The Mummy Proposal. Cathy Thacker Gillen

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      “At that point,” Travis interjected, “you have got to be prepared to parent solo. And the rest of us know from experience that is one of the hardest things to do.”

      But it could be done, Nate thought, as the meeting concluded and he headed home to confer with Brooke over the lunch hour. All he needed were a few more tips and parental insights from her to get Landry moving in the right direction. After that happened, Nate was confident that the tension in his household would fade.

      When he drove in the front gates, he expected to see the cleaning van on its way out, not furniture dotting the lawn. Nor a Cadillac next to Brooke’s van, with a faculty parking sticker for a local university prominently displayed. Curious, Nate walked across the lawn, hearing the voices as he rounded the house.

      “You gave me no choice,” the bearded, white-haired man said. “You’ve been ducking my calls.”

      “I had hoped,” Brooke said archly, “that would be enough for you to get the message.”

      The elderly man countered, “You and Cole have to be at the publication party for Seamus’s book.”

      Wary of intruding, but not about to leave Brooke to fend for herself if help was needed, Nate reluctantly stayed where he was and continued listening in.

      “If you and Cole don’t show up, people will start asking questions.”

      “And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Brooke’s voice rang with contempt. “We wouldn’t want anything to reflect poorly on the university!”

      “We were protecting you and Cole.”

      “While turning a blind eye? If you had wanted to help, you should have let me know what was going on, long before that night.”

      “Brooke …” The gentleman held out a hand in entreaty.

      She glared. “You have to leave.”

      He pushed a book and what looked to be some sort of engraved invitation into her hands. “Not before you agree to attend the party.”

      Her expression distraught, Brooke backed away.

      Enough was enough. Nate walked briskly around the landscaped swimming pool toward the caretaker’s cottage. He extended a hand toward the bearded man. “Nate Hutchinson. And you’re …?”

      “Professor Phineas Rylander, from the university where Brooke’s husband taught. I was just inviting her to a pre-publication party that the English department is giving for her late husband, Seamus. It’s his last work and we are very happy to be able to promote his collection of poetry. Naturally, we want Brooke and her son to attend.”

      Brooke pressed her fingertips to her temple. “I don’t think it’s going to be possible.”

      Professor Rylander refused to give up. “I beg you to reconsider.”

      Nate clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for stopping by.”

      “I—” the man began.

      “I’ll walk you to your Cadillac.”

      Reluctantly, the professor assented. Nate escorted him out, waited until he drove away, then returned to Brooke. She was sitting on one of the half-dozen pieces of mismatched furniture that had been moved to the lawn outside the cottage. She had the book and the invitation in her hands, and was staring down at the photo on the jacket cover.

      Nate followed the direction of her gaze.

      Seamus Mitchell had been handsome and distinguished. Yet Brooke was regarding the photo with utter loathing and contempt. Not exactly the reaction Nate would have expected. “Are you okay?”

      She rose with quiet dignity. “No, I’m not,” she said frankly. “And you know why?” Bitterness underscored her every syllable. “Because I know what it feels like to be betrayed by a loved one, too!”

      Chapter Four

      Brooke hadn’t meant to blurt that out. But now that she had, she found she needed to unburden herself to someone who knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of such betrayal. Carefully, she set the book and the invitation on the chair she had been sitting on. “My husband didn’t just die of a heart attack.” That scenario would have been so much simpler to deal with. “He was in another woman’s bed at the time.”

      Nate responded with an oath that perfectly summed up Brooke’s feelings on the matter. Appreciating his empathy, she swallowed around the tight knot of emotion in her throat. She threaded both hands through her hair and continued with as much grace as she could muster. “The university didn’t want a scandal. And there would have been one had word about what really happened gotten out, since Iris Lomax was Seamus’s graduate assistant.” Brooke exhaled deeply. “So the head of the English department, Professor Rylander, told everyone—including me—that he and Seamus had been out jogging when Seamus had the coronary.” Her son still thought that was what had happened ….

      Nate gave her a look that said, Not cool. He reached over to squeeze her hand. “How did you find out that wasn’t the case?”

      In the worst possible way. Brooke lifted her gaze to his. “The nurse in the E.R. had no idea there was a mistress involved. She thought what the paramedics on the scene had initially been led to believe—that Seamus had been having sex with me at the time of his coronary. She had questions about Seamus’s medical history, including a very mild heart attack the previous year that I knew nothing about.” Brooke added with self-effacing honesty, “I have to say the way I reacted was not one of my finer moments.” She was still embarrassed about how she had completely lost it.

      Nate kept listening, his eyes kind.

      Needing him to understand, as well as needing to unburden herself, Brooke confessed, “I had come to terms with the fact that my husband flirted with women the way some people breathe. I just thought it ended there.” Her former naivete still hurt and embarrassed her. “Finding out it hadn’t, and that Seamus had been taking some performance-enhancing drugs to keep up with all his extramarital activity—despite the known risks to someone who had already suffered a mild heart attack—was pretty devastating.” She had been angry at her husband for his recklessness and his infidelity, and furious with herself for being such a fool.

      “Does Cole know any of this?” Nate asked softly.

      Relief softened the set of Brooke’s shoulders, worked its way down her spine. “Heavens, no,” she muttered emotionally. “He still thinks his oh-so-charming father walked on water.” Despite the fact that Seamus had barely known Cole existed, except on the few occasions when the Irish poet had trotted him out, to show him off and enhance Seamus’s own ego. “Which is why I don’t want to take Cole to the book party.”

      Nate’s eyes narrowed. “You’re afraid someone will say something,” he guessed.

      “Although many faculty members remain in the dark about the circumstances surrounding Seamus’s death, I have since come to realize some knew about his philandering.” She took a deep breath. “Some of them thought I knew and was turning a blind eye, to keep the marriage intact. Others actively covered for him when he was out carousing, and helped him keep his infidelity СКАЧАТЬ