aherospromise_211-3e3.htm

by A Hero's Promise (lit)

  That night, uncomfortably full from the abundant meal, Jessica lay awake with Devon curled up at her side. Letting her mind wander, she revisited the last few weeks of her life, wondering about the logic in signing Robin Quill as Mr. Romance. Lauder was willing to take a chance on the guy, if they could attract a plausible female lead. Josie d’Angelo wanted the part, but they were waiting on a response from Kate France.

  The details made her head hurt. She was beginning to wish she had waited until the spring to start such a project. She had lost the admittedly inexplicable obsession to make the film and while she didn’t want to openly acknowledge it, she knew it was Dane’s refusal to participate that had thrown water onto her fire.

  She turned over, wrapping a protective arm around her young son. Soon it would be his fourth birthday, just before New Year’s. Try as he might, he could not understand why his father had to go away. And Jessica was unable to explain.

  He was no longer excited about preschool. He was easily frustrated with his normal activities, often resorting to scribbling rather than detailing the bright colored pictures he once drew. Many times, he was downright unresponsive to his mother’s directives. She’d hoped coming to Seattle might ignite a spark in him. It hadn’t.

  Now, lying in bed with Devon deeply asleep beside her, Jessica became aware of a new problem. The sheet beneath them was wet.

  ~ * ~

  "It’s okay. Really." Terry’s face was only slightly pinched as she helped Jessica strip the bed.

  "I’ll be happy to pay to have it cleaned, or for a new mattress if you’d like," Jessica said softly, hoping Chrissie had gotten Devon away from the room before he could witness their activities. The last thing he needed was more stress.

  "No, really. Don’t worry about it."

  Leaving Devon in her sister’s care, Jessica took her mother to lunch, hoping to reconnect with her if only for an afternoon. She looked older now, but still managed to stay pretty current with regard to world affairs.

  "How are you feeling, dear?" Jan asked, closing her menu.

  "Not too bad, I guess. I’m more worried about Dev than anything else. He wet his pants a few days ago while he was outside, but I figured it was just a fluke. He potty trained so easily when he was only two. He’ll be four in a month."

  "He misses his daddy. He’s probably just going through a difficult time."

  "It’s weird, Mom, but sometimes I get the feeling he blames me for Mac’s death."

  "That’s absurd. He couldn’t possibly."

  "I hope you’re right. I need to call the doctor when we get home."

  "You haven’t brought anyone new home, have you? Men, I mean."

  "Mom, what do you think? Absolutely not. I haven’t even seen anyone, really. I’m not ready to see anyone."

  "I read about your trip to Hawaii. What was that all about?" Her mother lifted an accusing eyebrow.

  "Business. Kyle and I were evaluating a script. He invited me for a little vacation, nothing more. I was pretty stressed out, I just needed to get away. Mom, we had separate rooms! It was nothing. I don’t even like him."

  Her mother nodded. "How about that other man, what is his name? The actor you did that big picture with."

  "Dane?"

  "That’s it. You see him much?"

  "Dane is always around… when I need him. He’s a good friend." To her mother’s questioning look, she added, "nothing more."

  "Okay. Well I think you need to spend a little time with that wee one of yours. I think maybe he just needs a little one-on-one attention."

  "Are you saying I don’t take good care of my son?"

  "Not at all. Just that you are all each other’s got right now, and you need to take care of your priorities."

  "I do take care of my priorities. Devon is always first."

  "Of course."

  As soon as they returned to Paul’s house, Jessica packed her bags.

  ~ * ~

  "Hold it steady while I tighten the bolts," Jessica directed.

  "The pine needles are perforating my face! Hurry!" Roxanne yelled as she held the broad Christmas tree upright. Below her, Jessica was crawling under the lowest branches.

  "You’ll survive," she called back. "A little more toward the wall, please."

  "I’m not into acupuncture, here."

  Soon, they stood back to examine their handiwork.

  "Looks better than ours," Roxanne lamented.

  "I want it to be special for Devon. I’m so glad you guys will be here to decorate it with us tonight."

  "Tom is looking forward to it. He gets such a bang out of Dev."

  "It’s good for him to see Tom. I wish they were closer."

  Roxanne smiled. "I think Tom regrets not having more kids. Devon reminds him of when Robbie was little."

  Jessica nodded, remembering that Roxanne had a grown stepson raised by his mother. She could understand Tom’s regret. "Maybe Tom can help me. I’m, uh, having some problems with Devon. He’s not using the bathroom at night."

  "Post trauma syndrome. I wanted to mention that he seems pretty depressed. Maybe you should see a kid-shrink."

  Jessica turned away, heading toward the kitchen to wash her hands. My child doesn’t need a shrink. He just needs time.

  Roxanne followed. "Really. Is he wetting the bed every night?"

  Jessica felt her teeth beginning to grind. "I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have known you’d have an opinion."

  "I’m not supposed to have an opinion? Are you nuts? You’re the one who brought it up."

  Jessica turned off the faucet with more force than necessary and turned to face Roxanne. "Let it rest, Rox. Devon will be fine. He just needs a little time, that’s all. And so do I."

  "Suit yourself. Don’t say I didn’t warn you."

  That evening, Jessica watched closely as her son hung ornaments on the Noble fir in the family room. Preoccupied, careful, Devon selected only certain items to hang and then quietly sat on the couch watching the others. Jessica’s heart cried for him.

  Usually the happiest time of year for her, Christmas was a particular strain for Jessica. She wanted so badly to make it exciting and happy for Devon, while knowing that the hole in their lives could never be filled with material gifts; they painfully joined the masses of bereaved survivors for whom the holidays brought only sadness.

  As the month progressed, she became nearly obsessive in her quest for holiday magic, buying lavish gifts for her family and friends and a different Christmas video for every night of the week. With Devon standing on a chair at the kitchen counter, they baked every kind of cookie imaginable and packaged them for the L.A. Mission shelter.

  By Christmas Eve, Jessica was beyond exhaustion. Fighting a cold, she huddled with her son before the great tree, a meager fire in the fireplace behind them.

  "Isn’t it beautiful, Dev?"

  "Yeah."

  "Sometimes I squint my eyes real tiny and the twinkle lights get so blurry and pretty."

  "Me too."

  "We still need to put the plate out for Santa."

  "Okay."

  They went to the kitchen and Jessica helped Devon put cookies, milk and a carrot on the special Santa plate. Solemnly the little boy carried the plate to the hearth.

  "Does Santa see Daddy?" he asked suddenly.

  "Maybe."

  "If we leave him a letter, do you think he could tell it to Daddy?"

  Jessica’s throat swelled so that she couldn’t speak for a moment. "We can, but I think Daddy would just like us to send our thoughts in a prayer. He doesn’t need us to write them down, sweetheart."

  "Okay."

  Later that night, after carefully nibbling most of the cookie, drinking the milk and breaking away all but the end of the carrot, Jessica made good her promise to pray.

  "I need some help here, God. Nothing fancy, not necessarily tonight, but soon, please? Send me some kind of help. I’m not very good at steering this ship all alone."

  S
he paused to blow her nose and wipe her eyes once again.

  "And Mac darling, if you’re listening in, don’t be too disappointed in me. I’ll get better. You’ll see. I remembered the Santa plate."

  ~ * ~

  "Christmas ain’t what it used to be, that’s for sure," Trina said, re-filling Dane’s coffee mug a second time. "My family’s all the way the hell down in Florida. Damned if I’m gonna pay for airfare when they never come to California. You got any family?"

  "Nope."

  Dane took a sip and reached for the newspaper on the kitchen table. Skipping to the entertainment section, he perused the page for anything of interest.

  "No brothers, sisters? You surely have an ex-wife."

  "A fact I’d rather forget."

  "Kids? You really ought to call them on Christmas, you know."

  "Why did you ask if you already knew?"

  "Why don’t you just tell me about them, you big galoot?"

  Dane put the paper down, trying to decide if she was worth the annoyance. She was, at least, a great tumble.

  "Two girls, one boy, one bitchy woman who gets a sizable chunk of my bank account. Girls are about seven and twelve, the boy is eleven and he’s mostly mine."

  "Now we’re talking," Trina encouraged, carefully poking her toes into the pantyhose gathered by her fingers. "Go on. Tell me about the green velvet doll at the party."

  Dane’s teeth began to grind involuntarily.

  "Aw, c’mon. What have you got to lose? I’ll just bet there isn’t another person on earth you can really talk to. I’m not so bad, really. Might do ya good. Do me good to know who it is you’re thinking about while we’re doing the deed."

  Her frankness bothered him, and yet he was unable to keep a smile from his lips. "Okay. As if you don’t already know, her name is Jessica and I met her… maybe four years ago. We did a couple of pictures together. We’re still friends. She just lost her husband."

  "And she’s still holding your ticket. So what’s keeping you?"

  "He was a friend of mine. She was… completely devoted to him. She may never get over it."

  "Does she know?"

  "Know what?" Dane shifted in his chair.

  "Know you’ve got the screaming hots for her?"

  "I don’t."

  "You lyin’ bastard. Bad enough lyin’ to me, but don’t lie to yourself, Dane Pierce. And don’t lie to her. She’s better’n that."

  Dane looked away from his companion, hating the words that were coming from her now.

  "You want me to talk to her?"

  He turned back toward her so abruptly that she jumped. "No. Don’t even think about it."

  "Well, all right, Jesus you scared me. I don’t even know the broad."

  "I’m sorry. I’m a little touchy, I guess. A few years ago," he paused, knowing he should keep his mouth shut, but also knowing that Trina was right; he had no one to talk to about his private issues. He had to hope he could trust her. "There was this woman. Beautiful girl, crazy as a dervish, and I dated her for a while. She wanted me to marry her, and she was willing to go to… great lengths to assure an engagement. She secretly harassed Jessie and Mac, then tried to pin it on me--"

  "She found out you were in love with Jessica, didn’t she?"

  Dane hesitated, hating the scenes that were forming in his mind. "Something like that. Anyway, she tried to blackmail me. And when it was obvious it wouldn’t work, she… she shot herself."

  "Oooh. Bad."

  "Worse than bad."

  "Did she find out?"

  "Who?"

  "Your lady. Does she know what happened?"

  "Not everything. It was never brought to light." Dane issued a heavy sigh. "Come on. I’ll drive you home."

  He was sorry he had said so much. The less people that knew the story, the better. And until he had run off at the mouth this morning, everyone who had known his secret was dead. Jackie Spencer had died at the scene, by her own hand. Charlene MacKendall, intuitive as she was, had picked up on the truth almost instantly. That left only one other person who had stumbled onto the sordid mess. And that person had died in a questionable plane crash.

  Ten

  Twenty Questions

  New Year’s. A time for change, new goals, new spirit.

  Jessica launched headlong into January, more determined than ever to "rise above" her misfortunes and move forward. With rehearsals for Mr. Romance underway, perhaps her life would finally even out.

  Filling in as the film director was terribly exciting. It was only for a few weeks, but Jessica was hungry to absorb the knowledge and experience her late husband had so enjoyed. She packed a small bag of toys, snacks and spare clothes and took Devon with her to the studio. Watching from the director’s chair, Jessica crossed her legs and tried to keep from bouncing her foot as she scrutinized Robin’s walk.

  "A little more swagger," she called.

  "What’s swagger?"

  "Sauce. But it’s forced. You don’t believe you’re a sex symbol, but you have to act the part. So, you act like you’re acting."

  Robin looked doubtful but practiced swinging his hips slightly as he crossed the soundstage. Josie D’Angelo sighed, but smiled.

  "Be saucy! Like this." Jessica stood and dropped her script into her chair. "Like, I’m cool. I’m God’s gift to womankind. I hate this, but I gotta walk-the-walk." She gave her impression of the hero’s gait, and Robin nodded, following her lead.

  "Much better. Let’s do that line again."

  Jessica sat back down and forced herself not to rub her eyes. It was going to be a long day, and she wondered if Devon was okay in the dressing room with the set hair stylist.

  "And you wanted me to do that?" Dane asked, sauntering up from somewhere behind her. "What did you call it? Sauce?"

  Jessica lifted her chin. "What do you want? I’m busy."

  "Thought you might want some lunch. Unless you’ve adopted the Dane Pierce Film Fast."

  "Pretty much."

  "Suit yourself. Cute kid. Who is he?"

  "Robin Quill. He’s perfect, don’t you think?"

  Dane grinned down at her. "What I think doesn’t matter, remember?"

  "Then go away."

  "Where’s Lauder?"

  "He’ll be here next week."

  "How was your Christmas?"

  Jessica stared straight ahead, pretending to be engrossed in the action. "It was awful," she murmured at last.

  Dane’s expression turned serious, but he remained rooted to the spot, his hands clasped behind his back.

  "I’m sorry to hear that. Devon okay?"

  "No."

  "Boy, you’re just a mass of good news." Dane licked his lips and looked around. "Anything I can do?"

  Jessica finally stood and faced him. "Look, I really don’t have time to chit-chat right now. I’ll, uh, I’ll call you next week. I’m not feeling real sociable."

  "Coulda fooled me," he muttered, and took his leave.

  Now Jessica did rub her eyes. She had an enormous headache brewing, and Dane’s visit had further unnerved her. She didn’t have time to analyze why he’d come or why she felt so unsteady in his presence.

  She called it a day around 5:30. The woman who watched Devon complained that he was overly sensitive, and that Jessica should find someone better equipped to deal with his moods. She salved her own hurt feelings by driving through McDonald’s on the way home. Devon seemed relieved for the day to be over.

  "I don’t like that lady, Mommy. She wasn’t nice."

  "It’s okay, darling. We won’t stay with her anymore."

  Later, swallowing what little pride she had left, Jessica made the phone call she had been dreading.

  "Rox, you know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t really important to me. It’s just for a few days, until I can find someone regular. I’m having a terrible time since Lydia left. I can’t wait for her to get back but it will be awhile. Her mother is terribly sick."

  Roxanne was quiet for a moment,
and Jessica held her breath. Their friendship was already on shaky ground. It seemed that no matter what Jessica wanted to do, Roxanne was against it. She had always been opinionated, and Jessica had never let it bother her before. But in recent weeks Roxanne had become almost adversarial.

  "Sure. A couple of days is fine."

  She was holding back, it was obvious; still, Jessica was immensely relieved. Devon was completely comfortable at Tom and Roxanne’s.

  She barely slept three hours before it was time to get up again. Warming a cup of yesterday’s coffee in the microwave, she scrambled around the kitchen, grabbing a boxed drink and a granola bar for Devon to eat in the car.

  "Can you find your own shoes, Sweetie?" she called.

  "I lost them," Devon called back.

  "Arrrrghh!" Jessica put down her cup and raced to the family room, digging the boy’s sneakers out from under the couch cushions.

  "We gotta hurry. We’re late. Aunt Roxanne will make you a real breakfast later."

  She kissed him goodbye three times at Roxanne’s door.

  "He’ll be fine."

  "I know."

  "But what about you? Are you going to survive this madness?" Roxanne asked, leaning into the doorjamb.

  Jessica forced a smile she didn’t begin to feel. "Of course. Things are great. The film is going… well. I’ll see you around six."

  Roxanne nodded slowly. The skepticism was not lost on Jessica, who turned and scurried down the driveway to her car.

  Such was the routine for the next two weeks. Roxanne was tight-lipped, nurturing to Devon but cool to his mother. Jessica was unable to find what she considered suitable day care. She had to be very careful; everyone and their mother wanted to take care of the late Dr. Jim’s son. Plus, she had only minutes a day to even explore the options; she was in the director’s chair.

  John Lauder would be taking over as soon as his other picture wrapped, which would be any day now. Then, perhaps, she could take a day off.

  Robin was becoming increasingly fussy and argumentative, and Jessica could not understand why. It was nearing the end of January, and he wasn’t close to being ready to go before cameras. She took him to lunch.