have been even better if you had just killed yourself!â
Agony ! He writhed in semiconscious pain, fighting off this nightmare. If he could just scream, maybe it would go away. But he couldnât. He had to get up, had to run to Chadâs room, check that he breathed, as he had a dozen times a night since his son was born.
He had to touch that cherished little face with its serious expression, the dark brows all drawn down in deep baby thoughts. He would tuck the covers over the rounded posterior hunched up with knees drawn under. Heâd never understood how the child could sleep like that, but Chad had since heâd learned the trick of rolling over. The doctors had said babies should sleep on their backs, and heâd turned him over countless times during the night. But Chad determinedly returned to his favorite position until Seth couldnât bear disturbing him again.
He would go to Chadâs room, see that he slept soundly, that his favorite teddy awaited his waking, that he didnât get cold from the drafts in that spacious, elegantly decorated emptiness his wife called a nursery.
âDamn you, Seth, I hate you. I despise you, do you hear me? Youâve destroyed my life, destroyed your son, destroyed everything youâve ever touched. You deserve to die. Iâm taking everything, do you understand? Iâll take everything. No judge in the world will deny me. Do everyone a favor, including yourself; give up and die.â
The black clouds swept back again, obscuring little more than the sound of heels tap-tapping to the door. He could move his arm now. He could feel the pain of the needle piercing it. He wanted to jerk the needle out, get rid of this one irritating source of pain. Yet the pinprick in his arm scarcely compared to the agony in his heart.
The voice lied. Surely it lied. His son slept soundly in his crib, where he belonged. Heâd checked on him carefully, watched over him every minute. Nothing could happen to Chad. He wouldnât let it.
Despair choked a cry from him when he couldnât move his feet out of the bed so he could look one more time. He must see Chad. His son had just taken his first baby steps... when? Yesterday...
The piercing agony shot through him so surely, Seth woke.
Sitting up, he wiped sweat from his dripping brow. His head pounded and his arm throbbed just as it had that night over five years ago.
The nightmare wouldnât go away. He couldnât remember it now any more than any of the other times heâd woken in pain, straining at invisible bonds. But the bleakness and despair lingered for days.
He turned and checked the infant monitor beside the bed to make certain it worked. Turning up the volume, he could hear Chadâs labored breathing. He didnât have to go in there and bother his son. The boy was fine. He just had a cold.
But Seth couldnât rest easy until he made sure.
Steadying his shaking nerves, Seth grabbed a robe and padded barefoot through the darkness in the direction of his sonâs room.
***
Snarling at the morning light streaming through the foyer windows as it hit his sleep-deprived eyes, Seth halted in mid- stride at the tableau in the foyer below him.
âWhere the hell do you think youâre going?â From the loft, he noted his capricious assistant in jeans and what vaguely resembled a pirateâs billowing white shirt. Through the floor-to-ceiling window, he could see Chad and Doug waiting on the drive. âI didnât give you permission to go anywhere.â
âYou signed a parental permission form for a new doctor just the other day,â she reminded him. âI wangled an immediate appointment with one in L.A. Weâll be late if we donât go now.â
Stunned, Seth glanced from Pippa to his son sitting in the sunshine outside. Chad had never gone anywhere without him. Never. This beastly little elf was beyond presumptuous. He could strangle her. He needed
Agony ! He writhed in semiconscious pain, fighting off this nightmare. If he could just scream, maybe it would go away. But he couldnât. He had to get up, had to run to Chadâs room, check that he breathed, as he had a dozen times a night since his son was born.
He had to touch that cherished little face with its serious expression, the dark brows all drawn down in deep baby thoughts. He would tuck the covers over the rounded posterior hunched up with knees drawn under. Heâd never understood how the child could sleep like that, but Chad had since heâd learned the trick of rolling over. The doctors had said babies should sleep on their backs, and heâd turned him over countless times during the night. But Chad determinedly returned to his favorite position until Seth couldnât bear disturbing him again.
He would go to Chadâs room, see that he slept soundly, that his favorite teddy awaited his waking, that he didnât get cold from the drafts in that spacious, elegantly decorated emptiness his wife called a nursery.
âDamn you, Seth, I hate you. I despise you, do you hear me? Youâve destroyed my life, destroyed your son, destroyed everything youâve ever touched. You deserve to die. Iâm taking everything, do you understand? Iâll take everything. No judge in the world will deny me. Do everyone a favor, including yourself; give up and die.â
The black clouds swept back again, obscuring little more than the sound of heels tap-tapping to the door. He could move his arm now. He could feel the pain of the needle piercing it. He wanted to jerk the needle out, get rid of this one irritating source of pain. Yet the pinprick in his arm scarcely compared to the agony in his heart.
The voice lied. Surely it lied. His son slept soundly in his crib, where he belonged. Heâd checked on him carefully, watched over him every minute. Nothing could happen to Chad. He wouldnât let it.
Despair choked a cry from him when he couldnât move his feet out of the bed so he could look one more time. He must see Chad. His son had just taken his first baby steps... when? Yesterday...
The piercing agony shot through him so surely, Seth woke.
Sitting up, he wiped sweat from his dripping brow. His head pounded and his arm throbbed just as it had that night over five years ago.
The nightmare wouldnât go away. He couldnât remember it now any more than any of the other times heâd woken in pain, straining at invisible bonds. But the bleakness and despair lingered for days.
He turned and checked the infant monitor beside the bed to make certain it worked. Turning up the volume, he could hear Chadâs labored breathing. He didnât have to go in there and bother his son. The boy was fine. He just had a cold.
But Seth couldnât rest easy until he made sure.
Steadying his shaking nerves, Seth grabbed a robe and padded barefoot through the darkness in the direction of his sonâs room.
***
Snarling at the morning light streaming through the foyer windows as it hit his sleep-deprived eyes, Seth halted in mid- stride at the tableau in the foyer below him.
âWhere the hell do you think youâre going?â From the loft, he noted his capricious assistant in jeans and what vaguely resembled a pirateâs billowing white shirt. Through the floor-to-ceiling window, he could see Chad and Doug waiting on the drive. âI didnât give you permission to go anywhere.â
âYou signed a parental permission form for a new doctor just the other day,â she reminded him. âI wangled an immediate appointment with one in L.A. Weâll be late if we donât go now.â
Stunned, Seth glanced from Pippa to his son sitting in the sunshine outside. Chad had never gone anywhere without him. Never. This beastly little elf was beyond presumptuous. He could strangle her. He needed
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