aherospromise_211-3e3.htm

by A Hero's Promise (lit)

  "You needed something?"

  "Yeah, could you please pick up Alexander for me today? I don’t want to miss this… this program." Her excuse sounded so hollow, but she believed Greg would understand what was going on. "Please?"

  "No problem, Mrs. Boss. I’ll leave in about five minutes. I need to stop at the tack store anyway."

  "Thanks."

  "I wanna go!" Devon shouted, bouncing in front of his mother in order to gain her attention.

  "No, not this time, Dev. Be still."

  "But tomorrow’s no school an’ I can’t go."

  "Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving," Jessica said softly. "I wonder if we’ll be alone."

  "Pop’s coming home," Devon said importantly, marching back and forth before the fireplace.

  "Maybe."

  "No, really. He said."

  "When did he say?"

  "Today. On the ant sheen," Devon said, pointing to the answering machine on the bar. "He said he’ll be home soon."

  "How soon?" Jessica asked, now alarmed as she crossed to the machine and stared at its display window. "Devon, it doesn’t say anyone called. Are you sure?"

  "Pop called. He’s coming. I raced the message."

  "You what? You erased it?" Still on hold, Jessica hung up the phone in frustration. "Devon MacKendall, how many times have I told you not to play with this machine! Now I can’t hear Daddy’s message!"

  "I want to go with Greg!" Devon shouted back at her, kicking his foot demonstratively and knocking over the fireplaces tools. The clatter was deafening.

  "Okay. That’s it. Go upstairs to your room, right now!" Jessica demanded, pointing toward the staircase in anger. "Go!"

  A change in the news program caught her ear and she turned.

  "We’re outside the police station where young Chester MacKendall has been reunited with his foster parents. While authorities aren’t able to share their identities, there’s no hiding the joy on the faces of this young family as they greet the little boy who lived with them almost from birth. This is the same couple, we understand, who tried to adopt MacKendall, even after the open heart surgery that would have turned many prospective adoptive parents away. A heart warming scene, coming to you live from downtown Minneapolis."

  Jessica slowly lowered herself to sit on the couch. The woman holding Chet was crying, smiling through her tears and kissing the tot again and again. There was no mistaking the enormous love and relief on the faces of both the parents. Hollowness began to spread throughout Jessica’s chest. She would not need to call the airlines back.

  So, Irma had hoodwinked them all. The couple Jessica thought had withdrawn their application had not. The baby clearly loved the couple. There was no room in the equation for Jessica.

  Clicking off the remote, Jessica sat in silence for several minutes. If this isn’t a dark moment, I don’t know what is, she thought, her heart so heavy she felt it difficult to breathe. The quiet of the house enhanced the feeling. In fact, the house was too quiet.

  "Dev?" she called, looking toward the stairway leading to the second floor. "Dev? You can come down now. Mommy’s sorry."

  No sound returned from Devon’s bedroom door.

  "Devon?" Jessica took to the stairs and hurried up to the first bedroom on the left. The door was open, the room empty. "That little scamp." The other rooms were vacant as well.

  Back downstairs, Jessica hurried into her down parka and stepped outside, eyes perusing the courtyard and the driveway. All was quiet.

  "Devon! Where are you? Come on out, Mommy’s sorry!"

  While she knew Devon was hardly strong enough to open the heavy barn door, she looked inside anyway. Whiskey, king of the stable, looked around as if indignant at her intrusion. "Don’t say it, Whisk. I know. I shouldn’t have yelled at him." Whiskey blew her a raspberry and Jessica retreated from the barn.

  Jessica spent a good fifteen minutes searching the immediate grounds for her son. A rising panic threatened her already shaky frame of mind. Where could he be?

  Forcing herself to calm down, Jessica tried to focus her thoughts. Looking around, she was surprised to see footprints in the snow. Small ones that she’d missed before. They seemed to lead past the barn, but disappeared into the snow bank Greg had created when clearing the driveway that morning. It was possible Devon had wandered off in the direction of the small, forested hills beyond the frozen streambed. How could she cover so much ground alone? With some trepidation, she looked back toward the barn and set her jaw.

  ~ * ~

  "Mimi, look! Snow! It’s real snow!" Zoe jabbed at the window with her finger. Her sister, mesmerized at the sight of the white-blanketed runway, nodded slowly.

  "Get your jackets back on. It’s pretty chilly out there," Dane told them, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting to his feet. "I’ve got a car waiting to take us to the ranch."

  After securing his daughters in the backseat of the four-wheel drive Suburban, Dane slid behind the wheel and began the short drive to the ranch.

  "Can we make a snowman, Daddy?" Zoe asked, now drawing happy faces in the fog on the door window.

  "After we get you some gloves and snow boots."

  "Does… Jessica… know we’re coming?" Melissa asked, her arms crossed against her chest.

  "Sure she does. I’m sure she and Lydia have cooked up something nice and hot for your dinner. And don’t look so nervous. You’ll like Jess."

  "Jess is cool," Zoe agreed, and Dane grinned in spite of himself.

  The house was empty when they arrived, but a pot of coffee had just been brewed in the kitchen.

  "She’s probably at the school picking up your brother. Why don’t you show your sister your bedroom? I’ll bring your bags up in a bit," Dane told Zoe, and the girls happily clattered up the stairs. He poured himself a cup of the steaming brew, and sat down to a stack of mail he found in a rack on the kitchen wall. All of it was unopened and addressed to him.

  He’d been waiting a half hour or more when Greg and Alexander burst through the door, laughing and tramping in snow.

  "Dad!" the boy fairly shrieked and rushed to embrace his father, much to Dane’s delight.

  "So you did call. Devon was right," Greg commented, reaching out to shake Dane’s hand. "Where’s the missus? I need to talk to her about some things before I take off."

  "And where are you off to?"

  "Portland. Goin’ home to see my mama for the holiday."

  "That’s great. Uh, Jess didn’t go with you?"

  "Nope. She asked me to pick up Alex. She was watchin’ some news show. I think it was about Chester."

  Dane’s eyes swept the room and rested on the television, which was off, then back toward the front windows of the house. "Well unless she bought another car while I was gone…"

  "No, I was in the truck. There’s no other vehicle on the premises besides your rental."

  They took a few minutes to search the house. Jessica and Devon were nowhere to be found.

  "They were fighting when I left. Devon was being a little shit about having to stay home."

  Dane put on his coat and gloves, and turned to his children, all three of which were at various levels on the staircase. "You kids stay put. I’m gonna take a little walk. Greg, if you have to leave before I get back, just make sure the kids are locked in. And have a nice visit with your mom, you hear?"

  "Sure, Boss. Thanks. Tell the missus and the little squirt bye for me."

  Dane looked around the courtyard. He was just about to enter the barn when a movement in the distance caught his eye. A lone horse with no rider was approaching; an unmistakably large, auburn steed with a proud, possibly arrogant attitude was slowly making his way toward the barn. With a nervous sigh, Dane met Whiskey halfway.

  "All right, you old nag, what did you do with my woman?" The big roan horse snorted and turned his head away. Dane reached beneath Whiskey’s belly and tested the buckle on the surcingle. "Not bad, Jess," he muttered. Hoisting himself onto the horse’s back, he steer
ed the horse close to the house where Greg was watching from the porch. "You cinch this saddle?"

  "Nope. She musta done it herself. She’s been practicing."

  Dane nodded and tugged the reins to the right, heading up the hill and away from the house. He shuddered a little, the frigid air turning his breath into small white clouds around his face. A gnawing began in his stomach, a small worry that he tried to ignore.

  Why can’t horses be like dogs, he wondered in irritation. "Come on, Whisk, where’d you leave her?" He thought he might be following some tracks, but the snow was old and the trail was unclear. It was twenty minutes before he thought he heard voices. He pulled Whiskey to a stop.

  "If you hadn’t run off like that, this wouldn’t be happening." Jessica’s voice was brittle with irritation and fear, sounding close to tears.

  "I’m sorry, Mommy." Devon sounded even worse. Then, "Look! It’s Pop!"

  Dane slid from the saddle and bent to receive the child who was now thrusting his small body into his stepfather’s arms. "Hey, Champ, you been out for a walk in the snow?"

  Jessica had paused in her tracks. Jamming her gloveless hands into the pockets of her jeans, she fairly glared at Dane.

  Dane stared back at her, an uncontrolled smile forming on his lips. She looked so incredibly beautiful, her cheeks blooming with a blush he’d missed so much. Her face seemed fuller, softer, and the icy breeze caused the long curls to dance around her neck.

  "How about a lift?" he asked, swinging Devon up onto the saddle just behind the horn, then turning to offer Jessica his hand.

  "Uh uh. Not on your life. I wouldn’t get back on that… that hack… if you paid me."

  "Suit yourself. It’s a long walk back."

  Jessica merely crossed her arms and started forward, stumbling a little but with her chin held high. Dane shook his head and climbed on to Whiskey’s back behind Devon.

  "Mommy forgot to tie Whiskey up to the tree, when we was fighting, and Whiskey went away! He was probably hungry or somethin’," Devon explained. Jessica glowered.

  "You hold on to the horn. We’ll talk about it when we get home," Dane advised, trying to sound firm and fatherly despite his amusement. He kept Whiskey at a slow, ambling walk so as not to leave Jessica too far behind.

  ~ * ~

  The evening was strained, at best. Greg had gone, and Dane and Jessica were alone with their blended family. Only Zoe seemed joyful, delighted to be back in the home she loved and where she felt content. A suitcase full of Barbie dolls was spread open before the fireplace. Melissa sat with a book; Alexander and Devon remained in their bedroom building with snap together blocks. Jessica busied herself getting ready for the following day’s dinner while Dane caught up on his mail.

  "What in the world made you take Whisk for a ride? Your own horse not good enough?"

  "Greg told me Mariah is pregnant. I didn’t think I should saddle her."

  Dane scoffed and picked up another stack of mail. "So Lydia went too?" he asked, not looking up as he tossed most of the envelopes, unopened, into the recycle bin.

  "I felt it was the right thing to do."

  "Hmm."

  "You have a problem with that?"

  "Nope." A pause. "Just thought you might have mentioned it sooner."

  "Like when? Was I supposed to call you off the set to ask permission?"

  Dane now looked up, the strain in Jessica’s voice resounding off the walls. "The film’s been shut down."

  Jessica, her back to him as she stood at the kitchen sink, paused momentarily to think about Dane’s words. When he didn’t continue, she ventured her curiosity. "Permanently?"

  "No. But at least until after New Year’s. Lisa fractured her ankle."

  Jessica sucked in her upper lip but did not turn around. She was relieved, despite her growing disenchantment with Dane, that he would not be seeing the starlet for a time.

  "What a shame," she said softly, resuming her activities by wringing out the dishcloth in her hands. "Bet you’re disappointed."

  "Not in the least. I wasn’t really there. It wasn’t going too well to begin with. Maybe after the holidays…"

  "Yeah, maybe." Jessica crossed to the refrigerator and opened it, peering in for some item she’d already forgotten she was looking for. "Zoe’s gained weight," she said, wanting to change the subject.

  "Rita hasn’t been the most… attentive mother."

  "Maybe she should just stay with us."

  "From one dysfunctional family to another."

  Jessica whirled around at the subtle sarcasm in Dane’s voice. "And what’s that supposed to mean?"

  Dane grinned at her, a detached, melancholic musing that unnerved her.

  "It means absolutely nothing," he said, getting up from the chair on which he’d been sitting. Dane retreated from the room, his murmured postscript wafting back to Jessica’s ear. "Not a thing."

  Thirty-two

  The Chase is On

  It was, undoubtedly, the most dismal Thanksgiving Jessica had ever experienced. She had thought the prior year’s unhappy event at her brother’s home would be the worst she would ever have to suffer through. By noon on this gray November day, Jessica already knew that last year had been a walk in the park.

  "Do you know where your father went?" Jessica asked the sisters, who were playing a board game on the great room floor.

  "Nope. Just said he’d be back later." Melissa, lying on her stomach, got to her feet and straightened her sweater. "Need some help?"

  "Well, yeah, actually I could use you both in the kitchen."

  Eagerly, both girls followed Jessica back to the kitchen and donned the whimsically patterned aprons Jessica had bought for them. Together they scrubbed and peeled, chopped and seasoned, kneaded and baked. At 4 p.m., the dinner was nearly finished.

  "Not too shabby, if I say so myself," Jessica murmured, carefully lifting a lattice-crusted cherry pie from the oven. "This is so clever, Mimi. How is it that you have learned to cook so well? Does your mom cook a lot?"

  Melissa’s face became shuttered. Exactly like Dane, Jessica thought with surprise.

  "She used to," Melissa said, then brightened. "The cranberries! We forgot to cook them!"

  "We have the canned stuff," Jessica said quickly.

  "No. These only take a minute. Takes lots of sugar, though."

  "Great," Jessica lamented, smoothing her own apron across her stomach. "That’s just what I need. Zoe, go tell the boys to wash up and come downstairs. I want them to finish setting the table."

  Dinner was exactly as Jessica had hoped it would not be. Dane, melancholy and withdrawn, sat at the head of their table and, after carving the turkey, ate his meal in near silence. Melissa, Jessica supposed, was thinking about her mother, and Zoe was unusually reserved. Only the boys chattered during the meal.

  "Aren’t we gonna have to say what we’re thankful for?" Alexander wondered aloud, looking first at Jessica and then with obvious reluctance, his father.

  "I think it would suffice to say we’re all pretty happy to be here," Dane said flatly, and Jessica felt her stomach tighten. Grudgingly she forced another bite and offered the closest thing to a smile she could muster. She caught Dane’s eyes briefly, but her husband returned his attention to his plate.

  I’m glad someone has an appetite, Jessica thought sourly.

  "Frank Conway was arraigned," Dane muttered.

  "Of course. I know. I didn’t want to be there."

  "They’ll nail his ass, don’t worry."

  "I’m not." Jessica refused to meet Dane’s eyes, if he was even looking her way. She presumed he wasn’t but didn’t want to risk it.

  Afterward, it was with some relief that she found herself cleaning up alone. Lost in thought, she slowly rinsed each china dinner plate and loaded them into the dishwasher.

  I have to get out of here.

  Dane had said nothing meaningful since his arrival. The fact that he’d slept in Peter’s bedroom sealed the verdict: their
marriage had failed. Jessica couldn’t bring herself to examine the reasons. She’d thought about it so much already, and there were no new angles. The fact still remained that Dane was powerless against the demons holding his heart captive, and he didn’t love her enough to fight them.

  Now, her biggest regret was allowing Devon to become so attached to Dane. It would be difficult for the little boy to lose another father. But she had little choice. Staying in a painful, loveless marriage would be worse, and Devon would surely suffer for it.

  Pretending not to notice Dane and Alexander as they sat before the television in the great room, Jessica trotted briskly up the stairs, tuning out the annoying cacophony of the football game in progress. She would pack tonight and get a flight out tomorrow. And with any luck, she could slip away without confrontation.

  ~ * ~

  "Did you even tell him goodbye?" Jan Taylor asked, pouring a cup of hot tea for her daughter.

  "I left him a letter."

  "A letter? A ‘Dear John’? Oh, Jessica."

  "I know, it was cowardly. But I knew we’d argue and I would end up bawling and upsetting the kids. They were upset enough as it was. They were up when we left."

  "Did you tell him where you’d gone?"

  "Just that I was going to visit you. I seriously doubt he has any clue about where in Washington State you live." Jessica rubbed her eyes and then glanced up as her mother’s kitchen clock chimed eleven. "You don’t think he’ll follow me, do you?"

  "Honey, I barely know the man."

  "He won’t. Anyway he’s got the girls to worry about."

  Jan nodded, sipping her tea. "Devon sure is fond of him."

  "Dev idolizes Dane. He asked about fifty times when we’ll see ‘Pop’ again. I feel so guilty about this whole mess."

  "Maybe it isn’t such a mess. Maybe you just need some time apart. To think things over."

  "Time apart is not the solution, Mom. We’ve had plenty of that. I’ve done everything I can think of to make things work. Dane just seems to have given up on us. He can’t get rid of that stupid notion."