Intercepted By Love: Part Four Part 7

"I can't believe this is happening. Dad will be so proud of me." Andie hugged her mother and kissed the top of Bret's head.

"Are you going to be okay?" Andie's mother sounded reluctant to let her go. "If you're at all tired or feel disoriented, call me right away. The nurse went over symptoms, let me copy them down for Sylvia to watch for."

"Mom, you worry too much. I feel great." Andie's heart and lungs expanded with a surge of adrenaline and excitement. "I'm starting to remember. Declan was right. He said I'd dreamed of being an actress and that he got me the opportunity."

"Did you forget how he was just here calling you names?" Her mother corralled her.

"No, I didn't. But he gets that way when he's jealous. I'm not going to let him stop me from my dreams. Playing Michal is a dream come true-especially if the script's written from my most favorite book in the world."

"The Bible?" her mother reminded.

Ugh, almost. "Yes, sure," she said. After all, Michal's Window was loosely based off the Bible story, even if the author extended it with additional characters and questionable scenes.

"Great, then what are we waiting for?" Sylvia squealed. "Let's celebrate!"

"Remember, no drinking. You've had a brain injury," her mother reminded, as Andie pulled on her sneakers and bounded down the driveway with Sylvia.

Chapter Eleven.

Cade took his mother by the hand and led her down the pathway of the beachfront rehab facility. His gut and chest fumed and churned to yell at her and lecture her for ruining her life and leaving his son unattended.

But the look on her hangdog face and the way her shoulders slumped to the ground stopped him. The important thing was she'd agreed to stay at the rehab facility.

They walked across the sand, and he set the beach chairs down facing the water, close enough so that the edge of the surf lapped at their feet. He'd stay out here as long as it took to get answers.

"I'm sorry about what happened," Barb started as she dug her toes into the damp sand. "I shouldn't have left Bret alone."

"How did you score the drugs? That's what I want to know."

She shrugged and chewed on her lower lip.

Cade knew better than to push, so he stretched his legs and squished sand between his toes. The lapping of the water, rhythmically back and forth, the churn and bubbles calmed his breathing.

"I used to bring you down to the beach and dip your feet in the water," his mother said. Her eyes were glazed, staring into the sunset. "You'd squeal and laugh. Your feet kicking like little paddles."

Since when had his foster parents allowed his junkie mother to take him on outings? Cade hunched and unhunched his stiff shoulders to relax the sore muscles. He wasn't going to let her anywhere near Bret until she was completely clean-maybe an impossibility given the heavy addictive nature of heroin.

"You were adorable, smiling at me with that big gap in your mouth. It was my fault you were born that way. I took drugs you know."

Duh! Cade let out a grunt. He'd been told that story already-born both drunk and high-then going through withdrawal. Thankfully he had no memory of it. It was a way for his foster parents to lecture him to stay away from drugs.

It had worked. He'd also stayed away from his mother, refused to see her-refused her gifts-and ran away from the one foster family who'd tried to push him to spend time with her. He'd been eight or nine when that happened, right after the drug talk.

"I've never taken drugs." Cade let the water bury his feet.

"I'm glad. Smack is like the devil. He never leaves you nor forsakes you. He's always hooking his finger around every corner with his fake promises, but he always lets you down."

"I'll say. You OD'd. Where'd you get the stuff?"

"I don't know." Barb kicked her feet in the advancing tide.

"So, let me understand. The syringe and the powder just magically appeared, and you decided to take a break near the garbage cans?"

"Something like that. Bret was napping."

"He wasn't when I got home. His diaper was soaked, and he was sweating up a storm."

Barbara hefted herself from the beach chair and splashed toward the ocean until the water was up to her hips, wetting her shorts. Her shoulders heaved, and she covered her face as she let out a feral wail.

Anger roiled in Cade's gut, and he clenched his fists. He wasn't the cuddly, comforting type of guy. Not the way he grew up, emotionally closed, bounced from foster home to foster home. Let her suffer and burn in guilt. She deserved it.

He waited as the tide advanced. The thing about addicts, they were these poor, pathetic people, sucking up your sympathy, making promises they never kept. Emotional vampires.

The tide surged and water trailed underneath the chairs as the sun descended in a display of sheer beauty. Cade picked up the chairs and moved them, then strode through the surf to where his mother stood, up to her waist in seawater.

He dragged her back as a wave crested and slammed into her chest. "Let's go. You're obviously not going to tell me where you got the drugs. Bret's not enough of an incentive for you to quit, just like I was never enough."

"That's not true." She jerked her arm from him and headed deeper toward the breaking waves.

"Oh, no you don't." Cade caught her and lifted her with his arms around her waist. "You're not quitting on me now. Despite everything, I love you, and I'm not letting you destroy my life all over again."

She grabbed onto him, her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. "I don't deserve you. I never did anything to deserve you or the house you bought me or you letting me into your life."

"Well, you got me whether you want me or not. I've accepted it. The drug will always be more important to you than me or anyone else. If I have to keep you under twenty-four hour guard, I will. No one is going to give you drugs again, not while I'm alive."

"Put me down, and let me go." She kicked her legs, even as she held onto him. "I've ruined your life enough as it is."

"You should have thought about that before you opened your legs for my father, whoever he is. Too late now. I'm stuck to you because you're the only mother I have."

He left the beach chairs and carried his mother through dry sand and back to her room while she wept, her tears wetting his s.h.i.+rt.

"It's my fault you never got adopted," she sputtered as he set her on her bed, wet clothes and all. "I never signed the papers. You could have grown up the son of a Beverly Hills surgeon-your first foster mother. She wanted you badly, and she loved you, but I was too selfish. I couldn't let you go."

"It's okay, Mom. I'm glad I didn't grow up rich and ent.i.tled and turn into an a.s.s like my buddy, Ronaldo."

Barb ran her finger over his upper lip, tracing the cleft palate scar. "She did a great job. After you, she took in another child born with a cleft and adopted him."

He held his mother's face and examined the harsh life etched in every line and wrinkle. She'd sold herself short. "You were voted most likely to succeed in high school."

She snorted and rolled her eyes.

"You can still succeed, starting now, one day at a time. But if you don't, I'll still love you. I won't cut you off. I won't leave you nor forsake you, because dammit, I'm better than Uncle Smack. And I'm not making fake promises. This. Me. Bret. Andie. You. Family. This is where the buck stops, and nothing else is important."

"What did I do to deserve you?"

He kissed her forehead. "You kept me when you were pregnant. Now you're stuck with me."

"You know what I like about you?" Sylvia said to Andie as she flipped through the clothes rack at We the People, a trendy store full of hipster and Bohemian clothes.

"Isn't this expensive thrift shop clothes?" Andie eyed the distressed jeans and scarf edged tops.

Sylvia giggled. "As I was saying, what I like about you is you're so fresh. I can't say fresh off the boat, because you're like what, an Anglo? But yeah, you're kind of FOBish, in a white girl sense."

"You mean dorky and nerdy, but in a nice way." Andie held a daisy lace dress, completely see through except for the built in pink bikini bottom and top. "How's this going to keep you warm?"

"That dress is so you. Innocent and s.e.xy, very feminine. Try it on."

"Uh, it's like wearing a bikini with a lace sheath. Oh look, there's no back, it's just the bra strap."

"That's not a bra strap, silly. It's part of the top, see the triangles that cover your b.o.o.bs and the spaghetti shoulder straps? This is the band that holds it together. You don't wear a bra underneath."

"But hot pink under white lace? Everyone will think it's my underwear." Andie eyed the intricate daisies and the label declaring it a Venice column lace, whatever that was.

"Exactly the point. s.e.xy and innocent at the same time. Cade's eyes will pop out of his head," Sylvia exclaimed. "Believe me, ever since you swung into town, all the groupies and models in LA haven't been able to turn his head. You're all he sees and wants."

"Are you sure this won't portray a s.l.u.tty image?" Andie tried to hide the blush on her face with the dress. She had no idea what Cade had seen or hadn't.

"Absolutely not. Trust me." Sylvia took the dress and draped it in front of her. "You've got to wear this to the party."

"I thought we'd be twins," Andie protested.

"Voila!" Sylvia grabbed a black Venice column lace dress complete with red hot bikini bottom and triangular top. She waggled her eyebrows. "You're the angel and I'm el diablo. Ha, ha, ha."

"And we're jumping out of a cake? Why?"

"Because it's more fun that way." Sylvia patted her behind. "Seriously, Cade will cream in his pants."

Andie wanted to ask Sylvia how she knew what Cade would do in his pants and whether she'd ever seen them together, but that would be admitting she didn't remember any of their hot dates-if they'd had any. Cade seemed so sweet and respectful. It was hard to imagine a clean cut guy like him l.u.s.ting after a woman wearing hardly any clothes.

"Okay, let's try these on." Andie looked through the tags for her size. "You're so much slimmer than me. I better take a ten and a twelve."

"Get out of here, girl. You're no bigger than a six."

"Trust me, I know my measurements." Andie tapped her head. "I might have forgotten a lot, but I'm no model and my ribs don't stick out."

"Good, because he'll have such a time licking the frosting off of you." Sylvia twirled with the black lace number and disappeared into the dressing room.

Andie wished she had Sylvia's confidence on exactly what Cade would like or not, but she'd been fis.h.i.+ng in her mind all day, and for the life of her, she couldn't recall how they'd met, why their dogs got along so well, or why he, a pro football player with hordes of prettier and s.e.xier women, would proclaim to love her, a small town librarian with an obsession with ancient history.

Chapter Twelve.

Cade needed some alone time with Andie, but as soon as he got home, he rushed in to check on Pam and the baby. She was in the kitchen, and Bret was sleeping in his battery-powered swing with a dog on either side. The baby must have sensed his presence because as soon as the dogs perked up, so did Bret.

He turned his head toward his daddy and gurgled. Who could resist? Cade unbuckled him and brought him to his shoulder. "You've been a good boy today? I bet you have."

Bret said, "Ooog-laa."

Too cute. Cade kissed his nose, then headed to the kitchen where Pam was cooking.

"Thanks for watching Bret," he said. "How was your day?"

Andie was either upstairs or out, not that he had any business keeping tabs on her, but his insides were hollow, so it was likely she was not in the house, since it felt empty without her.

"Not too bad," Pam said. "Little guy's a charm. Eats well, sleeps well, and the dogs love him."

"Anything exciting happen?" He glanced around, looking for Andie's purse or shoes.

"Declan dropped by to insult my daughter, so I slapped him." Pam chuckled. "Left him a big, red beauty mark."

"Seriously? What did he say?" Cade figured he'd better watch what he said around Pam. Who knew she could pack a punch?

"Nothing I want to repeat." She stirred a pot of beef stew. "Andie's out shopping with a friend, and oh, there's a package for Barbara Prescott. I left it in the hallway."

"Barbara's my mom." Cade scratched the back of his neck. "She, uh, well, I don't know if Andie told you anything."

"Andie's lost her memory, so if there's something you need to say, spit it out." Pam gave him a no-nonsense look, the kind teachers leveled on misbehaving boys.

"She was living here until she OD'd. I have her in a rehab right now." He didn't figure it was necessary to mention exactly how recent the overdose was.

"I didn't know, but am glad she's getting the help she needs," Pam replied and turned to the refrigerator.

"Thanks for picking up the package," Cade said.