He fixed a pot of coffee then took a cup into the yard with him as he walked it. The rain had washed everything clean. Wet soil clung to his feet, dampened and muddied the hems of his jeans. He stood where he could see the city skyline. Was she home yet? Maybe she went straight to work.
His coffee had gone cold. He tossed the remains onto the ground, then turned on the garden hose to wash his feet. He took off his jeans on the back porch before realizing the door was locked, that he would have to walk naked to the front of the house.
Cassie would've laughed at him, her eyes sparkling. That laughter had filled his house with life. He'd been drawn to that first about her. Well, maybe not first but soon thereafter.
Stop thinking about her. He would. He had to.
He showered, stripped the sheets and washed them, not wanting her scent in his bed that night. He went into his office. Like he was supposed to work?
Automatically he booted his computer and brought up e-mail. Nothing critical. He looked at the various project names and decided he would find himself a mental challenge. The insurance center in Sacramento? The successful dot.com in Seattle in need of a larger building? The twenty-story structure in Los Angeles?
The dot.com, he decided, but as he went to click on the icon he saw the one next to it: Daniel Patrick. The digital photos he'd taken of Danny since the first day.
His finger on the mouse, he moved the arrow over the icon. After what seemed like hours he double-clicked on the folder. He read the list of contents and clicked on the first one, taken when Danny was hours old, asleep in his bassinet. Cassie hadn't even arrived yet. Heath stared at the picture. Danny had changed so much, no longer the red, wrinkly baby but a plumper, pinker one.
One by one Heath viewed the pictures. One by one he forwarded them to Brad Torrance's business e-mail address. Then he came to the last one, a picture he'd taken using the timer of Cassie, Danny and himself. He remembered the moment. They were outdoors. The background showed the cleared and tamed property and the view of the city and bay.
It wasn't Danny who had forced those changes in his surroundings, but Cassie. She'd pretended Danny was a little jaundiced and opened all the drapes and blinds. She'd forced Heath to look outside again. Danny was the catalyst, but Cassie was the instigator, sometimes subtle, mostly flagrant.
She'd barreled into his life, turned it upside down, then left. Fury blindsided him. How dare she? How could she toy with him like that? She had to know how much she meant to him. She'd have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to know.
Well, he could wipe her out of his life just as easily, with one keystroke, in fact. She could walk out? So could he, in his own way.
His finger hovered over the delete key then froze there. After a minute it slid away, as if he had no control over it. He hit the print key, coded it for two copies, then hit Delete. He couldn't forward that one to Brad, and he didn't want it left on his computer, either. But he wouldn't wipe out the memory altogether, as had happened with Kyle.
He retrieved the two prints from the printer and stuck them in an unlabeled file folder then into his filing cabinet. He would never forget where they were.
Now that he'd purged the photos he would get down to work. He returned to his computer. Distracted he stared into space, but there was no space, no view, only a huge expanse of windows still covered by closed blinds. He got out of his chair, put a hand on the cord, then let his hand fall to his side. Not ready yet.
More determined, he sat again. He typed a command to open a file, but somehow it came out as "Kyle" instead of Kendall, the Seattle company. A file came up. A photo. One photo. Kyle.
He remembered it. He'd just gotten a digital camera to take to New Hampshire on their upcoming trip. He'd been experimenting with taking pictures and downloading them. The file wasn't on his screen usually but down where he would've had to scroll to it.
He hadn't seen it in three years.
Heath dragged his hands down his face, set them in his lap. His eyes lost focus. He drew a deep breath and clicked on the file. The photo opened. Kyle. Kyle with the laughing eyes, green like Heath's, and the blond, almost-white hair. He'd been singing "Itsy Bitsy Spider" when Heath snapped the picture. His hands were in the air making the motion of the spider climbing the water spout.
Heath put his hands on the monitor and traced his son's face-the impish smile, the white teeth, the jutting little chin. He ran his fingers over each eyebrow, the shell of each ear. His chest heaved, his breath stuck there. He leaned his cheek against the monitor, wrapped his arms around it, rocked back and forth. Tears flowed at last, at long last. Horrible, wrenching, racking sobs rose from him, the ugliest sound he'd ever heard. "Why not me?" he cried. "Why him? Why not me?"
He gave himself up to it, to the guilt, to the self-contempt, to the old arrogance that had been his downfall. He stormed around the office, slamming books, throwing whatever was handy against the wall until he finally fell to his knees and just grieved for the boy, for his son, for the light of his life, long gone dark.
Hours went by before he picked up the phone and hit a speed-dial button. He waited twelve rings. They didn't have an answering machine. He had to give them time to hear it, time to go indoors and answer.
"Hello?"
Just the sound of his voice resurrected the pain. Heath squeezed his eyes shut. "Dad?"
"Son? What's wrong?"
"I'm coming home."
Seventeen
Cassie stared out the picture window of the ARC conference room. The windy San Francisco Bay was dotted with boats and Windsurfers, normal for a Saturday afternoon. Quinn had called a meeting his first day back in the office after more than a month away on a trip that had taken him almost around the world, protecting a hotshot CEO with some international enemies. She wished she could do the same. Get away. Focus on work. Stop thinking about … everything.
"Last item on the agenda. We got a check from Heath Raven," her boss said, "but I haven't seen billing for him. He attached a note saying it was an estimate, but to let him know if he owed more or was due a refund."
Cassie felt Quinn studying her, and Jamey, as well.
"I didn't bill him," she said then turned around.
"Do you intend to?" Quinn asked.
She shook her head. "Send his check back, okay? I'll make it up to you. You can deduct it from my wages."
"Did you break rule number one, Cass?"
Never get personally involved with the client. She lifted her chin. "Yes."
"Was it the baby?"
"In the beginning."
He was quiet a few seconds. "If I don't let it go, it'd be like the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn't it?"
"Claire wasn't a client," Jamey reminded him.
"Close enough." Quinn stuck the check and letter back in its envelope. "Okay, Cass."
"Thank you," she said quietly, humbly.
"When did you see him last?"
"Ten days ago." Not that she was counting or anything. "I said goodbye."
"No hope?"
She shook her head. He hadn't even tried to talk her out of leaving. Not that she'd wanted him to or anything.
"Hmm."
Cassie frowned. "Why do you say it like that?"
"Because he called a little while ago, looking for you. I told him to come over."
"You what?" She pushed herself out of her chair. She couldn't see him. She couldn't. She was just starting to sleep at night again.
"He said he had some unfinished business." Quinn's cell phone rang. "That's probably him. I told him to call when he got here and I would unlock the door. Here-" he passed her the envelope "-you can return this."
He answered his cell phone as he left the room. "Be there in two seconds," Cassie heard him say.
She turned the envelope over and over. She needed to get herself under control. She couldn't let on how much she'd missed him, needed him. Wanted him. How she'd lost interest in the little things in life, like Letterman and food and sleep.
What unfinished business? She crushed the envelope in her fist. Why couldn't he have waited? It was too soon for him to be comfortable with his new life. He should take at least a year-
"You don't have to see him," Jamey said.
She looked at the crushed envelope. Where could she hide it? "I can't not see him. I'm weak."
He laughed. "Right. You are the strongest woman I know-who has a weakness for one man." He stood. "Don't jump to conclusions, Cass. Let him talk. See what he wants. He may surprise you."
"But in a good or a bad way?"
She heard his voice and she went weak in the knees. He preceded Quinn into the room, was introduced to Jamey, who then left, along with Quinn. The door was shut behind them. She tried to shift into her self-protection mode, the one that had helped her through countless situations before, but it refused to accommodate her. Her heart seemed to be on a marathon. She shoved the envelope under her just before he looked at her.