aherospromise_211-3e3.htm

by A Hero's Promise (lit)

  At least Dane, she knew, would be watching.

  "You call me any time, you hear?" Jessica said, tousling Zoe’s new, chic haircut. "At least once a week. I’ll be missing you so much!"

  Zoe hugged her hard and then took the flight attendant’s hand. Blinking away her tears, Jessica took the boys by the hand and turned back toward the airport lobby to look for her brother-in-law, Nick Reeves.

  ~ * ~

  It was Alexander’s first trip to the lodge. In the back seat of "Uncle Nick’s" van, Devon bounced up and down with excitement. "Did Aunt Christine make cookies?"

  "You bet. And Angel can’t wait to see you."

  Jessica smiled. She had not seen her twin sister since the wedding and was anxious to meet her new little niece, Bridgett. The baby had, thankfully, waited until after the wedding to be born, coming just about the time Jessica and Dane arrived on Amande.

  "She is just so precious," Jessica said, cradling the baby as she paced the warm kitchen in the lodge. "Bridgett. What a wonderful name. How lucky to have two girls."

  "I know. Nick still wants a son, of course…" Christine said, folding her arms and leaning back against the sink counter. "I’m not of a mind to have any more right now. Vaginal delivery isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, by the way."

  Jessica laughed. "I do remember something about discomfort," she said. "Though I imagine having the electricity on does help?"

  "That’s right, you had Devon during a power outage. I’d forgotten!" her sister said with a grin. "That must have been a treat."

  "Dane was running around like a madman lighting a Coleman lantern, and getting clean towels, and I nearly broke his hand in the process…"

  "Dane? I thought Mac delivered the baby."

  Jessica’s smile faded. "Why, yes, of course he did. It’s just that Dane… Dane was there the whole time, you know, he had to break into the house that night… Mac wasn’t home… until later."

  Dane. Odd that she had only remembered Dane being there, at first. And even odder, it was a comforting feeling.

  "Right. Seems to me Dane has always been there." Christine said softly. "Well, do you remember how to change a diaper?" she asked brightly, and Jessica let the feeling pass. As she laid the baby on the changing table, a new feeling took its place. A fullness, tinged with a bittersweet warmth. The scent of baby powder and the sight of two tiny feet jabbing at her belly overwhelmed her maternal instinct and she closed her eyes briefly.

  Dash the thought, Jess. It ain’t gonna happen.

  She had trouble falling asleep. Alone in a king-sized bed, Jessica tossed half the night. Dane had been in Los Angeles for over two months, and filming of Unstable Airspace was just beginning. He’d promised to come home next week. And while he called nearly every night, their conversations had become trite and perfunctory. Dane seemed distanced by more than the miles, and Jessica worried about the reason. Ever since the late night phone conversation where she had related the accusations, Dane had grown cooler and more aloof.

  It’s the film, of course. He always gets this way.

  She recalled the day they’d met, on the set of Bellerive. He’d taken a few moments away from his preoccupation to talk to her, but had gone back into his manic-film mode soon after. Always driven by perfectionism, Dane was hard to live with while working. She should be glad he wasn’t home.

  Yet she wasn’t. Glad, that is. She missed him, wanted him by her side. But until he came home, she could not begin to repair the damage she may have done by her inopportune moment of doubt.

  She had heard nothing more from Roxanne, and had tried to set the whole incident aside. It was too painful to think about. Brady Stern had filed an appeal to the adoption outcome, but Jessica knew in her heart it was a mere formality, and that after several months of waiting they would hear that the case had been thrown out. By now, little Chester had celebrated his first birthday and Jessica could only hope that he was happy with his new family.

  And it had been okay, really, until she’d lost her new daughter to school. And met her new infant niece for the first time. Now, the longing for a baby had returned full force, landing her back into an emotional maelstrom.

  She turned once more in the bed. He’d be home soon, and everything would be fine again.

  Twenty-seven

  Mom Two

  The drive from Jackson Hole’s small airport to the ranch was the longest part of the journey for Dane. Chagrined to find himself nibbling at his own thumbnail, he cursed. It shouldn’t be this way. I should be happy to be coming home to the woman I love. She should be happy I am coming home. But is she?

  She’d been less than cheerful on the phone. Chilly, perhaps. Maybe it was just himself. His craziness over the film. His worry that the adoption appeal was going nowhere.

  She did embrace him, long and hard, at the front door. But eye contact was brief before their sons come bounding up to him, each wanting an affectionate turn at their returning father.

  "We got the adoption papers on Devon," she said at the dinner table.

  "‘Doption? What’s that?" Devon wanted to know.

  "It means--" Jessica and Dane both started at once. Jessica looked to Dane, who continued. "It means I’m your legal father now."

  "But not your real father," Alexander shot back.

  Jessica looked alarmed and Dane sighed. After a warning look at Alexander, he turned to Devon. "I’m as real as they come, Sport. When you’re older, you’ll understand the difference between a legal father and a biological father. But for now, it’s not real important. Let’s just say I’m your second father, and I love you just as much. Forever. Okay?"

  "Forever unless you die," Devon said matter-of-factly, and Dane didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Jessica cleared her throat.

  "No, Devon, your first daddy still loves you, too. You know that. Even from heaven, people can still love and watch over you. Right, Dad?"

  "Sure," Dane murmured and put down his fork.

  "Not hungry?" Jessica asked.

  "I guess not. It’s the--"

  "Film, I know. You never eat. By the looks of you, you haven’t eaten well in a while. We’ll have to fatten him up while he’s home, right boys?"

  "Ice cream," Devon said. "We always used to eat it. Mommy doesn’t buy it anymore. She says it makes her sad about my first--"

  "I’ll buy some! Now, finish your dinner. It’s bath night," Jessica said quickly.

  "Sad?" Dane asked.

  Jessica just shook her head and looked back toward Devon.

  "I don’t want to take a bath. I’m big enough to take showers," Alexander stated flatly.

  "Fine." Jessica said, the strain in her voice thinly disguised by her light tone.

  Dane cleared the table while Jessica took the boys upstairs. Peter had taken Lydia to a show, suggesting that Dane may like an evening alone with his family. Now, loading the dishwasher, Dane felt ill.

  A sensation was returning to his stomach. Not a pain exactly, just an odd discomfort that gnawed at him. When had it started? He paused, plate in hand, wondering why the feeling had surfaced so strongly tonight.

  No, he wasn’t the "real" father. The real father was dead. Worse, she wasn’t buying ice cream because it reminded her of Mac? Give me a break!

  The discussion at the dinner table had been difficult, but it had only added to the already growing monster inside him. His last visit home, back in June… Jessica was talking to Megan about Mac. She’d said something about still loving Mac, and having to just "go on and make the best of things." Was that what their marriage was about, just an attempt to make the best of things?

  And before that. In the adoption office with that Carvey woman, Jessica had referred to Mac as her husband. Dane had tried to ignore the comment at the time; it was an easy mistake to make. Still…

  She was telling Devon that Mac was still here, still watching. Dane dropped the plate into the dishwasher rack and slammed the door.

  Well, maybe he was still h
ere. Still watching.

  ~ * ~

  "You’ve been drinking," Jessica said softly, her lips trailing from Dane’s earlobe to his cheek. On his first night home, he’d complained of fatigue and had gone to bed early. Tonight, he knew, she would not let him off so easily.

  "Just a shot of Jack. I’m still tense from L.A."

  "I think the airlines should pass out anti-depressants upon arrival at LAX," she quipped, sliding her fingers through his hair. "Except for the wedding, I haven’t seen you take a drink in ages."

  "No big deal," he said hoarsely. "L.A. isn’t so bad. I’ve just got a lot on my mind."

  "The film’s going well?"

  "Yeah. Great."

  "Any news from Brady?"

  "Nope." Dane sighed and turned to face her. She looked like an angel to him, the moonlight from their bedroom window casting a halo effect around her face. "You know, Sweetie…" He took a moment to draw a finger down her cheek, wishing with all his might that the badness inside him would go away. "It’s probably not going to happen. I wish I could do something, but every direction I turn is blocked."

  She looked into his eyes then, and he tried to see what was there. Disappointment? Despair? He was unsure.

  "I know. I’ve already figured that out for myself," she said softly. "Can we just forget about all that, just for tonight?"

  Not sure if the Jack Daniels was helping or hurting his cause, Dane whispered his agreement and took her into his arms. He would, for tonight, try to forget, and focus his every fiber upon pleasing her. There would be plenty of time to worry in the days to come.

  ~ * ~

  Her father was laughing. His eyes shone clearly in the dim room, and he shook his head slowly as if some sour, melancholy joke had come to his mind. He was younger than she could remember him ever being. Jessica could not see her mother’s face but knew it was wrinkled with age, could hear the wrinkles in her voice as her words condemned the handsome man reclining in the easy chair.

  Jessica stayed hidden in the shadows. She trembled at her mother’s ire, wishing she would stop yelling at her beloved father. "Stop," she murmured, taking a step forward. "Stop it. He didn’t do anything wrong."

  Her parents continued to argue. Torn in confusion, Jessica rounded the front of the living room couch, making herself known to her mother. "You want everything perfect," she ventured, surprised at the childlike sound of her own voice. "Leave us alone."

  "He will spoil you," her mother said, turning to face Jessica in the darkness. "He will get bored and leave you. He will never take care of you the way I did." Before her eyes, her mother’s face faded away and another one took its place. His fist was raised.

  "Don’t hurt him." Jessica’s body jerked abruptly and she rolled over in bed. The warmth of Dane’s torso against her back was comforting, and she nested against him as he slipped an arm around her waist.

  "Okay?" he whispered groggily.

  "I was dreaming about Mac."

  ~ * ~

  "Okay. That’s a wrap for today."

  "Are you sure? I didn’t like the way that last line came out. Let’s do it again," Dane called from across the set.

  "Dane, c’mere," Sal Cicerelli called, looking down at his shuffling feet. When Dane stood before him, Sal looked up at and him and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Look, man. You know I have the greatest respect for you, for your work. I mean, you’re the man in this business. But here, now, today, I’m the director. I call the shots. That take wasn’t even a hair’s breadth away from perfect." He held up his thumb and first finger to demonstrate. "Now go home and get some rest. You’re starting to look haunted."

  Dane took a deep breath. "Right. You’re right, of course. I’m sorry, Sal. I’m outta here." He turned and started to walk away when the director called after him.

  "You wanna get a drink later?"

  Dane turned and gave Sal an appraising eye. "Sure. That would be great."

  He went home to clean up before going back out. He was just about to leave the house to meet Sal when the phone rang.

  "Hello Mr. Pierce. Murdo Denehy here. Have you got a minute?"

  "Actually, no."

  "I’ve heard you’re quite an eloquent writer. We have this inner-city mentoring program we’re test driving this fall, and we’re recruiting local celebrities to take part and help out these disadvantaged teens. I thought you might be interested in giving a little talk on the benefits of journaling."

  "What the hell are you talking about?" Dane asked, trying to shrug into his jacket while jockeying the telephone. His stomach was beginning to churn.

  "Just a thought. Sorry to have bothered you."

  Journaling? Seething, Dane stared at the phone in his hand. The line was dead.

  He’s baiting me. Nothing more. He couldn’t possibly know about the journal.

  The Club wasn’t crowded, and he spotted Sal at a corner table. They chatted about the film, Sal’s grandkids and the latest tax on the film industry. Sal ordered a second round.

  "I remember sitting in a bar in New Zealand with Mac," he said suddenly. "He was just a picture of misery."

  Almost beyond caring about what he said, Dane shrugged. "So what was the almighty Cory MacKendall upset about?"

  "The same thing you’re upset about. His wife."

  Dane turned slowly to look at Sal. "I’m not upset about anything. Hell, life’s a bowl of fuckin’ cherries, ain’t it?"

  Sal smiled. "Yes, my friend, it is. Of course you have to watch out for the pits, as they say. I have some advice for you."

  "Sal, forgive me in advance. I’ve never been known for my impeccable manners while drunk. Not that I am drunk, mind you, but I’m hoping to be soon. So, anyway, please save your advice for someone who needs it. Mac maybe needed it. I don’t."

  "Of course you don’t. But humor me, I’m a lot smarter than you are." The older man smiled and took another swig of bourbon. "The word of advice is mellow. M,E,L,L,O."

  "W."

  "What?"

  "You forgot the W, asshole."

  "If you don’t, you’ll lose her for sure. She’s a fine woman, Dane."

  "Damned straight, she is."

  "He almost lost her."

  "He never lost her." Dane signaled the waiter. "He still hasn’t."

  "Mac’s dead, man. He’s gone, she’s yours. Don’t make a stupid mistake."

  "What do you know about mistakes? You’re the director, remember? Not me."

  Sal shook his head.

  "And anyway, what makes you think I’m upset about my wife?"

  "He wasn’t as perfect as you think."

  "No?" Dane pulled his wallet from his pocket and tossed down some bills. "Another for me and my guru, here." He swallowed the last of his drink. "I used to call him a Boy Scout. And he was. Through and through. Not a misshapen bone in his body. Not an unkind thought. He probably even orchestrated their timing in the sack so that--"

  "Is that what worries you? You think he was a better lover? Hail, Mary!!"

  Dane only glared.

  "I’ll tell you this. And I tell you this with the disclaimer that he was my friend and I liked him. He was every bit as insecure as you are right now. He worried night and day. You want to know what he worried about? You, my friend. You. And her."

  "Well bless my soul," Dane muttered sourly. "He’s getting back at me now for all that worryin’, isn’t he?"

  Sal blew his breath out in a muted, frustrated whistle. "He’s dead, man. You’re alive. Make the most of it before it’s too late."

  "Actually, that’s ‘make the best’ of it. I’ve heard that one before." Easy for him to say. He’s not being accused of murdering his wife’s ex.

  ~ * ~

  October 30th was Alexander Pierce’s twelfth birthday. Standing at the front window in the great room, he stared out at the pouring rain, unaware that his stepmother was watching from the hall. Jessica could feel his depression.

  "Want to play a game?" she ventured, knowing
well he did not.

  "Has Dad called?"

  "Not yet. He will, honey. You know how he is when--"

  "He’s working on a picture. I’m sick of hearing about the picture! I’m sick of being stuck here! I want to go home."

  "This is your home, Alex," Jessica said, the lameness of her words wrinkling her nose. "Come on. I’m bored too. Want to go into town?"

  "Why not." Alexander’s tone was lackluster, but he wandered to the peg on the wall that held his coat. "And I hate raincoats."

  Jessica informed Lydia that she was taking Alexander into town, then grabbed her own coat off the wall. Soon, she was maneuvering the SUV down the muddy road leading away from the ranch.

  "He’s not coming home for my birthday, is he?"

  "It doesn’t look that way. It doesn’t mean anything, Alex. I remember when he was in Singapore, really, really sick, and all he could talk about was getting home for your birthday. It motivated him to get well faster."

  "Hmph."

  In Jackson Hole, the streets were mostly deserted. They wandered in and out of the tourist shops, Jessica offering to buy anything that even remotely piqued Alexander’s interest.

  "Did you speak with Mom One today?"

  "Yeah. She said my present was returned in the mail. The delivery company couldn’t deliver it. She said it’s Dad’s fault for not having the address posted at the end of our road."

  "Dad has very good reasons for keeping the road anonymous looking."

  "I know. So people won’t bug us."

  "So is she sending the gift again?"

  "No. She said she’ll give it to Dad when she sees him. He goes there to see my sisters."

  "Well that’s good, isn’t it?"

  "If he ever comes home."

  "He’ll come home, sweetheart."

  They stopped in front of a magazine rack. Jessica focused on the decorating periodicals, wary of the variety of "movie" magazines and gossip rags. Alexander browsed those offering computer game reviews.

  "Hey, Mom Two! Look, it’s Dad!"

  Jessica bit her lip but reached for the magazine. Movies Now! was on the set of Unstable Airspace with some exclusive photos of the cast!