Smoke and Sin Page 30

  “Yeah, I was worried about that, too. I thought we needed more time, and I hoped me taking the job in DC would give us that. But I saw quickly that you didn’t want me the way I wanted you.”

  “Don’t presume to understand what I would have wanted.” The younger Roman might have said he didn’t want kids…but the man now wanted that baby deeply. Finding out they’d conceived and miscarried all in the same sentence was a kick in the gut. Gus had borne the pain and carried it all these years alone.

  No, she’d had Mad.

  Roman closed his eyes. More than anything, he wished he could go back to that night, wished she would tell him right then and there that he was behaving like an asshole and it was time to grow up because they were having a baby.

  He wanted to hold her, like he should have that night. He ached to go back and embrace her, never pick that fight…maybe save their baby. But if it had been doomed regardless, then he wanted to be the man who took care of her, who held her hand and eased her pain.

  Goddamn it, what had he done?

  “Roman, are you okay?” She was suddenly standing in front of him, her hands wrapping around his arms. “I really am sorry I blurted that at you.”

  “How far along were you?”

  She hesitated. “I think I was about nine weeks along. I was in denial at first. For a while, I convinced myself I was stressed about the job situation, and that was the reason I’d missed a couple of periods.”

  His head was reeling, and all that anger he had inside twisted and blew back at him. “And I didn’t notice. But then again, an asshole like me wouldn’t have. Why would I notice something like my girlfriend being pregnant? I would never have noticed you having morning sickness because I tried to make sure no one ever saw me leaving your bed, so I rarely stayed the whole night. Did you go through nausea alone, too?”

  “There were a couple of queasy mornings, but I thought it was a touch of flu or something. Roman, it’s ancient history.”

  “It just happened to me.” He took a step back. How had he not seen it? “I would have married you, Augustine. If you’d said no, I would have gone straight to your family and gotten them on my side. We would be married.”

  “Or divorced,” she said sadly. “I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t miscarried. I only know that I did.”

  “Because I lost my temper and made you fall down the stairs.” In his mind, he could see her falling even now, see his hand reaching for hers, watch her slip through his fingers. He’d been a second too late.

  Gus shook her head, her mouth firming with conviction. “It was an accident. The doctor told me he wasn’t even sure my fall was the cause. Women miscarry all the time in the first trimester. The baby was tiny and well protected. It could have been a coincidence.”

  He knew better. Pretending he believed otherwise or spewing meaningless platitudes weren’t going to change a thing. “It wasn’t. I did that to you and our child.”

  “Stop, Roman. Stop taking all the blame. I was there, too. I ran down those damn stairs and I knew I was pregnant. I wasn’t careful. All I thought about that night was getting away from you so you wouldn’t see me cry. So maybe you should blame me, too.”

  “No.”

  Roman couldn’t say more now. Right in the back of his throat sat a sob that he couldn’t release. It nearly strangled him. He had to keep it inside. He had to shove it down because he had to be stronger. Anger was fine. Anger he understood, but the emotion he wrestled with now threatened to take him apart. If he gave in to it, he didn’t know if he’d be able to come back. He would be shattered, and right now, he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to put himself back together.

  “Don’t,” she said, rising up on her toes and leaning into his space. “I didn’t want to hurt or upset you. Forgive me.”

  “Forgive you?”

  “For not telling you. For not being honest until now. For lashing out in anger over a truth you didn’t even know. For letting my pride hurt us both.” She stroked his arms, palms gliding over his skin like a benediction. Soothing. Her words were calm and measured, meant to ease him.

  Why was she touching him softly? Asking his forgiveness? He didn’t deserve either, not when this was all his doing. He started to pull back.

  She held on to him. “Don’t walk away. Don’t leave me. Stay. I don’t think about what happened a lot, Roman. I try not to obsess about the baby we could have had, but when I do think about him or her, I’m almost always alone. Don’t make me be alone tonight.”

  She’d mourned by herself. She’d been alone all these years—with the singular exception of Mad, who’d kept her secret.

  No wonder every time Mad had looked at him after that, his eyes had held contempt.

  The anger he used to feel whenever he thought of Gus with Mad? He couldn’t summon it anymore. Mad had been there for her. The man should have called him out, but he never had. He’d just shouldered the responsibility Roman should have.

  Once, they’d been the best of friends, but Mad had chosen Gus. Thank god someone had been smart enough to.

  Tonight’s Deep Throat had been right. He’d always chosen Zack. He’d placed Zack, and more importantly their quest for the White House, above everything else. Above Augustine. Above his own heart.

  He wrapped his arms around her as she began to cry. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I’d give anything to change that night.”

  She clutched him in return and sobbed in his arms. And Roman felt something inside him open, some door that had always been closed and locked up tight.

  When he felt his own tears come—tears for the child they’d lost, for the years they’d missed out on—that sob he’d been trying to hold back came. And he knew he would never be the same again.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Gus looked across the small, sparse cottage and found Roman staring out the window as the rain began to fall again.

  “Do you take milk with your tea?” Ellen House asked, setting the tray on the coffee table between them.

  Gus smiled her way. “No, thank you, but I will take a sugar. And we both thank you for your hospitality. I know talking about your mother must be hard.”

  Ellen House was a petite woman in her early fifties, though she looked significantly older. Her hair was a steely gray and cut into a pixie style that didn’t at all suit her face, but was likely simple to keep up. Her house was neat if a bit sparse when it came to human furniture.

  It was far more crowded with cats and items to amuse them.

  Gus had counted ten different felines so far, and those were merely the ones that had sauntered in and out of the living room while Ellen prepared the tea.

  One of them slunk up to Roman, rubbing its long-haired body against his thousand dollar slacks and making him jump.

  “Why don’t you come and sit with me?” Gus offered. “Do you want some tea?”

  Grim-faced, Roman turned and joined her on the tiny couch.

  “I want some Scotch,” he muttered under his breath. “And whatever repels cats. This one won’t leave me alone.”

  Ellen smiled and poured another cup. “Ah, that’s Mr. Darcy. Don’t mind him. He’s a lover, not a fighter. Never did have any kids of my own so I adopted these fur babies. I’m as much of a mother to them as I would be to a human, and I love them like they’re my children.”

  Roman suddenly folded his hand into hers, palms sliding and fingers connecting. His mouth was flat, his body rigid. The mention of kids now was still a sore spot for him.

  Gus leaned against him, offering him her silent support. “You certainly treat them well.”

  They’d spent the previous evening wrapped in each other’s arms. After they shared their initial sorrow and tears, Roman had stripped her bare and settled her in bed. She’d been sure he would make love to her. She’d had mixed feelings about that, but sex was often how they coped when emotions overwhelmed them.

  Instead, he’d doffed his own clothes and climbed in next
to her. He’d drawn her close and turned off the light. There, in the warm darkness, wrapped up in one another, they’d talked about the child they’d lost. They’d shared how broken they’d both felt after they’d split up. She’d admitted that she’d kept the job in DC because she hadn’t been able to go home and face her parents, so she’d thrown herself in to work. He’d done the same.

  They’d confessed how much they’d regretted letting pride, immaturity, stupidity, and fear come between them. Gus felt lighter than she had in over a dozen years.

  Roman was quiet this morning, but not at all distant. When she’d awakened, he’d rolled her over and kissed her before making slow, sweet love to her. Afterward, he’d held her, feeling their hearts beat together. Over breakfast, he caressed her arm before tangling her fingers with his. She would miss this easy affection when they got back to London and had to behave professionally.

  On the drive to visit Ms. House, he’d made her promise she would be careful. In exchange, he’d promised he wouldn’t take over the interview. Communication and compromise, not recriminations and demands. She felt the progress between them—a bit slow and tentative. It wasn’t second nature to either of them, especially in dealing with the other. But it gave her hope.

  Then why was she, somewhere in the back of her mind, waiting for the other shoe to drop? For the anger and accusations to spring up between them again?

  Ellen passed Gus the teacup. “I certainly do. As well as me own mum ever treated me, and she was a wonderful woman.”

  “We actually wanted to talk to you about your mother, and more specifically about a patient your mother treated,” Gus explained.

  The teacup shook slightly before Ellen passed it over to Roman. “You want to talk about her time at Homewood?”

  Gus was well aware that she’d crossed onto shaky ground. Ellen had paled visibly. She had to be careful. “Yes. The patient’s name was Constance Hayes, though she was registered as Jane Downing.”

  Ellen took a sip of tea, then reached down to lift the nearest cat, hauling a pretty tabby into her lap. “My mum was good at her job. If you’re here to start a lawsuit…”

  Gus shook her head. “Not at all.”

  “Really? Because that one has the look of a lawyer.”

  Roman was trying to gently disengage from the very affectionate Mr. Darcy, who seemed intent on rubbing his ears against Roman’s loafer and marking him with his feline scent. “What does a lawyer look like?”

  Ellen’s lips pursed as she looked him over. “Uppity and very intellectual. Someone who probably doesn’t like cats.”

  “I know lots of lawyers who have cats.” Roman defended his profession while trying to look comfortable with a cat purring loudly and rubbing against his leg. “And obviously cats love me, so there you go.”

  He was trying. It was kind of adorable.

  “I know a female named Darcy who does the exact same thing whenever you’re around. I think you’re irresistible to Darcys of all species.” Gus winked his way before turning back to Ellen. “He is a lawyer, but not the kind who would sue a hospital. He’s into politics, which is absolutely worse.”

  Roman frowned her way. “That’s very hypocritical of you.”

  It was since she’d gone to the same law school and worked in the same place, but she was rolling with it. “We’re here on behalf of Constance’s family, but they have no interest in suing Homewood or its employees. Constance’s son just wants a few of his questions answered about his mother’s illness since she’s deceased now and his father has dementia.”

  Ellen stroked the cat, seeming to take comfort from the fur ball resting contentedly in her arms. “I always knew someone would come around someday and ask questions.”

  “No one else has ever questioned you about your mother’s job at Homewood?” Gus asked.

  “A few have over the years,” she admitted. “But they wanted to know if Mum treated this actress or that pop star. I don’t know much about the celebrities, but I know she didn’t treat any of her patients differently than she would a normal person. She believed everyone should be treated equally. And some of them were the kind to throw fits and to pretend like Homewood was a five-star hotel, not a mental facility. They learned real fast, they did.”

  “So you don’t consider Homewood to be a good hospital?”

  Ellen pondered that for a moment. “As good as any, though my mum always said the administration cared more about money than patients. It’s like that in the private pay facilities. I didn’t like the place at all. Oh, it might look nicer on the outside than the public hospitals, but once you get past the shiny exterior and all the suites and such, it’s nothing but a place that cashes in on misery. You know, sometimes she couldn’t find a sitter, so she would take me with her. I would hear patients screaming. She would tell me to read or nap in one of the offices, but I could still hear wailing. I hated that place. I hated how sad it often made her.”

  “Did she ever talk about Constance?” Gus didn’t want to think about how long the poor woman had been left to rot in that place.

  “Sure. She talked to me about all her patients. That weren’t no crime at all,” Ellen insisted. “I was her daughter. Who else could she talk to?”

  “Of course she needed to talk,” Gus allowed, noting a second cat had joined Mr. Darcy in finding Roman endlessly fascinating. This one jumped up on his lap and began kneading at his thighs with claws. Roman winced, and it was a testament to his promise to behave that he didn’t leap up and shoo the cats away. “Do you recall anything she said about Constance?”

  Ellen stroked the cat, her hands still shaking a bit. Her complexion now looked sallow, and Gus didn’t think that had anything to do with the lighting in the room. “She felt bad for the woman, being so far from home. Her husband had dumped her at Homewood and left. Everyone knew why. She was a terrible drunk, an embarrassment to her family. I suspect he thought she’d never really sober up, so he’d decided that shoving her in a facility outside of the States would at least be a good way to keep her off the radar.”

  “She was there for nine months. That seems like a long stay,” Roman commented as one of the cats swished a tail under his nose.

  “Oh, quite a few stayed longer. Years…or until some lawyer would visit. Once they signed papers, the hospital would suddenly declare the patient cured.” Ellen scoffed. “My mum used to say there were some good doctors at Homewood, but most could be bought.”

  “Do you know if lawyers ever visited Constance?” What would Frank have wanted from his wife? A divorce? She doubted it. That would have been a family scandal Zack didn’t need while running for president.

  “Not that I know of. Mum seemed to think Constance was waiting for some event to pass,” Ellen replied.

  “I’m sure she would have been released after the election cycle.” Roman stared down at Mr. Darcy, who had leapt up on his lap and nudged his feline sibling aside. Then the big orange tom plopped down on Roman’s ridiculously expensive slacks and curled up for a long nap. “It wasn’t the first time Constance had been tucked away to avoid embarrassment. Frank didn’t want her at Zack’s wedding. Zack had to put his foot down.”

  “I remember.” Gus had been one of the bridesmaids. During the reception, Dax and her father had calmed Constance down. She’d had far too much to drink and talked in ravings they’d all thought were insane—at the time. “Was she placed in Homewood’s rehab wing?”

  Ellen reached for her teacup. “Not according to Mum. She was brought in and diagnosed with paranoia of some sort and locked in an isolation ward. Apparently, she had terrible nightmares. Mum thought the drugs the doctors pumped her full of made her see things that weren’t there.”

  Or things from her past. “According to one of the doctors, she talked about a child.”

  Ellen nodded, her eyes lighting with sympathy. “Oh, yes. Terrible tales. Mum would say that when she was lucid, she was an interesting woman to talk to, but when she went dark… Well, she c
ould tell some tales. I think it was because the poor woman had to spend so much time in Russia. Those are some shifty people.”

  “What would she say about the child?”

  “She talked about killing a baby,” Ellen said, her voice going low. “I don’t know if it was an accident or something she intended to do. I mean, this was probably all a fever-induced dream, something her mind made up to torment her. My mum always said no one can torture you mentally as well as you can yourself. However, given things that happened later, I might be wrong.”

  “Things that happened later?”

  Ellen took a long sip of tea. “Lots of bad things happened with that family. I’m not foolish. I know who we’re talking about. I know that man’s wife died, took a bullet that was meant for him. At least that’s what the news programs said. Constance believed something different. Apparently, she’d always said they would kill her daughter-in-law one day. When Mum would ask her why, she would only say it was all her fault. Everyone would die, and she was to blame.”

  Gus fought back a shudder. “Did your mother ever say she was worried about Constance?”

  “Oh, yeah. See, Constance was fragile, and Mum didn’t like some of the doctors. Thought they knew everything, they did. And they would leave the nurses to do all the dirty work.”

  “What kind of dirty work?” Roman asked.

  “Forcing people to take meds they didn’t want. Sometimes restraining ’em for days. Dr. Richards was the worst of them all. His father left him the hospital, but he didn’t run it the way his dad had. He wanted to do everything all new and the like, and he thought the older nurses knew nothing. It was him who decided to let Constance go off with the woman that night. Said it would do her good, but Mum didn’t think it was for therapeutic reasons at all. She said she saw money change hands.”