aherospromise_211-3e3.htm

by A Hero's Promise (lit)

  "Of course. No problem." Hastily she scribbled her name on the cover of the box and exited the store.

  The sun was setting on the water, and the temperature had dropped considerable since her mid-afternoon lunch with Amy. It was time to head back to the Inn, which was more than a mile up town. She turned and headed in the general direction of the hilly neighborhood where Amy and Case lived, moving slowly and without purpose. She’d only walked a block from the store when she acquired the odd sensation of being followed. Not sure why, she turned, only to see the thinning crowd of tourists behaving normally, peering into store fronts and walking tiredly toward their rental cars parked at the curb. As she gained another short block, she again turned around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. A very young mother hustled across the street, clutching an infant; a teenaged boy took a drag from a cigarette, squinting his heavily made-up eyes toward the sunset; a man in an overcoat stared into a shop window. Had she seen him earlier?

  "You are losing it, girl," she murmured, yet she wished she had driven her father’s car instead of walking. "You’ve lived in L.A. too long."

  The feeling grew. Finally, she crossed the street and entered a small gift shop. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the man in the coat crossing also.

  "I’m sorry, Ma’am, but we’re closing," the woman behind the counter said.

  "Oh. I didn’t realize. Things close early here, don’t they?"

  "I guess that depends upon where you’re comparing ‘here’ to."

  "I’m from L.A.," Jessica said, hoping to engage the woman in conversation for just a few more moments.

  "Ah. Yes, we definitely roll up the sidewalks earlier here. Was there something in particular you were looking for? We open at nine a.m. tomorrow."

  "No, just killing time. I’m staying at the Winslow McKenna Inn."

  The woman just smiled, her keys in her hand.

  "Well. I’ll, uh, just be going then. I’ll come back… tomorrow." Jessica gritted her teeth and turned toward the front door.

  Taking a deep breath, she stepped outside and once again began walking up the sidewalk, cautiously looking from side to side. The man was nowhere to be seen.

  Relaxing a little, her gaze wandered to the small boat dock at the end of the street. Normally bustling with activity during the summer months, it was now deserted but still charming. On a whim, she decided to walk the length of it, her thoughts returning to her husband and her ultimate dilemma. She looked over her shoulder once to be sure she was alone.

  Jessica made it a slow stroll. The waters were dark now, the sun having just dipped below the horizon. Overhead, seagulls screamed and dived their last dip of the day. Across the water, she could see wooded Marrowstone Island and she wondered what it would be like to live surrounded by water. So beautiful.

  If only Dane was here to enjoy this with me.

  She was near the end of the dock when a voice came from behind her. She did not understand the words, but she spun quickly around. The man with the overcoat. A man whose face she knew.

  Jessica was unable to withhold a gasp. "I don’t believe this," she murmured, her hand flying to her lips. "What are you doing here? You nearly scared me to death!"

  "Hello, Jessica. I was hoping you’d have a moment to talk."

  "Not to you. How did you find me?" Jessica tried to calm her breathing and then set her jaw. "Not that it matters. I have nothing to talk to you about."

  "But I have something to talk to you about. You’ll be sorry if you run from this."

  "Are you threatening me, Sgt. Denehy? Because if you are, there are legitimate law enforcers in this town who would be happy to escort your… you out of here."

  The detective smiled. "Why all the hostility? Come on. I think you’ll find what I have to say very interesting."

  "I’m on my way to dinner. Please, just crawl back under whatever rock you slithered from." Jessica tried to skirt the man but he stood squarely in her path.

  "It’s about your husband," Denehy began, slipping his hand inside his overcoat. "Did you know he had you followed?"

  Jessica stopped and took two steps backward, facing the detective, her mouth slightly open in surprise. "Whatever do you mean?"

  "All the way to Hawaii and back." Now pulling his hand away from his coat, Denehy withdrew a black book and held it up for Jessica to see. "That’s only the tip of the iceberg. There are all kinds of surprises in here."

  "What’s that?" Jessica demanded, reaching for the book, but Denehy quickly lifted it out of her reach.

  "Ah, ah, ah! Now we’re interested, are we? Want to get some coffee and discuss it?"

  "No. Just tell me whatever is so damned important so that I can go. I’m losing my patience." Jessica made every effort to sound assertive and confident, but her words failed her. "If you are still trying to place blame for Mac’s death on Dane, you are beating a long-dead horse, Sergeant. Now unless that… that book contains a written confession in Dane’s hand, you are wasting both our times."

  Denehy smiled, an almost sympathetic smile, Jessica thought.

  "Perhaps it does. I guess you could say… it’s up for interpretation."

  "The killer confessed. Wasn’t that enough for you?"

  "Sometimes it takes more than one to kill someone, Jessica."

  "I’d prefer you didn’t call me that." Once again starting forward, Jessica tried to maneuver past the man. "I’m leaving now."

  "What about his lies? It doesn’t matter to you that he lied about his relationship with Mac? Mrs. MacKendall?" Denehy opened the book to a bookmarked page. "And I quote: ‘If only there was a way I could get rid of him, get him out of her life for good.’ He’s talking about Mac. That he wanted your husband dead is clear. There’s more, too. It’s enough to reopen the case, in my opinion."

  "Well, Sergeant, your opinion doesn’t count much anymore. And while I hate to be cliché, you aren’t half the man Dane Pierce is. You aren’t even fit to wipe his boots!" Jessica filled her lungs with air, feeling her power returning. Returning in a big way. "Yes, I know Dane and Mac weren’t the best of friends Yes, they were jealous of each other. But that doesn’t equate to murder. I’ve told you before, I love my husband and will stand behind him until the end. The end of everything." In anger, Jessica whipped the black book from Denehy’s hands and stepped away from him, her chest rising and falling in anxious gasps. It was then that she noticed the man who’d silently joined them on the dock.

  Swallowing hard, Jessica looked past the detective to Dane’s face, and then to the journal in her hands. Dane’s journal. She’d seen it once before, years ago, when she’d discovered it on the floor of his car while on a date. He’d taken it from her that night, hastily tossing it into the back seat. Now, the journal was back in her hands. Three or four torn slips of paper, acting as bookmarks, extended from the top of the closed book.

  "Go ahead. Open it." Denehy suggested, staring hard at Jessica.

  Jessica ran her hand over the cover, feeling the suppleness of the soft, black leather. The gold embossed name in the lower front corner had nearly worn away. Inside were the words, the answers to the questions she could not ask. The key to the mysterious "promise" and Dane’s obsession with keeping it. This was her chance to finally find out. Now, hugging the journal to her chest, Jessica returned Denehy’s stare. Her anger at the man threatened to bubble over, overshadowing her need to delve into Dane’s personal diary.

  "There is nothing between these covers that could change the way I feel about my husband," she said with a forced calm reserve. "This… this doesn’t belong to me. And it certainly doesn’t belong to you." This time Jessica succeeded in getting past the stunned policeman, walking the three or four yards farther to stop before Dane, who stood watching with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

  Denehy turned around, his face pinched in concern. "Uh, Mrs. MacKendall, that’s state’s evidence. You can’t--you can’t--"

  "I can’t what, Sgt. Denehy?" Jessic
a called over her shoulder, then turned and held the journal out for Dane, whose expression was one of interest and surprise. "Is this yours, darling?"

  Slowly Dane withdrew his hand from his pocket. "As a matter of fact, it is. It was stolen from my house a few days ago." Taking the journal, Dane stared at its cover as if he’d never seen it before. "You, uh… you’re welcome to read it."

  Jessica peered into Dane’s eyes. If called upon to describe the feeling inside, she would have been forced to decline. A rush, a massive, spreading warmth overtook her, but her eyes never left his. "It’s not necessary," she said softly. Vaguely aware of Denehy’s complaints at her back, Jessica didn’t move.

  Dane opened the journal and fanned its pages briefly. A slight smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "Not necessary," he murmured, now closing the book and grasping it in his right hand. He looked past Jessica to Denehy. "When you get back to L.A., you’ll find a copy of the police report on the break in. Insurance will pay for the damage, of course. This was the only thing stolen. But since it really has no value…"

  Jessica watched in silent surprise as Dane curled his arm back and then flung the journal into the ocean as though it was a Frisbee.

  Denehy shook his head slowly, and, after looking from Dane to Jessica and then back to Dane, walked off the dock, leaving the Pierces alone.

  It was several moments before either ventured any kind of movement. Cloaked in the declining dusk, Dane Pierce took a deep breath, wrapped both arms around Jessica and buried his face in her hair.

  ~ * ~

  At the Winslow McKenna Inn, the private bathroom in the suite Jessica had rented was filled with burning candles. Candles of every shape and size surrounded the huge claw foot tub, and Jessica was already mostly hidden by thick, frothy bubbles as Dane unbuttoned his shirt.

  "Is it hot?" he asked, tossing the shirt aside and unbuckling his belt.

  "It is. And delicious."

  Next went the jeans and briefs, and Dane stepped into the tub, sitting opposite his wife. The water rose dangerously high. "No sudden movements," he warned with a smile.

  "You know I like it slow," Jessica said, her voice low and sultry, and then she giggled. "I’m rotten at the coy stuff, aren’t I?"

  "You are as coy as a vamp in a silent picture, Sweetie." Dane reached for his wineglass on the tub side table. "Don’t ever change." He took a sip and stared over the top of the foam at his wife’s face, which was moist from the heat of the water. Her hair was piled onto the top of her head and held by a silver clasp. Her eyes held warmth and a hint of mischief that was hard to miss. "Forgive me?" he asked impulsively.

  Jessica cocked her head, and a dreamy, trancelike expression replaced the smile on her face. What was she thinking? Was she remembering the times he’d treated her badly, the times he’d trounced on her heart? Was she wondering if his involvement in Mac’s murder was real, or just the inane ramblings of a guilt-ridden detective? Was she still weighing the good against bad, sizing up the outcome of her decision to marry the man who’d made such a stupid promise? A promise she knew nothing about…

  "Yes," she said suddenly, and the bubbles that had gathered against the hair on Dane’s chest parted as Jessica’s toes emerged from the water. Dane watched with heated interest as her big toe, its nail painted in bright, lipstick red, pressed against his skin and slid down his chest, disappearing back below the foam. "Yes, I forgive you," she repeated softly. "And I’m so glad… so glad you are not perfect."

  Dane sighed. Am I supposed to wonder what the hell that means? "We’ll I’m glad that you’re glad, because perfect is something I’ll never be." Dane reached into the water and grasped Jessica’s foot, pulling it back out of the water and to his lips.

  "Mmm. There are some things, however, that you do perfectly," Jessica said softly, the smile returning to her face. "Don’t ever change."

  "I’m not sure I could change. I’m pretty rooted to my asinine ways."

  The dreamlike mask of Jessica’s face remained. Reaching out, she took Dane’s glass and stole a sip of his wine. "I want to thank you," she said at last, curling her fingers around the glass and holding it against her cheek.

  "For what?"

  "For not giving up on me."

  Dane took a deep breath and held it momentarily, expelling it with a low whistle. "Jessie, I really never even had a choice. And I’m so sorry for all the times I… I made it hard for you. So many times I--"

  "Stop." Jessica sat upright and returned the wineglass to the table, then leaned forward and pressed two fingers to Dane’s lips. Dane closed his eyes, allowing the immense delight created by her touch to flow throughout his being. Jessica’s soft voice continued. "I understand enough now to know you were right when you said we were meant to be together. It was your belief that brought you back to me."

  It was the eve of his thirty-ninth birthday. And it looked like he was finally getting the gift he really wanted.

  ~ * ~

  In the pasture behind Janet Taylor’s farmhouse, Jessica curried the new filly while Dane watched.

  "You almost look like you’re enjoying that," Dane said.

  "I am enjoying it. I figure I should start out small. Some fears are harder to overcome than others."

  Dane smiled. "You’ve got that right."

  It was quiet for a time, each of them lost in thought until Dane again spoke. "I still can’t believe that asshole followed you up here."

  "He said he saw me at Sea-Tac International. He followed me to Mom’s, then to Port Townsend. Gives me the creeps. Reminds me of Wesley."

  "Who’s out of prison, right?"

  "Yeah. They sent me a letter to the ranch but someone took down our address numbers…"

  "Someone who meant well."

  After a time, he took the brush from her hand and gently grasped her by the waist. "So have you decided what you want to do?"

  "Yes. Have you?"

  "Yes."

  "Well?"

  "No, you go first." Dane lifted his hands and stroked the hair away from her face. "Tell me."

  "I want to have Christmas at the ranch. I want the kids with us. I want to forget about all the crap we’ve been through and just go ahead."

  Dane blinked and looked toward Jan Taylor’s back door. Grinning, he shook his head. "That, and the cake your mother is baking in there, are the best birthday presents I could have hoped for."

  "Yeah, like I could use more sweets," Jessica said with a smile, unsuccessfully trying to ‘suck in’ her slightly rounded tummy.

  "You look absolutely ravishing to me."

  Jessica rolled her eyes and looked away. She had thought she would never hear words of endearment again. Now, back in Dane’s protective grasp, she couldn’t be happier. No matter that the adoption had failed. No matter that her husband was making a picture with another woman. No matter that she would have to be happy with the children she already had in her life. Nothing mattered more than the love of this one man. And this time, she vowed, she would not let misconceptions and preconceived notions get in the way of their happiness.

  Thirty-four

  A Hero’s Promise

  The first lavender hues of the dawn were barely visible. Jessica, her body warm and cocooned against Dane’s, was torn between staying nested and getting up to begin their first Christmas morning together.

  Compromising with herself, she dallied another fifteen minutes, snuggling and kissing Dane’s face as he lay in half slumber. Finally, she crept from the bed and donned her turquoise silk robe.

  In the kitchen, the coffee maker was already brewing, and Jessica turned on the oven to bake the breakfast strudel and Serbian eggs she and Melissa had prepared the night before. On the great room hearth, the Santa plate, with its half-eaten cookie and empty milk mug, sat waiting for the children, along with the over-stuffed stockings that hung from the mantel. She noticed with amusement that her own stocking was also filled. From the hall closet, she brought out a small bag of gifts she’d pur
chased for filling Dane’s.

  Finally sitting down with her coffee, she watched the pink layers of sky become golden ones, relishing the few moments alone before the chaos of Christmas came tumbling down the stairs.

  And tumble they did. Two boys, two girls and one slightly groggy father soon dashed away the silence and filled the great room with excitement and joy. The strudel was baked, the cocoa was melting mini marshmallows and the children’s stockings were unceremoniously dumped onto the carpeting. It was all Jessica could do to slow them down long enough to snap a few photos. Before long, the room was knee deep in discarded wrapping paper and bows, toy packaging and tissue.

  "Time for breakfast," Jessica finally announced, and Melissa was quick to help serve the eggs and turkey sausage.

  "Wow, Mom Two, this is awesome," Alexander said, reaching for a slice of Dane’s toasted beer bread.

  "Yummy!" shouted Devon, and Dane fondly tweaked the youngster’s nose.

  "Fill your stomachs; we’ve got a big day ahead of us," Dane suggested.

  The "big day" included a massive snowball fight in the yard; a snowman building competition, boys against girls; and a sleigh ride into Jackson for the afternoon church service.

  By late afternoon, two boys and two girls were tired and content to play quietly with their toys while Jessica and Dane cleared away some of the spoils of the morning. When the phone rang, Jessica grabbed for it, thinking it was perhaps her sister or brother calling.

  "Jess?" A woman’s voice. Jessica frowned and Dane paused, his hands still filled with crumpled gift wrap.

  "Yes? Who is this, please?"

  "Okay, it hasn’t been that long!"

  "Rox? Oh! Hello!"

  "Just wanted to say, Merry Christmas…"

  "Merry Christmas to you, too! How are you?"

  "I’m… good. I’m better. Just wanted to make sure you aren’t still mad at me."

  Jessica put up her hand as if Roxanne could see her halting gesture. "Rox, don’t even go there. You… you weren’t well. We know that now. Please don’t give it another thought."

  "It’s important to me that Dane knows how sorry I am. Truly."