Donovan's Child Read online

  Olga calmly went back to clearing off.

  And Abilene disappeared through the archway into the living area and the front hall beyond.

  Abilene opened the door.

  On the other side stood a pretty woman with thick black hair that fell in shining curls to below her shoulders. Small and shapely, the woman wore snug skinny jeans, a tight sweater and very high heels. She might have been thirty, or forty. Hard to tell. Behind her, in the dusty turnaround in front of the house, a red Cadillac waited—no doubt the same Cadillac Abilene had seen the night she first came to Donovan’s house.

  “Hello. I’m Luisa. Luisa Trias.”

  “Abilene Bravo.” She shook the woman’s offered hand. “I’m working with Donovan for a few weeks. Come on in…”

  Luisa eased her fingers free of Abilene’s hold and moved back a step. “Is Donovan here?”

  “He is, yes. In the dining room. We’re about to have dessert. Join us, why don’t you?”

  “Oh, I don’t want to butt in. I only want to know that he’s all right. I’ve driven out here twice before. Both times, I was told that he wasn’t at home….”

  Abilene hesitated. Really, how much did she have a right to say? Maybe jumping up and insisting that she would answer the doorbell hadn’t been such a brilliant move, after all.

  But then Donovan spoke from behind her. “Luisa. How are you?” Abilene glanced over to see him sitting in the archway to the living area.

  The pretty black-haired woman gasped. Clearly, she’d had no idea that he was using a wheelchair now. But Abilene had to hand it to her. She recovered quickly.

  The woman scowled at him. “I’ve been calling. You never call back. And I’ve been out here, to try to see you. Your housekeeper keeps sending me away.”

  “I’m sorry, Luisa. Truly.” He actually sounded remorseful. “I haven’t been feeling like seeing anyone lately.”

  “Lately? It’s been months since you came back.” The huge dark eyes grew just a little misty. “A friend is a friend. You should know that. How is it that you’ve become such a bastard, Donovan? A big, selfish bastard, who cares so little for those who care for him?”

  He had the grace to look ashamed. “It’s a long story. Too long.”

  She touched the gold crucifix at her throat. “Are you all right?”

  “I am. I’m fine. I promise you.” He spoke gently, with what sounded to Abilene like real concern for Luisa’s feelings. “Come in. Have some crème brûlée with us.”

  Luisa looked at him sideways. “I shouldn’t forgive you….”

  His smile was rueful. “Please. Come in.”

  “Are you sure? I needed to know that you’re all right, but we can speak later if you—”

  He put up a hand. “I repeat, crème brûlée. Anton’s crème brûlée.”

  Finally, Luisa allowed herself to be convinced. She joined them in the dining room, where Olga served the dessert and coffee.

  Luisa ate with relish. “Ah. Anton. That man can cook. Someday, when I open a real restaurant, I might have to steal him away from you.”

  “Luisa owns the local roadhouse, Luisa’s Cantina,” Donovan explained. He glanced fondly at the dark-haired woman. “It’s a couple of miles outside of Chula Mesa.”

  Abilene sipped her coffee. “You mean the roadhouse I keep trying to get you to go to?”

  He turned his gaze to her, his expression cool now. “That would be the one.”

  Luisa laughed, a husky, sexy sound. “Yes. It’s a good idea, Abilene. Why don’t you both come? And soon.”

  “We’ll see,” said Donovan. “One of these days…”

  Abilene set down her coffee cup. It clinked against the saucer. “I’ll be there next Friday night. Count on it—whether I can talk Donovan into coming with me, or not.”

  Luisa grinned. “Good. I’ll look forward to seeing you.” She sent Donovan a look from under her thick, black lashes. “You, too. I mean it. You’ve been acting like a stranger for so long now. It’s time you stopped that.”

  “Luisa. I get the message. You can quit lecturing me.”

  “Come with Abilene, Friday night.”

  He looked away. “I’ll think about it.”

  Luisa clucked her tongue. “I’ve been tending bar for almost two decades. I know what it means when a man says he’ll think about something. It means that he’s already done whatever thinking he is willing to do—and the answer is no.”

  He set down his spoon. “Enough about Friday night.”

  Even as he gruffly ordered Luisa to back off, there was real affection in his tone, in his expression. And Luisa seemed so fond of him, too.

  Abilene knew she ought to make her excuses and go, give them a little privacy. No doubt the two of them wanted some time together, had things to say to each other that they wouldn’t feel comfortable saying with some one else in the room.

  Yet for reasons she refused to examine, she felt a certain reluctance to go, to leave him alone with a good-looking woman, a woman who’d most likely once been his lover.

  Who might still be. Or plan to be.

  Or…

  Well, whatever the situation between the two of them was, exactly, Luisa and Donovan probably wanted some time to themselves.

  She made herself rise. “I’m sure you two have a lot to catch up on, and I’ll just—”

  Luisa cut her off with another husky laugh. “Sit down, chica. It’s not that way.” She sent Donovan a teasing look. “Tell her. Make her see.”

  He made a gruff sound, something midway between a grunt and a chuckle. “Luisa’s right. It’s not that way. Though I did give it my best shot, back in the day.”

  Luisa made a face at him. “We met nine years ago, when he came out here to build this house. He came in my bar often then. And he was a big flirt. But I explained to him that I’m no longer a wild, foolish girl. I don’t need a man to sweep me off my feet and then break my heart. But I can always use a true friend. And so we became friends—or so I thought.” The corners of Luisa’s full mouth drew down. “Until you stopped taking my phone calls.”

  He looked back at her levelly. “We’re still friends, Luisa. You know we are.”

  She seemed to weigh the truth in his words. Finally, she nodded. “Okay, then. Prove it. Come with Abilene to my cantina next Friday night.”

  He tried his most forbidding expression. Luisa seemed completely unaffected by it. And then he demanded, “Will you stop pushing me? I said I would think about it.”

  “Less thinking, more doing,” Luisa advised. She turned to Abilene. “Where are you from?”

  “San Antonio.”

  “A beautiful city. Chula Mesa is not very exciting. It’s like many small towns. Not a lot to do, but we have a nice little diner. I like to have my breakfast there on Sundays, after eight o’clock mass. Maybe you would meet me, tomorrow morning at a little after nine? We can get to know each other.”

  “She doesn’t have time for that,” Donovan grumbled. “We’re on an important project, with a very tight timeline. She works seven days a week.”

  Abilene ignored him and spoke to Luisa. “I would love that, Luisa. I’ll be there.”

  “Well, then.” Luisa’s pretty smile bloomed wide. “I’ll look forward to seeing you.”

  They chatted some more, about casual things. And then Luisa got up to leave. Donovan and Abilene followed her to the door.

  The minute she was gone, Donovan turned on Abilene. “I’ll give you her number. You can call her and tell her you can’t make it tomorrow, after all.”

  Abilene lounged back against the arch that led into the living area. “Why in the world would I want to do that?”

  “Because you need to be working. There’s no time to waste driving out to the Chula Mesa Diner.”

  “I can work into the evening some night, if I have to. I’m going, Donovan.”

  He gave her a long, smoldering look. “What for?”

  “I like Luisa. And I can use a little break. I’
ll be back by eleven, at the latest.”

  He started to speak again—and then he didn’t. Instead, he neatly whirled the chair around and rolled away from her.

  Abilene had no trouble finding the diner. It was on Main Street, between Chula Mesa Hardware and Chula Mesa Sunshine Drugs.

  She got there before Luisa. She chose a booth with a clear view of the door and ordered coffee for both of them.

  Luisa arrived a few minutes later, wearing a snug-fitting V-neck navy blue knit dress and navy blue heels as high as the ones she’d worn the night before. She spotted Abilene immediately and her face lit up with her gorgeous, open smile. “Hey!”

  “Hey.”

  Luisa hurried to join her in the booth. “So you came,” she said, leaning across the table, pitching her voice to just above a whisper. “I wasn’t sure you would make it.”

  Abilene frowned. “But I said I would be here.”

  “You did. But I thought that Donovan would try to change your mind about meeting me alone.”

  “He did try. But as you can see, my mind is my own.”

  “Yes, I do see.” Luisa said the words approvingly. “But Donovan can be very persuasive, as I’m sure you know.”

  “Persuasive?” Abilene laughed at that. “No. That’s not a word I would use to describe him. He’s gruff and exacting. Demanding. Overbearing. Sometimes cruel, though not so much lately. But persuasive? Uh-uh. Not in the least.”

  “He used to be persuasive.”

  “Yeah? Well, he used to be a lot of things.”

  Luisa leaned even closer. She reached out, touched the back of Abilene’s hand. “He’s changed a lot.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He must guess that we’ll talk about him. He’ll hate that.”

  “Too bad.”

  The waitress came over. Luisa introduced them. “Margie, this is Abilene….”

  When Margie had taken their orders and left them alone, Luisa sipped her coffee and leaned close again. “I do have a few questions. And I’m thinking it will be easier to get the answers from you than from Donovan.”

  “Ask. Please.”

  “I heard he had an accident during one of his climbing trips….”

  Abilene quickly filled Luisa in on all she knew, from the fall on Dhaulagiri One, to the days alone in the ice cave, to the chain of surgeries. She spoke of his dedication to his physical rehabilitation. And she included what Donovan had told her the morning Ben left—that he could walk, though with difficulty, using crutches.

  “He seems so sad,” said Luisa. At Abilene’s nod, she asked, “So what is this project you’re working on with him?”

  Abilene told her about the children’s center, explained that she was the architect who’d won the fellowship he’d offered.

  Margie came with the food. She gave them more coffee and left them alone again.

  Luisa said, “I remember, a couple of years ago, he mentioned a plan he had to build a center in San Antonio for children in need. He was passionate about that.”

  “Well, it’s finally happening. We’re pulling the design together now. In a few weeks, we’ll…” She corrected herself. “I’ll be going back to SA, to supervise construction.”

  “He won’t go with you? But why not?”

  “He says he’ll never work again.”

  “But that’s impossible. He loves his work.”

  “I know. But he says that’s all over now.”

  “He used to travel often, all around the world, building fine hotels, houses for rich people, museums, skyscrapers….”

  Abilene set down her slice of toast after only nibbling the crust. “It seems so wrong, I know. He’s locked himself up in his house. He won’t come out and he won’t let anyone in.”

  “But he let you in.”

  “I think he finally felt he had to. For the sake of the children who need the center we’re building.”

  “And you’ve helped him,” Luisa said.

  “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

  “Abilene, you let me in. And he allowed it.”

  “Yeah. That’s true. He did. Finally.”

  “You’re changing his mind,” said Luisa, as if it were such a simple, obvious thing. “You’re making him see that life goes on—and life is good. That there’s hope and there’s meaning. That he can’t hide in his house forever, nursing his injuries, feeling sorry for himself. That there’s more of life ahead for him, much more. Years and years.”

  Abilene blew out a breath. “You make it all sound so…possible.”

  “But of course, it’s possible. You’re showing him that it is.”

  “I’ve been trying, believe me. I don’t know why I’m trying, exactly. But I am.” She fiddled with her napkin, smoothing it on her lap, though it really didn’t require smoothing. “I can’t…seem to stop myself.”

  Luisa said simply, “You care for him. There’s no shame in that.”

  She glanced up, met the other woman’s waiting eyes. “But I…”

  Luisa’s smile was soft and knowing. “Yes?”

  “Well, I only mean…” She felt suddenly breathless, awkward and tongue-tied. “It’s not that we’re…intimate. We’re not.”

  Luisa ate a careful bite of her breakfast. “But you do care for him, don’t you?”

  Abilene sat up straighter. Why should that be so difficult to admit? “Yes, all right. I do. I care for him.” A low, confused sound escaped her. “But the way he behaves a lot of the time, I have no idea why.”

  Luisa laughed. “I know what you mean. Caring for him has to be a very tough job, given the way he is now. But someone’s got to do it, got to reach out for him, got to…stick with him, no matter how hard he seems to be pushing everyone away.”

  “Yeah.” Abilene laughed, too, though it came out sounding forced. “I guess I should look at it that way.”

  “And he is stronger than he knows.”

  “Oh, Luisa. You think so?”

  “I know so. He will come back, to himself, to the world.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Trust me. I know him. Yes, he suffered a terrible accident. So?” She waved a hand, an airy gesture. “What is all that? What are months of operations and painful rehabilitation? Nothing. Less than nothing, next to losing a child…”

  Abilene didn’t know what to say. “Luisa, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you’d lost a child.”

  Luisa pressed her hand against the small gold crucifix at her throat. “Oh, no. Not me.”

  “But you said—”

  “I meant of his child. Donovan’s child. Elias.”

  Chapter Six

  Abilene could not draw breath.

  She felt, suddenly, the same as she had back in the third grade, when the class bully, Billy Trumball, had punched her in the stomach for coming to the defense of a smaller boy. That punch had really knocked the wind out of her. It was an awful, scary feeling, to fear her breath would never come, to gape for air like a landed fish.

  She pressed her hand to her stomach, hard. And all at once the air rushed in again. She managed to whisper, “I didn’t know….”

  Luisa seemed shocked. “He never told you?”

  Abilene shook her head. “I know I said we weren’t intimate. But even that’s an exaggeration. We are so much less than intimate. We’re not friends, not even close. I find that I want to understand him, you know? But he’s not an easy man to understand. And Ben—Donovan’s assistant?”

  “Oh, yes. I remember Ben.”

  “Actually, he quit last Monday, which is another story altogether. But what I’m getting at is that Ben and I, well, I thought we got along. We talked some, about Donovan. About what had happened to make him retreat from the world. I guess I thought I knew more than I did.”

  “Ben never told you…?”

  “Not a word. And Donovan never so much as hinted at such a thing.” She leaned across the table, pitched her voice to a whisper. “I just can’t believe I never knew. Don
ovan’s a famous man—I mean, to another architect, like me, he’s pretty much a living legend. You’d think I would have heard from someone, at some point, that there was a child. And then there’s Dax….”

  “Dax? I don’t know him.”

  “Dax Girard, my new brother-in-law. He and my baby sister got married a few weeks ago. Dax knows Donovan. Not really well, I don’t think. But still. Dax never said anything about a lost child.”

  “Maybe it never came up,” Luisa suggested gently. “Elias has been gone for a while now.”

  “How long?”

  “About five years.”

  “But Luisa, there are no pictures of a child in the house—none that I’ve seen, anyway.”

  “No pictures…” Twin lines formed between Luisa’s dark brows. “But there were pictures a year ago. One on the piano, of Elias at the beach in California, holding a starfish, smiling his wide, happy smile. One over the fireplace, a large portrait from when he was two or three, in the front room…” Her frown deepened. “I didn’t look, last night, when we went through there on the way to the dining room. I didn’t notice if Elias’s picture was still above the fireplace. And I didn’t go into the music room.”

  “No pictures,” Abilene repeated. “Not in the public rooms of the house, anyway. How old was the child— Elias—when he died?”

  “Six, I think.”

  “So you’re saying Donovan was married, then?”

  Luisa was shaking her head. “Abilene…”

  “I just, well, I had no idea he’d been married.”

  “Please, Abilene.”

  She sat back in her chair. “What’s the matter?”

  “I can’t say any more.”

  “But I was hoping, if you could just explain to me—”

  “I can’t. It’s not right.” Luisa reached across the table, caught Abilene’s hand and held on. Her dark eyes were tender, her expression firm. “I’ve said too much already. You know I have. The rest is Donovan’s to tell.”

  Donovan went to the studio at a little after ten.

  Abilene was still in Chula Mesa with Luisa, wasting the valuable morning hours when she should have been working. He wondered what the two of them were talking about—and then he told himself to stop wondering.