by Sandra Brown
Forlornly, Otis nodded.
Neal gathered Ivan into his arms and lifted him out of the chair. Otis ambled toward the door and held it open for them. As they went through, Neal said, “I can’t believe you’d do business with Jade after Gary hung himself on account of her. If you sell this place to her, he’ll roll over in his grave.”
Mrs. Parker made a small, injured sound. Neal shot each of them a contemptuous look, then carried his father across the creaky porch and strapped him into the front seat of the El Dorado.
As they pulled away from the house, Ivan said, “Good work. Putting in that last dig just might make the difference.”
“We can’t count on that, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Money’s a better motivator than sentiment. Instead of matching Jade’s offer, we should come back with a better one.”
“In hell’s name why?”
“She’s waiting for him to call her with his answer, right? We could get the jump on her, bowl the old fool over and get his name on the dotted line before he has a chance to recover his wits. This game could go on indefinitely. With the resources she’s got behind her, she can keep upping her bid till doomsday. And there must be a lot riding on this acquisition or she wouldn’t have increased her offer by so much so soon.”
“Do whatever it takes, boy,” Ivan grumbled, absently rubbing the center of his chest. “I’m not going to get a good night’s sleep until that bitch is out of my life.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Do you think I could play professional soccer, Mr. Burke?”
“I told you to call me Dillon.”
“I know, but it feels weird.”
“Call me Dillon. That was a good move you made with that knight, Graham. In answer to your question, yes, I think you can make it to the pros, if you want it badly enough.”
“That’s what my mom says, too. She says I can do anything I want to if I want to bad enough.”
From the hallway where she stood unseen, Jade smiled.
“Smart lady, your mom.”
“Uh-huh. Did you see her picture in the Sunday magazine?”
“Sure did. That was some write-up. You should be proud of her.”
“I am.” Graham’s enthusiasm gradually dimmed. “But she’s still being uncool about me riding my bike out to the site.”
“She’s got her reasons.”
“They’re dumb.”
“Not to a mother who cares about her kid.”
Maybe Dillon’s coming to dinner hadn’t been such a bad idea after all, Jade thought as she listened to the conversation that was running concurrently with their chess game. Cathy had continued to harp on inviting Dillon for dinner, so she had asked him that afternoon. She had made it sound spontaneous and casual, saying something like, “Why don’t you come over for supper tonight? Graham’s been wanting to play chess with you.”
He had hesitated for several seconds before accepting. “Sure. I’ll be there as soon as I clean up.”
“Fine. See you later.” Her attitude had been light and carefree, reducing any significance he might place upon the invitation.
Dinner had been a convivial affair. They treated one another like old family friends. As they joked and bantered, it was hard to believe that, only a few weeks ago, his mouth had plundered hers with passion, that his hand had caressed her breast, that his body had ground against hers in sexual excitement.
Nor would Jade have ever guessed that so many days later, she would recall that embrace with such stark clarity, or that the recollections would induce the same ambivalent and foreign responses in her as the actual kiss had.
“What are you doing out here in the hall?”
She jumped guilty when Cathy came up behind her and caught her eavesdropping. Whispering, she explained, “They were deep into male bonding, and I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Cathy gave her an arch look that said she knew better and preceded Jade into the living room, where the chess board had been set up on the coffee table. “There’s more peach cobbler, Dillon, whenever you want another helping.”
“Thanks, Cathy, but no. Dinner was delicious.”
“Thank you.”
“Mom, Dillon said that maybe this fall, me and him could go to a Clemson football game.”
“We’ll see.”
Graham was preparing to demand a firmer commitment from her when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it.” He shot to his feet. “One of my friends is bringing over his new Nintendo cartridge. Dillon, if you want me to, I’ll teach you how to play.”
Dillon made that slanted expression with his mouth that passed for a smile. “Not knowing how to play Kid Icarus makes me feel real old and very stupid.”
“No more than I,” Jade told him with a soft laugh. “I still haven’t developed the knack of handling a joy stick.”
A glint of mischief appeared in his eyes. “I’ve heard that all it takes is practice.”
Jade welcomed Graham’s shout from the front door.
“Mo-om! It’s that lady again.” Jade left her chair and moved toward the hall, drawing up short when Graham led Donna Dee into the living room. “She came here once before, looking for you,” Graham said.
Donna Dee’s eyes landed briefly on Dillon before finding Jade. “I probably should have called first, but… can I see you for a minute?”
Jade had made her position clear during their last conversation. She didn’t want a repeat performance, especially in front of Cathy, Graham, and their guest. “Let’s go out on the veranda.”
Once they had cleared the front door, Jade turned to Donna Dee and said, “You should have called. I could have told you not to waste your time by coming here again.”
Donna Dee dropped all pretense of civilities. “Don’t get snotty with me, Jade. I saw the spread on you in the Sunday supplement last weekend. You’re a big shot now. The way that Garrison broad wrote about you, you’d think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to the low country. But wild horses couldn’t have dragged me to your front parlor if you weren’t my last hope.”
“For what?”
“Hutch. He’s gotten worse. His condition is critical. If a kidney donor isn’t found within the next few days, I’m going to lose him.”
Jade lowered her gaze to the painted floorboards of the porch. “I’m sorry, Donna Dee, but I can’t help you.”
“You’ve got to! Graham is the only hope he’s got.”
“You don’t know that.” Jade kept her voice low, but it was taut with anger. “I resent your placing full responsibility for Hutch’s life on my son’s shoulders.”
“Not on his—on yours. How can you let a man die without doing something to help him?”
“Not just any man, Donna Dee. A man who raped me. If Hutch were on fire, I would throw water on him, but you’re asking a lot more than that. I wouldn’t even put Graham through the necessary testing.” She shook her head adamantly. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Even if Hutch is Graham’s father?”
“Shh! He’ll hear you. Lower your voice.”
“What are you going to tell your son when he wants to know about his father? Are you going to say that you let his daddy die because you’re out for revenge?”
“Be quiet, for heaven’s sake.”
“For your sake, don’t you mean? You don’t want Graham to know that you’re as good as a killer. Do you think he’ll love you if he ever finds out that you let his father die without lifting a hand to help him?”
“What the hell is all the shouting about?”
Jade spun around. Dillon was looking at them through the screen door. “Where’s Graham?” she asked, fearful that he, too, had overheard Donna Dee’s vituperative words.
“Cathy hustled him upstairs.” He stepped through the screen door and joined them on the porch. “What’s going on?”
“I came to plead for my husband’s life,” Donna Dee said to him. “Jade can save him if only she w
ould.”
“That’s not true, Donna Dee. You don’t know anything for certain.”
“This very minute, Hutch is lying in an ICU,” Donna Dee explained to Dillon. “He’s going to die unless Jade lets their son donate a kidney to him. She refuses because she doesn’t want the boy to know his father.”
Dillon’s eyes swung to Jade. They were inquisitive and penetrating. Mutely, she shook her head. “Okay,” he said, his gaze moving back to Donna Dee. “You’ve said what you came to say. Goodbye.”
Haughtily, Donna Dee looked up at him. His expression remained intractable. Her bravado faltered. To Jade she said, “If your son finds out about this, he’ll never forgive you. I hope he winds up hating you.” She left the veranda, hastened down the sidewalk, and got into her car. Just as she pulled away from the curb, Graham came barreling through the door with Cathy close on his heels. “Mom, what were y’all yelling about?”
“Nothing, Graham. It doesn’t concern you,” she replied, avoiding the hard stare Dillon had fixed on her.
“This is the second time she’s come here, so it must be important. Tell me what she wants with you.”
“It’s a private matter, Graham.”
“You can tell me.”
“No, I can’t, and I don’t want to argue about it! Now drop it!”
Her raised, chastening voice embarrassed him in front of his hero, Dillon. “You never tell me anything,” he shouted. “You treat me like a damn kid.” He rushed back into the house and ran upstairs.
Cathy appeared ready to intervene, but wisely refrained. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”
Once she had gone back inside, Dillon spoke. “Want me to talk to Graham?”
Jade turned abruptly and glared up at him, channeling her anger toward him because he was a convenient scapegoat. “No, thank you,” she said crisply. “You got quite an earful tonight, didn’t you? I’m ordering you to forget everything you heard.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her forward against him. “Fat chance.” After that succinct statement, he released her as swiftly as he had taken hold of her. Over his retreating shoulder he said, “You know where to find me if I can do anything for Graham. Good night.”
* * *
He didn’t need this crap.
Such was Dillon’s mood as he wheeled his own battered pickup to the door of the trailer and turned off the engine. Apparently Loner was on another canine excursion. He wasn’t there to greet him. It was just as well, Dillon acknowledged as he let himself in. He wasn’t fit company, even for a dog.
Inside, the trailer was as hot and steamy as a pressure cooker. He switched on the air-conditioning unit and stood in front of the icy blast of air as he peeled off his shirt and unfastened his jeans. He lay his forearms flat against the wall above the air conditioner and rested his forehead on them. The air blew against his damp skin and stirred the pelt of hair on his torso.
For the life of him, he couldn’t understand Jade. Every time he thought he had her figured out, he was thrown another curve ball—like tonight. He never would have predicted that a woman would show up at Jade’s house after supper, claiming Jade’s son for her ailing husband.
She had mentioned Hutch. There had been a story in the local newspaper over the weekend about Palmetto’s sheriff, Hutch Jolly, being in a Savannah hospital awaiting a kidney transplant. Unless it was a crazy coincidence and Palmetto had two men named Hutch waiting for a kidney donor, Hutch Jolly was Graham’s father. Graham was obviously unaware of that, and Jade intended to keep him in the dark.
Had Jade known about Jolly’s illness before she moved back? Was she dangling Graham in front of the critically ill man like a carrot? If Jolly was Graham’s father, where did that leave the Patchetts? How did they figure into it? Jolly’s wife hated Jade, too, but not for the expected reason. Ordinarily, the wife would want to deny her husband’s paternity of an illegitimate child.
Experience had taught him that nothing was ordinary where Jade Sperry was concerned.
Evidently, she needed help. Yet, when he had offered it, she threw up that icy armor of hers and flatly refused. What kind of fool would reject an offer of help when it was so desperately needed?
Dillon shoved his fingers up through his hair. “Christ.”
He recognized Jade’s foolishness because he had been guilty of it himself. At Debra and Charlie’s funeral, he had been downright rude to the Newberrys and all their friends. He had spurned every sincere expression of sorrow and rebuffed every offer of help, because being with people whom Debra had known and loved was too painful for him. He had shut them out, believing that he might find numbness in solitude.
Only after accepting this job had he contacted the Newberrys. He had written them a letter, apologizing for the seven years of silence and advising them of his whereabouts. He had been able to write down Debra’s name without feeling as if it were being carved into his heart with a razor blade. The Newberrys had written him back, expressing their joy over hearing from him and extending an open invitation for him to visit them in Atlanta.
He was now able to remember Debra alive—loving and laughing—instead of envisioning her lying dead with their son in her arms. In spite of his dogged attempts to cling to his misery, he had healed.
He adjusted the thermostat on the window unit and went into his bedroom. He removed his boots, stepped out of his jeans and underwear, and slid naked between the sheets of his bed. He stacked his hands beneath his head and stared at the ceiling. Just as he had been seven years ago, Jade was reluctant to accept help because her problem was something she couldn’t bear to confront.
“But what?” Dillon didn’t realize he had spoken out loud until he heard the sound of his own voice. “What?” What had made her so afraid of trusting others, of her own sexuality?
Until he met Jade, he had thought the word frigid was a catch-all phrase to describe coy bimbos. The ingenues in B-movies were called frigid before they put out for the smooth-talking male lead. It was the antonym of nymphomaniac, a word with numerous applications but no real definition. Unfortunately, it perfectly described Jade Sperry. She was terrified of a man’s touch.
Had Hutch Jolly robbed Jade of her right to gratifying sexuality? If so, Dillon hated the bastard, sight unseen. Jade was intelligent, savvy, and beautiful, but she had a scary secret locked away in the closet of her mind. It would continue to haunt her until someone exorcised it.
“Don’t even think it,” he muttered into the darkness. You only work for her, he reminded himself. You’re not her shrink or her lover or even a would-be lover.
But Dillon lay awake for hours, thinking about opening Jade’s heart and banishing her fears.
* * *
The sleeping body in the ICU bed was a human effigy being kept alive by machines devised to prolong a life no longer worth living.
Jade gazed down at her former classmate, her rapist. Hutch had never been handsome, but he looked pitifully ugly now. The bones of his large face were grotesquely pronounced, his cheeks sunken. His pallor clashed with his rusty-red hair. He had always been a strong, robust athlete; now, oxygen was being pumped into his nostrils. Medical technology was performing for him the functions his body no longer could.
While his vital signs were being electronically monitored and recorded, while he was struggling for life, the two attending nurses discussed the stifling heat outside and the Civil War epic starring Mel Gibson that was being filmed on location nearby.
“Only two or three minutes, Ms. Sperry,” one said as they withdrew.
“Yes. Thank you.”
She must have struggled subconsciously with the decision all night, because the knowledge that she would drive to Savannah and see Hutch had awakened her that morning. It wasn’t that she doubted the severity of his condition. She certainly hadn’t changed her mind about having Graham tested as an organ donor. She simply felt compelled to come and confront Hutch, for what would probably be the last time.
She had talked her way into the ICU. Luckily Donna Dee hadn’t been there to dispute her claim that she was a relative who had come all the way from New York City to say goodbye to Cousin Hutch.
She was glad she had come. Hate required energy. Sometimes her hatred for the three men who had caused Gary’s suicide was so consumptive, it left her replete. After today, she would have more energy, because it was hard to work up hatred for the man in the bed.
Suddenly he stirred and opened his eyes. It took a moment for him to focus on Jade, and even longer for it to register with him who she was. When it did, his dry, chalky lips parted, and he rasped her name in disbelief.
“Hello, Hutch.”
“Jesus. Am I dead?”
She shook her head.
He attempted to wet his lips, but his tongue looked pasty. “Donna Dee told me you were back.”
“It’s been a long time.”
He gazed at her for a moment. “From what I can see, you look terrific, Jade. Exactly the same.”
“Thank you.”
There was an awkward pause. Finally Hutch said. “Donna Dee said you’ve got a son.”
“That’s right.”
“A teenager.”
“He’ll be fifteen his next birthday.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced as though in pain. When he opened his eyes again, he had no trouble focusing on her face above him. “Is he mine?”
“How would I know, Hutch, when three of you raped me?” He groaned like a man in spiritual torment. “He’s mine,” she stressed. “I don’t want to know who his father was.”
“I can’t blame you, I guess. I’d just like to die knowing.”
“That’s not going to happen if you live for another fifty years.”
He wheezed a mirthless laugh. “I don’t reckon that’ll be the case.”
“Ms. Sperry, I must ask you to leave now.”
Jade signaled to the nurse that she understood. Quietly she said, “Goodbye, Hutch.”
“Jade?” He raised one needle-bruised arm to detain her. “Donna Dee got this harebrained notion. She was going to ask your son to donate a kidney to me.”