The Wedding Necklace

by Adrianne Lee

  Struggling to keep from wrinkling her nose, Lyssa averted her eyes and stared at her feet, at her scuffed Reeboks. Then at Craig’s feet. Cowboy boots, lizard or snakeskin as near as she could judge. In need of polishing. But the old man had on a new pair of Nikes. Expensive Nikes. Odd. The rest of his clothing was old and battered, something a mugger might wear. A mugger! She froze. Had he noticed the briefcase clamped to Craig’s wrist and followed them?

  The old man’s face was indistinguishable beneath a bushy beard, his eyes hidden by his hat and glasses with opaque lenses. But he seemed to be staring at the briefcase, intently. Dear God, was he going to pull a gun and rob them? A shiver tracked her spine. She grasped Craig’s left elbow pulling herself against this side, pressing the black briefcase containing the Purity between them. Craig lifted his eyebrows slightly, but there was pleased surprise in his eyes. He folded his hand over her much smaller one, sending shock waves up her arm, along with a sense of security that she desperately needed. “We’re almost there.”

  “I know. I’m just afraid--”

  “Hush. Don't even think that.”

  She tried rolling her eyes, in hopes that Craig would understand it was the old man who had her frightened. The old man was snuffling now as if from a sinus condition. Lyssa held stiffly to Craig, half expecting a gun barrel to jam her ribs at any second.

  The ride ended. To Lyssa’s relief, the old man stayed aboard as they disembarked and headed for the cancer ward.

  A woman slouched on a chair in the waiting room, exhaustion written in the hollows of her thin face. Her long straight hair might once have been as sun bright as Lyssa’s, but was now a flat brass with silver streaks running through it. It was pulled off her face and fastened at the nape with a leather thong, giving her the look of a sixties or seventies Flower Child grown old. Spotting them, she instantly came to life, bolting to her feet, a smile of welcome aimed directly at Lyssa.

  Lyssa smiled back at her mother, noting the slight twitch of her brows as she noticed Craig. She hadn’t told Roxanne anything about her ordeal, it would only have upset her, and she had worry enough on her mind with Grandy. But her questions couldn't be put off forever, and there would be plenty when she introduced Craig Rival. None of them easy. Her mother and her grandmother had nothing good to say about the Rival family.

  “Darlin’ mine, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  So, are you Mama. Lyssa sighed, falling into Roxanne’s outstretched arms, savoring the comfort and the scent of JOY that always clung to her mother.

  Craig stood to one side, watching the welcome with a twinge of envy. Roxanne was inches taller than Lyssa and she peered at him with curious blue eyes. Then she held Lyssa away from her and said, “Here, now. Wipe off those tears. She’s still hanging in, but it won’t do for her to see you’re this upset.”

  Lyssa nodded. She’d managed to box her emotions inside and deal with getting through what she'd had to, but one hug from her mother and the package started bursting at the seams. She nodded and stepped back.

  Glancing uncomfortably at Craig, Roxanne murmured, “Do you have it?”

  There was no need to ask what. Lyssa drew a breath. “Craig, I’d like you to meet my mother, Roxanne DeHaviland. Mother, this is Craig Rival.”

  “Riv--?" She choked. Her round eyes widened as if she’d just been introduced to a man from outer space, or worse, a mass murderer.

  “He’s brought the Purity for Grandy. The real one.”

  “What happened to the faux?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “That’s all you’ve said since Friday. I guess we’re going to have to find time for that lengthy tale of yours. Right now, however…” She eyed Craig with potent puzzlement. “Did she say you’d brought the Purity for my mother? Are you finally going to sell it back to us?”

  There was no mistaking the hostility in her tone; she didn't think the Rival’s had any right to the Purity. He knew of the DeHaviland’s attempts to purchase the necklace over the past twenty years, but they didn’t seem to appreciate that the necklace meant as much to his family as it did to their own. “Well, no, actually--”

  Lyssa jumped in, “Really, Mom. It was beyond the call of duty for Craig to bring this. Doesn’t Grandy always say not to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

  Roxanne sputtered, glancing from one to the other, obviously not satisfied with either of their answers. “Has the world gone stark raving mad, or only me?”

  “Can we see Grandy?”

  Lyssa knew from her expression that Roxanne wasn’t going to let this drop, but she was striving to be as civil as her upbringing and her ragged nerves allowed. For that Lyssa was grateful.

  Roxanne led them into the ward. “She comes in and out of consciousness. There’s been a slight improvement since we spoke this afternoon.”

  The nurse cautioned them against tiring her patient, then allotted them five minutes alone with her. The room smelled medicinal, acidic, and Lyssa winced at all that they'd been putting Grandy through. She was lying on the bed like a grand race horse, brought to its knees, but not beaten. Not dead. Her eyes opened slowly like flowers budding to reveal petals the bright blue of the ocean. Her skin was as delicate as aged lace with a tinge of unnatural grayness. Her head was wrapped in a turban, her thick snowy hair lost to Chemotherapy.

  “Lyssa?” Her voice lacked its former timbre. She struggled to raise her head, a look of expectancy on her shrunken face. God, it was hard to see her this way.

  Lyssa hurried forward and straightened the turban, knowing how particular her grandmother was about appearances, especially when men were in the vicinity. She kissed her on the cheek and took hold of her hand. “Please, Grandy, don't strain yourself. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Hopeful blue eyes studied her. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Behind her, Lyssa could hear Craig clicking the locks of the briefcase. A second later, he was at the bedside, holding a length of velvet in his palms before she could introduce him. “Grandy, we’ve brought you something.”

  Craig lowered the velvet to her lap, then slowly folded back the edges of cloth and as the blue light of the Purity was revealed so was a sparkle in those ocean blue eyes.

  “Oh, my. Oh, my.” Grandy’s voice was weak, but so full of emotion that Lyssa feared it was too much for her. “At long last. Thank you God, thank you. And you too, young man.” She caught his hand. “Thank you. I don’t know how you got it away from those nasty Rivals and I don’t care. The Purity is finally back where it belongs.”

  Craig blanched. Idella wrapped her hands around the necklace and hugged it to her like a long lost child. Her eyes closed and she seemed to drift off.

  The nurse stepped in. “Time’s up.”

  “The necklace,” Craig whispered to Lyssa.

  She reached for it, but Grandy held it in a death grip. She couldn’t disentangle it from her. She glanced at Craig. “Uh…she’s really clinging to it. Look, we’ll be right outside, what harm can it do if she holds it a while longer? No one is going to steal it from her.”

  He didn't like it, but he seemed to have no choice. “Okay.”

  “I’ll let you know as soon as she awakens.” The nurse shooed them from the room.

  The waiting seemed interminable. Lyssa was dead on her feet, longing for her own bed and her own bath and a change of clothes. But she had Roxanne and Craig to deal with before she’d get any rest.

  At least, Roxanne was no longer looking at Craig like he was a pariah, someone she was only tolerating for the sake of others. Rather, she was studying him as if he were an enigma, as if she couldn’t believe someone she despised so much could possess even a shred of decency. Lyssa wasn’t sure what to think, but she could see Craig disliked the scrutiny.

  He grinned, an ill at ease lifting of the corners of his mouth, and backed away from them as he spoke, clearly planning a getaway. “I don’t know about you ladies, but I could use a cup of coffee. There must be a machin
e around here somewhere.”

  “Mr. Rival.” Roxanne’s voice was soft, but it stopped Craig. “I don’t know what to think about all this, but please allow me to express my gratitude to you. I really never thought I’d lay eyes on the genuine Purity again. Although, I had heard about it since I was born, I’ve only actually seen it once.

  “Several years ago, Denny, Lyssa’s father, and I visited your father’s offices in Seattle. It was the first time I’d seen my great grandmother’s necklace in person. It was in some kind of display case Paul Rival called his ‘Collection.’ We tried to purchase the Purity that day, but your father wouldn’t hear of it. In fact, he threatened to call security if we didn’t leave.”

  Craig lifted an eyebrow. He had known about the DeHavilan’'s attempts over the years to buy back the Purity, but his father had never told him that they’d visited the Seattle office. “I apologize if my father was rude--”

  “Rude?” Roxanne interrupted, the redness in her face a signal that rude was too polite a word for the way his father had treated them.

  Lyssa feared her mother was about to launch into a tirade on that very topic, having been regaled with the recounting more times than she could recall. Both of her parents were emotionally charged and easily provoked, as proven by the constant verbal battles that peppered their marriage history. She’d always suspected they rather enjoyed the arguing, but she had hated it. And she could only image the scene they’d made at the offices of Rival Gems International. She didn’t want a repeat of it here and now. “Mom…”

  Roxanne nodded, then inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, obviously reining in the old anger. Eventually, she said, “You can see what the Purity means to my mother, what it would mean to have the necklace once again in our family…where it belongs. Please, tell me you’ll allow us to purchase it.”

  Craig was starting to regret his impulse to make this trip with the Purity. First, Idella DeHaviland defames his family, then latches onto the necklace and won’t let go. And now Roxanne was playing on his sympathies to get him to sell the necklace to her. He really did need some coffee…laced with something stiff. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. The Purity means as much to me as it does to you. I have no intention of parting with it permanently, but after all that Lyssa had been through trying to recover the faux, I--”

  Roxanne didn’t wait for him to finish, she swung immediately to Lyssa. Motherly concern was etched in the worry lines around her eyes and mouth. “All that you’ve been through…? Darlin’ mine, I think we’d better hear that lengthy tale of yours, pronto.”

  Lyssa rolled her eyes. She was too tired for this, but that wouldn’t dissuade her mother from insisting on every detail. She pointed to the bench outside Grandy’s room. “Then let’s sit down.”

  Craig excused himself, promising to return with coffee. Lyssa knew she was going to need it.

  Craig brought the women coffee, then excused himself again and returned to the machine he’d found near the cafeteria to get himself a cup. Figuring he’d give them another ten minutes, he leaned against the wall next to the coffee machine and slowly sipped the steaming liquid, surprised that it wasn’t half bad. But, he reflected, probably the last thing he needed was a jolt of caffeine. As it was, he was running on too few hours of sleep and too little food.

  All because of Lyssa Carlyle.

  He shoved his hand through his hair, and glanced down the hall, catching sight of a door swinging open. A man appeared. The vagrant from the elevator. He stiffened visibly as if seeing Craig had startled him, then he retreated through the doorway and closed the door. The stairs, Craig realized. The guy must be sleeping in the stairwell. But then why had he tried exiting into the hall and taken a chance on being seen?

  Maybe he should report him to hospital security. Or maybe the poor guy just wanted some coffee. Contemplating the fuss that might occur if he turned the guy in, Craig decided to let the poor man be. There were too many homeless people in the world nowadays, if one of them had found a way to beat the cold desert nights, more power to him.

  As he neared the women again, Craig noticed that Lyssa looked as worn out as he felt. It couldn’t be easy reliving that nightmare every time she had to tell it anew. God, how he wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her. And so much more. Roxanne lifted a suspicious brow at him, as if she’d read this thought, and Craig felt the coffee mix with a swirl of guilt in his belly. So far, his plan to get Lyssa out of his system was a complete bust.

  Watching her with her grandmother and mother only pointed out more clearly how close she was to her family. He respected that. Family ought to be a person’s number one priority. But he wished she’d quit casting grateful glances his way. He was feeling like a cad.

  The nurse approached, drawing their attention. “I’m not certain what the cause, but Ms. DeHaviland is resting better than she has in days. Why don't you all go home and do the same. I’ll call if matters reverse themselves for the worse, but I don’t expect that will be the case.”

  “The Purity…” Craig implored of Lyssa.

  “Of course.” Lyssa informed the nurse that she needed to visit Grandy’s room a moment. She returned two minutes later with Craig’s briefcase in tow. He checked the contents, then locked the case and chained it to his wrist.

  “Grandy’s breathing easier, Mom. She’s seems to be sleeping like a baby.”

  “Praise the Lord.”

  And Craig Rival’s generosity, Lyssa thought.

  In the elevator, Roxanne asked, “How long are you staying, Mr. Rival?”

  Craig realized he hadn’t thought beyond tonight. Idella DeHaviland was at death’s door; he hadn’t provided for her slamming it in the grim reaper’s face. What if she rallied, went into remission? What if she didn’t? Torn, he made a decision. “I’m returning to Seattle tomorrow evening.”

  “With the Purity?” Roxanne inquired, as the elevator stopped at the lobby.

  Of course with the Purity. She didn't really think he'd leave it here, did she? Nor could she expect him to stay indefinitely. He had an office to run. His uncle was no longer there to do it for him, and although Stacey might be perfectly capable of handling things another few days, he hadn’t even told her he’d be away. “When I return to Seattle, the Purity will go with me.”

  Roxanne’s expression was hard. She hadn’t liked his answer, but she didn’t try to change his mind and he was grateful for that. They walked to the parking lot in silence. A light rainfall had started, filling the air with the scent of wet dirt.

  “If you haven’t arranged for a motel, you’re welcome to stay at my home, Mr. Rival,” Roxanne offered.

  He smiled at her, certain she’d like nothing better than to pick his brain about Lyssa and wear down his defenses about the Purity. She didn’t trust him. Didn’t like him. Probably blamed his family for the attack on Lyssa at his house and thought it only right that he had shown up with the Purity as a form of amends. But most of all, she didn’t like his interest in Lyssa.

  Or was it Lyssa’s interest in him?

  He doubted much got past the lady, and figured he was going to have to stay one jump ahead of her. Giving her a pleasant smile, he said, “I appreciate the offer, but I have a reservation a few blocks from here. Lyssa is going to drop me off. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Count on it.” She gave Lyssa a hug. “Good night, Darlin’ mine. If you need me…for any reason…call.”

  They’d gone about a block on Desert Drive when Lyssa asked, “Which motel?”

  A lighted vacancy sign caught his eye. “That one, there.”

  Lyssa lifted a brow. Wasn’t that convenient? she thought, almost laughing as she pulled into the parking space outside the Desert Palm motel office. Did he really have a room here? Or was he just avoiding the inquisition Mom would have put him through? She studied his sharp features, the yellow porch light pouring through the windshield casting him in an amber glow. Her pulse skipped and her mouth felt dry. Would he kiss her again? Sud
denly she didn't want to leave. “Would you like me to pick you up in the morning?”

  What he’d like was to take her to his room. His blood seemed to thrum through his veins like the soft thrum of the car motor, and he lifted his hand and traced her jawline, gently pulling her near, rubbing her bottom lip with his thumb. Lyssa closed her eyes. God, she was lovely in the buttery light. Craig felt his blood heating, tensing with need, the desire so strong he couldn’t resist.

  Cupping her head in both hands he brought his lips to hers, tenderly, but the passion exploded intensifying the wanting to a fierce level. The light inside the car suddenly blossomed to a brilliant beam and Craig and Lyssa jerked apart. A security patrol car was angled at them, headlights and a spot light aimed inside the car.

  They laughed as Craig got out and explained they were saying good night and not making some drug deal. He leaned inside her window and said, “I can take a cab. Oh, that copy of your agreement with Wayne…could you bring that with you tomorrow?”

  It was as if he’d forgotten their moment of passion, as if it had never happened. She felt an odd sense of loss that she knew she shouldn’t feel. How could he be so kind and so passionate one minute and so abrupt the next? “I’ll bring you a copy of the agreement. I’ll set it out the minute I get home--so that I don’t forget. But you won’t take a cab anywhere. I’ll be here around nine. See you then.”

  Five minutes later, Lyssa pulled up in front of the two story stucco that had served as her business as well as her home for the past three years. It looked dark and deserted, the wrought iron bars on the windows, intimidating. But she couldn’t wait to get inside. Hefting the carry-on bag, she raced to the door, and within seconds was inside, ramming the deadbolt into place and switching on the overhead light.

  She spun around to the main room that did double duty as a living room and reception area. Silence surrounded her and she pressed her back to the door, her gaze winging about. There had been a moment or two when she hadn’t thought she’d see this place again, a moment or two when she’d prayed for nothing more than to be safe within these familiar walls. Now that she was, she felt alone and vulnerable.