Down in the kitchen, Dane sat at the breakfast bar beside Devon and stole a strawberry from his plate.
"Hey!" Devon complained, then laughed at Dane’s comic attempt to hide the evidence.
"Where’s your mom, slugger?"
"Don’t know. She went outside. We took a big ol’ nap today. Well, she did. I was awake the whole time."
"Sure you were. Lyd, you know where Alex and Zoe are?"
"Peter took them to the Perons’. They have a couple of baby goats just born today."
Dane nodded and decided to look for Jessica. He almost didn’t check the barn; it was the last place he would have expected her to go. Still, the barn door was not closed as tightly as he or Greg would have left it.
"Jess?" he called, once inside.
"Yes! I’m over here."
"Wow. You’re really determined, aren’t you?" he said with a laugh, leaning against the outside of the stall door.
"Could you, please, just get me out of here?"
"What? Are you glued to the wall?"
"No. Just--just move her aside so I can get out."
"Move her? Are you kidding?" Dane chuckled. "She’s a stubborn little gal. Kinda like you. Beautiful, but tough."
"You said she was gentle."
"Did she kick you or something?"
"No, but…"
Dane couldn’t help but enjoy Jessica’s dilemma. He shook his head slowly. "How did you get back there, Darlin’?"
"I walked in, fool. I came in here to think. I know you always come in here when you need to think."
"And just what important things do you have on your mind?"
Jessica tossed her hair behind her shoulder. "Katrina Vidal, for one!"
Dane felt his eyebrows lift in surprise. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, watching the defiance on Jessica’s face grow. "She was my trainer. What about her?" he finally asked.
Jessica set her jaw, but lowered her eyes. "Are you still seeing her?"
Dane eyed Jessica, wondering just how much she knew and how much she needed to know. "Come on out and we’ll talk about it."
"Make the horse move."
"Come around her. She won’t hurt you."
"Please, Dane, just… she’s blocking my way."
"Let’s show a little faith here, Jess." Giving her a hard stare, he lowered his voice. "In me. Jesus, we’re getting married in a couple of days."
Jessica remained frozen in her spot, looking from the horse’s big head to Dane’s eyes.
"Do you really think I’d be sleeping with a stripper and proposing to you at the same time?"
Their eyes locked on one another, an eternity passing before Jessica began to slowly approach the horse, edging her way around the mare and closer to the stall door. Dane opened the door and she hurried out.
Stunned, Dane watched as she stormed past him and toward the house. And when his wits returned, he broke into a jog to catch up with her.
"Hold on there," he called, grasping her arm and trying to impede her flight. "We need to settle this right now."
Jessica turned, her face filled with confusion. "Okay. Let’s. Why were you bailing her out of jail, and why didn’t you tell me? You were sleeping with her, weren’t you?"
"Hell, yes. I did. A few times… months ago. Last winter. It was a nothing sort of deal. But we stopped seeing each other, and then she got picked up on a bum rap. She had no one else to call that night. I probably shouldn’t have done it, but I did. And out of respect for her, I didn’t tell anyone. Not even you. Maybe I should have, and I’m sorry."
Jessica stared at him for a long moment, her thoughts unreadable.
She’s trying to believe me. And how can I blame her if she doesn’t? My track record stinks.
"Before you go trying and convicting me, you might want to remember a time when you were doing the explaining, to someone else who preferred to believe the worst. I’m not any guiltier than you were then."
At his reference to the incident, so long ago, that had caused Mac to leave her in devastation, Jessica’s eyes grew soft and, possibly, saddened. Wordlessly and with some obvious hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Dane’s waist and hugged him tightly, then pulled quickly away and strode purposefully toward the house.
God, help me keep this woman. I will do anything.
Twenty-four
Third and Final Husband
The champagne flowed freely on the afternoon of June 14th. Dane wore a light linen suit and a perpetual grin, most often turned upon his glowing bride, and Jessica felt her world just might be coming together at last.
The heavy, crocheted gown needed no alterations. Roxanne and Jessica took a short walk to the rear, grassy backyard and sat down together at the patio table. Inside, the reception was in full swing.
"Dane looks like the cat that swallowed the canary," Roxanne observed, and Jessica gave her a smiling shrug. She was too happy to consider analyzing anything about anybody else today.
"He always looks that way."
"I heard he bought you a horse."
Jessica nodded her head slowly. "That, he did. He can’t stand it that I don’t ride."
"He’s a man used to getting his own way."
Jessica started to question her newly re-acquainted friend but remembered her credo for the day: nothing was important enough to cast a shadow on her wedding day. Besides, Roxanne was still acting somewhat aloof and detached. It wouldn’t do to rock the boat. Not today.
Silently, they watched the children playing on the lawn. Devon was delighted to see Christine’s daughter again, and together the preschoolers ran rampant. Zoe shadowed her father most of the time, quietly observing the goings-on. Peter had enlisted Alexander’s help in making sure the guests’ glasses stayed filled.
"When’s Chrissie’s baby due?" Roxanne asked.
"Oh, about any minute now."
"The ceremony was nice."
"Dane wrote some of that."
"How’s Devon taking all this?"
Jessica looked squarely at Roxanne. "He’s completed devoted to Dane. He’s already calling him ‘Pop’."
"Will he go by Pierce?"
"Dane wants to adopt him, but not change his name. If we get Chester, he will be Chester MacKendall Pierce. Looks like we might get legal custody of Zoe, too."
Roxanne’s eyes drifted back to the children on the lawn. "I hope it all works out for you."
Jessica lifted her chin. Roxanne’s statement, while appropriate, was decidedly flat. Still, she chose to ignore her friend’s apparently melancholy mood. "I always thought I’d have more children. Of my own, I mean."
"Has Dane considered trying to reverse his vasectomy?"
Startled, Jessica turned back. "Why, I have no idea. We’ve never discussed it. It’s been a long time… does that really work?"
"Sometimes. Some people think it’s worth a try. But I would imagine it might be a little risky adding even more kids to Dane’s plate."
"Risky?" Jessica asked, finally allowing her patience to be tried. She was ready to shake Roxanne.
"I just don’t see him as much of a patriarch, if you know what I mean." Roxanne stood. "I’m expecting a message from a very important client. May I use your computer to check my email?"
Jessica stood also, looking away and wetting her lips. Drawing in a deep breath, she didn’t look back at Roxanne. "Of course. It’s upstairs in Dane’s office. I need to see to our guests anyway."
~ * ~
Peter Welles was filling the coffee pot when Jessica wandered into the kitchen the next morning. An ice pack tied onto the top of his perpetually worn baseball cap, Peter was practically staggering as he struggled to walk erect.
"Coffee, dear?" he asked, a grimace on his normally cheerful face.
"Sure. Where’s Lyd?"
"Sleepin’."
Jessica lifted an eyebrow but held her tongue. Neon lights could not have made the word "hangover" more apparent.
Peter squinted at her from across t
he kitchen. "I see you’re none the worse this morning."
Jessica crossed her arms across her chest and grinned. "As wedding nights go, it was tolerable." She shook her head. "But Mr. Pierce is nursing a bit of a headache this morning, so don’t feel bad."
"Oh, I do. I feel terribly bad, for both of us." Peter clasped his hands in prayer before the Mr. Coffee brewer. "C’mon, you wicked machine!"
"You know what they say about a watched pot," Jessica advised. Peter only grumbled in response.
As soon as the coffee was done, Jessica poured a cup and trotted back upstairs to the bedroom she now shared with Dane.
"My angel," he murmured, sitting up and taking a sip of the coffee. "Happy honeymoon."
"Thanks. Happy honeymoon to you, too."
"What do you say we ditch all these people and take off for Cancun or something?"
"Sure. Then Paris, Naples, and let’s not forget Rio."
"Rio has possibilities," Dane allowed. "Or we could go back to Amande."
"Amande?" Jessica paused, her hand on the drapery cord.
"Sure. We have friends there, remember?"
"I remember eating bullfrogs. And bugs. And you and Mac fighting."
"We had the best reason in the world to be fighting." Dane’s eyes were warm and thoughtful. "Do you also remember the balmy nights, the white sands, the steel drum band?"
"I remember fainting a couple of times." Jessica sat down on the edge of the bed, her vision leaving Dane and traveling back to the days spent filming Lost Season. "I remember dancing with you in the cantina."
"I remember mad, passionate, unprotected sex on the beach."
"You would."
"And you do."
"How could I forget? I could barely walk afterward." Jessica went to the dresser and began brushing her hair, a rosy blush tinting her cheeks. The sight of the new rings on her finger gave her pause. "We can go back, if you’d like. It might be fun."
"Ah, the mention of lovemaking and you’re in, eh?"
"That’s not what I meant. And anyway, what would we do with the kids?"
"Leave them here. We’ll only be gone a few days. Pete and Lydia can handle the little squabs while we’re gone, then we’ll go out to Minne and visit our new son."
Jessica whirled about, hairbrush poised. "Oh Dane, do you really think we’ll get him someday?"
Dane crawled out of bed and took her into his arms. "Of course we will. I know I haven’t been much help to you on this. I needed to get things squared away for Zoe, but it’s looking better all the time. We’ll get Brady Stern in on it. There’s no reason in the world we can’t make this work."
"I hope you’re right."
"Oh, by the way, there’s a little wedding gift for you in the closet," Dane said, reaching for a pair of swim trunks he’d draped over a chair.
Jessica shoved open the sliding door and turned around, puzzled.
"That cardboard tube there. Hand it to me." Dane took the tube and slipped his fingers into one end, withdrawing a rolled stack of blueprints and spreading them out on the unmade bed. "What do you think?"
Jessica peered at the plans and her heart quickened. "This is a house," she murmured, turning the large sheets on the bed like a massive book. "For us?"
"Yeah. I found this nice lot on a hilltop in Malibu, and figured we’d need a winter home that was a little more suitable than the beach house. Like it?"
"God, it’s beautiful! I can’t believe it! Big enough for all our various children, too."
Dane once again pulled her close. "Of course, we should keep the beach house, too, for when all our various children become too taxing…"
She accepted a kiss, then smacked him on the behind. "You’d better shower and get dressed if we’re going to Amande."
When she returned to the kitchen, Tom Jarrick was sitting at the table perusing the newspaper. Dark eyebrows knitted in concern, he frowned as he turned the pages, yet brightened when Jessica sat down across from him.
"Mrs. Pierce! What’s that saying? Always a bride, never a… damn. Slips my mind."
"Very funny. Roxanne still in bed?"
"She’s getting dressed. We are going to venture a little horseback ride this morning."
"Good luck. Lord knows there’s an assortment of horses to choose from out there."
"She’s hesitant. Always worrying that she might fall or something. She’s afraid to risk another miscarriage. Of course, she always assumes she might be pregnant."
Jessica lowered herself slowly into the chair across from Tom. "What miscarriage?" she asked softly.
Tom again creased his handsome forehead. "You didn’t know?"
Jessica shook her head. "When did this happen?"
"I’m sorry. I didn’t realize she hadn’t told you." Tom’s face reflected his astonishment. "It was in January. While you were working on that picture. She was already still so distraught about Mac. There was no physical reason the doctors could determine. She was only three months along."
Jessica drew in a deep breath. She couldn’t fathom why Roxanne would not tell her something so important. Unless… unless she hadn’t been listening.
"I am so sorry, Tom. She didn’t tell me. I’m… I’m just speechless. I wish I had known."
"She’s been getting some counseling. It’s been really rough." Now Tom sighed. "It might be better not to say anything right away. Put a little space around it. Maybe you two can slowly get back in touch, and she’ll tell you about it herself. We’re still trying, but I don’t think her frame of mind is conducive to, you know, conception."
Jessica nodded slowly. So many loose ends could be tied by Tom’s story. Her heart ached for her friend, who’d had to suffer so many losses in such a short time.
"She really dislikes Dane," she murmured, more to herself than to Tom.
"No, she just really loved Mac. I think we all did." He placed a fatherly hand over hers. "For the record, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see you with than Dane. He’s a good guy, and nobody can challenge the fact that he would lay down his life for you. You’ve both been through enough crap, you should be able to shape a marriage that works."
"Thanks, Tom. That means so much to me. Please, would you let me know if anything else happens, in case Rox doesn’t tell me?"
Tom was quick to assure her that he would keep her informed.
With a heavy sigh, Jessica turned her thoughts to her new husband and children, and the hastily planned honeymoon.
~ * ~
"Married! Damn it! That figures."
Denehy hung up the phone and thumped his fisted hand on the desk. "That figures," he repeated. This was definitely a set back.
~ * ~
"Married. Big deal. Anyone could find some big creep with an inflated ego to marry," Irma Carvey mumbled, scrunching up the phone message and tossing it into the wastebasket. "Sad, really."
Thumbing through the papers in her file, Irma pulled one out and put it on top. Mr. and Mrs. DeWitt would be Chester MacKendall’s proud new parents. Not wealthy, certainly not socialites, but they met the criteria with flying colors. Hell, they even had a swing set in their backyard, and three other children, all with good teeth and clean socks. They’d welcome another boy into their family, she’d bet on it.
In fact, she was betting her entire life savings.
For on paper, Chuck DeWitt ran a profitable mail-order business from his home. His tax returns were neatly in order, and he had fifty thousand dollars in the bank. Had the funds been verified? Of course. Irma had seen to it herself. The source of the recently deposited funds? Carefully she penned the letters, "I-N-H-E-R-I-T-A-N-C-E." Verified by? "I.C."
The governess job she had been offered in upstate Michigan provided for her to bring her young son. A perfect arrangement. Perfect for her, for Chester, for the nearly bankrupt DeWitts.
Now, all she had to do was get that MacKendall woman out of the picture. For good.
~ * ~
Amande.
; It was not at all as she remembered it. They had been told about a renovation, but neither Jessica nor Dane expected the changes to the Marquis they discovered when exiting the limousine at the hotel’s new grand entrance. The broad expanse of window glass behind the registration desk revealed a seemingly endless beach of crystalline white sands, beautifully maintained and dotted with relaxing, presumably wealthy, vacationers.
"Where are the bungalows?" Jessica asked the registrar, who was busily punching numbers into a state-of-the-art computer system.
"Bungalows?"
"The little cabins you used to have on the beach," Dane said, gesturing past the long, three story hotel buildings to each side of them.
"Oh, those were torn down before I came here. The place became so popular they had to expand."
"Popular? Nobody came here before."
"Before. Yeah, before that movie it was pretty dead, I hear."
"Movie?" Jessica asked, coyly pulling her sunglasses away from her face. "What movie would that be?"
The young clerk looked up from his keyboard. "It was called Lost Season, Mrs.… Mrs.… oh, shit. I mean, oh gosh, I’m sorry. You’re…"
"Mr. and Mrs. Roger Boyer. Could we have our keys now? You can send the bellman with our bags," Dane said impatiently.
Jessica offered a broad smile at the flustered clerk, allowing Dane to usher her away toward the elevator.
"It’s on the top floor," the young man sputtered after them.
"Penthouse usually is…" Dane muttered and Jessica giggled.
~ * ~
"Not exactly a twelve hundred dollar mattress," Dane complained, stretching out on the bed with his arms folded behind his neck. "It’ll do, though."
Jessica pushed aside the draperies and opened the French doors leading to a large, private patio deck. The view was unrivaled. "Oh Dane, you must see this. It’s… stunning."
"Not the same, though."
"Nothing is the same, really. Everything is always changing."
"Except for one thing." Dane beckoned for her to join him on the bed, where he encircled her with his arms. Holding her close, cuddling her against him, he pressed his lips to her forehead. "This… will never change."
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