Chapter Twenty-One
Harmony was known for its strange goings-on, but as Julian Crane watched his son and wife disappear down the hospital corridor, he was convinced he'd seen it all. Didn't they hate each other? God, what was the world coming to when sworn enemies inexplicably began calling truces?
"This is all wrong," he muttered. "Next thing you know, one of those heinous fast-food restaurants will open on the property adjoining ours."
Ivy Winthrop Crane surged ahead with her wheelchair, stopping a few feet away from her ex-husband. "Talking to yourself, Julian?" Her tone was taunting.
Julian rolled his eyes dramatically. If her snarkiness was any indication of her mood, it was obvious that she was feeling better than before. "What can I say? Must have something to do with the fact that I find my own company far more preferable to yours."
"Or perhaps you've finally gone over the edge," Ivy responded.
"At least I can go. Where can you go without that chair? Hmmm?"
Ivy averted her gaze, and her face grew flushed. "It just goes to show that class cannot be bought and sold. Thank you, Julian, for reminding me exactly of why I loathe you so much."
"You needed reminding? How touching."
Ivy huffed. "I didn't come here to argue with you."
"No, I suppose you needed amusement since your beckon call ex-lover doesn't seem to currently be at your beckon call."
"I see where Nicholas gets his acerbic tongue."
"Thank you," Julian replied as he straightened his tie.
"It wasn't a compliment. You do realize he tried to kill Ethan today, don't you?"
"You're being overly dramatic. Ethan's life was never in danger."
"Not in danger? Then why do you suppose he's in the hospital? To top it off, Nicholas has shown no remorse. None!"
"You truly think our son to be capable of attempted murder? Do be more careful next time you bleach your hair Ivy. The chemicals have affected your brain."
"There's so much more to the story than we're getting, Julian."
"That I will admit," he conceded. "But I would certainly never jump to the conclusion you are."
"That's because you have no intuition, Julian. The only thing you know how to jump is a loose woman."
"Says the mother of my three children," Julian smirked.
"That's right, Julian. I am a mother. My son is lying in a hospital room in misery because of Nicholas. If Ethan tells me that what happened to him was purposeful…"
Julian interrupted. "Don't even think it! You will not have our son arrested."
"Why Julian? Because your father wouldn't stand for the bad publicity?"
"Because I won't stand for it. To hell with Father!" Julian paused and looked around him, suddenly concerned with the watchfulness of Alistair Crane. "I didn't mean that last part."
"Am I to believe that you've suddenly developed paternal instincts, Julian? Please."
"Someone has to look out for Nicholas. You never have."
"Oh, but his step-mother certainly has today. Damn you for tying Theresa to us, Julian."
"You're the one who won't leave the mansion. No one's forcing you to stay."
"And miss out on reciprocating the torment I've endured for over twenty years? You should be so lucky. Still, I find the sudden camaraderie between the two rather peculiar."
Julian scratched his chin. "Yes, it is. And I intend to find out what's going on."
As Fox and Theresa stood in the doorway of Ethan's hospital room, he took her hand in his. Their fingers intertwined, and Theresa drew strength from him.
"I'm glad he's in a private room now," Fox remarked.
Theresa nodded. "There's no telling what he's going to say. I just…I just dread it, I guess."
Fox cupped her face. His touch was so light, so tender it sent shivers through her body. She wanted so much to be with him that her heart ached. If only they could shut out the world.
"I'll be right there with you, Resa. I won't let him hurt you ever again."
She leaned into his hand and placed a kiss on his palm. "I know you won't." She sighed. "I believe you, Fox, and I believe in you."
Fox drew in a breath as he studied her features. He was startled by the love he saw reflected in her eyes. Her dark eyes glistened, and he longed to pull her into his arms and never let go.
How strange. He'd always prided himself on being so self-sufficient, but as he looked at her, he knew that sufficiency did not exist for him anymore without her by his side.
He brushed his lips across her forehead before the two finally entered the hospital room. It was sterile in appearance, decorated with muted tones on the walls and minor equipment.
Ethan lay on the bed, covered by a sheet. His chest was bare, though his ribs were wrapped in binding to restrict his movement until they healed.
"Thank you for coming," Ethan spoke. His deep voice sounded hoarse, strained.
Fox's eyes widened when he saw his brother, and a wave of guilt washed over him. Then he looked to Theresa and remembered what Ethan did to her; his guilt left as quickly as it came.
"I can think of a lot of other places I'd rather be right now," Fox replied.
"You and me both," Ethan grimaced. He shifted his weight and fought back a groan.
"Where's Gwen?" Theresa asked. Her voice remained distant. "I thought she'd be here."
Ethan's eyes fixed on Theresa.
His Theresa.
No. She wasn't his Theresa anymore.
Circumstances saw to that.
Lies.
Time.
Stupidity.
Greed.
At one time, he would've given up anything and everything to be with her, and she'd felt the same.
But now she asked about his wife.
His wife who wasn't Theresa.
His wife who could never live up to the ghost of a living woman.
And his Theresa—who wasn't his Theresa—was in love with his brother, or at the very least thought she was.
Life used to be so much easier.
"I asked her to give us some time alone. She wasn't thrilled, but she understood my need to see the two of you privately."
Fox turned and glanced through the glass pane of the door, not trusting that his sister-in-law had indeed made herself scarce, or his father for that matter.
"What are you doing?" Ethan asked.
"Checking for eavesdroppers."
"Mother and Gwen were concerned our fight would leak out to the tabloids," Ethan began. "They asked that hospital security be kept tight around me."
"Actually, I was more worried about Father—that's Julian to you—listening in or even Gwen herself."
Ethan turned away. "She acted like the cat that swallowed the canary," he said quietly.
"Why did you want to see us?" Theresa blurted.
"Please. Have a seat," Ethan requested.
Hesitantly Theresa did as he asked, though she pulled the chair away from the proximity of his hospital bed.
Ethan's blue eyes sought Theresa, but she still would not meet his gaze. "I have so much I want to say to you," he began. "To both of you actually. In my head, I had it all planned out. In my medication haze, it seemed perfect, but now that you're here, my tongue feels heavy and my words don't seem adequate."
"I have a few things I want to say to you, as well," Theresa said evenly.
"You go first."
Theresa squared her shoulders as she chose her words and measured her tone. "The Ethan I knew and loved is dead."
"Theresa—"
"You said I could go first, Ethan, so don't interrupt."
"I know what you're going to say.."
"Stop it! God, do you have any idea of how many times you've uttered those words, and you didn't have a clue what I wanted to say? You wanted me to fit your mold of who you thought I was. Just stop thinking you know because you don't!"
"Fair enough," Ethan conceded.
"At one point, you were more important to me than the air that I breathed. Every thought that consumed me, every dream, every glimpse of happiness revolved around you—or rather who I thought you were. I don't recognize you, Ethan. It's more than the bruises or swollen nose. I look at you, and I see a stranger. Did I ever really know you?"
"You have every right in the world to be angry with me, Theresa. What I did to you was…."
"A violation, Ethan. Not just of my trust in you, or a violation of my space, but it was a violation of our history together and what used to be beautiful memories. Those are now tarnished forever in my mind, in my heart. I look back and wonder if all of it—all the happiness and pain—was just an illusion. Did I know the real you? Or is this violent, bitter man the real you?"
"Do you even have to ask?"
"Why shouldn't she wonder, Ethan?" Fox interjected. "You spent so much time cultivating this image of yourself, and it used to really frustrate me that I could never measure up in everyone's minds, but now—now what I've known all along has been proven to me. You are nothing but a cold, controlling bastard."
"You and I have different issues to work out, separate from the ones I have with Theresa."
"That's not true anymore," Theresa replied. "What amazes me is that you were willing to dangle your so-called love before me like a carrot on a string. If I was good enough, worthy enough, sweet enough, beautiful enough, honest enough, I could have that love. I worked myself into a frenzy trying to reach your expectations, but somewhere along the way, I stopped living for you and began living for myself. You couldn't stand it! You would push me away but pull me back toward you once you saw me slipping from your control. And of course, the greatest slip from your control of all was when I acknowledged that I was in love with someone else. What did that make you think? How else were you supposed to control me except by force? Everything in our relationship has been about control. But here's the deal. You don't control me anymore."
Fox's brown eyes grew wide at Theresa's words. "Wow."
"You think my wanting to be with you was about control?"
"Yes," Theresa replied simply.
"Isn't that what all your life has been, Ethan? An exercise in control?" Fox asked. "You spent the first twenty-five years believing you were the true Crane heir only to find out you weren't. Every aspect of your life, from where you were to go to school to whom your friends would be, was controlled by my grandfather, father, and our mother. You, in turn, extended that control to those around you, from your co-workers to the women in your life. And then, all of it was gone. So what do you control now, half-bro? Certainly not your temper."
"You're not exactly one to talk."
"I pick and choose my fights carefully," Fox replied. "Otherwise, you would've been in here last night when I saw the bruises on Theresa."
Ethan swallowed hard as he looked to Theresa. "I-I bruised you?"
"Yes, you did. My arm where you grabbed me, my legs where you tried to pry them apart."
Fox's stomach turned, and a fresh supply of anger surged through him.
"I'm sorry. I know that isn't enough, that it never could be enough, but I am truly sorry, Theresa. I wouldn't hurt you for anything in the world."
"You've been finding ways to hurt me for years now, but no longer."
"Well, I am in no condition to hurt anyone right now," Ethan conceded. "Thanks to my half-brother."
Fox cleared his throat. "Don't you mean thanks to your own clumsiness?"
"I don't see it that way," Ethan responded slowly.
"Just how do you see it?" Theresa asked.
"My accident would have never happened if I'd not been fighting with Fox. My equilibrium was askew."
"You had a hangover, Ethan. Don't you think that had something to do with it, too?" Fox asked.
"So you would attack a man with a hangover?"
"Yes. Only because you would attack a woman half your size."
"The police are going to want to question me," Ethan said.
"What are you saying?"
"My words could have a bearing on where you spend the night, Nicholas."
Theresa stood and pointed at the man in the hospital bed. "And my words could have a bearing on where you spend the night, Ethan."
Fox placed his hands on Theresa's shoulders and squeezed them lightly, an attempt at reassurance. "Hold on a sec, half-bro. Is this your way of threatening me?"
Ethan shook his head, reconsidering his methods. "You've got it all wrong, both of you."
Fox crossed his arms. "Then by all means, enlighten us."
"I betrayed Theresa's trust, but I want a chance to earn that trust back. Nick, you and I have never been close, and I know we never will be. I also know that you aren't good enough for Theresa." Ethan took a deep breath, "But neither am I."
"What's your point?"
"My point is that I asked the both of you in here because I wanted you to know that I won't be filing criminal charges against you, Nicholas. And Theresa, I wanted you to know how truly sorry I am for what I did last night. I was way out of line."
"Yes, you were," Fox said.
Theresa said nothing.
"Don't you want to say anything to me?"
"I have nothing to say to you. From this point on, we are strangers. My tomorrows will not include you; nor will I even think of you." Theresa turned and walked to the door but hesitated as her hand touched the knob. She turned slowly and finally met Ethan's gaze. "Just so you know, Fox is the best thing that has ever happened to me, so don't you ever say he's not good enough again."
With that, she left the room, leaving the half-brothers alone.
Ethan turned his head from Fox, tears pooling in his eyes.
"Was it worth it?" Fox asked.
"Excuse me?"
"You had your chance, and you blew it. So tell me. Was it worth marrying Gwen?"
"Get out."
"Oh, I will when I'm ready. See, Eth, you had chance after chance with her. And what did you do? You toyed with her. Yo-yoed between Gwen and Theresa, always wanting what you couldn't have. Always judging based on your own ideas of perfection."
"I never said I was perfect."
"But you sure as hell played the part every chance you got. Can't say I blame you. I mean, you had this ready-made cheering section comprised of Mother, Sheridan, Sam, Pilar, and anyone else who happened by."
"And you thumbed your nose at us every chance you got."
"True," Fox conceded, "but it was the only way I could get any attention with Prince Ethan around."
"Don't call me that."
"Why not? That's how they all saw you. The perfect prince to the Crane Kingdom. Only turns out that you aren't such a prince after all. You've lost the kingdom, the most amazing woman in the world," Fox's eyes grazed his half-brother, "as well as your dignity. Tell me. Will it be Gwen who wipes your ass when you can't? Because I have to tell you that she doesn't seem like the nurturing type."
"Get out," Ethan repeated.
"I must confess this conversation has become stale. How lucky for me that I get to go home with Theresa, and she really is a breath of fresh air, isn't she?"
If Ethan had the use of his hands, he would've leapt from the bed and pushed his brother out of the room. As it was, all he could do was wait for Fox to leave on his own accord.
Fox lifted a brow and meandered toward the door. He reached for the knob, but stopped.
"One last thing, Eth."
"What is it?" the bed-ridden man replied impatiently.
"Have I mentioned lately how glad I am that I'm not you?"
With that, Fox exited the room.
Once in the hallway, he looked around, but saw no sign of Theresa. "Where is she?" he muttered.
Theresa leaned against the neutral colored hospital wall as another wave of nausea swept over her. She'd been walking the long halls, trying to clear her head after her encounter with Ethan—to no avail. And now she was dealing with the persistent queasiness yet again.
This, she decided, is getting old.
The truth of the matter was that she hadn't felt completely herself for several weeks, but instead of getting better, her symptoms were worsening. It was utterly frustrating.
"I haven't felt like this since…"
When had been the last time?
Then it hit her with the force of the highest hopes and greatest fears rolled into one.
"...I was pregnant with Ethan Martin."
Could it be?
No.
They'd been so careful, hadn't they?
But the thought lingered as she touched her abdomen, wondered, and hoped.
Did we make a baby, Fox?