“I wish I could tell you that he was, sweetie,” Penny said. She set the book aside and lay down next to Deanna, embracing her. “I’m so sorry. I really am.”
“Thanks for not judging me...for what I did to Thom and to our marriage. I know it’s wrong,” she sniffed, looking at Penny’s sweet, little pixie face with sorrow and regret.
“I’d never judge you, Deanna. There’s no denying true love, yeah?”
They lay together for a long while, Penny stroking Deanna’s hair, assuring her that she would always be there if she needed her. Deanna wiped away the last of her tears and sat up, thanking her friend for her kindness and concern. Penny asked if she could get her anything and she nodded, asking for some crackers and tea to calm her stomach.
“Where’s Thom?” she asked Penny who was slipping on her shoes.
“He went with Jayson to a meeting with Andy Trent.”
“Are they going to audition singers?”
“I reckon they will someday, but I don't think they'll be looking for a new singer so soon after…um…after Nigel's passing.”
Deanna quietly asked Penny to leave her alone for a little while; she would come down for tea later. After Penny closed the door behind her, Deanna got out of bed, holding the edge to steady herself. She wasn’t sure if Thom had picked up her belongings from the hotel, but she was desperate to find the envelope Neville had given her the day his parents took Nigel's motorbike away. She wobbled to the closet and flung open the door, relieved to see her suitcases stacked neatly on the closet floor. She dragged them out and tried to open the clasps, but they were locked. Frantic to find the key, she looked around the room for her purse but didn’t see it anywhere. Cursing under her breath, she started towards the door when she spotted her purse on the floor wedged between a large bureau and a vanity table. Grabbing it, she dumped the contents on the bed, sorting through the useless junk until she found a small ring of keys. Her stomach twisted and cramped at the thought of holding Nigel’s card in her hands, but she had to read what it said. It was his final gift to her.
It took several tries with shaking hands to get the tiny key into the even tinier lock, but at last the first suitcase was open. She tossed the neatly folded clothes aside and checked the deep satin pockets, but the envelope wasn’t there. Pushing the empty case away, she unlocked the second suitcase, tearing through the contents frantically until she spotted a corner of the torn envelope at the very bottom of the case under a pair of shoes. She pulled the envelope out and stared at Nigel’s handwriting. The letters blurred as hot tears stung her eyes before dripping onto the envelope. Pressing the paper against her lips, she imagined his long, slender fingers opening the flap to tuck the card inside before carefully writing her name. She could picture him sitting at the kitchen table, the tip of his tongue peeking out from the side of his mouth in earnest concentration as he formed each letter just like a child learning to write the alphabet. She smiled wistfully at the memory of his gruff indignation when she playfully pointed out his “adorable” habit while he was writing the lyrics to a tune he had been humming most of the day. He hadn't found it adorable or amusing---not one bit. It took hours of sincere kisses and apologies to soothe his wounded macho pride.
Wiping a couple of tears away, she opened the envelope and pulled out a beautifully crafted Christmas card, moaning softly when several Polaroid pictures slipped out, landing on her lap. She picked them up, her breath catching in her throat as Nigel’s splendid smiling face looked out at her, his eyes filled with love. He was leaning against a gorgeous black Jaguar XKE Coupe with “Merry Christmas, Deanna” neatly printed across the door. Her breath hitching with sobs, Deanna looked at the remaining photographs, her heart bashing painfully against her ribcage at the sight of Nigel proudly showing off the Jaguar. In the second photo, Nigel was sprawled across the hood of the car in a parody of a pin-up pose, laughing hysterically. In the last photo, he was blowing a kiss from the front seat of the magnificent Jag with “I love you!” written across the top of the picture.
Clutching the Polaroid’s to her chest, she wept with the agonizing realization that these chemically produced images might be all that she had left of Nigel. Flat, unfeeling, photographs which would warp and fade and peel as time passed until she couldn’t see his beloved face anymore. Would her memories of his face, his voice, and his body fade with time as well? Laying the pictures beside her, she read the message he had written inside the card:
You once told me that a Jaguar XKE Coupe was your dream car, and I want to be the one who makes all of your dreams come true. I promise you baby, this is only the beginning. We are going to have such a beautiful life together.
Merry Christmas, my gorgeous little Yank.
I love you so much. Now and always.
Nigel
Swallowing hard, Deanna forced herself to face the fact that Davina Guilford was right---it was her fault that he was dead. If only he hadn’t bought that wretched Jaguar for her. Oh, Nigel, why? Grabbing a tissue, she wiped her eyes and read his sweet words again. The front door slammed, and she heard Thom and Jayson enter the flat. She quickly climbed back into bed, slipping the card and photos under her pillow, needing them close to her. Closing her eyes, she imagined the warm Arizona sun, and the faces of her parents---faces she hadn’t seen in almost two years. There was no question of her going back to school now; she didn’t have the strength or the heart for it.
Suddenly London seemed the dark, dangerous place her parents so fervently warned her about. It was easy to imagine that hidden beneath the verdant beauty of Mother England beat a heart of darkness demanding a sacrifice from the brazen American who dared to tread on her ancient soil. That evil darkness had taken almost everyone she loved: her baby, her friend, and her soul mate. It had fed off of her emotions, sucked her completely dry, and now it commanded that she leave.
Pulling the covers tightly around her, Deanna tried to get the ridiculous fantasy out of her head, but as she drifted off to sleep, she could hear the corrupt beat of its black heart all around her.
****
Running her hands over her face and hair, Deanna kicked off the heavy bedspread, mulling over her conversation with the nurse at Dr. Sahani's office. The nurse hadn’t told her anything that she hadn’t already suspected, but it was still a bit of a shock, and vaguely unreal. Rolling out of bed, she slipped on her robe, realizing that she had actually slept through the night without a sedative. She removed Nigel’s Christmas card and photos from beneath her pillow and read his loving sentiments several times. After drinking in the images of him with the cursed Jaguar, she kissed each of his pictures and pressed them to her heart. “We're going to have a baby,” she whispered. “What do you think of that, Daddy?”
Placing the photos inside the card, she tucked them into the bottom of her suitcase and left the bedroom mentally preparing to break the news to Thom as she made her way downstairs. Once again she would break his heart. She paused on the last step, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and asked God's forgiveness for the thousandth time since that fateful night on the bridge with Nigel.
Thom looked up and smiled at her over a pan of sizzling bacon. “I hope you’re hungry.”
She shook her head and took out a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice. “A slice of toast is all I can handle right now. I'm sorry you went to all this trouble.”
“It was no trouble...not a’ tall. I can eat this lot with no problem.” He slipped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster and nodded at two glasses on the counter. “Pour us a glass of juice, love.”
Deanna filled both glasses to the brim, placed the pitcher back in the fridge, and took a sip of the tangy juice.
“This is really good, but you always did make the best fresh juice.”
“Cheers, babe,” he smiled, placing the crispy bacon on a plate. The toaster dinged, and he slathered each slice of toast with creamy butter. “Would you mind getting the jam?”
“Sure,” Deanna sa
id, and carried his favorite marmalade and a jar of strawberry jam to the dining room table, pointedly ignoring the “babe” comment.
He winced at the look on her face when he called her “babe.” Didn't she realize that his jolly behavior was just a pathetic act? Why bother faking it? She was going to leave him. He saw it in her eyes and the way she kept her face turned away from his frantic gaze. The useless pity, the misguided remorse, the lingering dread at having to tell him she was leaving for good this time; all evident in the way she avoided his eyes. Although he knew exactly how their story would end, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from groveling and weeping, shamelessly begging her to stay even though he didn't deserve her love. Not anymore.
Thom joined Deanna at the table, placing two egg cups alongside the plate of steaming bacon, and set about cracking the eggshells so he could dip a sliver of toast into the runny yolk. It crossed her mind that Metal Urge wouldn’t rest on their laurels for long, and she wouldn’t be able to stomach seeing another vocalist take Nigel’s place as front man. She quickly excused herself and went into the living room, turned on the telly, and tried to shake off the creeping horror that seemed bent on relentlessly tormenting her.
She had to leave England immediately or she was going to crack.
Thom came in a few minutes later, his expression fraught with worry. Neither of them spoke until Deanna gathered her courage and broke the uneasy silence.
“I want to go home…to Arizona.”
Thom nodded. “I think that’s a brilliant idea.”
“I’m going to leave as soon as I can book a flight.”
“Let me go with you,” Thom said, leaning over to take her hands. He knew it was useless, but he was determined to give it one last shot.
“Why?” Despite her resolve to remain cool and collected, Deanna began to cry.
He squeezed her hands and said gently, “If you go alone your parents will ask questions…loads of questions. I don’t think you’re ready for that just yet.”
“Why do you care if they find out that I’ve lied to them?” She pulled her hands away and rubbed her face, angry that she couldn’t hold back the tears.
“I care what happens to you, Deanna.”
“But why?” she almost shouted.
“Because I love you.” Thom reached for her hands again and raised them to his lips, tenderly kissing them.
“No,” she whimpered. “Please, don‘t.” Jerking her hands away she got up and started to pace.
“Deanna…,” Thom tried to approach her.
“Please, Thom,” she cried, hugging herself as if that would force him to keep his distance. “I can’t be a wife to you. I…I can’t be the woman you need or deserve. Not now.” Leaning over to pick up a leather satchel she had placed by the chair the night before, Deanna opened its heavy flap and took out a large envelope, laying it on the coffee table. “I’m so sorry, Thom.” She pushed the envelope towards him, her eyes filling with tears again as he gazed at the contents of the envelope. “Whether you believe this or not, I love you too much to lie about reconciliation. It won‘t work.” She wiped the tears away and bowed her head. “I wish I could take back all of the horrible, selfish things I’ve done to you. I never meant to hurt you.”
Thom tossed the divorce papers on the coffee table, sat back and rubbed his face, his eyes filling with tears. Although he knew a divorce was inevitable, it hurt like hell just the same. “Please, baby,” he implored. “Give yourself a bit of time to heal. You can stay here...recuperate. I won't get underfoot, I promise.”
“I can't do that, Thom.” She shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “I'm pregnant. I confirmed it with the doctor's office before I came downstairs. They said it’s a miracle considering the severity of my miscarriage.” She looked away quickly when she saw the shock and disbelief on his face.
He got up and went to the window, watching the icy rain pelt the glass and trickle down its foggy panes. “It doesn't matter,” he said finally. “I can love that child as if it were my own. You know I can.” He turned back to her and spread his hands imploringly. “Don't shut me out, Deanna. Give us and our marriage one more chance. I'll take care of you and the baby; you'll never want for anything. The child will be close to Nigel's family...London's not that far from Bilston...”
“Stop it, Thom!” Deanna cried. “Just stop it. Please.”
He sagged against the glass and shook his head. “Don't leave me, Deanna. I can't bear to lose you. You've no idea what I've...Oh, God,” he groaned.
The raw pain in his voice shook her to the core. She jumped up and ran to him, gathering him in her arms.
“Please, Deanna,” he murmured against her hair. “I'm dying inside. Every moment of the day I lose another piece of who I used to be. If you leave I’ll lose myself completely.” His voice broke and Deanna let out little sob. “Why can't you understand that I don't care about the past? I need you, baby. I love you so much. Please stay.”
Pulling away from him, she shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Can't you see that I'm the reason you feel that way? I'm no good for you, Thom. All I've done is hurt you over and over again. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.” She took his hands and squeezed them gently. “You deserve a much better woman than me. A woman who will love you the way you should be loved, the way you deserve to be loved.”
“You’re the only woman I’m ever gonna love. That's never gonna change, Deanna,” he said brokenly. He picked up a strand of her hair, running it through his fingers, his breath hitching as he let out a mournful sob.
“Please, Thom, you’ve got to let me go for your own sake,” she pleaded, stroking his face, wiping his tears away with her fingers. “Your life will be so much better once I’m gone. I know it will.” She held his face in her hands, searching for a sign that he truly understood why she was leaving. It wasn’t to hurt or reject him but to save him from a lifetime of pain and inexorable bitterness and resentment.
“You're wrong, my sweet girl,” he murmured, pulling her hands away from his face. He turned and looked out of the window. “It's never gonna get better. Not for me.” Turning abruptly, he pushed past her and grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch, slamming out of the front door without a backward glance.
****
Thom hadn't returned home by the time she left the Chelsea flat two days later. No one had seen him, or so they said when she called each of the members of Metal Urge and finally, Andy Trent. Maybe he had gone to his dad's in Bilston. Wherever he was, she prayed he would find comfort and solace away from the devastating hurt and pain of their doomed relationship. She left a brief, but emotional note for him by the coffee pot before visiting Mims' grave. She cleared away some debris and laid a cat toy that she found in her bedroom on the tiny, barren mound. Crying softly, she took one last look around the flat before shutting the door forever on the bittersweet life she had shared with Thom McCordy: guitarist extraordinaire and precious friend.
Lugging her suitcases down the steps towards a loudly idling cab, she turned back to look at the pretty Victorian building, remembering the night Thom brought her here to recover from her awful ordeal. His home had been her refuge and it was there that she learned the true meaning of compassion and friendship. Smiling sadly, she climbed into the cab, her heart heavy with remorse. As the cabbie sped toward Victoria Station where she would board a train to Heathrow Airport, Deanna whispered a tearful goodbye to Nigel, wishing his grave wasn't so far away in Bilston. She longed to visit him before flying back to Phoenix. One day when their child was old enough to learn about its father, she promised herself that they would visit his grave together. That was a promise she would keep no matter what life held in store for her and her baby.
“I love you, Nigel Guilford,” she whispered, cradling her little, round belly lovingly. “And I always will.”
Chapter 48
1987
The Thames was gray and choppy, typical for London's wintry December weather. Deanna
leaned against the railing, soaking up the foggy atmosphere shifting and roiling in the blustery air outside of the Tower Bridge observation deck. Little had changed on the cold walkway in the eleven years since she had last visited her beloved bridge. She closed her eyes and listened to the wind whistling around the huge metal cables. The sound brought back memories of that life changing December day in 1976 so vividly she imagined she could hear the elevator creaking loudly as it made its way to the observation deck where she awaited an unexpected encounter with destiny.
“It’s only me...just Nigel.”
She felt a cold breeze ruffle her hair and caress her cheek just as it had the day their son Quinn was born ten years ago. “My sweet Nigel,” she sighed, feeling the swirling air tickle her fingers as she brought her hand up to her face. “I still miss you every single day.”
She thought she heard someone whisper her name and opened her eyes.
The sun had broken through the clouds and a shaft of light shimmered next to her filled with dust particles dancing madly until they seemed to meld together to form a distinct, familiar shape. Deanna reached out, but the light suddenly faded and the illusion was gone.
Smiling sadly, she turned back to the window just as a voice cried out, “Mum! Look what dad bought for us.”
Quinn raced up and thrust an ice cream cone in her face. “It has a Cadbury Flake. See?” He was almost jumping up and down in his excitement to show her the crumbly chocolate confection sticking up out of a huge scoop of half-eaten vanilla ice cream.
“It looks yummy,” she laughed and ruffled his silky hair. “So where's mine?”
“I ate it,” a sweet little voice answered.
Deanna looked down at her precocious four-year-old daughter, Lily who was grinning widely. “Oh, you did, did you?” she laughed, grabbing the little girl and tickling her. “What a cheeky monkey you are!”
“I’m a cheeky monkey! I’m a cheeky monkey!” Lily laughed, twirling around until she fell against her brother. He grabbed her hand and pulled her down to the other end of the walkway, sharing his ice cream with her and laughing at her antics.
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