And here's the next chapter - sorry it took me so long to get it posted! Hope you all enjoy!
The meal was consumed in quiet. Normally there would be friendly chatter and banter, but the presence of their father made the atmosphere uncomfortable. Once or twice Divya had tried to engage the brothers in conversation, but while Evan was more than willing to talk, Hank was not. He spent the time he wasn't looking at his plate or at Divya, glaring at his father. Oddly enough, he refused to look at Evan for the most part; whenever he did there was such sadness in his eyes that it made Divya's heart ache for him.
Over the past year, she'd learned a bit about the Lawson brothers and their past, just like they had learned about some of hers. Hank had told her about his father leaving at a time when they needed him, and he'd spoken of his mother and her passing. The tears that had clouded his eyes when he spoke of her had made Divya's own eyes well up with tears in sympathy. She'd come to think of Hank as a good friend, almost like a big brother for that was how he treated her at times, and the pain he felt hurt her as well.
What was puzzling was that, while she understood the glares towards his father, she was baffled by the sadness when he looked at Evan. It wasn't just sadness, although that was most present; there was also a hint of betrayal in them as well. Why did he feel betrayed by Evan? Surely the younger Lawson hadn't brought their father here, had he? He'd been pretty young when their father had left, but he had to have remembered what happened, didn't he? Or maybe she only had one brother's side of the story?
Divya discreetly shook her head, clearing it of the questions. It wouldn't do any good to dwell on them now. Although Hank often credited her with a keen and inquiring mind, both Lawson's were just as bad, and were just as perceptive as she was. She didn't want either of them noticing that she was studying them because then she'd never get any answers – well, none that she could use anyways.
Instead, she chose to focus on Hank, who was having trouble cutting his chicken. Every time he tried, his eyes pinched and his mouth tightened in pain, but he refused to ask for help or allow his father to help when he'd offered. She decided that he had a high tolerance for pain because he had yet to ask for something for it; and given how much he was trying to use it, she knew his wrist had to be hurting enough for him to need it.
Silently, she held out her hand towards Hank's knife and fork, and then she waited for him to hand them over. Hazel eyes flicked up at her, hard with frustration, anger and hurt. Still, he didn't deny her unspoken command and handed over his knife, fork and plate.
After she'd finished cutting the chicken, the meal went even faster. Hank didn't appear to be very hungry, but Evan and Eddie inhaled their food like they'd been starving for days. When the two men went into the kitchen to rinse off their plates and bond some more, Divya leaned in closer to Hank.
"Are you alright?" she asked, unable to stop herself. She was worried about her friend; not only his physical health but his emotional one as well.
His stone-faced expression never changed as he turned his attention from his father walking away to her and answered, "No, I'm not."
Not having expected such honesty, she started for a moment. Once the surprise wore off she reached out and grabbed his uninjured hand within her own and gave a gentle squeeze. "Well, let me know if you want to talk. I'm always here, Hank."
This softened him a little, but only a little. He gave her a smile that felt more cold than it did genuine and squeezed back. "Thanks Divya."
"Any time," she granted with a warm smile. Boisterous laughing echoed from within the guesthouse, drawing both of their attention. She felt Hank's body freeze at the sound and his hand squeezed just a little bit more in reaction. Once he'd relaxed, she offered another smile. "I should go. We have an early morning."
"Of course," he answered, seeming to barely register her presence any more. Still, he stood and walked her to the door of the patio.
"I meant what I said," she reiterated once they'd started walking on the grounds. "Call me if you need anything; even if it's just a go-between."
"Thanks, Divya, I appreciate it, but I think I can handle it on my own."
For some reason his answer struck a chord with her and she felt a protective side flare. "No, you've had to handle things on your own. Since then your family has grown and it's no longer just you and Evan. You have me too, and I don't mind helping. Lord knows you and Evan have been there for me whether I wanted you there or not. Now it's my turn to be there for you two."
Hank remained silent at this and she let it linger. She knew better than anyone the comfort silence could bring, especially when there was nothing more left to say. Beside her, she heard Hank inhale as though he were going to say something then he just blew the breath back out, slowly and measured.
They made it to her SUV, still walking in comfortable silence. The lights of the castle – or was it a mansion? – shone brightly over them both, casting playful shadows on the stone drive.
"Thank you for walking me, you didn't have to," she said, opening her car door and watching as he seemed to dig deep to find a hint of a smile.
"It's not a problem," he dismissed. He awkwardly dug into his pants pocket for his phone with his left hand and then held it up. "Besides, I think Boris wants a meeting."
"Ah, so you weren't being chivalrous, you had an alternate agenda," she teased.
This time he laughed; it was a little dry, but it at least it was genuine. "Yeah," was all he said though. He inhaled deeply and then said, "Well, I'd better go. It's never a good thing to keep Boris waiting."
"Of course. I'll see you in the morning. Take care of yourself until then, got it?"
"What's with this complete lack of trust in me?"
"It's not that I don't trust you," Divya protested, getting into her car and closing the door. She smiled when he smiled, more like himself, "It's that I don't trust you."
She started her car and drove away with a smile on her face and his laughter following her out of the gate.
"Hank?" Boris called to his private physician who was currently standing in the driveway with a strained smile on his face, watching his Physician Assistant leave. He'd watched their parting with interest, listening to what was said. He'd seen them leaving the cottage from his balcony, and his almost unhealthy obsession with the doctor led him to continue watching them.
When Hank wasn't looking, his forehead was wrinkled in concern as he took in the doctor's braced wrist. He sincerely hoped that Ivan hadn't caused the need for the brace because if he had, there would be consequences – a firing for starters.
"Yes, sorry," Hank apologized, appearing to snap back to reality.
"It's quite alright," Boris easily forgave. "Is everything alright? You looked deep in thought."
"Yeah, sorry," he apologized again. He sighed, and offered an almost cold smile. "So, what was it that you needed?"
Boris dipped his head towards the house, indicating that they should go inside. Without waiting to see if Lawson was following him, he turned on his heel and went inside, heading towards his private office. Since Hank couldn't see his expression, he frowned.
Something was clearly troubling the doctor. When he'd first come to live at Shadow Pond, Boris had had Hank investigated. Within a day, Boris had found out about Hank's past, his absentee father, his deceased mother, and his younger brother who closely resembled an over-excited puppy. Earlier in the day Boris had seen the younger Lawson return with a guest. Knowing Hank's past as Boris did, he'd wager that the guest had been none other than the absentee father. Hank had a steady character; if the mere presence of a person could throw him as off balance as he currently appeared, it would be Edward R. Lawson.
Dieter opened the door to the office and Boris threw the man a slight nod of thanks. Despite what others believed, he wasn't an ungrateful man. He appreciated each and every man under his employ and he did his best within his power to make sure that they were taken care of whether or not they were able to work for him.
Feeling more than a little drained by the day, Boris went to one of the loveseats in the room. He stood, waiting for Hank to enter and Dieter to close the door before he showed how truly tired he felt and fluidly collapsed onto the couch. He smiled when Hank's brows furrowed in concern.
"Are you feeling alright Boris?" the doctor asked, coming closer to Boris so that he could, presumably, examine him.
Not wanting the man to focus on him, Boris held up his hand in a 'wait' gesture. "I'm fine, Hank," he assured. "Just a bit tired from the day's meetings." He smiled again when the doctor didn't move. "Truly, Hank, I am alright." He waved a hand towards the loveseat to his right which was perpendicular to the one he was sitting in. "Please, sit."
Hank looked over at the seat being offered for a moment, his eyes looking just as tired as Boris felt with every passing second, before he looked back at Boris. "Actually, if it's not a medical emergency, I think I'd prefer to stay standing."
The determination that Boris had come to expect from the young doctor was still there, radiating in his stance, in the expression on his face and in the coolness of his beautiful hazel eyes. But underneath all that, pain soundly slept, settling into the doctor's eyes, into the slight wrinkles on his forehead and around his mouth, and softening his stance just enough to announce its presence. Boris felt it pouring off the man in front of him; he felt it crash into his pores and simply seep into his skin.
However, mentioning his observations to his friend was not something Boris was comfortable with doing, if he wanted information. Hank was a private man; he refused to give more details than was necessary, sometimes choosing to hide behind his doctor-patient confidentiality or simply using his job as a way to distract Boris from the current topic. Besides, if Boris were to mention the things he'd noticed, then Hank would know exactly how closely Boris observed him and while he knew exactly how he felt about the doctor, he wasn't positive that the man returned his feelings. Boris was known for not making a move unless he was sure it was the right one, and expressing an interest in a man whom Boris believed to be straight was not the right move.
"Very well," Boris replied, showing Hank that he wasn't offended by the declination. "Am I mistaken or did I see your father entering the guesthouse earlier this afternoon?"
Bullseye, Boris thought when he noticed that Hank straightened even more. Even still, Boris smiled, "Don't worry, Hank, this is not an interrogation. I am merely trying to make conversation."
"You don't have to worry. He won't come near you," Hank confidently assured.
"Oh, I'm not worried about that, I know that Edward Lawson won't get close to me," Boris casually waved off Hank's concern. "No, I'm actually more concerned about how this will affect you."
"Me?" Hank asked, clearly shocked that Boris had even thought of him or what his father's return had meant for him.
"Yes. As I'm sure you know, I'm well aware of what happened in your past and I know what your father has done to you and your family. So it is natural to wonder how you are handling his return."
The way he explained it made it sound almost natural that Boris should be inquiring after Hank's well being, but if anything it was much more than that; the problem as far as Boris was concerned was that only he knew how much deeper the question went.
Apparently, something of his true feelings shone through Boris' curious expression because Hank's head slightly cocked to his right. His mouth hung open for a few seconds as he thought about whatever it was that was going through his head. And then he seemed to come back to the present and his usual, doctor persona returned.
"I'm handling it fine," Hank finally answered. The dismissive way in which he said it did nothing to dissuade Boris' opinion that things were quite the opposite.
"I see. And you would say something if that wasn't the case?" he asked even though he knew immediately that his friend would lie.
"No, I wouldn't, but that doesn't change the facts," Hank replied, surprising Boris with telling him outright that he would never tell him the truth. "And the facts are that he's returned and that he won't be staying long."
Ah, so that was why Hank was pretending to be fine; he didn't expect his father to remain in the Hamptons. It made sense; given the older Lawson's track record, he probably wouldn't stay long. But if Boris has learned anything from his years of doing business, it was that people could surprise you when you least expected it or wanted it.
"I see," Boris said, somewhat revealing what he thought of the situation. "And how is your wrist? You seem to have upgraded your diagnosis from earlier."
"Oh, no, I hadn't. It was just badly bruised, but then something happened and I ended up fracturing it." As he spoke, he fingered the black brace, as though tempted to undo the strands around it. At the end of his speech, he gripped the injured wrist for a second, and then released it with a grimace that Boris knew he hadn't wanted to show. He blushed, just as he had done earlier this morning, and said, "It's a bit tender, but it's fine."
"Have you taken something for the pain?"
"Uh, no," he smiled self consciously, making Boris smile along with him. "I really just haven't had the time."
"Well, why don't you make the time now? Or are you in a hurry?"
Hank looked out the window towards the cottage. "I am in a bit of a hurry, yeah. I don't trust my brother alone with my father."
"I see. Well, if you need anything, let Dieter know and he will get it done."
As though that were a cue, Dieter opened the door and waited for Hank to exit. Still not used to being favored by a person with a manservant, Hank remained where he was, stunned and trying to process. After a bit, he just smiled and exited. He didn't have to thank Boris; the businessman already knew that he wanted to say it and he already knew that he'd tell the doctor that he was always welcome.
When Hank walked into the guesthouse, it was to find his father pretending to be asleep and Evan upstairs. For a second he contemplated waking his father up, whether or not he was awake or asleep, and get him to tell Hank what he was doing there, but he chose to let it go. It didn't matter anyways; as long as Eddie R. didn't hang around or go near Boris or one of Hank's patients, he couldn't care less why the older Lawson was here.
Giving a great yawn, Hank stumbled up the stairs to his room, falling into bed with graceless – half asleep before he hit he bed.
"Ow," he grumbled when his injured wrist barked at him for not being more careful with it. With great effort he rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling while letting his mind wander. Annoyingly his first thoughts were about his father and his return. Since Hank didn't want to spend another second thinking about his father, he went on to his next subject – Boris.
The man was an enigma. His persona of 'strict businessman' was often softened when he was around Hank. Somehow, the doctor had a knack for drawing a softer side out of the nobleman – a knack that no one else apparently had. Never since he had met Boris did Hank think that the man would outright ask him how he was feeling? Okay, so he hadn't used those words, but he might as well have. The truly odd part was that – for a minute – Hank had almost told Boris the truth. But then his sense of self returned and he lied.
Hank shifted a bit on the bed to get more comfortable. Weariness was beginning to take its hold on him and soon he felt his eyes begin to close of their own accord. Soon sleep overcame him and Hank drifted off into a land where Evan remained in front of a door, waiting for a man who would never come.
TBC