Of one thing he was certain: his chance with Jesse was over. He’d never really had one. But maybe it wasn’t too late to make sure he didn’t repeat the same mistakes.
Maybe it was time to start being human again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I don’t know,” Megan said, pushing her new glasses up her nose and studying her distorted reflection in the smudged metal of the napkin dispenser. “Do you like them, Kirk?”
Kirk Moran gave the question the concentration it deserved. He cocked his head, frowned, and nodded slowly.
“I think they look good,” he said.
Jesse looked from one child to the other, absently blending the fudge topping of her sundae with the melting ice cream. Kirk hadn’t said more than a few sentences in the past hour and half, but what he did say was promising.
Mrs. Moran had been happy to let Kirk visit with Megan on the trip to the optometrist and the Frosty Freeze, though she’d declined to accompany them herself. And Kirk, after a temporary reluctance to leave his mother alone, had accepted the invitation with stoic resignation. He hadn’t acted like a child eager to make new friends. Not at first.
But he was beginning to open up a bit. A double ice cream cone was a great icebreaker. And Megan was helping tremendously. For a child who’d been locked in her own shell just a few days ago, she was expert at coaxing Kirk out of his. Perhaps it was the unspoken knowledge that both had suffered loss, that they had something vital in common.
Regardless of the reason, they were getting along, and Jesse could only be grateful.
She had so much to be grateful for. The taste of the ice cream on her tongue was better than she could remember; the sun felt warmer, the tangy scent of pine needles more memorable, the sound of children’s laughter joyful enough to bring tears to her eyes.
There was a simple explanation for the way her senses had opened up, the way her appreciation for life itself had expanded to encompass so much more of the world she’d taken for granted.
Funny how clear it had become. Megan had new glasses, but Jesse had acquired her own set of rose-colored lenses without paying a dime.
And whatever she did have to pay, she’d give it gladly.
She smiled to herself and took a big bite of sundae. Megan giggled as she tried to catch a drip of syrup before it plopped from her chin onto the table. Even Kirk looked happy as he polished off his cone.
“Well, you two,” Jesse said, gathering up the sticky napkins, “we still have another hour or so left. Why don’t we go over to the park next door? They have some great swings there.”
Megan glanced at Kirk. “Want to?”
He shrugged, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed him. He wasn’t yet ready to talk about his brother, but he was healing just the same.
“Come on, then,” Jesse said. She led them out the door, nodding to another family as she passed, and headed for the park. In the midst of so much natural, rugged beauty, the groomed lawn and trees formed an oasis at the heart of town. Megan started toward the swing set, paused to wait for Kirk, and then challenged the boy to a race. They reached the swings at a dead heat.
Jesse sat down on one of the benches and sprawled lazily, watching the children through half-lidded eyes. Her mouth kept curling up into a foolish grin. Though she hadn’t for one moment forgotten her commitment to exposing Gary for what he was, it was possible to let that obsession fall by the wayside for minutes at a time. Possible to think of other things and bless her good fortune.
Her thoughts wandered to the morning—and David. Hours later she could still feel his touch, the electric charge of pleasure shooting through her body as he kissed and caressed her. Her nipples tightened, and she almost blushed at having such fantasies in the middle of a public park.
She missed him. She missed more than the lovemaking, remarkable discovery though it was. Far more. She missed his wry smile, the cynicism that covered hurts he couldn’t acknowledge. She missed the dusty male smell of him and the uniform with its holes and tarnished buttons. She missed his reluctant tenderness and his unexpected fierceness in protecting her. She missed his very presence.
But he’d be back. She let herself fill with that promise. A magnificent, powerful conviction told her that nothing could keep them apart, whatever the laws of heaven and earth. She was so close to finding her answers, and when they found his …
“Jesse.”
She opened her eyes and sat up. The terse word wasn’t much of a greeting, and when Jesse recognized the speaker she wasn’t surprised.
Marie stood with hands on hips, looking as pugnacious as a bulldog—if considerably more attractive. In body, at least. Her makeup and clothing were, as usual, impeccable, but her eyes held a glitter that suggested her intentions were anything but civilized.
“I’m so glad I ran into you,” she said in a rancid-honey voice. “You must be feeling pretty victorious about now, aren’t you?”
Jesse glanced toward the children, who were lost in their own games. Megan lifted her arms in a grand gesture and laughed, while Kirk reacted with appropriate appreciation for the tale she was spinning.
“This isn’t the time, Marie,” Jesse said. “I know you don’t like me, but we can find a more private place to talk things out, if that’s what you want.”
Marie tilted her head back and smiled unpleasantly. “Always the plain speaker. It so happens that what I have to say to you won’t take very long.” She took a step closer to the bench. “I know you have it in for Gary. You went after him from the moment he showed up in town. Well, you succeeded, didn’t you?”
Success wasn’t how Jesse would have defined it. “I know he left town, Marie,” she said. “I’m sorry it was inconvenient for you. I don’t want to fight about this, but if you—”
“You should have thought about that before you used your tricks on him!”
Jesse sighed. “He was the one who threatened me at the party—”
“Don’t play games with me, little town girl. You drove him to it. You have some hold over him. Whatever it is, you won’t get away with it. Unlike you, Gary’s popular in this town. He brings class to the place, and that’s exactly what people want.”
Jesse stood up. “Look, Marie, you barely know Gary. No one in town does, not now—if they ever did. But he lived with my mother seventeen years ago. If anyone—”
Marie’s pretty mouth formed a very ugly epithet. “I know enough about you, Jesse Copeland. You were never sane about Gary. Maybe you hate him because you can’t have him. I don’t care, but I’m warning you—”
Jesse felt her temper slipping its leash. “I don’t need the warning, but maybe you do. You’ve lost your head over him, and you’re the one who’s going to lose. He used my mother, and he’ll use you—”
She knew it wasn’t going to work as soon as she finished the first sentence. Marie was livid, playing Drama Queen to the hilt, and she obviously felt she had nothing to lose.
“What do you know about men?” she said contemptuously. “Who’d want you anyway, in your scrubby jeans? But you can’t wait to ruin it for everyone else, can you? All you see is your own miserable little life!”
“Believe it or not, Marie, it’s your life I’m thinking about.” She threw caution to the winds. “Gary’s no good. I don’t know how I’m going to prove it, but I know. And you’ll be the one who gets hurt—”
“You bitch. When I tell Gary what you’ve said—”
“That’s enough, Marie,” someone said behind them.
Jesse caught her breath and glanced at the woman who’d come up to stand at her shoulder. She did a double take.
Lisa Moran was staring at Marie with quiet composure, her gaze steady and stern. Marie’s lush lips flapped like a fish’s but couldn’t produce any sound. It was quite an interesting sight.
Lisa turned to Jesse. “I thought I’d come to meet you here instead of waiting for you to bring Kirk home. It’s such a beautiful day.” She waved to Kirk across the lawn, effectively
shutting Marie out of the picture. “They look like they’re having fun.”
“They are.” Jesse took her cue from Lisa and didn’t look at Marie. “I think they’ve really hit it off. Don’t be surprised if they want to see a lot more of each other.” She managed a smile. “They’re not quite at the age where the boy-girl stuff takes over.”
“Yes,” Lisa said. “They still have a while to be children.”
They watched in silence. Marie, behind them, couldn’t bear to be ignored. “You just wait until Gary comes back, Jesse Copeland,” she said. “You’ll be the one who’s sorry.”
Lisa looked over her shoulder. Not a word was spoken, but Marie blushed, and Jesse thought she was actually ashamed of herself. She’d have to be without a heart to be unaffected by Lisa Moran’s pain.
Apparently Marie had some scruples, because she spun on her high heels and strode toward the parking lot.
“Thanks,” Jesse said.
Lisa didn’t answer, but their silence remained companionable. After a few more minutes Kirk and Megan ran over to join them, and Kirk gave his mother a big hug. Megan did the same for Jesse.
Still warmed by Lisa’s support and the children’s affection, Jesse waved Mrs. Moran and son off in their car and took Megan home. Al was out, so Megan helped Jesse make a big pot of spaghetti for dinner.
The contentment that had come with the day and the anticipation of seeing David again stayed with Jesse through the evening. She went home and worked on her furniture, letting her thoughts wander where they would.
It was too bad about Marie; she had a fall coming when she found out what Gary really was. She wasn’t going to listen to reason—certainly not from Jesse Copeland.
But that was the only dark spot in a world that suddenly seemed full of hope. The fact that David didn’t show up by bedtime didn’t unduly disturb her. Together they’d drained his energy pretty thoroughly, and she was willing to be patient.
She was ready to take the greatest risk of all.
The music from the expensive string quartet was exquisite, the caviar superior, the wine of the finest vintage. Gary knew to the dime the cost of every luxury Heather’s parents had lavished on this happy gathering, where Sacramento’s political elite hobnobbed with the friends and family of the rich and beautiful Heather Pfeiffer in celebration of the happy event to come.
Nearly everyone at the engagement party was a valuable contact or influential patron; Gary was under no illusion about just how important this day was. It was what he’d been striving for, the position that would make it possible for him to realize all his ambitions. Heather was the necessary burden he accepted along with her wealth and family connections.
He should have been enjoying his victory. He should have been on top of the world. He’d left Manzanita and driven back to Sacramento and his bride-to-be, vowing to put Jesse Copeland and her pathetic accusations from his mind.
It hadn’t worked out that way. Even after the first irrational fear had subsided—after he’d shaken off the bizarre conviction that some invisible presence was dogging his every footstep—he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. The way she’d stood up to him. The way she’d stared at him with those steady hazel eyes, as if she knew.
Memories he hadn’t let into the light for seventeen years were suddenly resurrected and exhibited in glaring relief. Acts and decisions he’d never questioned replayed behind his eyes, so vivid that he was sure they were visible to any passing stranger.
Jesse had done this to him. Jesse Copeland.
He hated her.
Gary downed his fifth glass of champagne and grimaced at the feeble sting of the bubbles. He slammed the delicate glass down on the nearest server’s tray and started toward the bar for something stronger. Heather wasn’t here to nag him about that, since she was off preening for some bimbo friends from the exclusive private school she’d attended. That ought to keep her busy for hours.
Gary smiled and glad-handed a passing assemblyman on the way to the bar, his words and motions those of an automaton. He lost the thread of the inane small talk in mid-sentence, earning an odd glance from the politician. Gary covered his slip with a joke about the insanity of planning a wedding. The assemblyman rolled his eyes in sympathy, slapped Gary’s back, and moved to the buffet table.
The bartender poured Gary a whiskey straight, politely ignoring the tremble in Gary’s hands as he took the drink.
What in hell was happening to him? Little by little he was being eaten alive by fears he couldn’t name, guilt he couldn’t shake. He looked at himself in the mirror and found wrinkles he hadn’t seen before, shadows under his eyes, a man he didn’t recognize. Even airheaded Heather had noticed and offered her whining opinion that he ought to take better care of himself.
Gary downed the liquor and had the glass refilled, waiting for the welcome numbness to wash over him.
The trials that came by day were bad enough. The blunders were still minor, like the one with the assemblyman, but they were increasing. He’d nearly insulted Heather’s mother last night, some remark about her hideous dress that he’d been thinking but never would have spoken if he’d been in his right mind. His real opinions about the fools and saps around him were slipping out of his control, as if he were the most inept political aide who’d ever set foot in the capital.
At night … at night it was far worse. He hadn’t slept more than a handful of hours in the past two nights. Heather wouldn’t let him screw her before their wedding, but even if he’d had the luscious and imaginative Marie in his bed it wouldn’t have made any difference. He was all but impotent.
And there were the dreams.
Gary choked on his second whiskey and waved off the bartender’s concern. He hid the glass behind a potted plant as an elderly—and affluent—society couple walked by. He hardly saw them, because he was reliving the dream that wouldn’t go away.
It always started with Jesse. Jesse as a child, just the way he remembered her from that day of the funeral. He felt the ineffectual pummeling of her hands and feet through his suit, the rake of her fingernails. But she couldn’t hurt him, and he laughed at her rage.
Until she changed. The blond little girl was gone, and someone else stood in her place. A petite brown-haired beauty with a white, high-waisted dress and an old-fashioned hairstyle. She stared at him with Jesse’s eyes—the wrong color, but he knew they were Jesse’s. Hatred was a living thing between them. They hated each other.
But she also feared him. She feared and despised him, shrank from his touch. He realized with shock that what he felt for her wasn’t so simple as hatred.
He wanted her. More than desire, more than lust. He wanted to possess her. In possessing her he would gain what had been taken from him. Have what was rightfully his. Show them all.
So he reached out to her. He offered himself. She would get nothing better, not from the one she waited for so hopelessly. Did she truly believe she’d ever see him again?
She stumbled back and looked at Gary with loathing, as if she had the right to judge. She laughed with that wild edge and threatened him with retribution, even as she shook with terror. She told him that he was not a man. She told him he was disgusting and dishonorable.
She told him he was evil, and kept on laughing.
Mad. She passed that madness on to him, driving him to his only way out. The only escape from that look in her eyes.
So he did what he couldn’t do to the child. He killed her.
The process wasn’t quick or painless. Gary felt righteous power fill him, surge to the end of his fingertips. He didn’t have to touch her. Heat sprang from his hands, and flames caught the delicate folds of the woman’s sheer gown.
She didn’t even struggle when the fire took her, caressed and licked at her with such deceptive gentleness. But when it seemed she should crumble to ashes, she rose like a phoenix. Her body cast off the flames and stood untouched.
And she laughed. She pointed at him and laughed, a
n ugly sound laced with hysteria.
“I’ll always come back,” she shrieked. So he killed her again. And she returned. Again, and again. Each time he grew more terrified, his strength leached from him by her accusing, triumphant eyes. Each time the guilt wrapped loop after loop of heavy chains about his feet, his knees, his thighs, his hips. Dragging him down into the grave that opened up beneath him, a gaping maw of earth waiting to swallow him alive …
“Señor Emerson?”
Gary nearly struck the maid before he remembered where he was. Consuela stared at him, her plump face wary, and took a step back.
“What is it?” he snapped.
She ducked her head. “A call for you, señor. The woman said it was urgent, from a place called Manzanita.” She hesitated, poised to flee. “I am sorry if I did wrong, señor.”
A woman. From Manzanita. Gary clasped his hands to keep them from shaking.
“You did the right thing, Consuela. Gracias.” He pulled a fiver from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. “Don’t tell anyone else. Go back to your duties.”
She nodded and slipped away. Gary glanced around the room. The party was going so well that no one was likely to notice his absence for a few minutes. He walked out of the Pfeiffers’ ballroom, down the wide marble-floored hallway, and into Ross Pfeiffer’s private office. He reached the phone and punched the hold button.
“Hello? Who is this?”
“Gary? Is that you?”
He recognized the voice immediately. “Marie? What in hell are you doing, calling me here? How did you get this number?”
Her voice held a definite pout. “Your secretary said you were with your fiancée. You talked enough about Heather. It wasn’t a problem to track you down.”
Gary almost let her have it. Taking his anxiety and frustration out on Marie would have been easy and relatively harmless. But he kept his temper. There was a possibility that Marie had something useful to say.
“You didn’t call,” Marie whined. “You just picked up and left without saying anything. I was worried—”
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