style="font-size:15px;"> Her hand flew to the neckline of the robe, which she pulled tightly closed as if fearing he might rip it from her lush body in a fit of uncontrollable passion.
“Do I? Maybe we don’t know each other at all anymore,” she suggested.
The sudden bleakness in her eyes struck a tender place under his breastbone. He thought of the woman who had told him her plans to finish her degree and teach school in Prosperino, or maybe start her own business and work with the troubled kids over at the Hopechest Ranch where she tutored students in remedial reading. It was her optimistic vision of the future that had forced him to write that note. It was a future he couldn’t hope to share.
Abruptly he headed for the door. “You’re right. Maybe we don’t know each other now, but once we did. Your mother said I shouldn’t upset you, but don’t think this is the last of this conversation.” He left quietly and headed outside for the steps that led down to the shore.
Maya rubbed her back and paced restlessly about the small room. Was her back hurting worse? Had she injured herself during the ride? She bit her lip against the pain and loneliness of the midnight hour. And the hunger that ate at her since she’d felt Drake’s arms around her once more, strong and sure and capable.
How long before she forgot those moments last summer? Months? Years? A lifetime?
Unable to sleep lately or to sit for long periods, she walked the floor for hours. Most of the time she was confident of her ability to care for herself and a child, but sometimes, like now, her courage faltered.
Drake was a complication she hadn’t foreseen. After his leaving last summer, with only a note to explain that they had no future, she hadn’t thought he would even care if she was carrying his child.
The pain of that moment rushed over her anew, nearly causing her to cry out. She gritted her teeth and waited for it to pass. She’d learned, during the past eight months, that one could endure.
Sitting in the rocker and leaning forward as far as she could to relieve the pressure on her lower back, she knew she would have to admit the truth.
Unless there was a way to hide the truth…
She picked up the phone and dialed a number in L.A. When her sister answered, Maya spoke quickly and in a low voice.
“Lana, this is Maya. I have a question for you. Are you alone? Can you talk?”
“Well, hello, baby sister,” Lana said in surprise. “Yes, I’ve just given my patient her final medication and was heading for bed. What’s happening?”
Maya took a careful breath. “Drake Colton is home. His father told him about…about…”
“The baby?” Lana finished helpfully when Maya faltered.
“Yes. Listen, I know a DNA test would reveal the identity of the father, but no one could do anything to the baby without my consent, could they? Like take blood?”
“Is Drake threatening to take the baby from you?” Lana demanded indignantly.
“No, no, nothing like that. He doesn’t know he’s the father—I haven’t told anyone but you—but he thinks he could be.”
“Could be!” Lana’s tone was shocked and angry. “How many affairs does he think you carry on at one time?”
“Never mind that. What about the DNA test?”
“I’m a private duty nurse, not a lawyer, but I think he could. I mean, a court order would do it.”
“And the Coltons can afford the best lawyers in the world,” Maya said, then sighed. She felt physically and emotionally exhausted.
She waited patiently as Lana tried to reassure her on her maternal rights, then said good-night.
The future seemed dark and even more uncertain all at once. How could she have been so foolish? she’d asked herself a thousand times during the intervening months.
She knew the answer. Love. The stuff of dreams.
Well, she was awake now, she mused ruefully, forcing a smile at her once idealistic self. Reality was a backache and an inability to find a sleeping position that her body accepted. Reality was also Drake Colton.
Unlike her longtime friend Andy Martin, Drake hadn’t mentioned marriage. If she told him the baby was his, what would he do—insist on marriage or simply offer to support the child…or try to take it from her?
She had no idea what “putting his affairs in order” meant to him. She again fought the despair that darkened her spirits at unguarded moments. She had known Drake all her life, but she truly hadn’t a clue about his intentions.
Sighing, she got up and paced some more.
Two
Drake hunched his shoulders against the chill and thrust his hands into his jeans pockets. The wind off the ocean had calmed, so the night wasn’t as cold as expected.
He stalked along the rough shore, occasionally stumbling over a large rock mixed with the coarse sand and rounded pebbles of the beach. The moon cast a feeble light on the land, but it was instinct that led him to an alcove hidden among the boulders at the base of the cliff.
Folding his legs under him, he settled on a rise of sand that formed a bench under the rocky indentation and buried his face in his hands. He and his siblings had played at being pirates and sea captains in this alcove. He’d made love to Maya here.
Darkness overtook him, that desperation of the soul that had been his companion for most of his life. Since his twin had died under the wheels of a car.
A shudder ran through him, as hot and painful as the bullet that had sliced through his hip.
“Drake, we’re not supposed to go out on the highway,” Michael called.
Drake pedaled his bike up the hill that overlooked the main road. “Come on. Let’s go look for arrowheads on the other side of the road where the creek cuts through.”
“Dad will kill us if he finds out.”
“So how’s he to know? I’m not going to tell. Come on, chicken. We won’t be long.”
His dad hadn’t had to lay a hand on them. Michael, riding behind him, hadn’t seen the car come speeding around the curve. Drake had. He’d yelled and run off the side of the road. Michael had been watching him, puzzled, right up until an instant before he’d been hit.
Drake groaned and lifted his head. He watched the turbulent roll of the waves onto the shore, each one a reminder of the past. His father had told him Michael’s death wasn’t his fault. The child psychologist his father had called in had said the same.
Drake’s adult reasoning assured him this was true in the sense that he hadn’t meant harm. But in his heart… In his heart, he would forever be calling for his brother to “Watch out” and knowing, even as he did, it was too late.
Shaking his head, he wondered why, with all his other worries, this one had come
