But no matter how much she chose to believe—and her vibes hinted—a relationship with Marshall was imminent, reality pointed to another conclusion: Marshall Watters must be married or otherwise committed because he hadn’t even so much as telephoned her during the two week stay at the recovery hospital. The last time she saw him was when she collapsed in his arms in the little shanty in the middle of nowhere.
The voice of reason within rationalized she was simply a kidnap victim experiencing the aftermath of some form of Stockholm Syndrome. That was the only logical explanation. If there would have been something more between them, Marshall would have at least telephoned her. Wouldn’t he?
But her heart was quick to pooh-pooh the logical explanation. Maybe the reason he hadn’t called was because he was working undercover again and a phone call would blow his cover. Or maybe he had been sequestered while being debriefed. Or maybe he was ill. Or in a car wreck....
And suddenly there she was again. Back on the Marshall Watters’ wheel of fortune; he loves me, he loves me not. It was near maddening. Marshall Watters was all she could think about. Morning. Noon. And night ... especially at night.
Even as handsome Howard Dyson vigilantly remained at her side, practically day in and out while she was in rehab, providing that reassuring protection she so desperately needed and wanted ... and even as his arms affectionately engulfed her and she cuddled comfortably against his solid body, all she could see and feel was Marshall. At times she even went so far as to imagine Howard was Marshall.
About ten days ago when Howard stopped addressing her as “Miz Andrasy” and started calling her “Jewels,” should have been a clue. Howard was reading more into their hugging, touching and squeezing than she had intended. Yet, as unfair as it may be, even though she knew she was surely leading Howard to the impression she felt more for him than that of a big brother, she simply couldn’t help herself. Howard had become her substitute Marshall ... at least until the real Marshall appeared. But would he ever materialize?
Jewels decided if she couldn’t resolve this Marshall Watters obsession on her own very soon, she’d have to fess up her obsession to her therapist.
And Howard?
Of course the question really needing answered was: how soon was soon? At this point, Jewels had no idea and stared blankly out the window.
Belinda making the familiar turn into her driveway jerked Jewels out of her mind maze. An iconic yellow ribbon was wrapped around the trunk of each of the dozens of towering trees lining the drive to her home.
Perking up, “Everybody’s missed you so much,” Belinda gushed.
Restlessly Jewels pulled down the vanity mirror, double-checked her makeup. “I’ve missed everyone, too,” she said, a hint of tension in her voice. Dabbing away the slight shine on her forehead and cheeks with translucent finishing powder, she freshened her lipstick, Cover Girl Espresso. Nervously she fluffed the soft curls of her long blonde hair flowing across her shoulders and straightened the black V-neck tee tucked into her dark blue Rocky Mountain jeans. Stuffing the makeup bag back into her black leather shoulder purse, she gave herself a mental pep talk. Convinced herself she was ready to mingle. Though she didn’t want to admit it, she was troubled. Uptight. What if she wasn’t ready to set foot in the house? What if she walked in the door then freaked out in front of all of her friends? By the second her muscles were tightening. Breathing becoming more shallow. Damn. Maybe should have taken her therapist, Doctor Christensen, up on his recommendation for a prescription drug to relax her.
It had been nearly three weeks since she last basked in her personal sanctuary of peace, tranquility and security called home. Now, fear and doubt flooded her mind. Despite the deep conversations and numerous mind-relaxing and anxiety-coping drills with Doctor Christensen, dread still lurked within. Would she ever be able to walk into the kitchen without first reliving the horror of Boo-Boo’s slaughter? Would she ever be able to stay in that house again ... alone?
A big WELCOME HOME JEWELS banner spanned the width of the pretty white porch.
Several of the dozens of vehicles parked around her house she recognized. Secretly, she hoped there would be at least one vehicle she wouldn’t recognize but would really stand out.
Clueless regarding the type of car Marshall Watters drove, she imagined him behind the wheel of a fast, sexy sports car. A suped-up Mustang or Corvette. Black or red. Maybe even vintage. Her eye zeroed in on a shiny black Porsche. “Howard’s,” she whispered to herself. Other than that, no sports cars, vintage or late model, regardless of color. Of course, maybe he was a practical, conservative guy driving a nondescript Ford, Chevy, or Toyota, and there were plenty of those.
As Belinda pulled in front of the house, friends poured out the front door, mobbing the car as if she were a rock star. Jewels quickly skimmed the sea of smiles, hoping to find Marshall Watters’ face, but it was absent. “Who all did you invite?” Jewels asked.
Beaming, “Only about fifty, give or take, of your closest friends and a few others who really wanted to talk to you in person.”
Heart soaring, Jewels read a lot into Belinda’s in person comment. Could she be hinting about Marshall Watters?
“And everyone knows Doctor Christensen said the party can only last an hour, an hour-and-a-half at the very most,” Belinda said, cutting the engine.
“Thank you, Belinda. What would I do without you?” Jewels said, smiling adoringly at her secretary and dear friend.
Howard was the first to greet her. As usual, he looked like a million bucks dressed in a formfitting navy suit, tailored to hug every inch of his lean body. “Welcome home, Baby,” he said, lightly kissing her on the lips. Stepping aside, he waved his hand for her to proceed to greet her guests.
“Oh, Jewels, you look as radiant as ever. Welcome home,” Sarah Kimball, TV anchor and one of Jewels’ BFF’s said, hugging her.
“Welcome back....”
And so went the well-wishes as Jewels hugged and kissed her way through her friends to the front door. Those who had remained inside clapped and cheered when she entered.
The house smelled of luscious food: roasted turkey breast, honey-baked ham, scalloped potatoes and freshly baked rolls.
The two-story entry was filled with dozens of bouquets of flowers. Hundreds of multicolored helium balloons bounced freely around the room. Red and yellow crepe paper twisted together encircled the railing of the winding two-story staircase.
B98.7, her favorite radio station, pounded rock and roll hits in the background. The house was filled with the sound of laughter and good times. A combination frat party and wake, Jewels thought with a pleasant sigh, her face radiating joy. She was home. Home! And it felt terrific. Muscle tension suddenly gone. Apprehension once churning in her gut, gone. Just as Doctor Christensen had predicted, this party was all the prescription she needed to advance the healing process. Without a doubt, she now knew she was going to be fine.
After about an hour of mingling, laughing and enjoying the company of friends, amidst the party chaos a pretty black girl pushed her way to the front of the crowd gathered around Jewels in the spacious foyer. “Miz Andrasy?” she quizzed, extending her hand to Jewels.
The woman was dressed in a raisin-colored silk blazer and matching skirt. A white blouse with a picot edged collar and French cuffs peeked out from under the blazer. Pearl button earrings accented her ebony hair pulled back into a neat bun. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties. A law student or junior executive, Jewels assumed. “Yes,” she replied, shaking the girl’s outstretched hand.
“My name is Alexis. My father was Doctor Leo Callahan.” Sorrow filled the young woman’s eyes.
Flashing an empathetic smile, Jewels draped her arm around Alexis’ shoulder, guiding her away from the crowd into the solitude of the dining room converted to home office. “Your father loved you very much.”
Alexis shook her head. “I know,” she replied, slinking out from under Jewels’ arm of friendship. Focusing her a
ttention on the floor, she fidgeted with her skirt, ironing out imaginary wrinkles with opened palms. “I know what everybody’s saying about Daddy being mixed up with that group of murderers...,” her voice quivered, “I-I just wanted to say I’m sorry for what Daddy did to you. He really wasn’t a bad guy.”
Hugging the girl, Jewels’ eyes brimmed with tears.
The young woman sobbed.
“Alexis, there’s no need for you to apologize or to feel guilty. Your father was a good man. I knew it from the first time I met him,” Jewels whispered.
Continuing to cry, she clung to Jewels like a vine of ivy to lattice. “I know he did terrible things to you,” she lamented.
Jewels closed her eyes. Swallowed. Remembered Doc’s interactions with her. After a moment, she peeled the girl off, looked her square in the eyes. “I want you to know, despite whatever your father was ordered to do to me, he always treated me with as much compassion and kindness as possible in the situation.”
Forcing a smile, “You’re as nice as everybody said you were,” she said, brushing the tears from her face with the back of her hand.
Changing the subject, “So, Alexis, what do you do for a living?”
“I think I want to be a writer.”
Eyebrows elevating with approval, “That’s wonderful. Fiction or nonfiction?”
Alexis sniffled. “I want to write a story about my dad. I want people to know my daddy was a true patriot which is how he got suckered into that awful militia.”
“Let’s do lunch next week,” Jewels suggested. “I’d like to hear more about your writing aspirations and I’d like to learn more about you and your father.”
Alexis’ face brightened. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” Jewels rooted around the hobo style purse she had earlier plunked down next to her computer on the dining table. Pulled out a rectangular gold case. Opened it. “Just call my office and set up a time with my secretary, Belinda Parker,” she said, handing the girl a business card.
“You’re the best, Miz Andrasy!”
“Please, call me Jewels.”
Thanking Jewels again, Alexis scurried out of the dining room.
Glancing around the room, Jewels sighed. It felt good to be home. The healing process was moving forward. Alexis Callahan would help.
As if searching for a hiding child, “Jewels? Where are you?” Belinda called, popping her round head into the dining room. “Oh, there you are. People are asking for you,” Belinda said, her eyes flickering with excitement as she playfully grabbed Jewels’ wrist and towed her back into the crowd. “There’s somebody who really wants to talk to you.”
Could it be Marshall Watters? Her heart flip-flopped.
“Jewels,” a feminine voice called out from the living room, opposite the dining room.
Standing on tiptoe, she gazed over the wave of heads filling her entry. Long red hair bouncing atop a short head was plowing its way through the crowd toward her. “Lilly Rochester,” Jewels shrieked with delight, trotting over to meet her.
As usual, Lilly looked like dynamite. Shiny red hair gently framed her flawless face, which was made up perfectly. She wore a chestnut crepe pant suit over an ivory stretch lace shell accented with oodles of gold jewelry. Lilly had her emotional act together as well. For only two weeks passing since the funeral, she was handling the murder of her lover as well as could be expected. Probably better.
The two friends hugged long and hard. Then: “How are you doing?” Lilly inquired of Jewels.
Shaking her head back and forth, Jewels’ eyes teared up. “I’m so sorry about Jodie.”
“Oh, Honey, come here,” Lilly said, wrapping her arms around Jewels again. After a few seconds she shed Jewels off and held her firmly by the shoulders, looking her square in the eyes. “Jewels, it’s not your fault. Jodie died doing what she loved. Police work ... helping you.” Her voice was calm, reassuring and strong.
Forcing a smile, “You’re a rock, Lilly, such a good friend. Thank you for coming.”
“I wouldn’t have missed your welcome home party for the world.”
“Julia?” It was Belinda, again, motioning for Jewels to come into the living room and wildly pointing at her watch. It was nearly six-thirty.
Widening her eyes and shrugging, “I’m sorry, Lilly, I think the witching hour is approaching and I might turn into a pumpkin or something,” Jewels said with an odd little giggle.
Tilting her head back in laughter, “Actually, I think it’s the carriage that turns into the pumpkin,” Lilly corrected, rapidly flicking her wrist, waving permission for Jewels to move on. “We’ll meet next week. Maybe have dinner.”
“Call me,” Jewels said, miming a phone being held to her ear, as Belinda beckoned her away.
“Can I get everyone’s attention,” Howard said, raising his voice as Belinda ushered Jewels into the living room to stand next to him.
Gulping dryly, Jewels’ face heated up. Oh, God, please don’t let this be what I think it might be.
“Hello. Everyone. I need your attention, please,” Howard called again, raising his voice a little louder this time.
The crowd hushed, congregated around Howard and Jewels.
Addressing the crowd: “This is a special day. Jewels has survived a horrific ordeal and has come home and I want to thank each of you for being here for her.”
Everyone clapped. A few whistled.
Palms sweating, Jewels’ head felt helium balloon light, knees like rubber.
“Under doctor’s orders, this special evening has to end now, but I hope to make it even more special and I wanted all of you to be here as witness,” he said, then turned to Jewels.
Dropping to one knee, he pulled out a tiny black velvet box from his jacket pocket, opened it and presented it to her. “I know this is sudden, but Julia, your disappearance sent me into panic mode. Made me realize...,” he paused, eyes swimming in tears, “that life is too short and too precious not to be lived to the fullest every day with the most incredible woman in the world. Julia, will you marry me?”
Instant gasps of surprise and sighs of admiration floated up from the gathered crowd.
Gazing at the massive sparkling diamond, Jewels smiled sweetly, her body swayed for a moment, then fell forward collapsing in Howard’s unsuspecting arms.
“She’s fainted!” Belinda screamed.
After scooping up Jewels and lying her on the sofa, “I’ll call Doctor Christensen,” Howard said, digging his cell phone out of his jacket pocket.
• • •
ABOUT TWENTY MINUTES LATER. AROUND 7:00 P.M. All of the party guests had left except for Belinda and Howard, who diligently remained at Jewels’ side.
Sitting on the end of the living room couch, Jewels leaned her body against the arm with her legs curled to the side, propping them on the cushion. Howard stood next to her, his fingers relaxed on her shoulder. At the opposite end of the couch Belinda sat tall and stiff, obviously anticipating the worst.
“You’ve experienced vasovagal syncope....”
Whatever that was, it sounded dreadful. Jewels’ muscles tensed, shoulders visibly crunched up toward her ears. Horror consumed her face.
Belinda gasped. Automatically leaning across the couch cushions, she placed her palm on Jewels’ ankle, preparing for the other shoe to drop.
Howard gently squeezed her shoulder in support.
Mouth gaping slightly, Jewels gazed at the presumed bearer of bad news sitting in front of her: Doctor Neil Christensen, a tall, slender man in his mid-forties.
Leaning forward and gently patting Jewels’ forearm, “Nothing to worry about,” he said with a smile. “In lay terms, it’s called situation-induced fainting.”
An audible sigh of relief exited Jewels’ lips and her shoulders relaxed.
“Thank God,” Belinda whispered, swiping her forehead with fingertips and dramatically leaning back into the corner of the sofa as if exhausted.
Brows pinched with intrigue, “I had
a fainting spell?” Jewels quizzed with a little chuckle.
Nodding, his tousled sandy blonde hair bobbed about. “It’s very common. Occurs at least once in a lifetime to nearly fifty percent of the population and can be triggered by a scary, embarrassing or uneasy situation,” Doctor Christensen explained, his expression animated, eyes widening behind the gold-tone round wire frame glasses. “You’ve suffered a horrendous trauma and this being your first day home, I thought the party would be a good idea, but maybe we rushed it a bit,” he said, regret in his voice and on his face.
Shifting his stance and slightly waving like a student with a question, “Uh, I think I probably caused it,” Howard sheepishly admitted, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets, “I proposed to her ... in front of everyone.”
“In front of everyone? When Belinda informed me you had proposed, I assumed in private. I wish you would have consulted me about proposing before you did so,” Doctor Christensen said, his tone chastising. Lowering his head and peering over the rim of his glasses, he frowned. “And I really wish you would have told me you were planning to put her in a high pressure situation in front of dozens of her friends.”
Standing tall, “Indeed I should have. And I apologize to both of you,” Howard said, eyeing Jewels then the doctor, shame in his voice.
Neither Jewels nor Doctor Christensen immediately responded.
Rising from the wingback chair purposely set directly in front of where Jewels was seated, he eyed Howard. “Give her some space.” Turning to Jewels, “Take these tonight,” he instructed, handing her an amber colored pill bottle he pulled from his pants pocket. “They’ll relax you. Might even help you to sleep.”
Reluctantly accepting the drugs, “Okay, thank you,” Jewels replied.
Eyeing Howard, “I assume you’re staying with her tonight. She shouldn’t be left alone. And if she has another fainting spell, I want you to call immediately, no matter what the time of night,” he said, handing Howard his business card. “My private cell number is on the back. You can reach me twenty-four, seven.”
Mistaken Trust (The Jewels Trust Series) Page 43