His gaze snapped back to her. “I almost didn’t,” he said.
She nodded. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you stayed away, but I’m glad you’re here.”
He sighed and watched Pam move around to the other side of the bed, adjusting Nancy’s pillows.
“I need you to forgive me for what I did.”
He closed his eyes briefly, then he looked at her. “I don’t know if I can.”
“It wasn’t about you. It wasn’t anything personal.”
“You tried to poison me. You held a gun on my mother.”
“But that wasn’t about you.”
“You killed someone, Nancy.”
She rolled her head on the pillow, looking at the ceiling. “I know. I will never be free of that guilt, but I did it for my daughter.”
“That’s a little hard for me to get my head around,” he said honestly.
She met his gaze again. “She’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever done. I would do anything to protect her.”
“What did you think I was going to do? I didn’t even know I had a daughter.”
She didn’t answer for a moment, licking at her dry lips. Pam reached over with a glycerin swab and wiped them for her. She held up a hand for her sister to take. “Thank you,” she told her.
Pam took her hand, setting the swab on a side table. “Don’t exhaust yourself.”
“I’ll have plenty of time to sleep soon enough,” she said, squeezing her hand. Then she looked at Jaguar. “When you came back to Sequoia, it terrified me. Then everyone was saying you planned to stay to take care of your mother. I felt like I had to do something.”
“Kill me? Why?”
“I was so afraid you might see Sophia. If you saw her, you’d know she was yours. I couldn’t chance you’d take her away from me. I knew I was dying. I knew I didn’t have long and I didn’t want her raised by nannies in God knows where.”
“I would have given you money to help you raise her, but I’m not a father. I wouldn’t have interfered.”
“I couldn’t take a chance on it. I know what your lifestyle’s like, Jaguar. I’ve seen it.”
“You tried to tell me about her when you came to the concert in LA. Why did you change your mind?”
“They told me I had cancer and there was nothing they could do about it. It changed everything. If you knew I was dying, you’d take her away from me and I couldn’t allow that. I had to make Pam the only option. I had to be sure.”
He shook his head. “That’s insane.”
She closed her eyes again and licked at her lips. “I’m sorry you feel that.”
He met Pam’s gaze. Pam shook her head as if she knew what he was going to say, as if he would tell a dying woman her sister had no intention of raising her child. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Your forgiveness.”
He tilted back his head. “I just don’t have it in me, Nancy.”
He felt her eyes settle on him, her bloodshot, sunken eyes, and she stared at him for a long time. Finally he met her gaze because he didn’t know what else to do.
“Do you know why I didn’t shoot you or your mother?” she said.
“Zion talked you out of it.”
She shook her head on the pillow, dislodging the scarf, her bald, vulnerable head exposed to him. Pam reached up to try to straighten it, but Nancy didn’t seem to notice, her attention riveted on him.
“I didn’t shoot you or your mother because you have her eyes, Sophia’s eyes.”
Jaguar shifted in the chair. God he wanted out of here. This was too much to ask of anyone. He kept seeing the woman in the bed juxtaposed against the woman he’d bedded five years ago and he couldn’t reconcile the two.
Suddenly, Nancy made a gurgling sound and her eyes rolled up in her head, then her back arched and her hands fisted into claws. Pam dove for the bedside button and an alarm went off as Nancy’s heels drummed on the bed.
Nurse Trina stepped into the room. “We’re having another seizure,” she said, pressing the button to bring down the head of the bed. “Let’s roll her to her side.”
As she and Pam rolled Nancy to her side, Jaguar scrambled out of the chair and backed away from the bed, expecting more attendants. Unlike his mother’s last moments, only Pam and Trina were present to help Nancy. He kept looking at the door, but no one else came.
After an eternity, or so it seemed to Jaguar, Nancy quieted and Trina let her roll to her back, then she and Pam straightened the bedclothes and wiped Nancy’s mouth, elevating her head again. Jaguar realized he was breathing fast, standing against the blank wall of the room, his hands fisted at his sides. He’d have bolted if the guard wasn’t filling the door, keeping everyone else at bay.
Trina held out her hand to him. “Come back and finish your visit. She’s okay again.”
Jaguar stared at the hand, but he didn’t move. Pam gave him a disgusted look. Finally, he eased forward and took his seat again. Nancy’s eyes were closed, her breathing labored. He wasn’t sure if she was even conscious at the moment.
While Trina fussed taking her vital signs and Pam went out to refill the water pitcher, Jaguar sat in his chair and stared at Nancy’s skeletal features, the skin pulled taut over the bones. A feeling swelled within him, an assurance that no one should ever suffer like this no matter what she’d done. No one. Nancy had killed a young girl in a misguided attempt to protect their daughter, but she’d thought, in her twisted logic, that she had no choice. He didn’t understand the motive, but he understood the love behind it.
He rose to his feet and curled his hand in hers. Her eyelids fluttered and opened, staring into his gaze.
“The eyes finished me,” she whispered.
He nodded. “I know.”
“The eyes,” she whispered again.
He was faintly aware that Pam had stepped back into the room, but he ignored the other two women, pretending it was only him and Nancy present. He rubbed his thumb across the delicate bones in her hand and he leaned closer to her.
“I forgive you,” he whispered. “Nancy, I forgive you everything.”
She held his gaze for a long time, then a single tear slipped out of her eye and ran across her temple.
CHAPTER 8
Jaguar sat down on the picnic table next to the taxi driver, his feet braced on the seat. Hakim had a sandwich in his hands. He reached into the cooler and took out a second half, holding it out to Jaguar.
Jaguar shook his head. “Gluten intolerant.”
“Wow, that sucks.”
“Little bit,” he said, then he smiled at the man. “Thanks, though.”
“No problem.” Hakim put the sandwich back in the cooler and pulled out a bottle of water.
Jaguar accepted that, twisting off the lid. His attention was distracted by a sound at the door of the psych hospital. A few orderlies and nurses had stepped out, carrying coffee cups or just wandering around, but he suspected they were trying to take pictures of him.
“Fans?” asked Hakim.
“I guess.”
“I’ll be ready in a second.”
Jaguar looked out over the rolling green fields, the sun filtering through the oak trees down on him, and it felt good just to sit for a moment. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a sip. “Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”
Hakim jerked a chin at the gathering crowd. “Does this happen all the time?”
“Yeah, but if I don’t write another album, it’ll probably stop.”
“Doubt it. If they recognize a celebrity, no matter who it is, they’re gonna act the fool,” groused the taxi driver. “You need a body guard.”
“I have body guards.”
“Where the hell are they?”
Jaguar braced a hand on his thigh and gave the man a hard look. Hakim was a solid fellow, hard working and reliable. If Jaguar intended to stay here for any period of time, maybe it wouldn’t be bad hiring him to drive him around and run interference. Bruno and Maddog
worked for Anaconda, not him. He paid their salaries through the band, but once he decided to return them to LA, he knew they’d gone on to guard another musician.
“I sent them back to LA. It seemed silly to have them drive a limo around Sequoia.”
Hakim gave a snort of disagreement. “Better than paying for taxis all the time.”
“True,” he said, but he didn’t offer the job. He just wasn’t sure it wouldn’t be better for him to go back to LA this afternoon. Leave all of this behind until the funeral on Saturday.
“So was it hard in there?” asked Hakim.
“It wasn’t easy,” he answered. “She had a seizure while I was there.”
“No shit!”
“No shit,” he repeated.
“Man, that’s harsh.”
“Yep.” He took another sip of water. “You got family, Hakim?”
“My parents and a younger sister, Kallista. She teaches elementary school. We all still live together, help my parents out.”
Jaguar nodded, turning the bottle in his hands. “It’s just me and Pops now.” He gave a grunt. “And my daughter.”
“I read about that. That’s why the crazy woman said she poisoned people.”
Jaguar smiled at him. “That’s why. To keep me away from my daughter.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Well, plenty, but that’s not why she doesn’t want me around her. She thinks I’ll take Sophia to LA and leave her with nannies.”
“What are you going to do with her?”
Jaguar shook his head. “No idea. Nancy wants her sister to take her, but Pam’s overwhelmed raising three kids by herself. She wants me to take Sophia.”
“You got yourself a mess.”
Jaguar laughed. “We haven’t talked about my father yet, Hakim. You don’t know from mess.”
Hakim laughed with him. “Glad I just drive my taxi.”
* * *
When Jaguar got back to the house, he found Henry sitting on the couch, pictures spread on the coffee table in front of him. He held one in his hand, but when Jaguar stepped inside, he set it down and swiped a hand across his eyes.
Jaguar felt a swell of pity for his father, something he rarely remembered feeling. “Looking at old photos, huh?” he said as conversationally as he could.
Henry drew a breath and exhaled, then picked up an envelope. “The funeral director wanted some for a slide show. I haven’t looked at these in years.”
“Want some help?” asked Jaguar, crossing around the table and taking a seat on the couch next to him.
“Sure,” said Henry. He handed Jaguar the envelope. “Take a look at these. The funeral director…”
“Barry Bonds.”
Henry gave a short laugh. “Barry Bonds, right. He said he wanted 30 to 40 of them.”
Jaguar shook the ones his father had already chosen into his hand. There were ones of his mother and father on their wedding day, his mother holding him in a wheelchair as she left the hospital when he was born, and his mother with him when Jaguar had amazingly graduated from high school. There were others, though, that Jaguar didn’t remember as well. His mother on the edge of a lake, looking pensive. His mother riding on a boat, staring out over the water, the sun caressing her features. His mother feeding the ducks in the pond behind the house, her face lit with a happy smile.
“She sure liked water, didn’t she?” Jaguar said.
“Yes, she did. She always wanted to be by a lake, even when we moved here. I used to tell her, Ida, that’s a damn manmade dip of water, but she didn’t care.”
Jaguar laughed.
“She liked nature. She always did. She really liked living in the redwoods.” Henry passed him a picture of his mother with her hand on the trunk of a tree that dwarfed her a billion times over. “I think that’s why she chose Chico for college.” He glanced at Jaguar. “She coulda gone to the conservatory in San Francisco, but she turned it down. Never did understand that.”
He picked up another picture of Jaguar when he was about three with his mother dancing on the trunk of some long-gone giant sequoia. Jaguar studied the picture in his hand. She’d been such a pretty woman when she was younger.
“What was the first thing that attracted you to her?” he asked his father, half afraid to speak and break the spell, half afraid if he didn’t Henry would stop talking.
“The eyes,” they said together and laughed.
“Yeah, those eyes. At first, she scared the hell out of me. Those eyes would just stare through me, like icicles.”
“I remember some of those stares,” said Jaguar.
“She didn’t get mad at you very often.”
“Nope. Not often at all, but when she did…”
“Look out,” said Henry, smiling at his son. His smile faded. “How did it go at the hospital?”
Jaguar put the picture he held in the envelope. “I forgave her.”
“You did?”
Jaguar set the envelope on the table and let his hands dangle between his knees. “God, that’s a bad way to go. She had a seizure when I was there. She’s suffered enough for what she did.”
Henry was quiet for a moment, then he nodded. “It’s good you forgave her,” he said. “No use carrying that guilt around with you.”
Jaguar nodded.
Henry leaned forward and picked up another picture. He held it up and stared at it. Jaguar looked over, seeing his mother in a garden of some kind, holding a butterfly on her finger. The butterfly was blue. He felt a shiver raced down his spine.
Ida was smiling at the insect, her face glowing with sunlight, her blue eyes crinkled in joy. Her wedding ring was visible on her hand, catching the light and sending it back.
“Where was that taken?” Jaguar asked, glancing at his father.
Henry had gone still and his face fell. “They used to have a butterfly exhibit in the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco. She always liked to go and see them.”
Jaguar remembered the last time he’d taken her to the lake, the day he and his father had fought and his father had told him to get out.
“Do you see it?”
“See what, Mom?”
“The blue butterfly. Goodness, I haven’t seen one in years. It’s so pretty. So pretty. Fragile. We need to protect them better or they’ll go away and never come back.”
Jaguar hadn’t seen anything. Had she been caught in a memory, seeing things from the past, remembering a time when she’d been happy? He hoped so. God, he hoped so.
Henry handed him the picture and rose to his feet. “Can you pick out some more and put them in the envelope? I think I’m going to lay down.”
“Sure, Pops,” he said, watching Henry walk out of the room. He stared at the picture a moment longer, then put it on top of the stack in the envelope.
Reaching out, he spread the pictures with his hand and stared at the entire display. There were pictures of Ida, pictures of Jaguar and Ida, pictures of Henry and Ida, but there were no pictures of Jaguar and his father, not one. He frowned, then grabbed the box Henry had placed under the coffee table. Rifling through it, he searched for one picture of him and his father, but he found nothing.
Sitting back on the couch, he glanced toward the hallway. If anyone looked through these memories, they would believe Jaguar and Henry had led completely separate lives. The only thing that had held them together, even for a moment, was Ida.
And now Ida was gone.
* * *
Jaguar walked into the Caffeinator, the bell over the door tinkling. He wasn’t sure what he was doing on Main Street. It created chaos for the businesses, but he couldn’t sit at the house any longer. He needed to get out, get away from everything that reminded him of his mother.
People sat at the bistro tables or lounged on the couches, sipping coffee or eating pastries. As soon as he entered, they sat up straighter, their attention focusing on him.
Deimos, the guy who’d been with Merilee Whitmire when she died,
stood behind the counter. His expression grew wary when he saw Jaguar. Jaguar didn’t fault him. Deimos had been questioned about the murder and forced to take a leave of absence from his job because of Nancy Osborn. In Deimos’ eyes, Jaguar was guilty by association.
The young girl, Tallah, worked with Deimos and her eyes grew round when he stepped into the room. She was about sixteen with curling black hair and chocolate brown skin. Zion had told him she was a straight A student and had many college prospects ahead of her. He admired that, but he didn’t understand it. School had been a bafflement to him and he’d never gotten the hang of it.
“Hey, Jaguar,” she said in a flirty voice.
Deimos gave her an arch look, but she ignored him.
“Hey, Tallah.”
“You want something to drink?”
He looked at the menu, considering, but he hadn’t really come for coffee. “No, I’m good.” He glanced at the shaggy haired Deimos. “I was wondering if Zion’s around?”
“She’s in back. I’ll tell her you’re here,” said Tallah.
The girl disappeared through the bar-room doors and left Jaguar facing Deimos. The conversation had restarted in the room, but he could hear people whispering about him. He ignored it.
“I’m glad you’re back at work,” he said to the barista.
“Dude, so am I,” answered Deimos. “But I’m surprised you’re still here. In Sequoia, I mean.”
“My mother died. The funeral’s this Saturday.”
“Dude,” said Deimos, drawing out the word. “I heard. I’m sorry. That’s bad.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Tallah appeared again. “She’s just doing books. She said for you to go on back.”
“Thanks,” he said and walked around the counter, headed for the office.
Zion looked up as he stepped inside, her curling red hair loose around her shoulders, her green eyes studying him. She got up and came around the desk, folding him in her arms. She smelled of vanilla and he closed his eyes, fighting the sudden tears.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered in his ear.
He hugged her back, letting himself relax in her arms for a moment before he pulled away. He might have been interested in Zion if everything wasn’t so insane right now. Besides that, he really liked Tate and he suspected Tate had feelings for her.
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