“Where’s she staying?” Char asked.
“At Cooper’s house in Malibu. Mom said she goes walking on the beach every day and she’s never felt healthier.” She smiled, picturing her once illness-infatuated mom drinking smoothies and power walking on the sand. “Apparently Coop’s neighbor is completely taken with her, but she claims he’s too old for her.”
“Rollie is who Coop wanted to invite to our wedding but couldn’t reach in time,” Libby added. “Apparently he was in the hospital for some minor health scare. His doctor has made him clean up his act, Coop said.” She looked at Jenna. “You could go to California with us, you know. See your mom. Confront Shane.”
“Yeah,” Char said, swiping her hands together as if it was a done deal. “Visit your mom, then while you’re in the neighborhood, you could drop by Shane’s to give him a piece of our minds.”
Jenna started to laugh. She wasn’t the kind of person who made spontaneous trips halfway across the country on a whim. Her friends knew that. But within seconds Jenna could see that the others were taking the idea seriously.
“What’s keeping you here?” Kat asked. “The Mystery Spot is doing better than ever thanks to all the free publicity. And the girl you have managing the place is awesome, right?”
Jenna nodded. “Theoretically, I could go. But why would I? In his letter, Shane made it very clear he doesn’t want anything to do with me. Can you picture anything more humiliating than throwing myself at a man who rejects me, not once, but twice?”
Libby rocked back in her father’s chair. “Well, yes, actually. You could have had your mistake turned into a television show for millions of people to laugh at each week.”
She leaned the talking stick against the wall, then looked at Jenna. “Cooper and I were at the airport when Shane left. Even given the fact that he’d been in an accident and lost his brother, he looked like a soul on the fast track to hell. He’s hurting, Jenna. And so are you.” Tears appeared in her eyes and immediately started to trickle down her cheeks.
“Hormones.” She sniffled, reaching for the box of tissues Jenna had needed earlier. “Coop and I both think you should come with us. You can use your mother as an excuse if you want to save face, but we’re both concerned about Shane. We think you might be the only person who can shake him out of his depression.”
Jenna shot to her feet. “Damn it, Lib, the guy has a right to be depressed. He’s lost his entire family. And his identical twin turned out to be a genuine psychopath. If Shane’s not entitled to mope, who is?”
Kat cleared her throat tentatively and said, “Um…I’m no expert, but I’ve taken several courses in psychology. And I don’t think Adam fits the classic definition of psychopath. He was definitely amoral and destructively self-focused, but he wasn’t a Jeffrey Dahmer. From what you’ve said about Shane’s family life, I think his father might have been a big part of Adam’s problem.”
Char chugged a swig of coffee, then set her mug down with an emphatic snap. “Well, I consulted a shaman about this. We don’t call them medicine men anymore,” she added, “but this guy sees things we ordinary people can’t. Dead-on spooky stuff with amazing accuracy. So, I told what little I know about Shane and Adam and asked him how one twin could turn out normal while the other did really bad things.”
She paused for dramatic effect, looking at each of them to make sure they weren’t scoffing. “And he said that while these two were born to the same mother, they are not brothers. Their paths have crossed many times in previous lives…as mortal enemies.”
She squinted slightly as if trying to recall the shaman’s exact words. “Shane might have been the lawman who hunted down Adam and hung him from a tree. Or they could have been soldiers who killed each other in combat. That might explain how they entered the unconscious stream at the exact same moment and wound up sharing a womb.” She made it sound so simple and plausible. “The shaman stressed that this was a fluke. They definitely are not half of the same whole.”
Jenna knew that. She’d known it before she spent the night in Shane’s arms, but getting him to believe it was a task beyond her abilities. She wasn’t a shaman. Or a psychiatrist. How could she make him see himself as she saw him? As a big, lovable Bernese mountain dog who would sacrifice his own happiness to ensure that she had a wonderful, whole life—complete with kids.
Bernese mountain dog. She inhaled sharply, causing her friends to look at her in alarm. “When I talked to Mom yesterday she said she’d just run into a woman walking two Bernese mountain dogs on the beach. The lady said the female was from Switzerland but the male came from a breeder in Bakersfield.”
“So?” Libby asked.
“So, I know what I have to do.” Jenna smiled for the first time since that horrible day in front of the police department. “Your intervention worked,” she said, getting up to hug each of her friends. “Libby, I’m going to California with you and Coop. I need to see a man about a puppy.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SHANE’S HEAD POUNDED with what had become an all-too-familiar pattern in the ten days since he’d left South Dakota. He’d run out of prescription painkillers a week ago and hadn’t bothered contacting his primary physician despite the fact that the debilitating headaches came with predicable regularity morning, noon and night.
Allergies, he thought, closing the patio door on the backyard oasis he loved. Maybe he’d invest in a whole-house air purifier. He’d stay cooped up inside like Michael Jackson or Howard Hughes.
But the more likely culprit, he knew, was stress. He’d had to deal with a ton of it since his return. He’d learned to juggle his PDA and iPhone like hot potatoes. He got more e-mail every day than the damn government. And, unfortunately, the press had decided his brother’s sordid story did indeed make for good copy. Not that they knew all the details, thank God, but that didn’t stop them from speculating.
Especially about Jenna. Which meant he saw her beautiful face on every tabloid news show and supermarket scandal sheet.
Jenna—the woman Coop wouldn’t stop talking about. He’d just arrived to go over his lines for rehearsal the next day.
“Libby and Jenna are like this home makeover tag team. Jenna’s got a notebook that she carries everywhere, and every time Libby says something like ‘Good Lord, look at the size of his vodka bottle,’ she writes it down,” Coop said, pacing between the kitchen and the family room bar where Shane was standing. “She’s not working for you, right? So what’s with the notes?”
Shane almost smiled. Coop’s house had been the party place for many years, and a liberally stocked bar was probably the least of Coop’s problems where Libby was concerned. He didn’t know why Jenna was taking notes, but he could imagine why she found the whole thing amusing.
“So, Bess and Jenna are both living with you?” he asked, adding a banana to the blender. He’d been working on making a smoothie before Coop had shown up.
“Yes, although Bess has an agent now, and she’s gone a lot,” Coop said, plopping down on a stool. “Talk about hitting the ground running, that woman is going for it, man. Did I tell you she’s up for a cosmetics commercial? They’re thinking it could turn into something big if Sentinel Passtime is a hit.”
Shane put the lid on the blender and punched the switch. Neither spoke until Shane was done emptying the contents into two glasses. He added a straw to one glass and passed it to Coop.
Coop took a drink. “Um. Good. Since when did you start eating so healthy? Wait. Don’t tell me. Jenna rubbed off on you. I swear she and her mother are more Californian than we are.”
Shane stuck a straw in his glass and took a long draw before turning to the sink to rinse out the glass carafe. He’d actually talked to Bess a couple of times since getting home. She’d called to express her sympathy for his loss. She’d also left him with the impression that her daughter hadn’t mentioned anything to her mother about their one night together.
Just as well, Shane thought. Still, he was a little surpri
sed. Jenna and Bess had seemed close. He hoped his actions hadn’t done something to change their relationship. One more thing to feel guilty about.
“Can I get you anything else?” Shane asked, carrying his glass to the low table beside the buff leather sofa. “I’m gonna take it easy while you read.” He sank onto a cushion and kicked out his feet.
Coop took another drink, almost draining the glass, then set it aside. “No, thanks. I’m good. Libby and Jenna and Bess are meeting me and Rollie at Rollie’s favorite restaurant for dinner later. I’d offer to add you to the reservations but since you haven’t left the house since you got back—”
“Not true. I’ve been on the set every day.”
“I meant socially.”
Shane changed the subject. “What did you do for the Fourth of July?” Coop and Libby, along with Jenna, had returned on Wednesday, which had given Coop just one day to meet the other cast members and do a very casual read before the holiday, which fell on Friday. Now he was here on a Sunday trying to play catch-up.
Coop shrugged. “Same as usual.”
In the past, they hung out on the beach together, with maybe a dozen or so of Coop’s friends around, to watch fireworks from Coop’s deck. He understood why he hadn’t been invited to this year’s gathering—Jenna was there. Still, his feelings were a little hurt.
“What’d you do?” Coop asked, not bothering to glance up from the script.
“Took a painkiller and went to bed early.”
“Hmm.”
Shane wondered what Jenna thought of L.A. The urge to call her was probably what was fueling his headache, but he was determined to stay strong. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “How is she?”
Coop lowered the bound set of pages he was holding. “Jenna? Great. She loves the beach. She and Lib are madly converting my old workout room into a nursery slash temporary guest room for Auntie Jenna.”
“I thought I was going to be Uncle Shane to the kid.”
Coop cocked his head in confusion. “You are. Did you want to be his or her aunt, instead? Is there something you’re trying to tell me? Like maybe you’re switching teams? Oh, God, is that the real reason you and Jenna broke up? You’re gay?”
Shane made a vice of his hands and squeezed his head, hard, to keep it from exploding…until he spotted his friend’s devilish grin.
He let out a sigh. Maybe if he saw her, he thought—just to make sure for himself she was okay—his headaches would go away. One less thing to worry about, right?
“What time is your reservation? Maybe Libby and Jenna could drop by here for a drink before you have to leave,” Shane heard himself suggest.
Coop’s attention was back on the page. “Can’t. They’re in Bakersfield.”
“What’s in Bakersfield?”
“Excellent question.” Coop’s head popped up, trademark grin in place. “Same one I asked. Do you know what my wife told me? That I was on a need-to-know basis, and I didn’t need to know. Doesn’t that sound like something her character would say?” His smile turned pensive. “Women speak their own language and I’m not bilateral.”
Shane bit down on his lip. He didn’t know if Coop was trying to make him smile or not, but some of the funk that had been following him around lifted. Jenna was here. She and Libby were doing things, and that was good. She wasn’t sitting home feeling sorry for herself, the way he was.
Cooper walked to the manly looking Bogart chair across from him and sat. He hunched forward, his brow knit. “I like Jenna. And her mom is a hoot. But Libby and I have only been married for two weeks. And I know I’m supposed to be working. That’s why I’m here with you instead of home in bed with my wife, but I couldn’t be in bed with her anyway because she drove to Bakersfield this morning on a secret mission. And apparently I’m persona non loopus because they think I’d tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“If I knew, I’d tell you. See? They’re right. I can’t be trusted.”
Shane rubbed his temple and closed his eyes. What did it matter where Jenna was or what she was doing? He’d walked away from her and the love she’d given so freely. But love came with strings. He’d always known that, and he wasn’t about to let her get bogged down in his.
No, they wouldn’t meet for drinks or lunch. They wouldn’t see each other and pretend everything was okay. Because it wasn’t. It would never be okay again because he couldn’t marry the woman he loved. Hell, he barely managed to hug Libby goodbye when he left Rapid City, and she was the nicest woman in the world, next to Jenna. But she was also pregnant, and he was never going to be able to see Jenna glowing as radiant as the Madonna with their child growing inside her.
“I don’t like this line,” Coop said, pointing to the page. “It doesn’t sound like my character.”
“Read it to me,” Shane said reaching for his laptop, which sat open on the burl wood coffee table.
“What’s wrong? You’re moving funny. Got another headache?”
A life ache. “Yeah. I keep forgetting to call that doctor in Rapid to get him to renew my prescription.”
“Oh. Sorry. So, um…page thirty-seven. Midway down. Cooper is talking to his agent, Wiley—love the name, by the way—and he, um, I say, ‘So, the deal costs me a little sperm. So what? It’s not like I’m using it at the moment. Most of the time it just winds up going down the drain of my shower.’” He looked up. “Can we cut that?”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want my kid to watch this some day and think I, um, masturbated.”
Shane blinked. “Those are your words, Cooper. You said them to me when you first talked about answering Libby’s ad. I didn’t make that up.”
“I know, but I’m gonna be a dad, Shane. I have to think like a dad, not some goofy playboy actor.”
The pain in Shane’s head tripled. “You’re going to be an unemployed actor if you don’t stop this nitpicking.”
“But, Shane, what if it was your kid?”
My kid.
The silence between them grew to a ponderous weight that finally caught Cooper’s attention. He blinked in surprise as if his words had finally caught up with him and tapped him on the shoulder, saying, “Uh, mister, you’re an insensitive jerk.”
Coop groaned and walked to where Shane was sitting. He put his hand on Shane’s shoulder. “Sorry, man. I’ll say the line. Just like it’s written. You’re right. It’s dumb to worry about something that might not even happen—especially so far in the future, right?” He set the script on the table and started toward the patio. “Can we take a break? I wanna call Libby and see if she’s okay. Can I bring you a beer or anything?”
Shane didn’t shake his head for fear of setting off the pain again. “Yeah. A shot of tequila.”
He was only half joking. He didn’t normally drink in the middle of the day, but the temptation had been growing.
He let his head fall to one side of the soft cushion. He could see Coop outside, on the phone. Smiling that goofy, guy-in-love smile.
What if Coop’s right? he suddenly thought. Maybe I am making too much of something that might not even happen. I could be sterile. Or Jenna might not even want a family. We never talked about it. God, I’m such a self-centered jerk. I didn’t even give her a chance to tell me to go to hell.
When the pressure behind his eyes became too great to bear, he got up and walked to the cabinet in the kitchen where he kept his sparse supply of over-the-counter painkillers.
He might not be able to get rid of the source of these headaches, but he’d do his best not to feel a thing—for a few hours.
“HE’S GORGEOUS, isn’t he?” Jenna asked of her two travel mates. Libby was behind the wheel of Rollie’s magnificently restored classic Woodie Station Wagon. Her mom was in the passenger seat, and sleeping peacefully in a mammoth dog crate in the rear area was her dog. Not the puppy she’d planned to buy, but the answer to her prayers, nonetheless.
“He’s perfect,” Libby said, gl
ancing in the rearview mirror. “Can we not talk about him, though? Every time you do I start to cry, and the traffic is picking up.”
Jenna tried not to pout. But her friend was right. The eleven-month old Bernese mountain dog that had just set her back enough cash that her father would have been tossing and turning in his grave if he hadn’t been cremated, had three paws on the proverbial banana peel when Jenna showed up.
“You cannot kill this beautiful animal,” she’d shrieked—honest-to-goodness yelled—at the surprised breeders who had expected her to walk away with a squirming little ball of fluff.
Instead, she’d been drawn to a solitary dog sitting in the sweltering heat beside a bowl of untouched kibble. He’d watched her the whole time she and her mother had walked around the beautiful, clean facility. Libby, who’d never gotten past the puppies and the owner’s ten-month baby daughter, hadn’t been present when the breeder, Dick Jensen, told Jenna the dog’s harrowing story.
“His name is Luca. We can’t breed him and we don’t feel right selling him,” said the man who was a long-haul trucker in his day job. He and his wife, Dianna, had fallen in love with the breed and started raising the animals for sale ten years earlier. This was a hobby they took very seriously. And all of the animals she’d seen were well cared for—even Luca, who didn’t display any of the lighthearted charm she’d seen from the breeding pair of adult dogs on the property.
“What’s wrong with him?” she’d asked, approaching the pen set under a sprawling oak tree.
“Not a damn thing. He’s had all his shots. The vet says he’s one-hundred-percent healthy. But…well, it’s a long story. I won’t bore you.”
She hadn’t been bored. In fact, midway through the saga she and her mother had looked at each other with tears in their eyes and nodded. They’d both known this dog was the reason they were there.
The change of plan meant a side trip into the city of Bakersfield to a pet-supply store to buy a bigger crate and another stop at Costco for a couple of giant-size bags of dog food. Then they were on the road. Luca settling into the plastic travel container as if he understood completely the reprieve he’d been given.
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