"Uh, Dad? Don’t kill us, okay?"
Up shift. Accelerate.
"Zoe’s always been whiny. She hates Mom and she hates Mimi."
Downshift. Brake. "What does Mimi think?"
"Mimi’s just like Mom. She calls Zoe a brat."
Clutch. Downshift. Gas!
"Uh, I think we just passed a cop."
Clutch. Brake.
"Where did you say that skate store is again?"
~ * ~
Jessica’s hand hovered above the telephone, alternately picking it up and replacing it. Finally, she put it to her ear. She shouldn’t be afraid to call the woman who had been her best friend since high school.
"Hi, it’s me," she said quickly when Roxanne answered. "Got a minute?" Jessica bit her lower lip while waiting for a response. Would it be warm or cold?
"Okay." Wary. Roxanne was wary; that was okay.
"How--how’ve you been?"
"Fine. How’s Dev?"
"He’s pretty good, thanks." Jessica cleared her throat. "Tom okay?"
"Sure. So what’s up?" A bit of impatience had leaked into Roxanne’s voice, and Jessica cursed inwardly.
"I, uh, was wondering if you guys will be around this weekend."
"Nope. We leave for the Bahamas on Friday morning. We’ll be gone a couple of weeks. Why?"
Damn. No need to tell her the truth. "Oh, just thought we’d come by, you know, for a visit or something. No big deal. Kinda… miss you."
There was a brief silence while Roxanne obviously considered her admission. "Yeah. Me too. Call you when we come back."
"Please do."
Jessica hung up, gently re-cradling the receiver sadly. She had no one with whom to leave Devon. Yet she really needed to go back to Minneapolis.
Chester was doing well, but the news was mixed: the foster parents were hesitant about adopting the baby, a baby with a defective heart. Still, Irma Carvey was anything but encouraging when Jessica broached the subject of re-activating her application.
"She has no right," Jessica said aloud, now thumbing through her dog-eared address book. "She’s just plain mean." Page after page, no names would work. "There’s got to be someone who can watch him," she muttered. While she wasn’t against taking him along, she knew that another airplane ride might dislodge the fragile web of healing that had begun at the lighthouse.
Her mother. Maybe she could fly her mom to L.A. for a visit. But before she could lift the receiver to call, the doorbell rang.
Better not be another darned broker, she thought. "Dev? Still in your room?" she called as she walked to the front door. Satisfied with his acknowledgment, she looked out the stained glass panel bordering the front door and was surprised to see the outline of a deliveryman behind a lush floral arrangement. Quickly she swung the door open wide.
"Wow. These are beautiful," she breathed, taking the two-dozen red roses and placing them on the counter. "I wonder who sent them?"
"Should be a card," the deliveryman said, but after carefully digging around the arrangement, Jessica could find none.
"Hmm. Interesting," she said softly, closing the door. She went back to the flowers and took a deep whiff. "Nice." She smiled to herself. They had to be from Dane.
She went immediately back to the phone and instead of calling Seattle, she dialed Dane’s now familiar number.
"I just called to thank you," she said simply, walking around the cut-crystal vase as she talked. "They’re beautiful."
"Beautiful?"
Jessica giggled, and then turned as the doorbell was again ringing. "Hold on."
At the door, a sheepish grin accompanied the small gift card the deliveryman held out. "Sorry. It was on the floor of the truck."
Jessica wasted no time in tearing open the envelope.
"Sorry I missed Valentine’s Day. Hope we’re still friends. Love, Kyle."
The smile ran from her face like melting ice. She picked up the phone, now unsure of what to say. "I’m back," she said finally.
"You were saying?"
"Oh, nothing. What’s going on at your house?"
"You don’t want to know, believe me. Rita’s on the warpath about Zoe, her lawyer’s talking to my lawyer… I’m about ready to pack it in. Thinking about going back to the ranch. You?"
Jessica sighed into the phone. "I want to go back to Minnie and re-open my adoption case."
"Is there anything I can do?" Dane’s voice carried a note of sincerity that touched her.
"Not unless you want to watch Dev for me," she said with a mirthless laugh. "I’ve run out of babysitters. I’m thinking about calling my mom, so you know I’m desperate." Jessica wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder as she carried the roses to the dining room table.
"I’d be happy to."
The words caused her to lose her grip on the phone and it tumbled to the floor, sliding across the dark Oriental rug beneath the table. Quickly she scrambled to retrieve it.
"You what?" she finally panted, getting to her feet.
"He can stay with me and Alex. Just a few days, right? It would do him good to pal around with some dudes for a change. Bring him on."
Jessica felt inexplicably warm all over her body. Dane’s words were more than welcome, more touching than any bouquet of flowers.
"I’ll--I’ll ask him if he’d like to. That would be really nice," she said, her voice cracking with emotion.
Bless you, Dane.
Damn, you Kyle.
Sixteen
Unexpected Ally
Jessica rolled her suitcase from one moving walkway to the next, weaving her way around Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport like a seasoned pro. Anyone looking twice at her might suspect her celebrity, for the sunglasses were not exactly necessary on this typically gray, mid-March afternoon. Still, for what it was worth, she never went into public without them.
The limousine was another giveaway, but she ignored the few gawkers at the curb and waited while the driver dropped her case into the trunk. Forty minutes later she had checked in at the Gifford Hotel, and was back in the hired car on her way to the hospital.
The floor nurses were all friendly, and the nursery attendant happily wheeled Chester’s bassinet closer to the window for her benefit. He was sleeping peacefully, nearly recovered from the heart surgery he’d undergone a month before. And despite the informal "gag order" that had prevailed during her last visit, the staff seemed anxious to help her cause this time.
"Mrs. MacKendall? If you’ll step into this closet they call my office…" the head nurse was saying. Jessica tore her gaze away from the child and followed the woman who beckoned.
The woman closed the door and sat down. "What I am about to tell you is entirely off the record, and I would be forced to deny this conversation if confronted."
Her eyes wide, Jessica nodded emphatically. "Of course."
"The week Chester had his heart repaired, I guess the local papers had nothing better to talk about, so they did a story about the little guy. They even got the hospital administrator to complain about the cost of the surgery, and about the child’s orphan status."
Jessica nodded, anxious to hear where the woman was leading.
"We started getting calls and donations like crazy. One of the docents set up a bank account to collect the money, and it was a wonderful thing. And then something very strange happened." The nurse looked Jessica plainly in the face. "A man demanding to remain anonymous funded the entire surgery and after-care. It was a sizable sum of money, if you know what I mean. And if that wasn’t strange enough, he wanted to know if we needed blood for the boy."
Jessica’s mind was racing. "So you think…"
"He’s the boy’s father, is what I think. His call was directed to me. Not one to let an opportunity go by, I suggested that yes, we could use blood donations, just in case anything went wrong."
"Did you find out who he is?"
"No. His own physician took care of the procedure. It was done under what
they call a ‘veil of anonymity’. However, his blood type matched Chester’s. AB positive."
"Not that common," Jessica murmured.
"No, it’s not. The reason I am telling you all of this is that the woman from Social Services stuck her nose into it, and now she also suspects the baby’s father is identifiable. She will use this information against you. Irma and I go way back, and I have my own reasons for wanting to see her go down. I will help you any way I can, but no one can know."
Jessica nodded slowly, letting the information sink in. "What do you suggest I do?"
"If you can find this guy and get to him before she does, you might convince him to relinquish his rights before she twists everything into a square knot."
"Is there anything else you can tell me about the man? Is he in this city? Did he mention my sister-in-law at all?"
"He didn’t say anything except that he was a concerned citizen. But believe it or not, I got the phone number from which he called." She opened her desk drawer and brought out a small note pad. "Here it is. I haven’t had the nerve to call it. Maybe you will."
"Really?" Jessica stared at the slip of paper in her hand before finally folding and putting it into her purse. "It could be just a pay phone…"
"I hope not. Irma is scrambling right now to find a new adoptive family. Believe me, Mrs. MacKendall, I don’t know what her motives are, but she is bound and determined that you not be allowed to adopt your nephew."
"I don’t know how to thank you, Mrs.--Mrs…."
"It’s Nadine Carvey. Miss Nadine Carvey. Irma Carvey is my step-sister. Now, would you like to go hold that little bugger a bit?"
~ * ~
As Jessica stretched out between the cool, crisp sheets in her hotel bed, she marveled at the day’s activities. She had expected none of what had transpired. The inside information about the mysterious donor, and the opportunity to finally hold the baby in her arms was unforgettable.
She had called Dane just before retiring. Devon sounded happily tired and completely comfortable with going to sleep on the trundle bed in Alexander’s bedroom. Dane had put all her fears to rest.
"He’s taking good care of us. Don’t worry," Dane had assured her. "Just don’t forget about us."
"Impossible," she had responded with a smile. How true. While absurd to suggest that she could forget her own son, it was almost as unlikely that she could ever forget Dane Pierce.
Even now, in the dark hotel room, his green eyes teased her from the far corner of her heart’s memory. She no longer cared to remember the bad times, the times he had disappeared, the times he had wreaked havoc on her relationship with Mac. What she did call to mind was his oft-concealed goodness. The subtle, cherishing way he had cared over the years.
And as in most nights past, her thoughts turned to Mac and her last words with him. While her husband was not angry when he left for Minnesota on that last May morning, neither was everything exactly right between them. They had… was squabbled the right word? Mac had been uncomfortable about their discussion concerning Dane. She had refused to believe it at the time, tried hard to ignore the fact that he seemed to be angry with Dane all over again.
There was no basis for it. It had been three years, at the time, since Mac had walked into their house and witnessed a good-bye kiss he was never meant to see. Innocent, at least on Jessica’s part, and nothing more than a brief show of affection for a departing friend. Dane was leaving for Singapore, though it hardly mattered to Mac; he saw only a faithless wife and her ex-lover locked in a passionate embrace.
Discomfited by the vision, Jessica tossed in the bed. Mac had left her for months. Pregnant, alone, devastated. Unaware of the depth of Mac’s anger, Dane had left the country as well.
It had been the worst period of her life. Worse than miscarrying her first child at twenty years old. Worse than being abducted and beaten by her ex-husband.
Why am I dredging this up now? It’s all behind me.
Again she turned in the bed. Why, indeed. Dane came back into her mind, and this time the memory was of the two of them on the beach in Amande. Filming had wrapped on Lost Season, and she had called Mac at home to tell him the news. A woman’s voice on the phone had rocked her world.
Dane was there to set it straight.
"I’ve heard making love on the beach is not all it’s cracked up to be. Gets a bit gritty," she had teased, dropping the Hawaiian print wrap dress around her ankles.
"Not if you’re careful," Dane had responded, his keen eyes taking in her surprising immodesty. "But then, who wants to be careful?"
He always said the sexiest things. She blushed in the darkness, remembering with startling detail the events of the night in question. They had made love until, exhausted, they fell asleep just before sunrise, when a jet would take her back to Los Angeles and the man who loved her.
And while it niggled at her for a time, she had eventually managed to disallow the notion that she was also leaving behind the man who loved her.
~ * ~
The adoption board accepted her new application. Jessica managed to avoid a confrontation with Irma Carvey, and, armed with her new information, happily boarded the plane for home.
She had pictures, too. Pictures of nine-month-old Chester MacKendall sitting up in his bassinet.
Dane would help her find the father. Things were looking better and better.
She grabbed a taxi at the airport and headed for home. She wanted to change and unpack before retrieving her son. At home, she found a mountain of business cards on her counter, all from agents previewing or showing her home to prospective buyers. She had agreed to leave a key with the real estate office in her absence, and made a mental note to pick it up as soon as she could. She waived aside the melancholy that accompanied the thought of moving.
After slipping into more comfortable clothing, she sorted through the mail. A large, extremely costly and ornate envelope that certainly must contain an invitation of sorts immediately intrigued her. The sending entity’s address included a logo: a small, embossed gold design replicating an Oscar statuette. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences was requesting her presence in order to accept an award; a posthumous Oscar for Cory MacKendall.
"Oh my God," she whispered, her eyes immediately filling with tears. The letter fluttered in her trembling hand. She was to call the coordinator as soon as possible with her response and the number of people who would accompany her to the awards. "Oh, Mac…" She fairly whimpered his name, dropping into the nearest chair in order to recover.
Ten minutes later, she had decided what to do. Bringing the letter with her, she got into her car and headed for the beach.
~ * ~
The last thing Dane expected was a call from another film director. Crawling out from beneath a blanket-and-clothespin "fort" loosely constructed on the deck, he reached for the cordless phone, hoping to hear Jessica’s voice.
John Lauder seemed as surprised as Dane when the two began to talk.
"Didn’t think you’d be home, Pierce."
"I’m helping out a friend this weekend. What’s up?"
"I want to talk about this piece of crap deal Jessica has dropped in my lap."
Dane’s hackles went up at the negative implication in Lauder’s voice. "She had no control over what happened with that Quill asshole."
"She should have known he wasn’t up to it. A good director--"
"A good director would have been on the set when he was supposed to be there, from the start."
"She knew I had other commitments."
"You never should have agreed to do it if you weren’t available. Come on, John. Don’t try to pin this on Jess. Her heart was in exactly the right place."
"I should have known you would jump to her defense. Anyway, I didn’t call to trash Jess. I like her, you know? She’s tough. Very green, but tough enough. So, you guys gonna go after the little fag?"
"I beg your pardon?" Dane’s eyes shifted from the giggling masses
behind the blanket tent to a scene not really visible. "Quill’s sexual preferences are not an issue here, and I think you’d better drop the homophobic monikers from here on in. And no, we’re not going to press the issue. Yeah, he breached. We’ll probably shelve the project. You wanna sue us? Go ahead."
"Dane, Dane, no reason to get pissed off. I wasn’t saying--"
"You weren’t saying what? So what was the purpose of your call? You already know it all." Dane pressed the "off" key on the phone, knowing that he was being reactionary. Knowing that he had been inordinately abrupt with John Lauder. But just let anyone, anyone at all suggest that Jessica was anything less than perfect…
"Ah, hell." Dane shook off the feeling and rejoined the boys in the tent. And anyway, he hated telephones. It was only a minute before he heard the front screen slam.
"Anybody home?"
Dane poked his head out from beneath the hanging blanket, his face coloring in a hot blush at the sound of her voice as she trotted happily into the living room. Getting to his feet as quickly as he could, he met her halfway.
"Sure, just walk right on in to my private sanctuary," he scolded, watching with interest as she marched up to him and, lifting herself as tall as her feet could stretch, pursed her lips demonstratively. Incredulous that she was inviting him, he pursed his own lips and offered a warm, if chaste, kiss.
"How are all my favorite boys?" she asked, now brushing past and leaving Dane in a decided fluster. "Devon! Mommy’s home," she called.
They ordered pizza.
Dane could not keep his gaze off of her. She was positively glowing.
"I have a big surprise," she announced, once most of the pizza was gone. Reaching into her purse, she withdrew a folded letter. "Boy, do I have a surprise. A couple, actually."
Dane watched her animated expressions as she read the letter from AMPAS. "And guess what?" she announced at the end. "You are all going with me."
"Aw, Jess, I don’t think--"
"And I don’t think you’d better say a word. If you don’t go, I’ll cry. I’ll cry and cry. Won’t I, Devon?"
"Yeah. Mommy will cry."
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