Fierce Love

by Danielle Stewart

“James,” Mathew coughed out as he righted himself. “Everything all right? I was just coming up to check on you.”

  “We’ve got a problem,” James said, pulling Mathew back into the elevator and hoping his friend who’d always come through for him would know how to fix this shitstorm.

  CHAPTER 29

  James wished he could block out the smell of cafeteria food. Canned pasta sauce mixed with the smell of old hamburgers was turning his stomach almost as much as the information his father had just laid on him.

  “You should have told me right away,” Mathew said, biting at the inside of his mouth. “The minute you got back from Peru you should have told me what was going on with the safety violations and cover ups.”

  “I was trying to keep you from being culpable. The less you knew the more protected from this you were.”

  “Save the bullshit,” Mathew snapped back, and James could tell he was more hurt than angry. “When has that ever been a consideration in anything we’ve ever done?”

  “Since you’ve become my friend,” James countered, but Mathew wasn’t interested in the proclamation of loyalty.

  “I gave up everything to come down to Texas and get behind what you had planned for West Oil. I put my name on all of this, and now you’re telling me this company is about to go under?”

  “Not if my father has his way, but that’s what I need from you. Help me come up with another way. My father wants to throw himself on the sword. He’ll take full responsibility for the crimes and lies and, because I’ve just found out about all of it, he thinks my hands will be clean.”

  “Are they?” Mathew asked, eyeing him skeptically.

  “Of course,” James answered quickly. “I knew nothing about this. But people like Arthur Wallace are spreading rumors that I did. He hates me. Libby went to him to look for answers, and he took advantage of the opportunity to say it was all my idea. But that’s all it will be, accusations. My name isn’t on any of this. My father wants me to come out, say we’ve stumbled upon this, and then throw him under the bus. He’ll confirm that I knew nothing, open himself up to the scrutiny, and likely go to jail. We can’t let that happen.”

  Mathew sat quietly for a moment, and James held out hope that he’d come to some miraculous solution that would help them all move forward unscathed. “He’s right,” Mathew said finally. “That’s the only way. It’s been done before and companies have survived under new leadership once it’s clear they had no association with the old issues. After an investigation West Oil could come back from this but only if all the old problems are associated with your father. It’s brilliant actually. He set this up on purpose. He sent you away and cut you out so that one day he could save you and the company.”

  “It’s not brilliant,” James argued, slamming his hand to the plastic hospital cafeteria table. “If he’d have kept me around I could have helped him get out of all of this.”

  “That’s not likely,” Mathew argued in his usual logical tone. “I don’t see any other way to move forward. But what I can do is call in some of the best Boston lawyers I know to defend your father. Corporate prosecution hardly ever ends in prison time. And with his failing health, I’m sure they’ll go easy on him. They’ll drain him of his personal assets, but it’s not like you’ll let him starve.”

  “He’s dying,” James said fiercely. “I lost a decade with a man who I just found out five minutes ago isn’t the heartless stubborn pain in the ass I thought he was. Now I’m going to watch him dismantle the life he’s built.”

  “By choice, he’s doing it by choice.”

  “Only because we haven’t found him an alternative. You aren’t even trying to think of some other plan.”

  “There are three options, James,” Mathew said in an even tone. “You bury these secrets and hope they don’t come to light. They haven’t for all this time. You keep paying the people your father paid. You keep making deals with the devil. Option two: you come out publically and claim you knew all along. You take the heat from your father and make him claim ignorance. Or, option three: you do what your father has invested a decade orchestrating.”

  “You say that like the choice is easy.”

  “No,” Mathew corrected, “I like being the guy who lays out the options and processes the facts and figures. You’ve always been the guy to make the final decisions. Just about every day of my life since we’ve met I’ve been thankful not to be in your shiny over-priced, uncomfortable shoes.”

  “You’re an enormous help,” James scoffed sarcastically.

  “I’ve always given you the odds, the stats, the options. Now you know what you’re working with. You need to decide.”

  “And if I decide to bury this, what does that mean for you?” James thought he knew this answer. Mathew was not the kind of man to compromise ethics.

  “I’ll get my shovel,” Mathew declared with a very serious look on his face.

  James should have realized the only thing stronger than Mathew’s moral compass was his loyalty.

  “I need some time to figure this out. There will be no way to unring this bell once we get in front of the press. If we do it, it’ll have to be strategic.”

  “Take some time,” Mathew said, patting the cool green surface of the cafeteria table as he stood. “I’m going to give Jessica a ride home so she doesn’t need to grab a cab.”

  “Really?” James said with a sly smile, glad for a bit of levity in a heavy moment.

  “Don’t even start. She’s not my type.”

  “Gorgeous isn’t your type anymore?”

  “She’s crazy. Like she could be clinically insane. Loud. Opinionated. Dramatic. She’s a handful.” Mathew averted his eyes as the list of reasons he didn’t like Jessica grew longer.

  “Right,” James said, sounding completely unconvinced. “I’ve known you a long time. You’ve dated kindergarten teachers, that girl from the bank, and a string of other perfectly boring women whose jobs I can’t even remember.”

  “Exactly, that’s how I like my women. Perfectly boring.”

  “How’s that working out for you?” James challenged with a smile.

  “I don’t need crazy,” Mathew argued. “No one needs crazy.”

  James let out a booming laugh and shook his head as though Mathew had no clue. “Everyone needs crazy every once in a while. Everyone.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Making love to Libby had been the only thing that seemed real. Everything else was a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. Pressing her naked body down on top of him, Libby kissed his temple and brushed back his hair. “You’re amazing,” she whispered.

  “This week is shit,” James sighed. “But you are still the best thing in my life.”

  Libby understood for the first time the term walking on egg shells. James was hurt. Confused. Nothing she could say would help him make the decision that needed to be made. Nothing would help him process the realization that it was love that alienated him from his father, not hate or disappointment.

  “Come with me to visit my mother today,” Libby suggested, as she slid back into her clothes and pulled her hair into a bun.

  “Why?” James asked, still lying in bed like a frustrated teenager. “I will if you want me to, but why?”

  “I’d like her to meet you. She’s been fairly lucid the last few times I’ve visited. She might even recognize me.”

  “All right.” James shrugged and with much effort pulled himself out of bed.

  A half hour later they were pulling into the facility where her mom lived. “Isn’t your mom young for dementia?” James asked, looking thoroughly nervous about this encounter.

  “She’s only fifty-six. It’s rare to have such an early onset, but it does happen. They don’t know if it’s linked, but in her late teens she suffered a head trauma in a car accident. They say the brain is a mysterious thing. They may never know what caused it.”

  “Is she ever upset? Like will seeing us upset her?”

  “Sometime
s,” Libby admitted. One of the hardest parts of watching her mother slip away was trying to comfort her when the confusion was just too much for her to wade through. “But I’m sure that won’t be the case today. Like I said, she’s been doing pretty well lately. She started on a new medicine; it’s not curative, but it’s helping.”

  “I don’t do well with this stuff,” James admitted as they walked across the long, beautifully landscaped entrance and opened the first set of double doors.

  “No one does,” she smiled. “But we still show up.”

  The security at a facility like this was daunting. The numerous passcodes, badges, and locked doors were all to keep the patients from wandering off, but to an outsider it felt claustrophobic.

  “Here’s her room,” Libby whispered, slipping her hand into James’s and tugging him forward. “Hello, Mom,” she said tentatively, holding her breath the way she always did when she entered, waiting to see if she’d be recognized.

  “Hello, Libby,” her mother sang back with a big smile. “What are you doing here?”

  She squeezed James’s hand so tight that he winced, but her excitement couldn’t be contained. This would be a good visit, and she’d have a chance to introduce her mother to James. “I want you to meet my friend, James,” Libby explained as they took a seat on the two small chairs at the foot of her mother’s bed.

  “Hello,” James said, immediately clearing his throat. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Saint-Jane.”

  “Oh, please call me Theresa,” she insisted as she made a move to get out of bed.

  “Stay, Mom,” Libby insisted, waving her mother back to bed. “Don’t get up for us. We just want to sit with you a while if that’s all right.”

  “Of course.” Theresa beamed. “But won’t you be late for science class?” she asked, looking worried as she checked the clock by her bed.

  “No, Mom, I’m not in school anymore. I graduated. I have lots of time to visit.”

  “Oh yes,” Theresa said, close to scolding herself for the mistake. “Of course you aren’t in school anymore. I tell you—my mind some days.”

  “It’s okay,” Libby assured her, patting her mother’s leg through the warm quilt spread across her lap. “We can just visit.”

  “I was thinking yesterday,” Theresa said, nodding her head as though the thought were becoming clearer by the second. “I think you should sell the house.”

  “No, Mom, it’s our house. I can afford it. I want to keep it.”

  “No you don’t,” she countered. “Why would you? You don’t work anywhere near it now that you’re in the city. It’s a terrible old house where things break all the time. Sell it.”

  “Okay, Mom,” Libby placated. “I’ll sell it.”

  “Good,” Theresa said triumphantly. “Good girl.”

  “You remember I work in the city now?” Libby asked.

  “Yes, for West Oil,” Theresa said with a scowl. “Jessica told me.”

  “Oh,” Libby replied, a wave of terror rolling through her body as she glanced over at James.

  “I think it’s good,” Theresa asserted with a clap of her hands.

  “You do?” Libby asked, not sure what could possibly make her mother think working for the company that essentially caused the death of her husband would be good.

  “Sure. You can change things there. You can take all the stuff that’s wrong and make it right. That would make your dad so proud. What better way to make a difference than right there in the middle of it? What a great opportunity.”

  A deafening silence filled the room. James and Libby could not look at each other, both too overwhelmed by the gravity of the moment that seemed to have risen out of thin air. How could a woman, barely able to remember her own name or what day it was, so sincerely cut to the heart of the matter that was hanging over them both? Wasn’t this the point JW had been making? A clean slate, working at it from the inside would be the only way to change anything. James could get out from under the old deals and lies. Libby could get out from under the anger and pain. Together, from the inside, James and Libby could shape West Oil into something that helped people rather than hurt them. What a great opportunity.

  “I thought for sure you’d be mad,” Libby said, finally breaking the silence. “They took a lot from you.”

  “One day, if you choose to have any children, you’ll understand. There is no amount of pain, anger, or sacrifice I wouldn’t endure for you to be happy. There was nothing your father and I wouldn’t do for you. If you can work there and find peace, how I feel doesn’t matter. That’s what parenting is, lifting your children up so they can have a better view of the world than you had. So they can have an adventure you didn’t get to have. So they can accomplish the things you weren’t able to accomplish.”

  Silence filled in the spaces between them all again. There were no words big enough, good enough, to explain to Theresa how right she was. How timely her sage advice was.

  “Do you want to play cards, Mom?” Libby asked finally when the awkwardness grew too great to overlook.

  “Of course,” she said with another joyful clap. “Wheel that table over. What do you know how to play, James?”

  “Um,” James looked thoroughly terrified now, and Libby felt compelled to save him.

  “I’m thinking James is more of a blackjack kind of guy. But I bet we can teach him some cribbage.”

  “Oh, you’ll love it,” Theresa exclaimed as she propped a few pillows behind her back and clicked on the light behind her bed. “I’m so glad you came to visit today—” Her face went blank and scared for a moment as she searched for the right thing.

  “Libby,” she whispered to her mother. “It’s me, Libby.”

  “Of course it is,” Theresa said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’m so glad you came to visit me today, Libby. I’m so happy.”

  CHAPTER 31

  It had been even worse than James had imagined. His father’s face was plastered on the cover of every newspaper, his name buzzed through the television. People came out from decades of history with West Oil to join the rally cry that JW was a master manipulator. A monster. Suddenly everyone who’d ever known him had a voice that needed to be heard.

  With Mathew and Libby by his side, James stood before what felt like a thousand news cameras and did just as his father had asked. He distanced himself even farther from the man who’d given him life. He denounced his father’s behavior. His crimes. Scrutiny rose up in the crowd, skepticism was thrown like harpoons directly at James. But none struck him. There was nothing tying James to the crimes. His father had made sure of it. His only job was to stand before the crowds, the employees, and the industry leaders and ensure them that West Oil was turning over a new leaf. He would lead them to a place of ethical high ground and soaring profits.

  “I need to get face time with Asher Barrington or his partner, Brice Henderson, before the week is out.” James knew he was repeating himself. He’d already made this statement about a hundred times. Surely Mathew and Libby were tired of hearing it. “The window of time for me to make my pitch to him is closing.”

  “I’m telling you his assistant, Lena, is like a firewall. I’ve tried everything possible to get her to just pass a message along to Brice Henderson. I’ve used every trick in the book, but she won’t budge.” Libby looked like a pitiful failure as she tapped nervously at the conference table between them.

  “I’ve reached out to every contact we have. Apparently everyone at B&H Advanced Engineering is being tight-lipped and working like dogs in Trundaie. We need some other way to reach out to them.”

  “To who?” Marissa asked as she fluttered into the conference room with a plate of sandwiches from the deli downstairs.

  “You don’t need to bring us lunch every day.” James sighed as he took the tray and realized he hadn’t eaten in about twelve hours.

  “You say that every day, and every day I keep coming. Which one of us will give up first you think?” Marissa moved aro
und the room sliding plates over to each of them and then placing a napkin in their hands. It looked as though any moment she’d start cutting the sandwich into bite size pieces to feed them. “So who are you trying to reach?”

  “It’s just business, Aunt Marissa. You’ve been a great help, but you really don’t need to be doing all this.”

  Marissa ignored him and turned toward Libby as though she were the only person in the room with enough sense to just answer her. “Who?”

  “Asher Barrington or Brice Henderson,” she replied obediently. “They own a company and James would like some face time with them. But their office is pretty much impenetrable. We can’t seem to get through the gatekeeper.”

  “Is now the right time to reach out?” Marissa asked, now looking at Mathew. “It’s very tumultuous.”

  “Yes,” James boomed, sounding annoyed. “It’s the right time. I don’t need B&H forming an opinion based solely on media garbage. I want an opportunity to see them face to face. From what I hear about Asher, he’s the kind of person who can read a man well.”

  “Then go to the fundraiser,” Marissa said with an airy shrug.

  “What fundraiser?” James asked, pushing his sandwich aside and glaring at her.

  “Tabitha Williams is flying to Boston this weekend for the annual Saint Jude charity event. It’s put on by Sophie Barrington; isn’t that Asher’s mother?” Marissa pushed the sandwich back in front of her nephew with an insistent look. “I’m sure she makes her son go.”

  Three laptops flipped open and chatter split the room. “There are still tickets available,” Libby chirped out as she clicked her keyboard.

  “I’ll book the hotel,” Mathew said hurriedly. “This might actually work.”

  James stared at Marissa like she was a magician who’d just pulled his card from the recently shuffled deck. “You are something else,” he breathed out with a smile.

  “Eat,” she insisted, slamming his laptop closed and pointing at the sandwich. “All of you eat. And Libby, when you’re done come see me. I have a friend at a dress shop who would die to be able to dress you for this event. James and Mathew, I’m assuming you each have a tux?”