Mysterious

by Fayrene Preston

  If the bullet had struck him, Jerome couldn’t have been more shocked. "What did you say?" he asked slowly.

  "Leonora Mailer. She’s your mother, Jerome," Phil said quietly. He was holding a handkerchief to his nose. It looked as if it had been broken and already his lip was beginning to swell from a deep cut. Someone approached him with an offer of aid, but he brushed them aside.

  The attendants were lifting Leo onto a stretcher.

  "That’s impossible," Jerome denied vehemently. "My mother’s dead. And besides, Leo doesn’t resemble my mother in the least."

  "You were a child the last time you saw her," Phil reminded him. "We tend to expect that people we don’t see for a long period of time will still look the same as the last time we saw them. But we forget that time has a way of changing even stone."

  The attendant looked from one to the other. "You can follow us if you like, but we need to get going."

  Jerome nodded dazedly. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be. And yet. . .

  "I’ll drive you," Jennifer said.

  "I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Jennifer." Brewster had joined them.

  Disoriented, Jerome turned on Brewster. "Who are you?" he snarled.

  "Brewster, NDO." He held out ID for Jerome’s inspection. "Well need Jennifer for questioning, plus her brother is eager to see her."

  "Richard?" Nothing was making any sense. Richard was alive, and Leo was supposedly his mother? It was as if the world had suddenly been turned upside down, and he wasn’t sure what he should hold on to. Jerome’s head jerked toward the stretcher being wheeled out the door, then back to Jennifer. "Is that all right with you?"

  "Yes. You go on."

  He hesitated. "Are you okay?"

  She wanted Jerome to hold her, to still her tremors, to be happy with her that Richard was alive. And she wanted to put her arms around him, to comfort him until that dazed look left his face, to help him understand about Leo. But they both had responsibilities. She couldn’t stand in his way any more than he could in hers. She said. "I’m fine, Jerome. Go on. Leo needs you now."

  Chapter Nine

  The antiseptic smell of the hospital assaulted Jerome’s confused senses. The lights seemed too white and too bright, and the people seemed alien and almost hostile. Phil had driven Jerome to the hospital and they arrived right behind the ambulance.

  Leo was immediately wheeled into an examining room, and Jerome and Phil were shown to a reception area, where someone waited with a clipboard full of forms. After surveying all the blank spaces to be filled In, Jerome shoved away the clipboard in anger. "I don’t know any of the answers, dammit!"

  "Give it to me." Phil suggested quietly, "and I’ll fill in what I know."

  The first shock waves had begun to recede, and Jerome’s throbbing head was clearing somewhat, leaving behind a terrible anger. He rounded on Phil. "Who the hell are you anyway?"

  "Just a friend of Leo’s, that’s all."

  "Just a friend! Yet you know more about her than I do."

  Phil returned Jerome’s stormy stare impassively. "I know that she’s a good lady who has a lot of friends."

  Jerome ran his hand around the back of his neck, experiencing a strange agonizing disappointment. For five years she had been within touching distance. He cursed silently. If it were true that she was his mother, why hadn’t he known it? Why hadn’t she said something?

  A doctor walked in wearing surgical green. "Is one of you a relative of Mrs. Mailer’s?"

  Jerome’s throat clogged. He couldn’t answer that question.

  Phil spoke up, pointing to Jerome. "Yes, he is. How is she?"

  "She should be all right. She was lucky. The bullet missed her heart and entered beneath the clavicle. We’re taking her up to surgery now."

  "I’ll be responsible for her bill," Jerome informed the doctor tersely. "I want the best for her. Money is no object."

  The doctor nodded. "I’ll let you know as soon as she’s out, but it’ll be a few hours before you can see her." He paused. "And by the way, it looks as if the two of you have injuries that should be seen to. If you’ll go speak to the nurse at the emergency desk, she’ll arrange for one of our doctors to look you over."

  "I’m fine," Jerome said curtly.

  "Maybe later," Phil intervened. "Thank you, doctor."

  Jerome sunk to a couch. He felt battered. It seemed beyond his capabilities to assimilate the information that Leo was actually his mother. He quit trying. Instead, he thought of Jennifer and gave a brief prayer of thanks that she hadn’t been hurt. If only she were here with him now.

  "Jerome!"

  Sami came flying through the door, followed at a more dignified pace by Eugene. Jerome immediately rose, and mindless of his sore ribs, took her into his arms, burying his face in her hair, not knowing how or why she was here, only grateful that she was.

  "How is Leo?" she whispered.

  "They think she’s going to be all right. They’ve taken her up to surgery."

  "I’m so sorry."

  He drew away and looked at her. "How did you know I was here?"

  Sami’s golden eyes widened in distress at her first really good look at him. "Jerome, you look terrible! Are you okay?"

  "I look worse than I feel," he reassured her. "And answer my question."

  She eyed him anxiously. "Leo told me you were going to be at the warehouse tonight. I wanted to come, too, but Eugene, and especially Daniel, wouldn’t let me."

  "Thank goodness for that anyway," he muttered.

  "So I sent Edward."

  He shook his head in disbelief. "Only you would and could send Thorsson."

  "He assured me he’d ring the place with his men, which he did. Only after he heard gun shots, did he start in. That’s when he saw the government men in there, and he backed away." She shrugged. "You know" – she waved her hands vaguely – "he and the law – not a good mix. But he called me to report and said you and Phil had had it under control."

  He shook his head. "Thorsson’s optimism was certainly greater than mine."

  "Jerome, I’ve been out of my mind with worry! Eugene found out that Leo had been shot and we came right over."

  Phil stood up and cleared his throat. "I think I’ll wait in the other room."

  "Phil, your nose!"

  The cabdriver’s rough face brightened somewhat. "Don’t worry about me, Sami. This nose of mine has been broken more times than I can count."

  Jerome watched him go, then shook his head helplessly. "Sami, Phil says Leo is my mother. Something is very wrong here. It’s just not possible!"

  "It’s true, Jerome," she said softly.

  All at once he felt an irrational betrayal. "You knew too?"

  Sami nodded.

  "I don’t know why I’m so surprised. Everyone seemed to know but me." There was a hurt deep inside him that had nothing to do with the injuries he had sustained during the fight. Why hadn’t Leo told him?

  "As far as I know, only Phil and I knew. Leo wanted it that way." She gently ran her palm across his bruised forehead. "Don’t be bitter, love."

  "Bitter! Sami, I have every right in the world. We’re talking about a woman who deserted her son."

  "She didn’t desert you, Jerome. You had a child’s perception of what happened back then. In fact, she put you into a foster home so that you would be well cared for. She had no way of knowing you’d run away."

  "She dumped me."

  "Jerome, let’s sit down." Taking his hand, Sami led him to the couch. "Listen to me. I’ve come to know Leo very well over these past five years, and if there’s one thing in this world I’m certain of, it’s that she loves you very much. She told me she realized that she was neglecting you because of her alcoholism. She wasn’t doing either of you any good, and she knew if either of you were to have a chance, she needed to put you with people who could care for you properly while she got treatment."

  "Why didn’t she explain this to me?"

  "I tried to
get her to. But she saw your new life and was sure it would be better if you didn’t know. As for telling you earlier, I’m sure you were headstrong and stubborn even then. Maybe she tried. Maybe you refused to listen. The point is, you ran away before she could come back and get you."

  He sprang impatiently to his feet. "So why did she come back into my life, Sami? I don’t need her now."

  "I think you need her more than you can even imagine. Because you thought she left you all those years ago, your relationships with women have been tainted. You’ve been afraid to commit, afraid that if you let yourself totally love a woman, she would leave you just like your mother had."

  "Sami, you don’t know what you’re talking about," he said flatly, coldly.

  "Yes, I do."

  "Dammit! You more than anyone know what she did to my life. And now I guess I’m just supposed to welcome her back with open arms."

  "No one can answer that but you, Jerome, and you’ll find the right answer. I have every confidence in the world in you. You’ve grown into a fine man."

  One side of Jerome’s mouth jerked upward into an ironic quirk, but a tinge of softness appeared in his eyes. "Because of you, Sami."

  "I did very little. The character of the kid I found all those years ago at the swap meet was already formed. I just gave him the means to fulfill his potential."

  "And love, Sami. No one had ever given me love before."

  "Really?" she asked in a voice that told him she was going to try to prove him wrong. "Okay, let’s talk about love. Jerome, your mother had a disease called alcoholism and was near death. What kind of strength, what kind of love, do you suppose it took for her to give you up in order to do the only thing she could think of to ensure that you would be well cared for. And then begin the long painful process of putting her life back together."

  Jerome turned away from her. Standing in the middle of the room, with his hands thrust into the pockets of his pants, he could see the hall the doctors had wheeled Leo down.

  He didn’t stop Sami, however; she just continued to speak determinedly to his back. "And what kind of love do you suppose made your mother search for years for you, never giving up, until one day by chance she saw your name listed in a society column as having attended a charity function with Daniel and me."

  His shoulders sagged. "Leave me alone, Sami," he said quietly. "Just leave me alone."

  She ignored him. "Do you know what she did then, Jerome? She was too scared to approach you and tell you who she was, so she set out to make a place, however small, in your daily life. From that newsstand, winter or summer, night or day, she’s watched over you. And when she knew you were in danger, she followed, her only thought being to make sure that you were protected. And then, Jerome, she expressed the ultimate love—she took a bullet meant for you."

  Jerome twisted around slowly, heedless of the tears streaming down his face. "What am I supposed to do, Sami?"

  She came to him and put her arms gently around him. "You’ll figure it out, love. You’ll do the right thing."

  #

  Jerome sat by Leo’s bedside, waiting for her to regain consciousness. There was a window not too far from where he sat, he had watched the beautiful sunrise a few moments before, but it had hardly registered. He hadn’t taken his eyes from the woman who lay so still. He had lost track of time.

  Sometime in the early morning hours Sami had talked Phil and him into seeing a doctor. Phil had his broken nose treated and had gone home as soon as it had been reported that Leo was out of surgery and recovering.

  Jerome had fared a little better in the injury department. X rays revealed that his ribs hadn’t been cracked or broken, only bruised. With only deepening discolorations on various parts of his body to be shown for his night’s activities, he had been offered something for pain, but he had refused. He didn’t mind the pain, somehow. It wasn’t so bad, and it served to keep his mind sharp so that he could think.

  However, during the time he had sat by Leo’s bedside, watching over her, his almost legendary analytical thought processes had deserted him, giving way to instinct.

  She had stirred a time or two, calling his name, and each time been soothed back into sleep when he had answered. One of her hands was supporting an IV, but her other hand was free and he held it, running his thumb again and again over the joints swollen by arthritis.

  She looked so fragile, so weak, lying there on the hospital bed. She was actually thinner than he had realized, and her lined skin looked white and close to paper-thin. He realized now that the many layers of clothes she usually wore had been to protect her against the cold.

  He had always seen her as such a strong woman, one the cold never bothered and who never got sick. He frowned as he suddenly wondered who had taken care of her when she had gotten sick. Phil was her friend. So was Sami. They had known the truth. But he had not.

  She was a woman who had had a hard life. She could have revealed herself to him at any time and asked him for money or anything else for that matter. But she hadn’t. Instead, she had quietly set about to make a life that revolved, unobtrusively, around him.

  What kind, of love? Sami had asked. A powerful one, he answered now.

  Her eyelids fluttered and she licked her lips, attempting to alleviate their dryness. "Jerome." His name was a moan.

  "I’m here." He squeezed her hand lightly. "Go back to sleep."

  "Jerome." Her eyes flickered open and at first appeared confused.

  "It’s all right. You’re in the hospital. You were hit by a bullet, but you’re going to be fine."

  Her eyes focused. "You? Are you all right?"

  Her words were forced, as if it were painful for her to speak. He released her hand so that he could reach a cup of ice chips the nurse had left. "I’m okay," he reassured. "You saved my life." He spooned a piece of ice into her mouth.

  She took it and closed her eyes, but in a minute her eyes flew back open, searching until she found his. "Jerome . . . I’m sorry . . . so sorry, son."

  The word son hit him with an unbelievable force. He finally saw it all clearly. This woman was his mother and she had done the very best she could by him. Looking into her pain-filled face, all of his lingering doubts were suddenly erased.

  As he watched, tears spilled over and ran down her weather-worn skin. "Don’t cry," he said softly, taking her tears onto his fingertips as his own. "Listen to me. You’ve got to get well. You and I have a lot of catching up to do."

  Leo’s eyes, older versions of his own, were looking at him as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing.

  "Mom"—the word came out naturally—"thank you. Thank you for loving me enough to stay near me these last five years. Thank you for loving me enough to save my life."

  #

  Jennifer wasn’t waiting for him when he arrived home. He was disappointed, but as he closed the door and looked around, he knew with a deep certainty that she would return. Walking slowly through the apartment, he could feel her presence everywhere.

  In the corner of the living room his train set was stacked. He had already decided that he and Jennifer would get a bigger place as soon as possible—maybe a house close to Sami and Morgan—and one room in that house would be devoted exclusively to the train set. There would also have to be a place for Leo. And children—at least two, preferably little girls who looked just like their mother.

  He smiled at his thoughts and made his way into the bedroom. Since his only concern the night before had been to follow Jennifer as fast as possible, the covers on the bed were still as he had left them, tossed back and rumpled from their love-making. Her black nightgown lay across the end of it. Picking it up, he held the lace and satin to his face. It smelled of Jennifer . . . and spring.

  Yes, she would come home, and when she did, he would tell her that he loved her.

  Rubbing his hand around the back of his neck, he became aware of an ache throughout his body and a sudden exhaustion. He took a couple of aspirin,
undressed, crawled into bed, and immediately fell asleep.

  It was dark when Jennifer tiptoed into the bedroom, still wearing the same sweater and slacks she had worn the night before. She stopped just inside the room, and her lips curved tenderly. The light from the living room shone softly on Jerome, sleeping so peacefully. If anyone deserved a peaceful sleep, it was he.

  Untying her cape, she slipped out of it and went to hang it up. When she returned, Jerome’s eyes were open.

  "Hi," she said softly, going and sitting down beside him. Stretching, she snapped on the bedside lamp. "How are you? The terrible bruise on your forehead looks worse. And what’s this?" She tugged the sheet down a little more. "Jerome," she said, alarm rising in her voice, "you’re one massive bruise!"

  "Not really. I’ll be just fine." In the light of the bedside lamp Jennifer’s hair appeared as a lustrous cloud, her skin a cream-colored porcelain. He would be content, he thought, if he could spend the rest of his life just looking at her.

  "Are you sure? Did the doctors check you out?"

  He grinned. "More thoroughly than was comfortable, I assure you."

  She brushed her fingertips over his face. "Did you have a good sleep?"

  He nodded, his hand reaching for her arm. He had to touch her. "Did you?"

  "I slept on the plane. Jerome, are you sure you’re okay? You look just awful."

  "Thanks," he said wryly. He propped himself higher in the bed with some pillows. "Quit worrying about me and tell me why you were on a plane. And how is Richard?"

  "He’s fine. They flew me to Washington, where he’s recuperating in a hospital. I visited with him for a few hours, then I insisted that they fly me back."

  "I’m glad," he said, stroking under her sweater and up the inside of her arm. The texture of her skin was like warm velvet.

  "The doctors practically had to tie him in bed to keep him from coming back with me." With her free arm she leaned over and combed her fingers through Jerome’s thick sandy-colored hair. "He wants to meet you."

  "We’ll invite him to the wedding," he said, and pulled her down beside him. He couldn’t wait any longer. There were no words to describe how much he needed to feel his lips on hers.