by Dana Ransom
He filled in smoothly, extending his hand. “Jess McMasters, sir. I wanted to tell you how very sorry we were that we weren’t able to save your son and his wife.”
“Thank you. You were there, Mr. McMasters?”
“On the sidelines,” he answered softly. “I wish I could have done more.”
The older man nodded. “So do I, but that doesn’t lessen how grateful we all are to Miss Carter. Young lady, I’ve someone here who is very anxious to meet you.”
Osgood stepped aside, revealing a small, wheelchair-bound boy. Charley gave a soft cry and instantly knelt to the youngster’s level. Her gaze flew over his wan features, touching the bandage on his forehead and the sling cradling his arm. Then the boy smiled timidly and Charley’s eyes overflowed.
“Hello, Chris. You look wonderful!”
As she leaned forward to carefully embrace the boy, Jess had to turn away, blinking lest he be reduced to bawling like a kid himself. This was what it was all about for Charley. He knew that now. This one little boy and the chance to hug him. The evidence of her tender spirit choked him up so much that he couldn’t swallow through the wad in his throat. She would save them all, one at a time, if she could, just as she saved his own jaded soul from its twist of cynicism. And he had never been so awed or so in love in his entire life.
“They’re waiting for us, Miss Carter,” Osgood said at last, and Charley straightened with reluctance. She hesitated and then said with difficulty to the boy the one thing that had preyed so mercilessly on her mind.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise. I tried. I really did.”
Chris Osgood absolved her with a smile. “I know you did, and I’m not mad about it anymore. I know it’s not your fault that they had to go live with God.”
As the boy’s grandfather wheeled him toward the speaker’s platform, Charley turned to Jess in tears, her composure crumpling. He was quick to support her with reassurances and the circle of his arms.
“It’s all right, baby. I think that’s just what you needed to hear.”
After a moment she nodded jerkily. “I think it’s what we both needed to hear.”
“Go on, Charley. They’re ready for you.” For the first time, as she stepped back, she looked worried, but Jess calmed her with the brush of his knuckles along her cheek. “You’ll do fine.”
Those words woke a fearful memory. She searched his expression for a long second, seeing only his devotion and admiration. “You’ll be here?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
SHE DID FINE—more than fine. She captivated the audience and press alike with her gentle sincerity, and Jess felt himself caught up in that same spell. He was full to bursting with pride for the little lady with the big heart. He and Robert sat among strangers simply steeping in it. When she announced her plans for the reward, he watched the reaction of the crowd, ever the journalist. There was a positive effusion. He could feel it. He knew just when their rather guarded approach turned as they listened to her speak with determination and a tenacious passion. They were conquered just as he had been conquered, by the goodness of Charlene Carter.
“Hey, Jess,” whispered someone close by. He slid a glance in that direction and froze. Already it was starting. The toothy cameraman nodded toward the woman on the stage. “Nice piece. Real nice.”
Only Jess’s quick reflexes kept Robert Carter from going down the man’s throat with both fists. Jess had to wrestle him to hold him in his seat.
“Get a grip, Robert,” he commanded the seething younger man. “That’s not what he meant. Okay? Relax.”
Robert shrugged him off, scowling doubtfully. But it was Jess who couldn’t relax. He broke a sweat as a cramping pain rolled through his stomach. Tension built through his muscle groups, feeding the fire. He made short work of a handful of Tums and tried to focus on something else besides impending doom.
Charley. God, she looked good. She had the audience in the palm of her hand. There was no sign of the skittish girl who’d begged him to hide her from a few avid reporters. She’d come a long way since then. A lifetime. So had the two of them. He hung on to that thought while the rest of his world careened. He stood when the room rose in an ovation, swaying slightly, catching hold of the back of the chair in front of him.
“Jess? Hey, man, you all right?”
All right? What a joke. Anxiety was chopping away at his gut with a pickax. No, he wasn’t all right. Hang on, Jess. You can get through this. For Charley. Do it for Charley.
Speeches made, presentations given, photos staged and snapped by the thousands, the focus of the celebration shifted from the formality of the auditorium to the casual milling of the banquet hall below. Jess pasted a smile on his face as he saw Charley winding toward him and Robert. She was in his arms, mindless of who observed it. And there was no way he could push her away just to stave off the curious. She didn’t deserve that. He crushed her close.
“How was I? I was so nervous.”
“Never would have guessed. You were great, baby.” He squeezed his eyes shut so he could absorb her into all his senses. Once the shaking started, he couldn’t control it. It flowed through him like a chill, rattling him to the soul. He clasped the precious woman in his arms in terror that he wouldn’t get the chance to hold her again.
“Hey, save some of that for your brother.”
Laughing, Charley let Jess go and hugged Robert exuberantly. “It’s going to happen, Robert. It’s really going to happen.”
“You did it, Charley.”
She shook her head and pulled back. Her gaze went to Jess and lingered there with an enveloping warmth. “Not alone, I didn’t.” She looped her arms through theirs, hugging tight the two men she loved. “Come on, guys. I’m parched. Let’s tap into some of that free champagne.”
The trip across the room was a nightmare for Jess. He wasn’t sure if he was walking on coals or carrying them in the pit of his belly. Everywhere he looked, it was into a familiar face. The minute he would see a light of recognition spark, he tamped it out with a rude, dismissing nod. He wasn’t winning any friends, and he sure wasn’t fooling himself into thinking the brusque tactics could hold all of them at bay.
“J.T.” His hand was grabbed and pumped enthusiastically. “Just read it. Great work. No doubt, your best.”
He should have known the man’s name, but suddenly it seemed lost in the paralysis of his mind. He sensed Charley’s puzzlement as she craned around him, but he jerked her away from a face-to-face meeting with an almost painful forcefulness.
“Jess, who was that?”
“Some guy I know,” he muttered tautly. Then the bottom fell out. Matthew Bane. There was no way to dodge his approach, so Jess braced for it as best he could, affixing a thin smile and tensing his abdomen for the roar of distress to come.
“Jess, introduce me.”
“Matthew Bane, Charlene Carter, and this is her brother, Robert.”
Jess’s editor nodded to Robert, then carefully took up Charley’s hand. “I feel like I already know you through Jess. Hell of a thing you did. You must be quite the miracle worker, considering what you did to my boy, here. I didn’t think anyone could wring a heart out of Jess McMasters.”
Jess gripped his arm and gave him a compelling tug. “Come on, Matt, the lady doesn’t want to hear this. Give me a break.”
The lady obviously did because she was leaning toward them with an engrossed expression, but it was Jess who caught Matthew’s attention. He allowed himself to be turned aside only to take hold of his feature man’s shoulder and demand, “Jess, you look like the only survivor to walk away from a plane crash. Ulcer flaring up?”
“Can we do this later?”
“Just trying to make a few points with the lady for you.”
“Don’t need your help.”
�
��Okay, Jess. Whatever you say. Jess . . . eat something.”
He smiled grimly and turned back to Charley.
“Jess, who was that?”
“A friend.”
“From the university?”
“No.” The pain in his stomach was almost crippling. The distress building around his heart was nearly as bad. He made a quick decision, one he should have made long ago. “Charley, I have to talk to you.”
Alarm surged in her uplifted gaze. Don’t look at me like that, Charley. Please.
“Let’s get out of here for a second.”
“All right.” She was staring at him, unsettled emotions plain on her face. He didn’t have to tell her it was serious. She knew. And she looked as though she wanted to run from whatever it was he meant to say. But the last few weeks had taught Charlene Carter a lot of fortitude. She walked with him, but they didn’t get far.
“Miss Carter, could I ask a few questions? Carl Parnell from On the Spot News. Hi, Jess. How you doing? Took a look at your cover. Impressive piece. Wish I’d done it.”
His stomach went up like a volcano. It was make a run for it or heave on the spot, no pun intended. He peeled Charley’s hand off his arm and mumbled hoarsely, “I’ll wait for you out in the hall.” Ignoring her startled look and trusting Parnell to hang on to her like a good newsman, Jess bolted. He didn’t pause in the hallway but made for the nearest men’s room, barely making it through a stall door before French toast and all came up with a vengeance. Weak, shaky but already feeling better, he wobbled to the sink to rinse off a film of cold sweat. He avoided the sight of his reflection in the mirror. What he could imagine was frightful enough.
After drying his face, he left the bathroom and sought relief from the closest drinking fountain. Swishing and spitting and swallowing, he started to feel almost human again when he heard his name called.
“McMasters.”
Jess straightened. His mind had a chance to register the sight of Alan Peters before he took a hammer-like impact in the face. He crashed against the wall and slid down, clutching an eye. Hell of a punch for a scientist!
Peters squared off above him, fists balled and ready for more, but Jess had no inclination to move. Seeing his opponent meant to stay down, Alan snarled, “You scum-sucker. How could you do that to her? I ought to—” He left that threat empty, settling for kicking at the downed man’s feet before striding off in a towering indignation.
“Wow,” Robert exclaimed, looking after his sister’s old beau. “Who’d have thought he’d get into macho posturing? Nailed you but good, didn’t he?”
Jess nursed his eye, not saying anything. Robert put down his hand.
“Help you up.” When Jess shook his head, Robert shrugged and settled on the floor beside him. They sat silent for a minute, then the younger man finally rented. “All right, Jess, spill it. What’s going on with you? And what does it have to do with Charley? You’re going to hurt her, aren’t you?”
One look at Jess’s stricken features was answer enough. Robert pounded on his knee in frustration.
“I screwed up, Robert.”
“How?”
“Bad.”
“That’s not telling me anything, man.”
“You’ll know soon enough.” He was looking through the open doors into the banquet hall, following Alan as he bore down on Charley.
“She loves you, Jess. She’ll forgive you anything if you’re up front with her.”
“Too late.” He could feel all his hopes, all his expectations sinking, settling on the floor of his mangled stomach lining as Alan took Charley by the arm. He watched as she turned her head sharply to glare up at the sandy-haired scientist. He didn’t have to be close to picture what would be burning in her eyes. Disbelief. Anger. A slow shift to uncertainty and dawning truth. Damning truth. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t watch as everything he’d come to care about went straight to hell. The volcano in his belly started rumbling, warning of another eruption. His face hurt from Alan’s punch. His chest hurt from the contracting squeeze of guilt and loss. So many things were tearing at him that he was numbed to the pain. To all but the thought of how disappointment would look on the face of Charlene Carter. That was the pain that crippled him.
Robert stood as Jess wobbled to his feet. He’d never seen a man look so bad. Jess had the worn-to-the-soul face of a man who’d come home from a five-day drunk to find that his family had left him, his house had burned down, a pink slip was in the mail, and his banker was in Mexico sipping umbrella drinks on his life savings.
“Jess . . . Don’t do something stupid.”
“I gotta go.”
“That’s stupid.”
But he was already back-pedaling away from his own personal disaster. “Tell Charley something came up, that I couldn’t stay.”
“I won’t lie to her, Jess.”
He pulled a harsh, jagged breath. It was like inhaling undiluted acid. “Then you tell her I couldn’t wait around for it. She’ll understand.” He smiled oddly. “That she’ll understand.”
“Jess . . . Dammit, Jess, don’t you run out on her!”
But Jess was already striding toward the exit doors. He hit them with both palms, shoving hard, moving fast. The dying brightness of the day struck him, making him feel as if his eyeballs had incinerated. But even after he yanked out his dark glasses and settled them on the bridge of his nose, he couldn’t see a damn thing. He had no idea how he ever found his way out of the parking lot.
Seventeen
“I DON’T BELIEVE YOU.”
Alan stood his ground, his expression grim. But it was the surprising hint of compassion in his eyes that did Charley in. “It’s true, Charlene. I’m sorry.”
Fighting down the waves of rising panic, she shook her head stubbornly. “But he teaches at the university . . .”
“And he writes for Metro Magazine. I checked on him through Administration. Charlene, he’s been using you. He’s made you the cover story. That’s what he was after. It wasn’t you. It was never you.”
She pushed blindly away from him. Jess. She had to find Jess. There had to be an explanation. There had to be. She was almost running when she spotted Robert in the hall. He didn’t look surprised at her distraught state. He opened his arms and swept her in.
“He’s gone, Charley. Just a minute ago, looking like he was expecting lightning to strike. What’s going on?”
She had to get moving before the shaking settled in, before the doubts began to bloom. “Can you drive me to the university, Robert?”
“Sure, Charley . . .”
“Now. I have to go now.”
She didn’t speak during the drive. She couldn’t. Her jaw was locked tight to keep her teeth from chattering in shock. Jess, no. Jess, please. You have to tell me it isn’t true. It can’t be true. Even as she thought those things, she was equally afraid it was. She tried not to think after that, just holding to the image of him standing outside her door dripping wet with a toothbrush in his hand, trying to ignore the sidelong glances of concern from her brother. It would be all right. It had to be!
She knew Jess had a class from six to eight on Monday nights but had no idea what building it was in. She was a foreigner to the academic side of the university. Alan and she rented the building space for study and research, but they weren’t members of the university staff, so contact was minimal. Finally they found the English department and a parking spot, and Robert insisted on coming with her. It was only five p.m., too late for the press of midday classes, too early for the evening ones. A weary receptionist directed them to the third floor, to Jess’s office. Charley didn’t know if he’d stop there first before going to class, but she didn’t know what else to do. She couldn’t last until eight p.m. without knowing. Robert tagged along behind her, a silent, somber shadow.
The room had none of the comfortable charm of his house. This was where he worked. The furnishings were gleaming chrome and black lacquer. Hard, sleek, impersonal. But still Jess. She’d glimpsed that side of him before but hadn’t understood. Here was her answer. Gingerly she sank down onto his swivel chair and studied the top of his desk. Everything was neatly stacked beside the coffee cups and antacids. She skipped over the stack of college compositions and picked up a glossy issue of last month’s Metro. She wasn’t much for reading about glitzy lives or crime dramas, so she’d never really looked beyond the cover before. And on this one she didn’t even have to turn to the first page. There beneath a hard-hitting headline was the name J.T. Masters. She ran her thumb over the letters. He was a writer. Why hadn’t he told her where his pieces were published?
There were a half-dozen issues in all, and she flipped through them one by one with mounting uneasiness. He was good. No doubt. His style was terse, crisp, provocative. And his slant was ruthless. She could see his wry smile between the lines and that cold, glittering study of the world through his eyes. His was a no-holds-barred journalism that stabbed straight to the truth regardless of consequence. She could see a pattern in his work, a want to take something with a shiny, pleasing surface and peel it down to its ugly core.
Why on earth had he wanted to write about her?
Unless he had a deep disgust for what she’d done.
Why did you take the money, Charley?
Her hands were shaking when she reached for the last file on his desk. It wasn’t thick, but its contents were explosive. A single fact sheet and a cassette tape. On that piece of paper were the details of her life, listed succinctly in chronological order. Some of the information he could only have gotten from her. He’d written it down.