying. It might’ve been her voice he thought he wanted to hear, but it was Jeff he’d called.
“I discovered a new freedom on that Seattle pier. It was as if, in that moment, I was released from the past. I can’t say exactly what changed. Meeting you and Jeff played a big role in it, I recognize that much, but it was more than that. It was as if something deep inside me was willing to admit that it was finally time to let go.”
“I’m glad for you,” Robin whispered.
“The problem is, I never allowed myself to grieve properly or deal with the anger I felt toward Jennifer. She was driving at the time and the accident was her fault. Yet deep in my heart I know she’d never purposely have done anything to hurt Bobby. She loved him as much as I did. He was her son, too.
“It wasn’t until I met you that I knew I had to forgive her. I was never the kind of husband she needed and I’m afraid I was a disappointment to her. Only in the last few years of our marriage was I willing to accept that she suffered from a serious emotional and mental illness. Her addiction to alcohol was as much a disease as cancer. I didn’t understand her illness, and because of that we all suffered.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Robin said, but she doubted Cole even heard her.
“After the accident, the anger and the grief were a constant gnawing pain. I refused to acknowledge or deal with either emotion. Over the years, instead of healing, I let the agony of my loss grow more intense. I closed myself off from friends and colleagues and threw myself into work, spending far more time in the office than I did at home. Blackie was virtually my only companion. And then a few years ago I started working on my place in the country. But the pleasure that gave me came from hard physical work, the kind that leaves you too tired to think.” His features softened and he smiled at her. “I’d forgotten what it was like to fly a kite or laze in the sunshine.”
“That’s why you suggested the picnic with Jeff and me?”
He grinned and his dark eyes seemed almost boyish. “The last time I was in Golden Gate Park was with Bobby, shortly before the accident. Deciding to have a picnic there was a giant step for me. I half expected to feel pangs of grief, if not a full-blown assault. Instead I experienced joy—and appreciation for the renewal I felt. Laughter is a gift I’d forgotten. You and Jeff helped me see that, as well.”
Everything Cole was saying confirmed her worst fears.
“Mom!” Jeff roared into the kitchen with Blackie at his heels. “Is there anything to eat? Are you guys still going out to dinner? I don’t suppose you’d bring me, would you?”
Cole chuckled, then leapt to his feet to playfully muss Jeff’s hair. “Not this time, sport. Tonight’s for your mother and me.”
Two hours later, as Robin stood in front of the bathroom mirror, she had her reservations about this dinner date. She was falling in love with a man who hadn’t fully dealt with the pain of losing his wife and his son. Perhaps she recognized it in Cole because she saw the same thing in herself. She loved Lenny and always would. He’d died years ago, and she still found herself talking to him, refusing to involve herself in another relationship. A part of her continued to grieve and she suspected it always would.
Examining herself in the mirror, Robin surveyed her calf-length skirt of soft blue velvet and white silk blouse with a pearl necklace.