Rescued by Mr. Wrong Page 19

  “I’m looking for Dr. Foster,” Keegan said. “Is he home?”

  “Yes. He’s having breakfast.”

  “Would you mind disturbing him for a moment? I need to speak to him about a matter of some urgency.”

  “You cannot call him at his office?”

  “I really need to talk to him now.” Keegan clenched his hand into a fist. Please, hurry. He knew his resolve was slipping, and he had to get this done. This was the only way he could think of to keep Carrie safe and healthy, even if she didn’t forgive him. In fact, her life would be easier if she carried hatred in her heart for what he was about to do.

  “Just a minute,” the woman said. Keegan heard her footsteps retreating into the house.

  A minute later, an alert voice said, “This is Dr. Foster. Can I help you?”

  Keegan drew a fortifying breath. “My name is Keegan Breen,” he said. “You don’t know me...” He considered that Dr. Foster would probably know him by his professional name. Most people who were even somewhat aware of world events knew of Patrick Breen.

  “Are you a patient, Mr. Breen? I don’t recall the name.”

  “No, sir. I’m actually a friend of your daughter’s.”

  “My daughter? Which daughter?” Foster’s voice had assumed an edge of wariness. Obviously any discussion of one of his offspring brought an immediate alert reaction.

  “Carrie.”

  “Is she all right? Has something happened?”

  “She’s fine,” Keegan quickly assured him. “But there is something you don’t know about. A few weeks ago, Christmas Day to be exact, Carrie had a car accident near my home.”

  “A car accident?” Foster said. “On Christmas?”

  “That’s right,” Keegan said. “I realize she didn’t tell you about it.”

  “No, she didn’t. I remember that day well. We were having blizzard conditions around here. I told her not to drive. Where are you?”

  Keegan had looked up the distance between the campground and Fox Creek. At most a two-and-a-half-hour drive. “I’m not far from Sandusky,” Keegan said. “Yes, there was a blizzard here at Lake Erie also.”

  “What was Carrie doing on the road? What sort of accident did she have? Why didn’t she tell me? I’ve talked to her at least a dozen times since the holiday.”

  As briefly and yet with as much detail as possible, Keegan explained about Carrie’s slide into the snowbank, her broken leg and the fact that she had been staying with him since she’d been released from the hospital.

  “Staying with you?” The doctor was alarmed. Why wouldn’t he be? His youngest daughter had been living with a stranger for almost a month. What father wouldn’t question everything about this story, especially the man telling it.

  “Again, Dr. Foster,” Keegan said, “Carrie is fine. I’ve seen that she got to her doctor’s appointments. She’s healthy, except for the leg, and it’s practically healed now. It wasn’t a bad break.” Keegan tried to put himself in Foster’s position. He had to ease the poor man’s mind. “I can imagine what you must be thinking,” he said. That I’m some sort of nut who has been holding your daughter captive for who knows what nefarious purposes?

  “I can assure you that I’ve treated Carrie fairly and with respect,” Keegan said, hoping to convince the man.

  “That girl,” Dr. Foster said under his breath. “Where are you exactly? Give me an address.”

  “I intend to do that, sir, but there is more you should know.”

  Dr. Foster drew in a sharp breath. “Go ahead.”

  “Carrie didn’t want you to know about what happened.”

  “Obviously. That doesn’t surprise me. She knew I’d come and get her immediately. She’s vulnerable and prone to illness. Did you know that, Mr. Breen?”

  The question was put to Keegan almost as a challenge. “Yes, sir. I know about her asthma, but she’s done well here. Only a couple of incidents.”

  “She’s a stubborn girl,” Dr. Foster said. “Sometimes I wonder if she even knows whether she’s doing well or not. All her life she has fought me...” Dr. Foster paused, took another breath. “Never mind about all that. Tell me where you are, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “You’ll need another driver,” Keegan said. “The damage to Carrie’s car has been repaired, but the doctor doesn’t want her driving until he’s convinced the leg has healed properly.”

  “Of course he wouldn’t.” Dr. Foster coughed, calmed himself. “That’s the only thing in this whole scenario that makes any sense. Now come on, young man, we’re wasting time. I need to get Carrie’s sister to drive with me. There are other matters besides this one that require my attention.”

  Keegan recalled the doctor’s attention to his ill wife. He gave him directions to the campground using such familiar landmarks as the old lighthouse and the rocky outcropping across the road.

  “Tell her I’m on my way,” Dr. Foster said.

  “All due respect, sir,” Keegan said. “That would be a bad idea. If you want her here when you arrive, maybe we’d better keep this between ourselves.”

  For the first time, Dr. Foster relaxed. In fact, he almost chuckled. “I see you know her well, too, Breen. Good idea. She’s coming home, though, rest assured.”

  Keegan made one more phone call before he left the park. He called his friend, Butch Slattery. “I’m in,” he said when Butch answered.

  “Great! I’ll make reservations tomorrow. There’s a plane leaving JFK on Friday for Latvia. We can get two of the last seats. And then it’s just a few hours’ drive to where the fighting is. I’ll let you know what time to be at the Cleveland airport for our flight to New York.”

  Keegan didn’t respond at first. Butch’s enthusiasm was genuine, and he knew he couldn’t match it with his own.

  “You there, Pat?”

  “I’m here.”

  “This will be a wild, wonderful ride, maybe the last we ever have together. We can sell our stories and pictures to the highest bidder and sit back and enjoy our retirement.” Butch laughed. “Or not. I know you have other irons in the fire, but I haven’t figured out a way to end a great career yet.”

  Keegan disconnected. He would go to Cleveland Thursday. He had plenty of time to pack a few belongings. After all, he’d lived for years out of one duffel bag. He’d leave the property in the hands of a Realtor who would have the job of getting the best price for the place once the snow melted.

  He stopped at a local market, picked up a few things and then just drove. East and west along the lakeshore route, stopping for moments at a time to watch the waves or gather his thoughts. He’d be home when Dr. Foster arrived.

  Saying goodbye to Carrie was suddenly made simpler since he knew he betrayed her trust. Once she saw her father and put the pieces together, she’d be more than willing to leave. Keegan didn’t want to end it this way, but what else could he have done? He couldn’t leave her here in the dead of winter. How would she even get to the doctor on Friday? And what if her leg wasn’t healed and she couldn’t drive?

  Though frustrated by him, Carrie loved her father, and once she was safely in his care for the remainder of her convalescence she would know that Keegan had done the right thing. He had protected her by making the ultimate sacrifice. And then she could continue her life without the influence of one very damaged, cynical middle-aged man named Patrick Breen who would only bring her down with him. The gray hairs on his head had reached all the way to Keegan’s soul, and maybe this way, he could prevent Carrie from having to see them.

  But when the doctor arrived... When Keegan had to look into Carrie’s trusting eyes, could he bear one last heartache? Could he withstand the force of her bitter disappointment and even, possibly, her hatred? He had to. Once he was on that plane to JFK, once he’d truly given in to the person he u
sed to be, once he’d buried Keegan for the near future, he would know he’d done what he had to do for Carrie.

  * * *

  CARRIE WAS READING when Keegan came in from his errands. She didn’t look up.

  He set a grocery sack on the kitchen counter. “Can I get you some lunch?” he asked.

  “I already ate,” she said. If a trail mix bar could be considered a meal.

  “How about some tea?”

  “No. Thank you. If I need anything, I’ll let you know.”

  He sighed heavily. “I’m ready to talk now if you want to discuss what happened last night.”

  “Nothing happened last night,” she said. “Your honor is intact.”

  He’d never been the victim of her sarcasm, and she wondered if her words had stung.

  “Besides,” she continued, “I’m at a good part in this book and don’t want to stop.” She tried to read the same page for a third time.

  He puttered around in the kitchen putting a few canned goods in the cupboard. When tires crunched outside on the gravel lot, he jerked his head around. Carrie thought she heard him say, “Too soon.”

  She set the book on her lap as Keegan went to the door. He opened it, stuck out his arm to shake hands with whoever was on the threshold.

  “Nice to meet you, too, sir,” Keegan said.

  And then her father came through the door. His gray hair was mussed from the wind. His eyes were bright and alert. And for that moment, his shoulders seemed broader than ever. And since she was so close to crying anyway, the tears rolled from her eyes.

  “Daddy...”

  He came to her, kneeled by the sofa and embraced her. “Sweetheart, what kind of a mess have you gotten yourself into this time?”

  When the tears didn’t stop, he pulled an inhaler from his pocket. Daddy, always prepared. “In case you need this, honey.”

  “Hello, Care-bear,” came a second voice.

  Martin moved out of the way so the sisters could greet each other. Carrie hugged Jude like she never would let her go.

  “Hey, what’s this?” Jude said, patting the dang boot that had been Carrie’s companion for weeks. “I believe I said you should come home for Christmas. I didn’t know you’d risk those delicate bones to do it.”

  “I’ve risked a lot more than my bones,” Carrie said through her sobs.

  These first moments of emotional highs were reactionary. Carrie didn’t have time yet to be angry. She was hurting from Keegan’s rejection. Her heart was breaking, and when that happened, no one was better than family. No one knew her like her sister did. No one cared like her father did. In fact, no one had ever cared for Carrie the way this family did. She’d thought, she’d hoped that maybe Keegan... But no, and so she let her tears fall. After a minute or so, she dried her eyes, looked at each of the three faces in the room and sagged when the awful weight of knowledge, newly realized, pressed on her shoulders.

  Staring at her father, because looking at Keegan would hurt too much, she said, “He called you.”

  “Thank goodness,” Martin said. “At least this man had the sense to do what you should have done weeks ago. I’m a doctor, Carrie! Didn’t that thought enter your head?”

  She almost smiled. That thought had never left her head since her fifth birthday when a pediatrician had diagnosed her asthma and told her parents that an ongoing condition of their youngest, frail daughter “needed watching.” Her wonderful, well-meaning father never stopped reminding her that, whatever her age, he knew what was best for her.

  Martin had entered the cabin with an air of loving authority, and his command of the situation continued. “Jude, help your sister pack.” He pointed a finger at Carrie. “Gather your things, whatever meds you’re taking for the leg.”

  “I’m not taking any...”

  He nodded at Keegan. “I owe you a debt of gratitude. Your call this morning was overdue, but nevertheless you have my thanks. My daughter looks well.”

  “She is well,” Keegan said. “I’ve tried to take care of her.”

  At this moment Carrie wanted to punch him or kick him or do something equally demonstrative of her broken heart, but she couldn’t argue with him. He’d taken excellent care of her without treating her as if her next breath could be her last. He had betrayed her, used her secrets to serve his own motive to be rid of her and, maybe worst of all right now, made her offer last night seem small and even childish. But he had never made her feel like an invalid.

  “Daddy,” she said. “Could I please have a few minutes alone with Keegan? Maybe you and Jude could sit in your car or walk over to the lake. It’s not so cold today.”

  Martin looked at Carrie and then transferred a wary gaze to Keegan. He didn’t respond.

  “I’m not going anywhere except home with you, Daddy,” Carrie assured him. “Just give me a moment, please.”

  “Okay.” Martin took Jude’s elbow. “Come on, Judie, we’ll wait outside. Give me the keys to that toy car of yours, Carrie, and we’ll make sure she starts up.”

  Once her father and sister had left the cabin, Carrie sank heavily into the sofa and waited for Keegan to raise his face and look at her.

  “I’m sorry, Carrie. I hated to do this but it was a last resort. I know you told me about your relationship with your father in confidence, but you also told me you loved him and wouldn’t want to hurt him.”

  “How wonderful,” she said in a hoarse whisper, “that no one was hurt today.”

  A muscle in his temple throbbed. “I deserve your sarcasm, your anger, whatever you want to throw at me. But I need to explain...”

  “You don’t get to talk now, Keegan. You get to listen. As a reporter, you must find it easy to listen, especially now that you’ve gotten your way and relieved yourself of an awful burden.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  HIS FACE WAS drawn and tight, his lips pressed together. For the first time since she’d known him, Carrie decided Keegan looked less than comfortable with who he was, what he’d done. Maybe he felt bad about calling her father. He deserved to feel like the biggest heel in the universe.

  “Four days, Keegan,” she began. “With any luck, or even without any, I would have been out of here on Friday. Whether or not the doctor gave me permission to drive, I would have gone.” She took a deep breath. “You couldn’t wait four days?”

  He started to speak. She held up a finger. “You made your position perfectly clear last night. You don’t want me, and like a desperate, lonely woman, I made a foolhardy play for you. I wish I could take it back, but I can’t.”

  He blinked hard. “Carrie...”

  “No! I’m not finished. It’s not so much that you don’t care for me. It hurts...” Her voice cracked. She took a moment to compose herself. “I could have accepted that you didn’t care. We were on two different pages, I misread all the signals. You know I’m not experienced in the ways of relationships. A pitiful lack of practice, I guess.”

  He looked tired, sad somehow. Why? She didn’t know. He’d gotten what he wanted. “But why, Keegan? Why couldn’t you have practiced even a small percentage of the patience you’ve obviously shown over the last four weeks? Why couldn’t you have let me leave on my own terms in four days, gone back to Michigan, continuing the life I had before running into a snowbank?

  “And why, oh, why did you kiss me? Not once but many times. I suppose I’m just too naive to understand that kisses don’t mean all that much. Maybe they are just a form of adult entertainment, one that the least experienced of us take much too seriously.”

  He bit his bottom lip, holding in words that she knew he wanted to speak. But she wasn’t done.

  “I suppose I should be most angry about the way you took my innermost secrets about my illness, my family, and used them to your own advantage, so you wouldn’t have to
feel any guilt for last night, for today. But you know what? I’m not that angry after all. The two people who came in your door today love me, truly love me. Perhaps I don’t always agree with the way they show that love, and maybe I am the most needy person I know right now, but I’m at least smart enough to know that I need their support. And I’m grateful for it.”

  He brought a chair close to her, straddled it backwards and sat. He reached across the space that separated them and tried to touch her knees. She twisted away from him.

  “Are you still practicing your skills on me, Keegan? Because I’m not practicing. I’m facing reality. It’s not pretty, but I’m facing it.”

  He expelled a breath he’d been holding. “Is it my turn yet?”

  Her lips quivered. She couldn’t break down now. “I owe you a turn, I guess for the weeks you took care of me. So, yes.”

  * * *

  HE THOUGHT HE’D seen it all, experienced the most dreadful lows of anyone’s lifetime. But nothing quite compared with what he was facing now. His own personal, intimate and devastating failure.

  He inched his chair closer to her. She didn’t look him directly in his eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes that had taken him on the most remarkable journeys the last weeks.

  “There’s something you don’t know,” he said. “Remember the other day when a friend came by to see me?”

  She kept her gaze focused on him and nodded.

  “That was Butch Slattery. He’s a photographer, the best in the business. We worked together on quite a few stories. I wrote, he snapped the pictures. I depended on him, counted on him. I wouldn’t be here today if it hadn’t been for Butch.”

  “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “Because he came to me with a proposition, one which I thought I would turn down. But ultimately I didn’t. His enthusiasm was so powerful, so genuine. He wants us to cover the civil war in the Baltic states. I told him I would go. We fly to Latvia on Friday.”

  Her eyes rounded, focused intently on him. “I see. I’m surprised. I believed this part of your life was in the past. After you saw your son...”