To Love a Stranger (7 page)

R
uss and Ariel eyed their father from behind their mother's legs and crutches. Seeing their trepidation had Madeline kicking herself for not doing a better job preparing them for this moment. Either way, it was too late to go back to a world of denial.

Russell kneeled so he could be eye level with the children and he smiled in a way that melted the hard edges around Madeline's jaded heart.

“Hello, it's so nice to finally meet you two,” he said patiently, gazing at them as if he'd never seen anything so beautiful.

“Are you really our father?” Russ asked cautiously, and then ducked back behind his mother.

Russell's smile slid wider and his eyes even twinkled. “Yes. I'm your father.”

“Bobby Olson said that you have annameseah,” Russ said, butchering the word.

Ariel tugged Madeline's leg. “Momma, what's annameseah?”

“It's amnesia, baby,” Madeline corrected. “And it's when someone can't remember the past.” Awkwardly, she reached down and tugged on a fat pigtail.

Her daughter frowned pensively. “Like this morning when you couldn't remember where you'd place your car keys?”

Russell chuckled and drew the children's attention back to him. “It's a little more serious than that,” he explained. “It's when you can't remember anything. I don't remember being a little boy or who my parents were. Where I grew up,” he said, and glanced up. “Or how I met your mother.”

Ariel's eyes widened. “How can you forget something like that?”

“I don't know.” Russell shrugged. “Dr. Rountree says I must have hurt my heard in the airplane crash.”

Curious, Ariel stepped forward first, squinting at her father as if doing so she'd be able to discern the truth. “Does your head hurt?”

“Sometimes.”

The confession surprised Madeline. It hadn't occurred to her inquire about any injuries or pain Russell might be having. That was mainly because the old Russell would have whined endlessly about something as small as a paper cut.

“Is that why you've been gone so long? You forgot where you lived?” Russ asked, stepping forward.

“Something like that,” Russell said.

Ariel took another step as if proving she was the bravest. “One time, cousin Lysandra got lost at a store and I couldn't find her anywhere. I got really scared. Did you get scared?”

Actually, Ariel had a habit of wandering away in big places. Everyone in the family has experienced an Ariel stress attack at least once.

“It is a little scary,” Russell admitted. “But I'm happy to finally find my way home again…to meet you two…to see how beautiful and handsome you are.”

A few more steps and Russ took the lead to stand directly in front of his father. “I got a new Tyrannosaurus for my birthday. Do you like dinosaurs?”

Russell thought the question over while maintaining his smile. “I think I do.”

Russ's face lit up as he grabbed his father's hand and pulled him forward. “Wait until you see my collection. It's really cool, huh, Mom?”

“Yes, baby. It's really cool,” Madeline said.

“Wait. I want him to see my baby-doll collection,” Ariel insisted, taking Russell's other hand and pulling him in the opposite direction.

Madeline's heart squeezed painfully in her chest and she forced herself to look away. For the past six years she'd had her babies all to herself. She had owned their laughter, joy and love. And in the snap of a finger, she had to share them. It hurt that they accepted him so easily.

Her hands tightened on the crutches and she turned to wobble away, then Russell's gentle voice floated out to her. “Do you need any help?”

She faced him again and was surprised to see him standing so close. The sudden weakness in her knees made her grateful the crutches supported most of her weight. “No. I'll be all right. I'm sure Consuela won't mind cooking dinner tonight.”

“You have a cook?” he asked, disappointed, and then added, “Of course you do.”

“And what is
that
supposed to mean?” she asked, defensive.

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “I guess I'm just not used to having so many people working for or waiting on me all the time.”

Her brows stretched delicately to the center of her forehead. “What, are you a comedian now? You grew up with servants,” she said.

He blinked in the face of her anger.

“Or are you trying to say that I'm a lousy mother because I don't have time to cook homemade meals?”

“Mommy doesn't know how to cook,” Ariel piped up with a bright smile.

“That's not true,” Russ defended his mother. “She can make Jell-O and pudding, bake cookies and—”

“Thank you, Russ,” Madeline said, and flashed her son an embarrassed smile. “All right. So I can't cook. That doesn't make me a bad mother.”

“How could I ever look at these two,” he said gently caressing each of the children's faces, “and think you were anything but an excellent mother?”

Madeline's gaze narrowed. It was going to take a long time to get use to Russell's free-flowing compliments.

“Maybe I do need to go lay down,” she decided.

“Here, let me help. If you just tell me where your bedroom is.”

He reached for her, but she avoided him. Not out of pride, Madeline evaded him to avert the havoc that he caused on her senses by simply touching her. Plus, the last place she wanted him was in her bedroom.

“That's all right. I'll manage.”

Russell tossed up his hands and stepped back. “As you wish.”

The children watched the exchange with curious looks and Madeline attempted to smooth things over with a synthetic smile. “Baths at eight o'clock and then I'll tuck you in.”

“That's okay. Why don't you just rest? I'll tuck them in,” Russell injected, eagerly.

Madeline stiffened. “I always tuck them in at night.”

“That's all right, Mommy,” Ariel said. “I want Daddy to tuck me in tonight.”

Daddy?
Weren't they accepting the man a little too fast? They had just him, for crying out loud.

“I really don't mind,” Russell added.

Of course he doesn't.
Madeline squirmed, stifling the urge to throw a hissy fit. “Fine,” she spat. “You tuck them in.” She turned, swinging her crutches to perform a sorry wobbly walk/run combination that undoubtedly gave Russell and the kids a good chuckle.

When she finally reached her bedroom, after a long hike up a deep staircase, she made sure to slam the door with what little strength she had left.

Five minutes later, she sobbed into her pillow. She didn't want to share her children. She didn't want Russell in her house. And she certainly didn't want to be attracted to him. If it wasn't for bad luck she would have no luck at all, she mused.

Two hours later, she was all cried out and suffering an incredible migraine. Somehow, someway she needed to pull herself together.

“Just bide your time. Don't rock the boat until after the House of Madeline launches,” she told herself. She nodded through her new mantra. “After that, divorce court, here I come.”

A soft knock drew her out of her reverie and she sat up in bed. “Who is it?” she asked timidly.

“It's me. Russell.”

“Damn.” She mopped her tears with her hands and pinched her cheeks to pump life back into her face. “What is it?”

When the door cracked open, she thought she was prepared to see her husband; but once again, the moment he appeared his larger-than-life presence seemed to shrink the spacious bedroom. Not to mention, he was in the very room she'd hoped to keep him out of.

“The kids have eaten and are taking their baths. I figure we both could tuck them in tonight.”

Another peace offering. The man was so unpredictable.

“That's okay. They seem to really want you to do it.”

“Look,” he said, closing the door and moving deeper into the room. “I'm not trying to step on any toes here and I definitely don't want to disrupt any routine you have going.”

“Well, you're just an all around good guy, huh?” she said with biting sarcasm.

To this, he simply laughed.

“What's so funny?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

She didn't so she was left to work her jaw in silence.

“What do we have to do to get past this?” he asked, crossing his arms.

Madeline said nothing.

“Do you want a divorce? Is that what all this is leading to?”

Her eyes snapped to his and her heart suddenly lodged in the center of her throat, suffocating her. Now that the subject hung heavy in the air, an unexpected fear tangled with her conflicting emotions.

Russell cocked his head while his eyes continued studying her. “You're thinking,” he said, sliding his hands into his pants pockets and inching toward the bed. “You're thinking about the money.”

Madeline pressed back against the pillows, her breath thinning as he approached.

“Is it truly all that's between us?”

She wanted to say “yes,” but she couldn't get the word out of her mouth.

“Because I don't think so. It's not what I feel when I look at you.” He stopped at the edge of the bed with such passion in his eyes she didn't know how it was possible her clothes hadn't melted off her body.

“What are you doing?” she squeaked.

“Nothing. I just want to talk with you.” He sat on the edge of the bed, close to her broken foot.

She planted her arms at her side and wiggled farther away from him.

As he watched, disappointment rippled across his features. Silently, he reached for one of the bed's throw pillows and gently lifted her leg and placed the pillow under her foot.

A slow heat stretched all the way up her leg and then simmered in the center of her body.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” she whispered.

He smiled and she tried to ignore the ache pulsing between her legs, but the harder she tried, the more intense it became. What if she slightly spread her legs? Would his hand roam higher?

In a flash, Russell's smile disappeared. “Were you upset when my plane crashed? Did you cry for me?”

“P
lease tell me you lied to him this time,” Lysandra begged Madeline the next morning. “Just don't tell me you confessed about the widow party you threw.”

“Of course I didn't tell him about the party,” Madeline snapped while digging a wire coat hanger down the side of her leg cast. She'd only had the thing on one day and already she had an itch that was positively driving her crazy.

“So what did you say?” Lysandra asked, setting the House of Madeline fall-collection sketches down on the bed. “Or do I really want to know?”

Madeline dropped the hanger and tossed her hands up in the air. “I lied. Okay?” She rocked back against the pillows, but ended up slamming her head against the headboard. “Ow. Damn it,” she hissed.

Lysandra's shoulders deflated with relief. “Well, thank God. I thought you'd totally lost your mind this past week.”

“Always my voice of reason.” Madeline reached for the crutches beside the bed and allowed her cousin to assist her out of the bed. One of the good things about having to work out of her bedroom on a Saturday was the luxury of wearing silk pajamas all day.

“Joke if you want to, but I have a vested interest in House of Madeline, too.”

It was true. Lysandra had left a hard-earned career with Chanel and was taking a big gamble with the House of Madeline. If they failed, she would be starting from ground zero. Either that or enlist Cecelia to help find her a millionaire husband.

“Everything is under control,” Madeline said.

“What did you say about the divorce?”

Drawing a deep breath, she hobbled to the bedroom's bay window and then blinked in surprise to see Russell and Russ in the middle of the lush green estate tossing her son's beloved football. She couldn't ever remember seeing her little boy so happy. The realization of how much he needed his father in his life was like a sucker punch to her gut. It caused another wave of insecurity to wash over her.

For six years she thought she'd been doing a good job being both mother and father. Now seeing her children with their real father, their easy acceptance of him, made her question everything.

“Maddie?” Lysandra placed a hand on her shoulder. “Why are you crying?”

Madeline placed her hand against her cheek, stunned to find it wet with tears.

Lysandra glanced out of the window in time to see Ariel charge out onto the grass and tackle her brother onto the ground. Both women laughed as Russ pretended to be wounded while Ariel grabbed the football and raced for a make-believe touchdown.

“She hates sports,” Madeline whispered.

Lysandra wrapped an arm around her cousin's shoulders. “Don't make this about you,” she said. “You are a wonderful mother.”

Madeline clung to the affirmation as though it was a life raft in a sea during a perfect storm.

“I still can't believe it's him,” Lysandra said. Her gaze centered on Russell. “Hell, I didn't think he knew anything about sports.”

“I'm sure Russ nagged him to play.”

“Still, he has a pretty good arm,” she noted.

Lysandra turned away from the window. “I better order up some coffee so we can get started going over some of these sketches.”

Madeline nodded and continued to gaze out of the window. Her family was quite beautiful and their ringing laughter succeeded in carving a smile on her face.

Russell glanced up and shielded his eyes from the sun and met her stare with his own smile. Despite the distance, a wild fluttering erupted in the pit of her stomach and breathing became difficult again.

Russ and Ariel followed their father's gaze to see what had drawn his attention. When they spotted their mother, they waved frantically. Blinking back her tears, Madeline signaled back.

She turned away from the window and then stopped beneath Lysandra's tight scrutiny. “What?”

Her cousin shrugged her shoulders, but a smile bloomed across her face.

“What?” Madeline pressed.

Lysandra crossed her arms in a superior stance. “You like him.”

Madeline's face burned with embarrassment. “Oh, don't be ridiculous. You know I can't stand the man.”

“I know you
used
to couldn't stand him. The old Russell Stone wouldn't have swept you up off the sidewalk and carried you to the hospital emergency room. He also wouldn't have tucked the children into bed or have played touch football in the front yard like some overgrown kid. But the new Russell…he's getting under your skin,” Lysandra said.

Madeline swallowed and hobbled away from the window. “You're imagining things.”

“Uh-huh.” Lysandra smiled and shook her head.

Madeline clamped her mouth shut and returned to the bed and threw herself into work. Well, she tried anyway. It was hard to concentrate with Russell and the children laughing and playing beneath her window.

How come she never learned to throw a football? It was clearly Russ's favorite sport and now Ariel seemed fond of it, as well. The questions chased one another inside of her head until long after the laughter disappeared and there was a knock on her door.

“Come in,” she said without looking up.

“Afternoon, ladies,” Russell said.

Madeline and Lysandra both looked up from the bed's array of paperwork to see Russell pushing in a silver wheelchair carrying both Russ and Ariel.

“Look what Daddy got you, Mommy,” Ariel squealed, jumping out of the chair.

Russell beamed with his chest puffed out. “I figure this will make it a lot easier for you to get around
and
to keep your leg elevated.”

“How very thoughtful,” Lysandra said, glancing over at her cousin. “Isn't that thoughtful, Maddie?”

Madeline wished someone thought to bring her a baseball bat, as well, so she could knock a few of Lysandra's teeth out. “Yes, it's very thoughtful,” she seethed. “But unnecessary or not very practical given the number of stairs in this place.”

Her comment shaved a few inches off Russell's handsome face.

“You can always use the service elevators,” Russ said, popping out of the chair and rushing over to tug on her arm. “Come on and take a ride. Lunch is ready downstairs.”

Madeline still hesitated.

“Do you really hate the wheelchair, or is it the fact that it's from me?” Russell asked bluntly.

Once again, Madeline found herself shifting uncomfortably beneath a room full of expectant gazes. “I didn't say I hated the wheelchair.” She struggled to stand, but not for long. Russell quickly appeared at her side and helped her up.

Her body responded to every touch of his hand and there was so much heat generating between them, she feared at any moment she'd pass out from it's intensity. Finally she was secured in the wheelchair with her broken leg propped up.

“Can I ride in your lap, Mommy?” Ariel asked.

“Sure, baby. Climb on up,” Madeline said.

“Daddy, can I help push?” Russ asked.

“Can you?” Russell echoed. “I insist on it.”

Lysandra watched the whole family exchange with a wide knowing smile. “You know, I better get going,” she said, reaching for her purse. “I promised a friend we could get some Christmas shopping in today.”

Madeline knew her cousin well enough to know when she was lying. “What friend?”

“Believe it or not I do have friends, Maddie,” Lysandra said.

“Can it wait until after lunch?” Russell asked. “We have plenty. It will also give me the chance to get to know you…again.”

Lysandra laughed, but remained firm on leaving. “Another time,” she promised.

Russ and Russell wheeled Madeline and Ariel down to the dining room where bowls of hot, hearty chili awaited them to knock off the winter chill.

Madeline discovered there was no reason to wish she'd been playing with Russell and the children in the yard, because Russ and Ariel were more than happy to give her a blow-by-blow account of their game.

“I can almost throw the ball as far as Russ,” Ariel bragged.

“Can not.” Russ frowned and gave a playful tug on her braided pigtail.

“Can, too. Can't I, Daddy?”

“Sure can, pumpkin.”

Pumpkin?
He'd already assigned them pet names? She slapped her head into the palm of her hand and groaned. This whole thing continued to go way too fast for her.

“Madeline,” Russell said. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Peachy,” she lied, and avoided his gaze.

After lunch, Madeline made her excuses to return to her work, but Ariel insisted she stay with them and play board games.

Russ groaned, wanting to return to his beloved football game.

“You promised,” Ariel reminded him, jutting up her chin.

“You did promise,” Russell said. “A man should never break his promise.”

The bark of laughter was out of Madeline's throat before she had a chance to stop herself.

“You disagree?” Russell asked with raised eyebrows.

“No,” she said. “Of course not.” It was just that she'd never known him to keep any of his promises, but that was a conversation for another time.

Russell waited until their gazes met and when they did there was no mistaking his disappointment in her constant needling about his past.

“Sorry,” she whispered, feeling like a chastised child.

The board games had mainly been purchased for the kids and their friends. Madeline was ashamed she'd never sat at a table and played the games with Russ and Ariel. As it turned out, Ariel was a world champion at Candyland, Chutes and Ladders and even Sorry!

“She has to be cheating,” Russ complained.

“Am not! You're just a sorry loser,” Ariel charged back.

“All right, you two,” Madeline refereed. “No one likes a ‘sore' loser, Russ.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said contrite, but then stuck his tongue out at his sister.

“Mommy, are you going to help us put up Christmas decorations?”

“What?” Madeline's gaze cut over to her husband. It was his turn to look apologetic.

“Uh, yeah. I told the staff not to bother with the decorations this morning. I figured we would put them up ourselves,” Russell said.

“Daddy says tomorrow we can even go pick out our own tree,” Russ added.

“But we order our tree every year from Mountain Star Tree Farm.” Madeline noted how quickly the children's faces fell after that announcement and she resented being cast as the party pooper.

Russell cleared his throat. “I just thought it would be a lot more fun if we all went and selected a tree as a family.”

Madeline crossed her arms and glared. “You did, did you? And what do you know about picking out Christmas trees?” She shouldn't have snapped, she realized. The children's gazes darted between their parents while Russell's jaw tightened.

“I just don't see the point of having everything done for us. It wouldn't hurt to get our hands dirty every once in a while,” he said.

“Spoken like man born with a silver spoon in his mouth.”

Fire lit behind his narrowed gaze but he managed to keep his voice cool and under control. “The sarcasm is getting old.” He put his arms around the kids. “C'mon. Let's go back outside and play some more touch football. We'll do the decorations after dinner,” Russell said.

“Are we still going to shop for our tree tomorrow?” Ariel asked.

Russell's eyes traveled back to Madeline. “That's up to your mother.”

Ariel and Russell rushed to Madeline's side with wide-eyed eagerness. “Can we, Momma? Can we?”

One look into their faces and there was no way she was going to deny them anything and perhaps leaving the decision to her was Russell's way of letting her come out looking like a hero instead of the bad mother.

“Of course we can,” she said.

Russ and Ariel erupted into cheers and even took turns planting kisses on her upturned cheek before running out of the room.

“I'll be out in a minute,” he announced to their retreating backs and then lingered in the dining room.

A few seconds ticked in silence, before Madeline blurted out, “I'm sorry.” She swallowed the painful lump in her throat and continued, “It's really hard for me to get used to this whole…thing.
They
don't seem to have a problem with it, but…”

“I understand,” he said. “It's hard for me, too.”

Her anger deflated. In that moment, she realized she needed to figure out some way to let the past stay in the past; if not for her, at least for the children's sake.

“Truce?” he asked.