Free Carly's Gift by Georgia Bockoven Page A

its paint-encrusted lock. He cursed the streetlight on the corner that threw more shadow than illumination, bent lower and tried again. The Taj Mahal Motel was a strong dose of reality, placing him in his past as effectively as the jog he’d just taken by his old house. The motel was more than a continent apart from the Ritz; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d stayed anywhere that didn’t have either a health club on the premises or access to one.
    Haunted by the look of sorrow in Carly’s eyes, the agony in Ethan’s and his own sense of loss, David had sought release in exhaustion. He’d put on the sweats he’d picked up at a local sporting goods store earlier that afternoon and taken off, determined to run until the only thing on his mind was the pain in his legs.
    It was a good plan; too bad it hadn’t worked. He’d stayed out an hour and a half until his lungs felt on fire from the cold air, and all he could think about was how Carly had looked when he’d told her he still loved her.
    The phone rang. For a brief, irrational moment, he allowed himself to imagine it was Carly.
    He made another stab at the lock; this time, the key slid in smoothly. The telephone was on its fourth jarring ring when he picked up the receiver. “Yes?”
    â€œDavid? You sound out of breath. What in the world have you been doing?”
    Victoria. His knees gave out and he sank to the edge of the bed. “Jogging,” he answered, guilt washing over him at his keen disappointment. For weeks he’d been adrift on the sea of his past, first with his father and then with Carly. Still, he wasn’t ready to be snatched back to the safety of shore. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand and added five hours. “Why are you calling me in the middle of the night? And why on this phone? Is something wrong?”
    â€œPrecisely what I was going to ask you,” she said, a note of reproach in her voice. “I’ve been trying to reach you for two days on your cell to see how you’ve been getting on and to give you my flight number. You did tell me you were going to pick me up yourself, didn’t you?”
    Actually she’d insisted he meet her plane, unwilling to trust that there were limousine services in a place as provincial-sounding as Cleveland, Ohio. “Hold on while I get something to write with.” He tossed the receiver on the bed, took a sheet of paper out of the drawer, then dug through his coat pocket for a pen.
    When he reached for the phone again, the paper slipped out of his hand and fell to the floor. He bent to pick it up and noticed a large brown coffee stain on the rust-colored carpet. From there his gaze swept the rest of the room. He shuddered to think how Victoria was going to react when she saw where she would be staying. Frowning, he put the receiver up to his ear. “You know, Victoria, I’ve been thinking that your coming here was probably not such a good idea after all. If you’re worried that it might seem strange to everyone at home that you didn’t come to the memorial service, you can just tell them that I was the one who insisted you stay home.”
    She let out a heavy sigh. “David, don’t be a bore about this. You know I would have been with you at the hospital if I could, but it’s been impossible for me to get away until now.”
    Her reaction startled him. He’d had no idea she’d even thought about joining him in Florida, and it had certainly never occurred to him to ask. Funerals were eminently more suited to Victoria than bedside vigils. “I only meant that it seems a little idiotic to fly all the way over here for a half-hour memorial service and then just turn around and fly back.”
    â€œOh, but I’m not.”
    David’s shoulders sagged. She’d obviously made arrangements for them to do something that would delay his return to England. Under normal