Heart of the Raven(26)

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.