Revival Page 6

  “I do. Thank you for sharing your lunch with me.”

  Jane said, “You’re welcome,” but Charlotte was still in full-fledged snit mode.

  Baron watched in genuine curiosity as Leila handled the behavior by talking matter-of-factly to Joe and Jane as she finished cleaning up, ignoring Charlotte’s increasingly dramatic expressions of displeasure.

  Being a quick study, Baron followed Leila’s example and didn’t respond as Charlotte sprawled her little self on the grass beside him and begged him not to leave. Instead, he asked Jane about her favorite subject in school and got to hear a long, earnest monologue about the girl’s love of reading.

  He was rewarded for this piece of good child-management by a rueful but approving smile from Leila.

  When Charlotte’s theatrics had faded into a few pitiful huffs, Leila leaned over and gave the girl’s side a quick tickle, almost like an afterthought.

  Charlotte squealed and rolled away. “Mommy!”

  Leila put on an innocent look. “What? Did someone tickle you?”

  “You did!”

  “No, couldn’t be.” She lifted two corners of the blanket and gestured for Baron to grab the others. He got up and helped Leila fold the blanket. As he finished folding it into a neat square, Leila leaned down and tickled Charlotte again.

  This time, Charlotte grabbed her arm before she could pull away. “I got you!” the girl announced triumphantly.

  Leila tickled her with her other hand.

  Baron watched with another odd feeling in his chest as both Charlotte and Leila laughed with a complete lack of inhibition that took his breath away.

  He’d never been that way with his own family.

  He couldn’t remember being that way with anyone.

  It was just as well that his smartphone chirped before he could go any farther along that dangerous mental road.

  He glanced down at his phone to see an email from one of Ryan Howard, who had been the James family lawyer for decades.

  “Excuse me,” he murmured, walking some distance away so he could read in privacy.

  When he scanned the note, he grunted, like someone had kicked him in the gut.

  Maybe he should have known—should have expected it—but he was taken totally off-guard by what felt like an assault.

  His brother was coming back after all.

  But not to help. Not to be family.

  He stared down at the screen of his phone, noticing that his hand was shaking but incapable of making it stop.

  “Baron,” a soft voice came from behind him, “Are you all right?”

  His eyes felt heavy, and he couldn’t seem to turn them toward where Leila was standing beside him.

  “I’m fine.” His voice sounded foreign to his own ears.

  “Well, that’s obviously a lie. You look like someone ran you over with a truck.”

  He swallowed hard and managed to look over at her. She appeared relaxed, natural, but her eyes were filled with something deep and strong. It wasn’t pity, but it was close enough to make Baron bristled defensively.

  “I’m fine,” he said again, pleased that this time he sounded more convincing.

  “There’s no reason you should tell me. I was just...” She glanced away, as if she weren’t even sure what she’d intended to say. With a breath of ironic laughter, she concluded, “I was just worried.”

  Baron managed looked away from the phone again, glancing behind him to see that Joe was kicking the soccer ball with the girls. It was a relief—that Leila was the only witness to this moment.

  He was cold on the sunny day, and he was pretty sure he’d lost color in his face. He opened his mouth to say something neutral but couldn’t seem to form any words.

  One email. And it felt like he’d lost his entire family again.

  He took a breath, summoned his will, and forced his hand to stop shaking. Then he slipped the phone into his pocket and lifted his head to meet Leila’s eyes.

  “Don’t you think,” she began, her voice cracking slightly, “Don’t you think it would be easier—it would be healthier—if you could just let go for a minute?”

  He wasn’t sure what surprised him more—the personal nature of the question or the pinpoint accuracy of the insight. He stared at her without speaking.

  Her brows drew together and the empathy in her eyes deepened into what could only be compassion. “I know it’s none of my business,” she went on, reaching out now to put a hand on his forearm. “But, Baron, you’ve got to let go, just a little. You never used to be like this.”

  He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t look away. She was lovely, intelligent, passionate. She was a mother and a daughter and a teacher and a scholar and the dreamy girl he used to know and so many other things. She was complete. And Baron knew she was a woman who knew how to really care about someone.

  He wanted someone to care about him that way so much his eyes glazed over briefly.

  He could still feel his phone in his pocket, however, and he knew exactly what the information he’d just received signified. “I don’t think I can,” he finally said. He was responding to her last comment, but he might have been responding to something else.

  Her hand slid up to squeeze his bicep through his sleeve. “Baron, you’re scaring me a little. What’s happened? Is there someone I can call?”

  He almost laughed—bitter and entirely inappropriate. He had no one she could call. He had more friends than he could name, but no one genuinely close anymore.

  “Thanks,” he managed to say, “I’m all right.”

  He wasn’t all right.

  He wanted to let go, release all he’d been trying to hold together for the last few months.

  He wanted to reconnect with life—with the kind of natural, instinctive feeling he saw in Leila and the girls.

  He wanted a family again. And a brother who wasn’t his enemy.

  But none of those things were likely to happen. Not to him. Not in this world, anyway.

  “Oh, Baron,” Leila sighed, sliding her hand off his arm with a touch that was almost a caress. “I don’t think you’re all right at all.”

  Five

  Leila took off her glasses and set them on her desk. She held the phone to her ear with one hand, but she rubbed her eyes with the other.

  “Rick—” she began, breaking off when her ex-husband kept talking. “Rick, I don’t care about your girlfriend’s whole family saga. Just get to the point.”

  She knew what the point was. She’d known thirty seconds into the call.

  So when he finally said it, she just shook her head, feeling tired and frustrated but not surprised. “And how would you like me to explain to the girls that their dad isn’t coming to visit them like he was supposed to?”

  She rubbed her eyes again, Rick’s voice fading into a blur as she imagined having this particular conversation with Jane and Charlotte.

  Leila was happy to keep Rick’s influence in her daughters’ lives to a minimum. If he wasn’t a significant presence, then he’d be less positioned to hurt them. They still loved their dad, though, and they’d been so looking forward to his promised visit two weeks from now. However, due to a bizarre confluence of events involving Rick’s twenty-two-year-old girlfriend, an uncle she couldn’t disappoint, and some obscure scheduling hassles with a ski lodge, the girls would miss out on their father’s visit.

  “Can you at least call tonight and tell them yourself?” Leila asked, a hard edge in her voice she didn’t like.

  Rick’s vague promise that he would try convinced her it wasn’t going to happen.

  She knew he was trying to start his life again after the divorce, just like she was. She knew his new girlfriend was everything he’d wanted Leila to be—everything Leila wasn’t.

  They’d been officially divorced for almost a year and separated longer than that. She wasn’t resentful or jealous of Rick’s new girlfriend. Leila no longer wanted a place in his life.

  But she could scratch out his
eyes for hurting Charlotte and Jane.

  She hung up on the call, feeling exhausted and kind of sick. She stared at the messy surface of her desk and massaged her temples. It was fine. The girls would be disappointed, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

  They would have to grow up dealing with divorced parents who lived on opposite sides of the country.

  Leila put on her glasses again and set down her phone so she could grade one of the papers piled on her desk, but then she changed her mind.

  She’d been putting off one particular call. After having gotten through one painful phone conversation, however, she might as well get this one over as well.

  So she pulled out the business card Baron had given her and dialed his number, hoping it would be sent to voice mail and she could just leave a message.

  It rang several times and she started mentally prepping her message, so she wouldn’t end up sounding like an idiot.

  Then, “Hello—Leila?”

  She paused, disoriented by the sound of Baron’s voice when she was expecting to leave a message and by the fact that he’d recognized her number. “Yeah,” she said at last. “Hi. It’s me. Leila.”

  Well, despite her best attempts, she’d ended up sounding like an idiot after all.

  “Is everything all right?”

  She hadn’t talked to Baron for almost a week, not since the picnic on Saturday afternoon. What had happened that day had left her feeling confused and conflicted, which made her more nervous than she should have been over this call.

  “Yeah, everything’s fine. Sorry to bother you. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

  “Just work.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She swallowed, willing herself to say the words she’d called to say.

  She’d been so comfortable a week ago with Baron having pulled away from her. She’d understood why and hadn’t even blamed him for it. It had actually been a relief not to worry about her potential interest in him.

  But Saturday afternoon had changed all of that. It had humanized him to her in a way that wasn’t at all reassuring. The attraction that just got stronger every time she saw him. The warm feeling in her chest as she watched him interact with the girls. The odd tenderness she’d felt at whatever message he’d gotten that had so leveled him. All of that was dangerous.

  Even though she knew she shouldn’t indulge those feelings, she couldn’t quite put them aside.

  Several times this week, she’d woken up in the middle of the night and had to fight the urge to fantasize about him. Not just sexual fantasies. Also fantasies about being in a real relationship with him.

  It was insane. She wasn’t a girl with a crush anymore, and she had too much at stake now to let herself be lured down that road.

  But, after Saturday, she wasn’t quite ready to cut him out of her life completely.

  “Anyway, uh, next Thursday is my dad’s birthday.” Her voice wavered just slightly so she cleared her throat. There was absolutely no reason to feel so nervous.

  When Baron made a vague, affirming noise, she continued, “The girls are planning a birthday party for him. They’re doing the menu, the activities, and everything. And they’re also doing the invitation list.”

  “Ah,” Baron murmured, as if he finally understood the purpose of her call.

  “Yes.” Leila smiled faintly at the memory of her girls' happy faces as they announced who they wanted to attend their grandfather’s party. “So you’re invited.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the call that went on a little too long. Leila hurried on, “I know how busy you are. It’s totally fine if you can’t come. I’ll just tell them that you couldn’t make it.”

  She swallowed with an ache in her throat, as she visualized telling the girls that—not only was their dad not coming to visit—but also their favorite movie-star man didn’t want to come to their party.

  “Would you rather I not come?” Baron’s voice held an odd timbre, one she couldn’t understand at all.

  “No! I mean, of course you’re more than welcome.” She was glad her voice was convincing, even though she honestly wasn’t sure whether she wanted him to attend or not. “I just didn’t want you to feel any pressure to come. I know it’s not exactly your normal evening’s entertainment.”

  Afraid her last words might have implied something negative, she added, “I mean, I know how busy you are.”

  “What time on Thursday?”

  She blinked, hardly believing what was happening. “Six. It has to be early because of the girls’ bedtime.”

  “Believe it or not,” Baron replied, incongruously sounding like he might have been smiling, “my schedule isn’t booked up at six this Thursday, although I have a meeting scheduled for five, so if it runs late I might not be right on time. I can make it, if you think my coming would be a good idea.”

  She understood the implied question in his last words, but could hardly wrap her mind around the fact that he was asking it.

  She knew he’d had a kind heart when he was young, but she’d thought he might have grown too self-involved in the last decade to wonder about whether his presence would be a problem for a woman he wasn’t really close to and two six-year-old girls.

  “They would be thrilled,” she admitted, her voice warmer than she’d expected. The tone might have something to do with the tremor of excitement she felt in her belly. “It would be really nice if you could come.”

  “Then I will.”

  When Leila hung up the phone, she took off her glasses again and rubbed her eyes.

  What the hell was happening here?

  And why was she so excited about it?

  She blew out a few breaths and gave herself a lecture on being mature, responsible, and careful. Baron just wasn’t a man she could play around with, and anything serious with him was never going to happen.

  Which left... almost nothing.

  But she remembered the lost expression on his face as she’d talked to him in the park last Saturday, and she remembered the look his eyes when she’d told him she didn’t think he was all right.

  If nothing else, maybe she could be a friend to him.

  When she finally turned back to her pile of papers to grade, she couldn’t help but be glad that Baron wasn’t out of her life for good.

  * * *

  “When will he get here?” Charlotte demanded, putting her little hands on her hips and striking a dramatically impatient pose. She wore her favorite outfit—a pale blue tiered skirt that swung and floated out as she moved, paired a pink t-shirt and her treasured pink tennis shoes.

  Leila had everything ready for the birthday party, but she opened the refrigerator again to check on the cake and the punch the girls had so carefully made. “It’s not six o’clock yet. I told him six.”

  “It’s just five more minutes,” Jane said, rearranging the pink gerbera daisies in a vase she’d already arranged four times. She had on a skirt that matched Charlotte’s, but she wore it with a more demure white top and a sparkly pair of Mary-Janes.

  “That’s right. Of course, he might not be right on time. He said he had a meeting that might run late.”

  Leila was just praying he would show up at all. Whatever had prompted him to accept the invitation might not be a lasting impulse, and she was pretty sure there was a possibility that he woke up this morning and wondered why the hell he should waste his time with a couple of little girls.

  “I don’t think he’ll be late,” Jane said, pulling one of the flowers out of the vase to make more room for the others.

  “He won’t be late,” Charlotte echoed.

  Leila had opened her mouth to temper this optimism when the doorbell rang.

  “I’ve got it,” she called over to her dad, who was in the living room talking to Miss Martin and a couple of the neighbors whom the girls had also invited to the birthday party.

  Ridiculously, her heart raced and her cheeks warmed as she swung open the front door of the little house she re
nted.

  Baron stood on her welcome mat, wearing black trousers and a black dress shirt and holding a shopping bag from what she knew to be a very exclusive market.

  He looked so gorgeous that her heart skipped a beat.

  “Hi,” she said, staring at him and wondering why he had to look so irresistibly sexy, intelligent, and ironic—all at the same time.

  “Hi.”

  “You’re right on time,” she said, somewhat redundantly.

  His gaze had scanned her from top to bottom, and she felt a shiver of excitement at the appreciative glint in his eyes. “Am I to be allowed in?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” She grinned sheepishly and stepped aside to invite him inside.

  She watched as he greeted the girls and told her father “happy birthday.” Anxiety and excitement waged a war inside her as she wondered again what Baron was doing here and what had happened to make him change his mind about withdrawing.

  She wondered what had hurt him so deeply in the park on Saturday and if there was anything she could do to help him.

  Leila reminded herself for the thousandth time to be very, very careful. Baron wasn’t a man she could start to build hopes around.

  At least he’d shown up when the girls were counting on him.

  Which was more than their father had managed to do.

  ***

  As Leila was pouring out punch into the fancy plastic cups the girls had picked out, she heard them demanding that Baron show them what he’d brought in the shopping bag.

  When she heard squeals of delight and her father’s low laughter, she ducked her head around to see what was going on.

  Jane and Charlotte were each holding a little bouquet of roses and mini calla lilies—Charlotte’s with pink roses and white lilies and Jane’s with white roses and purple lilies. Leila knew relatively little about flowers, but she could tell from the elegant way the bouquets were tied off that Baron must have paid a small fortune for them.

  “Mommy!” Charlotte exclaimed, “Look! Look what Mr. James got us!” The girl did a little dance, her flower bouquet threatening to fly across the room with her exuberance.