Rogue

Chapter 19

Charles and Maxine went to Southampton that weekend, as planned. They met with the caterer for their wedding, walked on the beach holding hands, made love several times, and by the end of the weekend, Charles was calm again. Maxine had promised him that if Zelda's baby was too much for them, she would leave. Everything seemed fine between them again by the end of the weekend as they drove home. He had desperately needed some peaceful time with her, and her full attention, which meant a lot to him. And after being with her all weekend, he had perked up like a flower in the rain.

“You know, when we have time together like this,” he said, as they drove back to the city, “everything makes sense again. But when I get caught up in that nuthouse of yours and your soap opera life, it just drives me insane.” She was hurt by what he said.

“It's not a nuthouse, Charles. And we don't lead a soap opera life. I'm a single mom with three kids and a career, and things happen. They happen to everyone,” she said reasonably, and he looked at her as though she really were insane.

“How many people do you know whose nanny brings home a crack baby on three days' notice? Excuse me. That doesn't sound normal to me.”

“I'll admit,” she said, smiling at him, “it's a little off the wall. But things happen. She's important to us, and especially right now.”

“Don't be silly,” he said. “They'd be fine without her.”

“I doubt that, and I sure wouldn't be. I rely on her more than you know. I can't do it all alone.”

“You have me now,” he said confidently, and Maxine laughed. “Great, and how are you at laundry, ironing, getting dinner on the table every night, running car pool, making play dates, getting the kids to school, making snacks, packing lunches, supervising slumber parties, and taking care of them when they're sick?”

He got the message, but he didn't agree with her and never had. “I'm sure they could be far more independent, if you'd let them be. There's no reason why they can't do most of that themselves.” And this from a man who had never had kids, and had barely ever seen one up close until hers. He had avoided them all his life. He had all the pompous, unrealistic views of people who have never had children, and could no longer remember being one themselves. “Besides, you know my solution to all that,” he reminded her. “Boarding school. You'd have none of those problems, and you wouldn't have a woman with a crack baby living in your house.”

“I don't agree with you, Charles,” she said simply. “I am never sending my children away to school until they leave for college.” She wanted to make that clear to him now. “And Zellie isn't adopting a ‘crack baby.' You don't know that for sure. ‘High risk' does not mean the baby is addicted.”

“It could be,” he insisted, and he had gotten that message loud and clear about her negative view of boarding school for her children. Maxine was not letting go of her children, or sending them away. If he didn't love her so much, he'd have put his foot down. And if she didn't love him, she wouldn't have put up with the things he said. She just figured it was one of his quirks. But he had loved the peaceful, childless weekend he had just spent with her. Maxine, on the other hand, had loved it but had missed her kids. She knew that having no children of his own, it was something he would never understand, and she let it go at that.

They were having Chinese takeout with the children in the kitchen on Sunday night, when Zellie came running in.

“Oh my God… oh my God… it's coming… it's coming!” For a minute they'd all forgotten. Zelda looked like a chicken without her head as she ran around the kitchen.

“What's coming?” Maxine asked her blankly. She truly had no idea.

“The baby! The birth mom is in labor! I have to go to Roosevelt Hospital right away.”

“Oh my God,” Maxine said, and everyone got up and exclaimed over her excitedly as though she were having it herself. Charles sat at the table, eating calmly, and shook his head.

Zelda was dressed and out the door five minutes later, and the rest of them talked about it and then went to their rooms. Maxine sat at the table and glanced at Charles.

“Thanks for being a good sport,” she said gratefully. “I know this isn't fun for you.” She was sorry it had happened at all, but she was trying to make the best of it. There was no other choice. Or only choices she didn't want, other than this one, welcoming Zellie's baby.

“It's not going to be fun for you either, when that baby is screaming the house down. If it's born drug addicted, it's going to be a nightmare for all of you. I'm glad I'm not moving in for another two months.” So was she.

And as it turned out, much to her chagrin, Charles wasn't wrong. The birth mother had done far more drugs than she admitted, and the baby was born addicted to cocaine. He spent a week in the hospital being detoxed, while Zelda sat with him every day and rocked him. And when he came home, he screamed night and day. Zellie sat with him in her room. He was a poor eater, he hardly slept, and she couldn't put him down. All he did was scream. The poor little thing had come into the world in a very hard way, but into the arms of an adoring adoptive mother.

“How's it going?” Maxine asked her one morning. Zelda looked like ten miles of bad road after another sleepless night. She was awake with the baby every night, for most of the night, holding him.

“The doctor said it could take a while for the drugs to get out of his system. I think he's a little better,” Zellie said, looking down at her son blissfully. She had totally bonded with Jimmy as though she'd given birth to him herself. The social workers had come to check on him several times, and no one could have faulted Zellie for how devoted she was to him. He just wasn't a lot of fun for anyone else. Maxine was relieved they'd be leaving on vacation in a few weeks, and with luck by the time they got back, Jimmy would have settled down. It was all she could hope for now. Zellie was a wonderful mom, and just as patient and loving as she had been with Jack and Sam when they were born. And little Jimmy was a lot harder to deal with.

In the meantime, plans for the wedding were under way. Maxine hadn't found a dress yet, and she needed one for Daphne too. Daphne refused to have any part of it, and was threatening not to go to the wedding at all, which was yet another challenge Maxine had to face. She didn't say anything about it to Charles. She knew how hurt he would have been. So she went shopping on her own, hoping to find dresses for both of them. She had already gotten khaki suits for the boys, and one for Charles too. At least that was done.

Blake had called from Morocco, told her all that he'd accomplished since she left. The new construction to transform his palace into a home for a hundred kids was already under way. He had turned staffing, and the running of the future orphanage, over to a group of very competent people, and he had done all he could for now. He planned to come back every month to make sure they were moving ahead as planned. So he was going back to London for the time being, and he told Maxine that everything was ready on the boat for them. She and the kids could hardly wait. It was their best vacation together every year. Charles was not as sure.

Blake had told Arabella about his plans for the orphanage too. She thought it was a wonderful thing to do.

He decided to surprise her when he flew back to London. He was coming home a week earlier than he'd said he would. He had done everything he could, and he had work to do now in London, setting up the financial arrangements for the orphanage, and a hundred orphans.

He arrived at Heathrow at midnight, was at his house forty minutes later, and let himself in. The house was dark, and Arabella had said she'd been working hard, so he assumed she was asleep. She'd said she had hardly been going out, and it was no fun without him. She was desperate for him to come home.

Blake was exhausted after the flight to London, and everything he'd been doing in the past weeks. He had a deep tan on his face and arms. Beneath where his T-shirt had been, his skin was white. All he wanted now was to get his hands on Arabella, and jump into bed with her. He was starving for her. He tiptoed into his bedroom, in case she was asleep. He saw her shape under the sheet, sat down next to her, and leaned down to kiss her, only to discover that there were two bodies, not one, and they were intertwined and half asleep. His eyes flew wide open, and he turned on the light for a better look. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, and at first he wanted to believe it was a mistake. It was no mistake. An extraordinarily handsome dark-skinned man sat up in bed with her, with a look of panic. Blake suspected it was one of the important Indian men she knew, or perhaps a new one. It didn't matter who he was. He was in Blake's bed with her.

“I'm terribly sorry,” the man said politely, instantly wrapped himself in the sheet that was floating loose on the bed, after what must have been a lot of activity, and swept out of the room as fast as he could. Arabella stared at Blake in horror and started to cry.

“He just dropped by,” she said faintly, which was clearly a lie, because he was packing two alligator suitcases in Blake's dressing room, so he must have been there for a while. He emerged five minutes later in a beautifully cut suit. He was a striking-looking man.

“Thank you, sorry,” he said to Blake. “Goodbye,” he said to Arabella, and hurried downstairs carrying both his bags. A moment later, they both heard the front door slam. He had been staying with her, in Blake's house, with no shame whatsoever.

“Get out of my bed,” Blake said coldly. She was shaking and reached out to him.

“I'm so sorry…I didn't mean to…I won't do it again…”

“Get up, and get out,” Blake said plainly. “You could at least have gone to your own place. Then at least I wouldn't have known. This was a little cheeky, don't you think?” She had gotten up and was standing before him in all her naked beauty. She was a gorgeous girl, tattoos and all. The only thing she was wearing was her ruby bindi between her eyes. Blake was no longer amused. “You have five minutes,” he said clearly. “I'll send you whatever you forget.” He reached for the phone and called a cab. She disappeared into the bathroom and emerged in blue jeans and a man's T-shirt. She had on highheeled gold sandals and looked sexy as hell. But he no longer wanted her. She was used goods. And a liar. A big one.

She stood looking at him with tears rolling down her cheeks, as he looked away. It was a nasty little scene. None of the women he had gone out with had ever been dumb enough to bring other men to his bed. And he had dated Arabella longer than anyone else. It had been seven months, and it hurt. He had trusted her, and was more in love with her than he had been with the others. It took every ounce of restraint not to call her ugly names as she clattered down the stairs. He went to the bar, and poured himself a stiff drink. He never wanted to see her again. She tried calling him later that night, and for days thereafter, and he didn't answer her calls. Arabella was history. She had gone up in a puff of smoke, bindi, tattoos, and all.