Nora Roberts - Sacred Sins

I didn’t believe you. I didn’t understand. I didn’t know.

Responding to that even more than to the weeping, Tess went to them to sit beside Lois Monroe.

“She went up to see if he wanted some more pie,” Monroe began. “He-he was gone. There was a note.”

Because she understood need, Tess reached out and held his free hand. He gripped it tight, swallowed, then went on.

“It said he was sorry. That he-he wished he could be different. It said everything would be better now, and that he was going to come back in another life. Someone saw him…” Monroe’s fingers viced on hers while he closed his eyes and fought for control. “Someone saw him jump and called the police. They came-they came to the house just after we realized he was gone. I didn’t know what to do, so I called you.”

“Joey’s going to be just fine.” With her hands kneading together, Lois shifted farther away from Tess. “I’ve always taken care of him. He’s going to be fine, then we’re going to go home together.” Maintaining the distance, she turned her head enough to look at Tess. “I told you he didn’t need you anymore. Joey doesn’t need you or any clinic or more treatment. He just needs to be left alone for a little while. He’s going to be fine. He knows I love him.”

“Yes, he knows you love him,” Tess murmured as she took Lois’s hand. The pulse was rapid and thready. “Joey knows how hard you’ve tried to make things good for him.”

“I have. Everything I’ve done has been to try to protect him, to try to make things better. All I’ve ever wanted was for Joey to be happy.”

“I know that.”

“Then why? You tell me why this happened.” Tears dried up. Her voice went from wavery to venomous. Lois struggled away from her husband to grab Tess by the shoulders. “You were supposed to heal, you were supposed to make him well. You tell me why my boy’s bleeding on that table. You tell me why.”

“Lois, Lois, don’t.” Already grieving, Monroe tried to gather her close, but she sprang up, dragging Tess with her. Instinctively Ben started forward, but was stopped by a furious shake of Tess’s head.

“I want an answer. Damn you, I want you to give me an answer!”

Rather than block the fury, Tess accepted it. “He was hurting, Mrs. Monroe. And the hurt was deep, deeper than I could reach.”

“I did everything I could.” Though her voice was quiet, almost level, Lois’s fingers dug deep into Tess’s flesh. Bruises would show the next day. “I did everything. He wasn’t drinking,” she said with a hitch in her voice. “He hadn’t had a drink in months.”

“No, he wasn’t drinking. You should sit down, Lois.” Tess tried to ease her back on the sofa.

“I don’t want to sit.” Fury that was fear spewed out until each word was like a bullet. “I want my son. I want my boy. All you did was talk and talk, week after week just talk. Why didn’t you do something? You were supposed to make him better, make him happy. Why didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t.” In a wave, the grief washed over her. “I couldn’t.”

“Lois, sit down.” Strengthened by her need, Monroe took her by the shoulders and brought her to the sofa. As his arm went around her again, he looked at Tess. “You told us this could happen. We didn’t believe you. We didn’t want to. If it’s not too late, we can try again. We can-”

Then the door swung open, and they all knew it was too late.

Dr. Bitterman still wore his surgical scrubs. He’d pulled down his mask so that it hung by its strings. The sweat on it hadn’t dried. Though his time in the operating room had been relatively brief, there were lines of strain and fatigue around his eyes and mouth. Before he spoke, before he moved over to the Monroes, Tess knew they had both lost a patient.

“Mrs. Monroe, I’m sorry. There was nothing we could do.”

“Joey?” She looked blankly from the doctor to her husband. One hand was already clawing at Monroe’s shoulder.

“Joey’s gone, Mrs. Monroe.” Because the hour he’d spent trying to sew the boy back together had left him sick and defeated, Bitter man sat beside her. “He never regained consciousness. He had a massive head injury. There was nothing that could be done.”

“Joey? Joey’s dead?” I'm sorry.

The sobbing started, harsh, guttural sounds that poured out of her into the room. She cried with her mouth open, her head back, in an agony of grief that twisted Tess’s stomach. No one could truly understand the measure of joy a mother received from giving birth to a child. No one could truly understand the devastation a mother experienced upon losing one.

An error in judgment, a desire to keep her family whole with her own strength, had cost her her son. There was nothing Tess could do for her now. There was no longer anything she could do for Joey. With her own grief clogging her lungs, she turned and walked from the room.

“Tess.” Ben caught her arm as she started down the hall. “You aren’t staying?”

“No.” Her voice was strong and icy as she continued to walk. “Seeing me now only makes it more painful for her, if possible.” She pushed the button for the elevator then jammed her hands into her pockets, where they curled and uncurled.

“That’s it?” Dull and centered in his gut, the anger began to spread. “You just cross it off?”

“There’s nothing more I can do here.” She stepped into the elevator, fighting to breathe calmly.

It was snowing hard on the way home. Tess didn’t speak. Tast-ing bitterness in his own throat, Ben remained as coldly silent as she. Though the car heater poured out warmth, she had to struggle not to shiver. Failure, grief, and anger were so twined together that it made one hard knot of emotion that wedged in her throat; she could taste it. Control was often hard won, but never so vital as it seemed to her at that moment.

By the time they stepped into her apartment, the pressure in her chest was so strong she had to consciously school every breath. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this,” she said carefully. She needed to get away, away from him, from everyone until she’d pulled herself back together. The throbbing in her head was building to a roar. “I know it was difficult.”

“You seem to be handling it just fine.” After yanking off his jacket, he tossed it into a chair. “You don’t have to apologize to me. I’m in the business, remember?”

“Yes, of course. Listen.” She had to swallow the bubbling heat in her throat. “I’m going to have a bath.”

“Sure, go ahead.” He walked to the liquor cabinet and reached for the vodka he’d stored. “I’m going to have a drink.”

She didn’t bother to go into the bedroom to change. When the door was closed quietly behind her, Ben heard the sound of water rushing against porcelain.

He hadn’t even known the kid, Ben told himself as he splashed vodka into a glass. There was no reason for him to feel this ugly squeeze of resentment. It was one thing to feel sorrow, pity, even anger at the useless loss of a life, a young life, but there was no reason for this helpless, shaking rage.

She’d been so detached. So goddamned untouched.

Just like Josh’s doctor.

The bitterness lodged deep for years swirled into his throat. Ben lifted the vodka to wash the taste away, then slammed it, untouched, onto the cabinet. Not sure what he was going to do, he went down the hall and pushed the bathroom door open.

She wasn’t in the tub.

Like thunder, the water hit the porcelain full force, then whirled down the drain she hadn’t bothered to close. Steam was rising, already sweating on the mirror. Fully dressed, using the sink for support, Tess wept violently into her hands.