She leaned against the door frame and smiled at him. "Hello."
Jarrod looked down at her in surprise. She seemed okay, but why wouldn’t she answer the phone? Why were all the lights off? What was going on?
"Hello yourself. Can I come in?"
"Sure, where’s the little chaperone?" Nikki looked behind Jarrod for Briana and almost fell over.
"Erika’s got her. They’re going through mail order catalogs." He rolled his eyes. "I can’t wait to see how much of my money they’ve spent." He walked by Nikki and caught a strong whiff of wine. He frowned. He could count the number of times he’d seen Nikki drink anything alcoholic on one hand. And each time she’d only had one drink, even when she wasn’t going to drive.
Nikki turned to lead the way over to the couch and tripped over the kitten. She tried to catch herself, but would have fallen on her face if Jarrod hadn’t caught her.
Jarrod’s frown turned fierce, something was definitely wrong. He led Nikki to the couch and sat her down before he let go of her arm. He turned on the lamp before he sat down and turned toward her. "Okay, what’s going on?"
Nikki blinked in the sudden light. She pushed her hair back from her face and smiled. "Nothing’s wrong. I’m celebrating."
"Yeah?" Jarrod raised his eyebrows questioningly. She nodded rapidly, her eyes glassy in the soft light from the lamp. "Why don’t you tell me what you’re celebrating and then we can both celebrate. Okay?"
Her face puckered in confusion. She didn’t really want to tell him, did she? She couldn’t seem to think straight right now. Just as she opened her mouth, what she would have said she never did figure out, Bunc started to climb up her bare leg.
She gasped in surprise and pain and grabbed the kitten from her leg. "You bad boy," she scolded lightly. "We're going to have to break you of that one of these days." She snuggled him up to her neck and he started to purr contentedly.
Jarrod turned the light up a notch and looked at her scratched leg. She didn’t even seem to notice the blood trickle down her leg from the kitten’s sharp claws. He went into the bathroom and found a bottle of disinfectant and some cotton balls.
He knelt by her feet and started to swab the scratches. "Hey!" She tried to jerk her leg away. "That stings!"
He grabbed onto her ankle and continued to swab. "It’s supposed to. Maybe it’ll help sober you up." He’d noticed the empty wine bottle and single wineglass on the kitchen counter on his way back to the living room.
"I’m not drunk," she declared loftily. "I just feel good."
"Yeah, right." Jarrod put the cap back on the bottle and stood up. He pointed a finger at her. "When I get back we’re going to discuss this celebration of yours. So be ready." He walked down to the bathroom to throw the used cotton balls away and put the disinfectant back in the medicine cabinet.
He turned around to find Nikki in the bathroom doorway behind him. She’d put the kitten down and had an odd look in her eyes. It was a combination of desire, relief, and grief.
Before he could say anything, she walked up to him and put her arms around his neck. She pulled his head down and started to kiss him. Even though he knew she wasn’t sober, knew he shouldn’t be doing this, he couldn’t stop his body from the inevitable reaction.
He put his arms around her gently and she pressed her eager body against his. She coaxed his lips apart and thrust her tongue into his more than willing mouth. With a groan he pulled her closer. It had been so long since he’d been with a woman and he’d wanted Nikki since he’d met her. She’d never been this willing or aggressive and the sensations were heady.
Reality intervened at this point. He realized that the reason she was more willing and aggressive was because of the alcohol. Disappointed, he pulled his head away and held her tightly to his body when she tried to move. "Stop it, Nicole," he said firmly.
Surprised at the tone of his voice and the use of her full name, she blinked up at him. "What’s wrong? I thought you wanted me?"
He let her go and took a step back. "I do want you. I just happen to want you when you’re sober and know what you’re doing. I don’t take advantage of people. You should know that."
"You wouldn’t take advantage of me. You know I’ve wanted you for weeks." She stepped closer to him and put her hand on his chest, slowly slid it down toward the waistband of his pants.
He sucked in a harsh breath at her touch, removed her hand, and held it away from his body. He led her down the hallway and sat her on the couch, then walked over to the love seat and sat down.
He looked her straight in the eye and said in an angry voice, "Tell me what’s going on. Right now."
Nikki looked at him, a cold slice of fear arced through her heart. This was one way to sober up quickly. It was also a way that might drive Jarrod away for good. Maybe she could avoid the subject. She looked into his eyes. If what she saw there was any indication, avoidance wasn’t a possibility. She’d avoided this subject for as long as she’d known him. Might as well get it over with.
"I got a phone call today from someone I knew a long time ago. Another lifetime ago." She started out slowly, as she tried to figure out how he would react to this story.
"I know. Erika told me." Jarrod continued to look at her as if she were under a microscope.
She took a deep breath. "My father’s finally dead. That’s why I’m celebrating."
Chapter 17
He raised an eyebrow. "Why would that be cause for celebration?" His voice was carefully neutral.
"Because he killed my mother when I was eleven." Tears filled her eyes. She heard him inhale sharply but couldn’t meet his eyes. "He’s been in a prison for the criminally insane ever since."
She continued after a deep breath, "He had a heart attack. He died early this morning."
Jarrod was in shock. No wonder she never talked about her parents. He stood up and walked over to the couch. He sat beside her and took her hand in his. "Tell me."
She looked up at him. The devastation he saw in her eyes made his heart ache. He’d never seen her cry before. The tears rolled down her cheeks in steady streams.
He wrapped his arms around her. "It’ll be okay." He soothed her with words and rocked her trembling body. When the tears had finally stopped, he pulled away slightly.
He grabbed several tissues from the box on the end table and mopped her face. He handed her another tissue and ordered gruffly, "Blow your nose." When she had complied, he turned her to face him. "Tell me."
She stared up at him and tears filled her eyes again. She took a deep breath, his hand clenched tightly in hers.
"My real name is Michelle Johannsen. Lainey really is my aunt but her real name is Janet Fredericks. We had to change our names after he was sent to prison. The reporters wouldn’t leave us alone and school was unbearable.
"We moved from Boston to California when I was twelve. We’ve never gone back. I didn’t know Lainey had kept in touch with one of my teachers, Amelia. She was one of the few people who stood up for me at his trial. She and Lainey became good friends before we left. Amelia still lives in Boston and she called today to let me know he was dead."
Nikki paused for breath. Jarrod rubbed his thumb over her clenched hand. "Go on," he said softly.
"I started the story in the middle. I guess I should start at the beginning. My mother, Jennifer, was barely eighteen and Lainey was barely thirteen when their parents died in a car wreck. There were no other living relatives.
"My mother got a job at a local diner to pay the bills. She wasn’t going to let her little sister go to a foster home.
"The diner is where she met my father. He was handsome and seemed quiet and kind. He came in every day for lunch. Pretty soon they started to see each other in the evenings and on weekends.
"He seemed to understand when she told him about her parent’s death and how she was the only one to take care of her sister. Within weeks he’d proposed and she’d accepted.
"They were married days later a
nd he moved into my grandparents house with them. Lainey said he was a lot of fun at first.
"I was born a little over a year later. The pictures I’ve seen of my parents when I was a baby seemed normal enough. Happy even." Her breath caught at the memories.
"My father was a blue collar worker. He’d do almost anything. Construction, plumbing, car repairs, welding." She swallowed heavily.
"Welding was where he ran into problems. They figured out, too late for him, that welding on galvanized steel produced toxic fumes, and caused problems with people’s minds. He was never the same after that.
"Lainey said the process was gradual. He went from a happy, loving father and husband to an unhappy, violent man.
"Most of my memories are of him as he screamed and yelled at me, Lainey, or my mother. Or him in a corner of the room as he sat in the recliner and scowled at everyone. They put him in psychiatric wards more than once. The few happy moments I remember are when he was there and on medication, or when he first got home and still took his pills like he was supposed to.
"Lainey left for college as soon as she graduated from high school. She had to work her way through because my father hadn’t been able to hold down a job for more than a week or two at a time for years. My mother supported us by working as a cook or a waitress or whatever she could find."
She sighed and ran her free hand over her still damp face. "If only he would’ve stayed on the medication he would have been fine. But he was too weak. He couldn’t face the things he had done while he was off the medication. So he wouldn’t take the medication because he didn’t want to remember. Then he’d do more awful things and when he was readmitted and remembered what he’d done, he wouldn’t take the medication again."
She laughed bitterly. "Pretty ironic, huh? What a catch twenty-two. It’s hard to believe that he’d choose insanity over reality when he knew what he was doing to my mother and me.
"My mother . . . she’s still a mystery. Why did she stay with him so long? Did she love him? Maybe she was afraid of him or felt sorry for him. Lainey said she used to be beautiful. What I remember of her doesn’t match the pictures I’ve seen of her before my father started having his problems.
"He made us both miserable and she just stayed there. I was eleven when I finally had enough and ran away from home." She paused long enough to swallow convulsively.
"The police found me, of course, and took me back. I told them the whole story of why I had run away. I guess they didn’t believe me. Or maybe they couldn’t or wouldn’t do anything about the situation. Anyway, when I ran away it helped shock my mother back to reality." Her voice settled into neutrality.
"The final blow was when he prophesied her death and took out an insurance policy on her life. She figured if she didn’t die on her own, he’d probably help things along, so she made plans to leave. Lainey worked in Chicago by this time and she promised to have tickets waiting at the airport for us. We would fly to Chicago and she’d meet us there.
"We were all packed and ready to leave when my father came home unexpectedly. He’d lost yet another job.
"When he realized we were going to leave him, he was enraged. He screamed and yelled horrible things at my mother and then stormed into their bedroom. He came out with a machete." She shuddered and Jarrod wrapped his arms tightly around her.
"I don’t know if she didn’t think he’d use it or if she just didn’t care anymore. It was the first and last time I ever saw her stand up to him. She didn’t back down, she didn’t cower, she stood there with her back straight and her head held high. When he drew back his arm and I knew she wasn’t even going to try and stop him, I ran and grabbed hold of his arm, I tried to stop him. He picked me up with his other hand and threw me against the wall.
"I was dazed and couldn’t even stand up. All I could do was watch him. When he was done . . ." she shuddered to a halt. Took several deep breaths then continued, "He came toward me. I tried to crawl away, but of course he caught me.
"He dropped the machete on the floor, picked me up and threw me down the flight of stairs. I was in a coma and not expected to live. After five days, I woke up to find my father standing over me. Needless to say, I started screaming like a banshee and blubbering that he’d killed my mother with the machete." Suddenly cold, she started to shiver.
"Lainey had called the house when we weren’t on our scheduled flight and the police had answered the phone. They said it looked like an intruder had broken in, killed my mother, and tried to kill me.
"She knew better. She flew to Boston on the next flight and tried to convince the police my father had done it. They had found out about the insurance policy, but couldn’t believe a man could murder his wife so brutally and try to kill his own child. They had no proof and they wouldn’t listen to what Lainey had to say. They thought she was just grief-stricken and wanted my father to be the scapegoat." His hand tightened on hers.
"My father was crazy, but he wasn’t stupid. He could sound very sane and be very convincing when he wanted to. There were people that knew him casually that thought he was just wonderful. Like the pastor of the church he went to and half the congregation.
"The police were inclined to believe him until I woke up and screamed his guilt. Then they found neighbors who testified that he had come home early and they’d heard him argue with my mom." She snuggled closer as she unconsciously tried to get warm.
"His family testified that I was a liar, a deceitful, ungrateful brat. Lainey and Amelia Richards testified that I was the most honest person they knew. They told the judge that I would evade the issue rather than lie about it.
"The jury was out for less than two hours and decided he was guilty. He had been calm all through the trial but lost it when the judge sentenced him.
"He stood up screaming and cursing. He admitted his guilt with one breath and denied it the next. He promised to kill Lainey and I when he got out. Along with the jurors, the judge, the district attorney, and his own attorney." She barely noticed the swear words Jarrod muttered under his breath.
"The judge sentenced him to life in a prison for the criminally insane on my twelfth birthday. It was the best present I could have gotten. Lainey sold the house, we changed our names, and moved to California.
"I had gone to see therapists before, during, and after the trial. When we moved to California, I refused to go any more. I turned into a hellion and ran with the wrong crowd for years. I stayed out late, drank, smoked, drove without a license, all that garbage. I never did get into drugs or theft, but everything else was fair game. I had one steady boyfriend through the later years. We were sexually active at too young of an age, but at least we were monogamous. During all this time I got straight A’s."
She laughed harshly. "If it hadn’t been for my photographic memory, I probably would have flunked out. After I graduated from high school, I went to Hollywood to make my fortune. I was too much of a rebel to be an actress, plus I wouldn’t sleep with anyone to get a part. I’d always loved fast cars, so I got into stunt driving. I was really quite good.
"After Richie, I quit stunt driving. I used some of the money that was left from my stint in Hollywood to buy the duplex. Then I spent the rest of the money to support myself while I got my masters degree, and started my own business. When I signed half the duplex over to Lainey she about croaked.
"She had worked her fingers to the bone to take care of me. She was only twenty-five when my mother died and she got custody of me. She had never married, never had a really serious relationship. Courtesy of my father, no doubt. Anyway, I figured she needed some time to do what she wanted to do and not have to worry about rent and the rest of the bills."
She smiled for the first time since she’d started her story. "Lainey went back to school. She wouldn’t and won’t let me support her totally, so she does some sewing and alterations out of her spare room. Most of the classes she’s taken are art classes. She’s really good. The ocean scene in my bedroom is one of hers. I wanted t
o hang it in the living room, but she wouldn’t let me. She threatened to take it back."
She closed her eyes and sighed heavily. "I’m not sorry he’s dead. I’m glad. I feel guilty since I don’t feel bad. But what I do feel most of all is relief. A tremendous freedom."
She rested her head on Jarrod’s shoulder and sighed. "I’m tired. It’s been a long day."
Jarrod sat with his arms wrapped around the woman he loved. Shocked beyond belief, he couldn’t say a word to save his life. What did you say to someone who had been through what she had?
A lot of things made sense now. Lainey’s comment that the reporters were going to bother them "just like last time." The fact that Nikki always took the stairs one at a time while she held on to the rail with a death grip. She never ran up or down the stairs. Sometimes she seemed to get almost dizzy when she would go down the stairs in his house. Even Briana had noticed the tight hold Nikki kept on the banister and had asked him about it.
Then there was her reluctance to get involved in a relationship. He knew that she cared about him and that she was as attracted to him as he was to her, so he had wondered why she was so leery of relationships. After the story about her father, he could understand why.
He pulled her into his lap and buried his face in her hair. He breathed deeply of the fragrant curls and tried to find something to say. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this kind of a situation. There just wasn’t an appropriate response.
He lifted his face from her hair, cupped her head with his hands. He tilted her head up and looked deeply into her eyes.
"I love you." His voice was hoarse and unsteady. "I don’t know what else to say, other than you are a truly a remarkable woman."
She looked into his eyes, surprised at the pain and unshed tears she saw there. Her heart overflowed with love. She’d never felt like this about anyone. Not even Richie. Especially not Richie.
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