aherospromise_211-3e3.htm

by A Hero's Promise (lit)

  "Wow," Jessica whispered. "That’s terrible. What can you do? Won’t she divorce you?"

  "I imagine she would, were I there, but I’m not. I’ve no address or phone number for her. And anyway, I just can’t ask Dane for any more money. I feel bad enough as it is."

  "Nonsense. Make your reservation. We don’t have to tell Dane why you’re going if you don’t want to. I’ll bet you could find her."

  Peter’s face brightened for a moment, then fell. "Lyddy doesn’t know about her either. My… wife."

  "Well… that’s another story. The last thing you want to do is start out a marriage with a secret. Tell her, she’ll understand."

  "You think so?"

  "I know so. Would you like me to make your travel plans?"

  "I’m very capable of some things, Mrs. Pierce. I can do my own calling."

  "Put it on my credit card. You have the number."

  "Yes, Ma’am. Thank you, Jess. You’re a love."

  "Just one thing. When are you going to propose?"

  "Before I go. And I will tell her the whole story, I promise."

  Jessica beamed. The happiness on Peter’s face helped to momentarily set aside her worries. "I’m so happy! Lydia can be a December bride!"

  "December sounds good to me. If she consents. What will we tell Dane?"

  "If we have to tell him at all, I’ll think of something. Some business matter you left behind that needed attending to. Something like that."

  By the following afternoon, Peter was gone and Lydia was wearing a delighted glow. Jessica began making plans for a December 15th wedding, and Lydia was content to let her. As Dane’s phone calls became fewer and farther between, Jessica decided to delay calling him with the good news. Perhaps Peter would be back before she had to lie for him. Dane probably wouldn’t come home until Thanksgiving.

  And what would happen when he did come home? Their last meeting was terrible. Worse, it was heart breaking. She’d left him in the house he’d had built for them, alone, unwilling to spend another moment trying to change his mind.

  No, she’d given it her best shot. If anything were to change now, it would have to be his doing.

  She was wearing down physically as well. It was the cold weather, the lack of exercise, she wasn’t eating right. It was all of these things, and none of these things. She had thought that the relief, when Mac’s true killer was found, would be enormous. And while she was resting easier now that the murderer was no longer at large, she was more relieved that Dane truly did have nothing to do with Mac’s death. Still, it shamed her to think that she could entertain any other thought on the matter. And she had yet to apologize.

  Oh, she had been so convinced that his love was pure, that his heart was completely devoted to her! They would be together forever.

  "Like that will ever happen for me," she said sullenly, crossing her ankles on the coffee table before the television. "There’s no such thing as forever. I might as well pack it in and forget about men and love. I have my child." He’s all I need. Devon will always love me.

  Bored beyond tears, she flipped the stations with the remote. "I hate television," she said aloud, tossing the remote onto the couch cushions beside her. The news was on, and she only half listened to the broadcast while wallowing in her depression.

  A reporter was interviewing someone from the Minnesota Adoption Board. Jessica sat forward and picked up the remote, turning the sound louder.

  "Channel Thirteen has been following this story from the beginning, when little Chester MacKendall was delivered by Caesarian section of the comatose sister of the late Cory ‘Mac’ MacKendall, TV’s popular Dr. Jim. What effect, if any, will this news have on the outcome of the adoption? Does the identity of the child’s biological father have a bearing on the case?"

  Russ Morrison was looking uncomfortable, straightening his tie. "It may. It’s a complicated situation, since the adoption would have been final in three days. We are definitely taking a close look at the code to see where a case like this falls, whether or not a precedent has been set, and of course, what are the best interests of the child."

  Jessica’s fingers flew to her throat. What did it mean? Would the case be reopened? Not that we have a chance. Especially not now. She sat back against the couch back and sighed. Dane had gone to so much trouble to find out who the father was, never realizing how close he was to discovering the killer. She owed him that. But even if they were to review the Pierces’ application, it was common knowledge that Dane and Jessica Pierce were practically estranged. All of Hollywood knew, so it would do no good to try to hide it from the authorities in Minnesota.

  The news program was now broadcasting a photo of little Chester. Jessica closed her eyes, trying not to cry.

  Lydia drove her to town. They ordered a turkey and all the trimmings for a grand Thanksgiving dinner. On a whim, Jessica decided to add to her wardrobe, and dragged Lydia with her into the only dress shop in town that carried the designs she liked.

  "Man! These can’t be eights. They won’t even zip!" she cried from behind the louvered dressing room door. "Lyd? Can you find me a pair of tens?"

  Lydia complied and Jessica turned for her.

  "They’re cute! Wish my butt was as small as yours," Lydia said.

  Jessica shook her head. "This is ridiculous. I’d better lay off the ice cream! I haven’t been this heavy since… since Devon was a baby." She looked back into the mirror with dismay. "Even my bra is tight. Guess I’d better find the lingerie section."

  "Jess, you don’t look fat at all. Honest. And anyway, Dane will be so glad to see you--he wouldn’t notice if you were twenty pounds overweight!"

  "Why do you always think I’m dressing just for Dane?"

  "Well you are, aren’t you?"

  "No. Absolutely not. And yes, he would notice if I was that big, which, thankfully, I am not. Yet. But at the rate I’m going…" She frowned. "And he won’t be glad to see me."

  Lydia shook her head. "You’re blind, you know that, girl?"

  "You’re starry-eyed, yourself, girl."

  Lydia laughed. "Maybe I am."

  Back at home, Greg was more than ready to be free of the boys. "I thought you guys were never coming back! Dane called. Wants you to call him back."

  The smiled she’d been wearing upon her return fell from Jessica’s face. "Oh. Did he say where I should call him?"

  "He’s on location. Cell phone."

  Jessica went upstairs to Dane’s office to call. Heartbeat thumping in her ears, she paused before pressing the last two numerals. "Calm down, dammit."

  When she felt she could breathe normally, she completed the call.

  Dane answered on the first ring. "I had some news I thought you should know. It’s about Chester."

  "I saw the report on TV. It’s good news, I hope?"

  "No, it’s not. They, uh, can’t seem to locate him."

  "What do you mean, locate him? Isn’t he with his adoptive family?"

  "No. This couple claims Irma Carvey bilked them and took off with the baby. The police are perplexed. No one knows where she is."

  Jessica felt all of the blood drain from her face. "How… how did you find all this out?"

  "That nurse at the hospital, Irma’s sister? She called here looking for you. She got the scoop from a friend. Morrison seems to think the couple is actually in on the scam."

  "Oh, Dane…"

  "I’m sorry, Jess. I’m doing everything I can to find out more. They’ve put out an APB on that Carvey woman."

  "That black-hearted bitch! She wanted Chester for herself! God, kidnapping is a felony! She must be crazy."

  "We knew that a long time ago." Dane paused. "You know I’ll be home next week," he added.

  "Yes. We’re all looking forward to it. Lyddy and I already bought the turkey," she said quickly. And despite what she had said earlier, she found that she was looking forward to seeing Dane.

  "Great. It will be fun. Hey, I’ll let you know if I hear an
ything new, okay?"

  "Please do. And Dane…" Jessica pressed two fingers against her lips, then planted the tiny kiss against the mouthpiece of the phone. "I never said thank you for… you know, finding out who killed Mac. I still can’t believe you were able to do that. And thanks for letting me know about Chet. I really appreciate it."

  "Sure. Bye."

  ~ * ~

  "Help me! Somebody, God damn it! Oww… Damn it that hurts!"

  Sal Cicerelli dropped his megaphone and ran with the others onto the runway where Lisa Lee Falconi laid screaming and cursing. "Get the EMT’s out here! Hurry!" he hollered over his shoulder, then squatted next to his leading lady with concern. "Where does it hurt, Leese?"

  "Here, and here. Ow!"

  "Looks broken to me," one the grips stated flatly.

  Dane watched from his director’s chair, his legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles. It figures, he thought. If you step off the top of a moving stairway, you’re going to fall. If you fall twenty feet, you’re going to break something. He sighed.

  He was still musing when Sal returned.

  "Well, we’re screwed. At least until January. We might as well break for the holidays."

  "No pun intended."

  "No. Surely not." Sal grinned. "Go home to Jessica. Surprise her with a lavish gift."

  "My last lavish gift didn’t go over very well," Dane recalled aloud. "She’s afraid of horses."

  "I always buy my wife jewelry when she’s mad at me."

  "Jessica… is not mad at me."

  "Okay. Buy her jewelry anyway."

  "It’s not what she wants."

  "And that is--?"

  She wants a baby.

  Dane forced a laugh. "She may want a new husband, by now."

  "I doubt that. Back in June, I’d never seen a happier bride. And that was only, what? Five months ago? You couldn’t have wrecked your marriage yet, could you?"

  "I could have," Dane said with a smile. "I certainly could have."

  "Jewelry."

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah. All right. Diamonds. Rubies. Emeralds--" Dane was interrupted by his cell phone. "Yeah?"

  "Daddy?" It was a girl’s voice, but not Zoe’s. She was frightened and trying not to cry.

  "Mimi? What’s wrong?" Dane demanded into the phone, getting to his feet.

  "It’s Mom. She won’t wake up. I’m scared she’s dying!"

  "Okay, baby, tell me where she is. Is she in bed? On the floor? Where?"

  "She’s… she’s on the couch."

  "Did you shake her? Real hard?"

  "Yes! She just flops around! Daddy, can you come?"

  "Melissa, did she take something? Pills or something?" Dane felt his blood pressure beginning to rise. "Mimi? Are you there?"

  "She’s… she’s drunk, Daddy. She’s just drunk, again. But usually she’s awake by now."

  "Is she breathing? Did you try slapping her? Go ahead and smack her across the face, honey. I’ll wait."

  Now Melissa was openly crying. "Okay," she whimpered. Dane could hear his daughter’s efforts to rouse her mother. "Mama! Mama, please!"

  Dane began to pace, then turned and began walking in the direction of the lot where his car was parked.

  "Dane! Where’re you going?" Sal called after him.

  "Got an emergency," he called back. "Call ya later!"

  Dane kept Melissa on the phone as he took to the freeway. Afternoon traffic was brutal, and he skirted the trouble spots as best he could, resorting to surface streets around the major intersections. Melissa had opened the gates as he’d requested, and he sped up the driveway and parked near the door.

  Melissa held the door open for him. "She told me never to call the doctor when this happens," she said, standing to one side as Dane strode briskly into the house.

  "Living room?" he asked as they walked.

  "Yeah."

  Dane rushed to the couch where his ex-wife lay sprawled. "Rita! Come on. Come on, Rita." Grasping her chin, he turned her head from side to side. He pulled open one eyelid and tried to see her pupil. Looking around, he found an empty bottle of gin on the floor. "Rita!" he repeated. "Mimi, get me a glass of cold water."

  His daughter complied and Dane dumped it onto Rita’s face. The woman sputtered and groaned, then returned to her comatose-like condition.

  "Crap. We need to get her to a doctor. I don’t want to second-guess this."

  "Don’t call an ambulance. She’ll kill us. The neighbors, you know."

  "Do you know where the nearest hospital is?"

  "Yeah, we pass it all the time on the way to school. It’s just down the hill."

  "Where is your sister?"

  "Upstairs, in her room. She won’t come down. I think she’s too scared."

  "Go get her."

  "She won’t come for me. You go."

  With a deep sigh, Dane turned and took the stairs two at a time, opening doors and calling Zoe’s name. He found his youngest sitting in the corner of her bedroom, a box of chocolates on her lap. Her eyes were round with fear and confusion.

  "Come on, Zo. We’re gonna take Mom to the doctor."

  "She’s dead."

  "No, she’s not. She’s just very, very sick. Now come on." Zoe got to her feet and Dane was dismayed to see the chocolate stains on her shirt. The weight she’d lost during her summer in Wyoming was creeping back on. "Come on, sweetheart. After we take care of Mom, I’ll take you up to see Jessie. Would you like that?"

  Zoe’s face grew hopeful.

  "Now grab your jacket and come with me."

  Downstairs, Melissa was ashen. "Daddy," she said softly. "Mommy’s… bleeding."

  "Bleeding? Where?"

  Melissa pointed to a spot on Rita’s head, above her ear. Gingerly she lifted a strand of Rita’s chestnut hair, exposing an ugly red gash on her scalp.

  "Where’s the phone?" Dane asked. "Neighbors or no neighbors, we need an ambulance."

  ~ * ~

  "Will she be okay?" Melissa asked as she lost sight of the gurney carrying her mother down the emergency room corridor.

  Dane looked at Melissa, feeling it was the first time he’d really seen her today. Pale, drawn and much too worried for a thirteen-year old, Melissa was obviously frightened. Zoe, sitting in the administrator’s chair, seemed oblivious to her surroundings. Dane went to Melissa and gently, if hesitantly, embraced her. His daughter looked up at him briefly before dissolving into a torrent of tears.

  "She didn’t mean to do it. It’s only because that horrid woman turned her down," Melissa sobbed. "Now, she’s so sad she drinks all the time. I can’t take care of her anymore! I can’t! I can’t…"

  "Shh. It’s okay, Darlin’. We’ll get Mom all fixed up good as new, Okay? Don’t worry. You don’t have to worry any more. I’ll take over from here. I promise. It’ll all be fine." Dane struggled to comfort the girl who was caught between the childhood she craved and the adulthood that was coming all too soon. With remorse, he realized that he had not held this daughter in his arms since she was a toddler.

  After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, a doctor appeared and beckoned to Dane.

  "Well, we’re going to keep her a couple of days. She has a concussion, caused by the conk on the head. Looks like she hit a sharp corner or something. She has a dangerous amount of alcohol in her blood, and unfortunately, some traces of barbiturates. Probably Vicoden. She’s basically a mess and I’ll be recommending…" the doctor paused to glance at Dane’s children, sitting together now on the waiting room couch. "A good facility where Mrs. Pierce can get some… rest."

  Dane nodded and filled his lungs. "Thanks, doc. Can I see her?"

  "Not right now. If you want to come back later this evening, she might be able to talk to you then."

  Dane put the girls into his car and took them back to Rita’s house. He was glad it was Saturday and they would not have school in the morning. Thanksgiving was just days away. After throwing a snack together for the three of them, Dane
picked up the phone.

  "Tom? It’s Dane. I have a favor to ask."

  He was unprepared for anything but a hearty welcome for his daughters while he tended their mother. What he heard, instead, was that Roxanne was under the weather and recuperating from a severe anxiety attack.

  "She’d be glad to do it, you know that, if she could. It’s been a tough time. It seemed to happen just after that guy confessed to killing Mac. She just came unglued that morning. Doctor says shell be better after a few days rest."

  "I am so sorry, Tom. What a terrible… Is there anything I can do?"

  "Sounds like your plate is pretty full already. But thanks."

  "You keep us posted, will you?"

  "Sure will. Dane, I’d watch them myself but I’m spending all my time with Rox. I’m worthless without her."

  "No excuses are necessary, friend."

  "I’m sorry about Rita."

  "Brought it on herself, I’m afraid. The girls are taking it hard, though. I’ll be in touch."

  Dane ended the call but held the phone in his hand. "How’s your Gramma doing these days?" he asked Melissa, who was getting milk for her sister.

  "She’s okay. Mom doesn’t always talk to her when she calls, though."

  "I’m going to call her."

  "Mom will be--"

  "Mad, yeah, I’m sure. Mom is out of choices right now."

  Rita’s mother was quietly aghast at Dane’s revelations about her daughter.

  "She’s going to need you, Irene. I’m going to take the girls up to the ranch for Thanksgiving. The doctors are going to send her down to…" Dane paused and walked into the adjoining dining room, "the Monroe Institute. It’s a drying out farm for A-list drunks and drug addicts."

  After extracting a promise from his ex-mother-in-law, Dane had one more call to make. Luckily, Trina was still at home.

  "I don’t do kids, Dane."

  "You owe me."

  "I do owe you, but--"

  "No ‘buts,’ Darlin’. I know this is a big one, so I’ll owe you back some. Deal?"

  He could hear Trina sigh over the phone. "Just one night?"