Chapter 34

He awoke in the wee hours. Alex had done her best, and he had slept deeper than he had in days, but his mind simply would not let him rest. First, he explored the sensations: Her warmth curled up beside him, the soft sound of her breathing. Her room was saturated with her scent, and he had the pleasure of the source under the relaxed weight of his arm.

In the dim light, his eyes scanned her soft curves. Even pregnant, he couldn't get enough of her. In fact, she seemed more beautiful than ever. He remained still in the bed for as long as he could, and then, afraid his restless body would wake her, he got up.

Bobby paced the living room, thoughts of fatherhood barraging him. He thought he could do it; he knew he could do better than his own father. Things with Alex seemed to be improving. They still argued, but gradually, he had begun to feel that an argument wasn't an end. It was still hard for him to express himself, especially when they were in discord, but with practice, he was doing it.

Maybe, by the time the baby came, they could live together again.

He worried about her. In spite of what he'd told Manschweitz, he liked it better when she was being coddled. Bobby sighed. Alex would have none of that. But now, after a long day on the streets, her feet would swell.

It was inevitable that his thoughts would turn back to Frances. She had consumed so much of his mind lately. He thought of the evolution of their relationship, from the blind love of a child to the embarrassed disdain he'd felt even before his teenage years; then the anger. Years of anger, really, while he was in college and then the army. Even his first few years on the force, he resented the pain and suffering she'd caused him. He'd never abandoned her, though. Something in him… the love in him… had never allowed him to go that far.

He remembered when he first moved her in at Carmel Ridge. It had been quite a manipulation on his part, really, and he'd been proud that he'd pulled it off. The house was in shambles, unfit for anyone. He didn't have the means to have it repaired. Frank was MIA, and wouldn't have been able to help even if he'd been around.

Bobby had talked to her about vacations and resorts, and then apartments… condos… He took her to visit, and she didn't seem to realize that it was a hospital in disguise. She was pleased with the size of the rooms; the comforts they offered. She sat in on a heated scrabble game, he remembered, and he'd used that as a selling point. She was lonely in the house; she didn't have friends like that to entertain her and occupy her mind.

So she had finally agreed. And when she realized it was an institution she'd nearly broken him. His mother had always been able to cut a little harder, a little deeper, than anyone else. Sometimes it had been for his own good: her way of trying to steer him in the right direction, her way of parenting. Most of the time it had been for hers: manipulation to control the variables in her life.

He'd deserved it that time, every word. Even if her move to Carmel Ridge had been necessary, he'd tricked her into it, and she was right to call him on it.

She had settled in, eventually. It took a visit from Frank and his blunt announcement that the house was condemned and boarded up. She'd insisted that Bobby check her out for a day and show her. She had sobbed, and he'd felt horrible.

But then Carmel Ridge had become her home. When she was well enough, she thrived there. When the episodes manifested, she had care and attention she'd never had before. It wasn't perfect, but it had been for the best.

It was when she was diagnosed with lymphoma, he guessed, when he'd finally realized there was no point in being angry with her. She'd simply done the best with what she had, and it wasn't perfect.

He glanced in the direction of the bedroom and wondered if Alex would be thinking the same thing about him one day.

She awoke to find a note scrawled in his left-handed slant. He'd gone in to work. Maybe he couldn't focus when he was working with Logan, but it appeared he did all right by himself in the hours before dawn.

She picked up her phone and dialed.

"Goren."

"Hey, Bobby."

"Good morning," he said, and she could hear the smile behind his voice.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Yeah, some."

"How's the case coming?"

"Logan shouldn't have anything to complain about." There was a bit of a silence while she tried to decide how put off he was with his partner. "Are you all right this morning?"

"I'm great," she said. "Wish you were here, though."

"Sorry."

"Oh, Bobby, don't be. I can't have you with me every second. I'm glad you found something useful to do with your time instead of tossing and turning and pacing around here." She paused a moment. "I worry about you, sometimes."

"Huh?"

"People need sleep, Bobby. How long did you say it's been? A week?"

"More or less."

"Maybe you should take something for it."

"Aw, I don't know about that. I'll get back on schedule. I always do."

"Well. Suit yourself."

"Alex?"

"Mmm-hmm?"

"If I… if I started to… lose it, you'd tell me, right?"

"What do you mean, Bobby?" she asked, alarmed by the question.

"I mean, you know, if I… like my mother."

Alex sighed. "Bobby, you are not like your mother. Not that way."

"But you'd tell me if—"

"Sure. I'd tell you."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."