For All of Her Life

by Heather Graham

  “I told you, I didn’t try to smuggle any damned drugs anywhere!” Keith lashed back.

  And there Jordan had stood, hands on his hips, fury in his eyes. “I can’t—I won’t—work like this.”

  “All right, I’m sorry. I’m wrong today. Wrong. But I won’t do it again.”

  “Three strikes. You’re out, Keith. And I don’t care how damned long we’ve been friends.”

  “Damn you, Mr. Self-Righteous! I didn’t get us all arrested, can’t you understand that?”

  He’d sounded hurt, desperate.

  Jordan hadn’t supported him. “I can’t work like this. Kathy, you coming?” He hadn’t glanced her way. He’d reached out a hand, waiting for her. But there had been something so desperate in Keith’s denial that she’d waited.

  “I’ll be along,” she’d said.

  Then he’d looked at her. He hadn’t said a word, he hadn’t forced the issue. He’d thought she’d chosen Keith instead of him. He’d stared at her a moment longer, then had walked away. Jordan, the strong one, the leader. It hadn’t seemed that he’d needed anyone then. Not even her.

  And once he’d been out of the soundproof room—cacophony.

  “Keith, you stinking lousy bastard!” Judy had hissed. “To the rest of us, this is a livelihood! Can’t you keep yourself straight for a few damned hours a day?”

  “Not when you’re always sharpening the edge on that tongue of yours, baby,” Keith said nonchalantly.

  “God dammit—” Derrick had said.

  “Leave him alone!” Shelley had snapped, whirling on Judy. “Who the hell are you to criticize any of us?”

  “If you knew just how many people he’d slept with other than you, pumpkin, you wouldn’t defend him quite so hotly,” Judy said.

  Shelley gasped. “You shrew! Leave me the hell alone, and leave Keith alone.”

  “Shelley, I don’t need help here,” Keith interrupted coldly, staring at Judy. “Not anyone’s.”

  Miles had leapt into it then. “There’s no damned reason to hurt her, Keith. She’s been there for you every damned time, and you treat her like dirt.”

  It had gone far enough. Kathy picked up Jordan’s guitar and struck a discordant note, silencing them all. They stared at her.

  “You’re all going to get your personal problems out of these sessions, or there won’t be anything left for any of us to worry about, got it?” She stared at them firmly, one after another. She wondered if she wasn’t an incredible fool, risking her marriage to hold onto something that was slipping away from them all. “It all stops!” she snapped. They all stared back at her, finally shamed and quiet. Larry lowered his eyes first. Now she knew why.

  She opened her eyes. How different it was tonight! Judy’s words had sobered them all somewhat, but they hadn’t changed them back into a pack of snarling harpies. Judy was talking quietly to Vicky Sue, Miles was smiling over something Shelley was saying. Tara was offering Derrick her sweetest smile as he explained the mechanics of writing music. Larry and Jeremy had turned to a discussion on sports; the kids, who had gone swimming soon after the main meal, were just crawling out of the pool and heading inside to change.

  The older generation—not Kathy’s own, her mother’s—were still just cuddly close in their lounge chairs.

  “Well, I’m going up. Good night, all,” Judy said.

  “Yeah. You know, I’m exhausted,” Miles said. “I was so exuberant—and I still am—but I must be too old to be that exuberant for long.”

  Kathy grinned. “Hey, think of it this way. Lots of us older guys are out there working now—just taking carrot juice on tour instead of champagne and the like.”

  “Right.” Shelley groaned. “I’m off. See you all in the morning. Tara, tell our host thanks for us all again, huh?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Tara said casually.

  People began to drift away, toward the house, moving slowly, chatting with each other. The kids were coming out of the pool, drying off. Kathy noticed that Sally and Gerrit were moving on into the house as well—they had both forgotten to say good night to her.

  Jeremy gave her a kiss on the forehead and went on in, and Kathy found herself alone by the pool with Tara, who was giving her what she considered a definitely evil look.

  “Nice night,” Kathy said.

  “It could be,” Tara agreed somewhat sullenly.

  “Well, nice as it is, I think I’ll call it quits myself.”

  “Ummm, the older one gets, the more sleep one needs,” Tara told her innocently.

  Kathy settled back. “Actually, I’ve heard we all sleep a little less as we get older.”

  “Because we move so much slower, the older we get?”

  “Maybe. But then, we’re not in such a hurry to prove things once we get a little older,” Kathy said.

  “You should just go home.” Tara lashed out suddenly, the kid gloves off, pretense of friendship vanished.

  “Actually, I don’t think that I could do that right now.”

  “You know he feels responsible for you, though after what you did to him—”

  “I don’t think that our past concerns you,” Kathy said calmly. She was amazed to realize that her heart seemed to be beating a thousand slams a second.

  “God knows why he’s so concerned about you.”

  “He’s always been considerate of others.”

  “That’s right,” Tara said, rising. Tonight she was dressed in an ankle-length, black concoction that was truly exotic and was becoming on her. Her hair was swept up, her eyes sparkled like diamonds. She was undeniably beautiful. And of course, very young.

  Kathy experienced a wavering of confidence. She fought it, trying to tell herself that she wasn’t competing with Tara Hughes.

  But in a way she was.

  “You just mustn’t go getting the wrong ideas. We have a strong relationship, Jordan and I.”

  “Do you?” Kathy said pleasantly. She rose herself. “Well then, good for you. I’m very tired myself. Good night, Tara.”

  She started walking away from the blonde.

  “Kathy!” Tara said, her voice sharp.

  Kathy turned back. “Yes?”

  “I really do love him. I’m not giving up. So don’t go thinking there can be something between the two of you now.”

  “If you do love him, you shouldn’t give up.”

  Tara stamped a foot on the poolside decking. “Would you stop it? You know you’re after him again!”

  Kathy arched a brow. “Well then, if I really love him, I shouldn’t give up either, right? Good night, Tara, I am exhausted.”

  She turned again.

  “Just because you can sing—” Tara began.

  “Good night!” Kathy repeated.

  “And because you had his children—He can have more children you know. I can have boys. All men want boys.”

  “Maybe!” Kathy called back. Then she paused, smiling, shaking her head. “A word of wisdom, Tara—from someone of my age-old experience. All men are not the same. They do not want the same things. Good night!” This time, she walked away very swiftly, determined not to be stopped again. She reached the house—thank God—and hurried through the porch and the living room, pounding up the stairs.

  She almost ran into her room, closing the door behind her, leaning against it and staring about. It hadn’t changed much. She could stand there and go back ten years, could stand there and wish the time had never been, that she could be close to thirty again.

  No, no! She didn’t want that. The years had been painful at times, rich at others. She had met wonderful people, learned to stand on her own two feet. She’d discovered just how much she loved not just the written word, but books, writing, novels, fact, fiction... The years had been worthwhile. They didn’t keep the present from being scary, nor did being on her own all that time give her the confidence she needed now. People aged, people toughened. But the heart and soul didn’t quite keep up with it all. One could still be vulnerable, feel
pain, know such uncertainty.

  Tara was afraid that, for all her youth and beauty, she was losing Jordan. Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn’t. If she was right and Jordan was just being responsible, then perhaps he didn’t feel committed to either one of them.

  Tara was afraid, Kathy was afraid. Tara might love Jordan, but Kathy knew she did... and more deeply. More richly. She had for all of her life.

  But not even that could guarantee her a successful relationship. They had let mistrust chip away at them once. Had let outside forces become stronger than the love they shared. Perhaps trust could never be regained.

  She started to walk toward the bed, tired, ready just to stretch out and rest for a minute. Then she remembered that she had more to fear in the next few days than the possibility that Tara would win out and have Jordan.

  Someone might well be in mortal danger...

  She turned, threw open her door, and hurried out into the hallway, racing down it until she came to Alex’s room. She twisted the door handle, thrust her way in, then felt like a fool. Bren, Alex, Peggy, and Angel were arranged around a Monopoly board. The four of them looked up at her expectantly, and not without surprise. “Ah, hi, guys. Sorry. I was... making sure you were all in for the night.”

  “We are. Mom. Want to play?” Alex offered.

  “You’re already into your game.”

  “We could start over.”

  “No, thanks. Your dad worked us all long and hard today. I think I’ll get some sleep.”

  “Can I get you anything?” Peggy asked her anxiously.

  Kathy shook her head. “Thanks. Go back to playing!”

  She backed out of the room, walking slowly back to her own. The hallway was in shadow. She turned on a light, almost expecting some demon to jump out of the shadows after her.

  The glow dispelled the shadows, and she walked on into her room, stretched out on the bed.

  She stared at the ceiling. It was all so strange. She shivered slightly, but a second later, she smiled, still amazed.

  They had been good that afternoon. Really good. She had been good. It was a nice feeling. Even a lulling feeling. She allowed her eyes to close, and she drifted into a light sleep.

  Caterers, readies, organizers, rich men, poor men, philanthropic women. Jordan felt he had talked with half the population of the southern tip of the state. He rubbed his face wearily, rising to glance out at the patio from the bedroom of the guest house, where he had been working on his calls.

  He rubbed his neck, frowning. It seemed like a few minutes ago the patio had been full. He had seen every one of his guests, his daughters, Angel... All had been safe, present, and accounted for. Now the patio was empty. The pool, lit from above and within, sparkled beautifully and presented a most lovely and innocent of scenes. But Jordan’s neck prickled. He felt uncomfortable.

  The phone by the bed started to ring. Instinctively, he picked up the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “I know who’s been dressing up as your wife!” came from an excited voice.

  Jordan began to form the word “who,” but it remained unspoken.

  Before sound could leave his lips, the stillness of the night was pierced by an earth-shattering scream.

  Nineteen

  IT CAME FROM BELOW, from where the bushes partially obscured the side entrance to the guest house.

  Jordan was sure it took him only a matter of seconds to tear down the stairs and reach the area from which he was certain the scream had come. Still, by the time he burst out of the side guest-house door, Mickey Dean was nearly at the spot as well. It had been Mickey on the phone, telling him he knew who had been masquerading as Kathy.

  “What the hell...?” Mickey demanded, staring at Jordan. Dean had been on the property, discreetly watching the house, since the attack on Kathy. Now he was both alarmed and baffled.

  Jordan shook his head. “Let’s split.”

  “I’ll go left, you’ll go right.”

  They turned in synch, but Jordan had barely taken a step before he heard a groaning. He dropped down by the bushes, his heart hammering. A woman’s form lay beside a colorful hibiscus, red hair streaming down her back against the soft gauze-like material of a nightgown. His breath seemed to stop. Kathy. Alive. She had to be groaning to be alive. And there was no blood. No blood around her...

  Just the shattered pieces of one of the heavy S-shaped tiles from the roof.

  A tile? Fallen suddenly in the night?

  He dropped to his knees in a split second, carefully lifting her, and even as he did so, he knew instantly that he’d nearly been duped by an impostor again. It wasn’t Kathy. As he carefully turned the woman in his arms, the red wig fell from her head.

  Tara.

  He gasped out the name, then looked up as he suddenly realized that her scream hadn’t just alarmed him and Mickey but everyone in the house. A sea of faces stared at him as he blinked against the hazy glare of the pool lights. Who was there? Larry, Judy, Miles, Jeremy, Bren, Alex, Vicky Sue. Peggy and Joe holding one another. Angel off to the side a little, ready to assist if needed. Derrick, Shelley, his dad with an arm around Sally. Hmmm. It seemed his father and Sally had come down together. Those who should have been together—like maybe Derrick and Judy and Larry and Vicky Sue—were not.

  Kathy. She stood a little bit apart as well, wearing one of those tailored things which should have been concealing and somehow managed to be sexy. Odd the things that popped in to a man’s head at such moments. He’d always liked the way Kathy got ready for bed. No long ordeal with ointments or the like, just a good face scrub, shower, and body lotion. A light scent. She was always good to smell, soft to touch...

  Tara groaned again. Guilt filled him and he looked down. What in God’s name was going on? Why was she dressed up like his ex-wife? And who would want to harm Tara?

  And just how badly was she hurt?

  Her eyes fluttered open and she stared up at him, smiling, then wincing.

  “Hurts!” she whispered.

  He felt a tug at his heart.

  “What hurts, Tara? What happened?”

  “My head.”

  “Don’t try to move, just help me a little if you can. Does anything else hurt?”

  “My elbow. I fell.”

  “What happened?”

  “I was coming to the house and something... hit me. In the head. I—I heard it. Like a whooshing sound, a whispering. Maybe something falling from a tree, the roof, I don’t know. I tried to scream, tried to run...”

  Her voice trailed away. She winced again.

  He knelt closer to her, whispering softly. “Tara, why were you running around in a red wig?”

  Her eyes remained closed. She grimaced, before wincing again.

  “You seem to like redheads better than blondes,” she whispered back, so softly he barely heard the words.

  He sat back slightly on his haunches and realized that Kathy had come to kneel down on the other side of Tara. She watched the younger woman’s pale face as she said, “Mickey’s called for an ambulance. She’s got to be checked out, Jordan.”

  Tara must have heard Kathy, for her eyes opened again and she offered her a half-smile. “Hurts,” she said again.

  “It must,” Kathy said, taking one of her hands. “Don’t move too much.”

  “I think... I’m okay. But I don’t like being a redhead. Maybe the guest house thought I was you.” She tried to grin. “Maybe it’s on my side.”

  “Could be,” Kathy agreed. “Tara, you’re hurt. Don’t try to talk much right now. We’ll get you to the hospital, and everything will be all right.”

  “Thanks,” Tara murmured, closing her eyes. Her fingers squeezed around Kathy’s for a moment.

  They could already hear the screeching of the ambulance; in a few minutes, paramedics were coming through the yard. Kathy stepped back; Jordan helped Tara answer their questions as competently as possible. As they lifted her onto the stretcher, she clung wildly to his hand. “J
ordan, don’t leave me, please. I’m... afraid!” she whispered.

  He didn’t want to take the ambulance off the island to the mainland. He didn’t understand why, and he silently chastised himself for being the biggest cad in the world. “Cad.” Old-fashioned word. He wondered if Tara knew it.

  He had to go with her. She was hurt.

  “I’m here, with you,” he said quietly.

  He looked up. Kathy was watching him with clear, grave, unfathomable eyes. He could almost feel the distance inching between them again, almost hear the tearing apart of whatever closeness they had achieved.

  But he realized there was a question in her eyes as well.

  Just how the hell had one tile managed to fall from the guest-house roof at precisely the time Tara—dressed as Kathy—was passing beneath it?

  The ambulance attendants were lifting the stretcher; Tara was clinging to his hand.

  And Jeremy appeared suddenly. Handsome, young, in perfect tone. The man who never lost his temper, never made a scene...and he seemed to trust Kathy blindly. What the hell kind of a relationship was it? Jordan wondered bitterly. Right now, the mature young muscleman was looking at him gravely.

  “Things will be fine here.” He said with assurance, as if he sensed he should be watching over Kathy carefully. Perhaps that wasn’t so strange. Kathy had been attacked with a knife.

  Now Tara, in a red wig, was headed for the hospital.

  Jordan addressed the group, looking from Kathy to Jeremy to Mickey. “I’ll be back as soon as I can—”

  “We’re just fine, Jordan. See to Tara!” Judy Flanaghan urged with a grim smile, her arms crossed over her chest. “Stay with her as long as you need to.” She winked. “I’ll make them practice without you.”

  “Yeah, Jordan,” Miles said. “We’ll be fine. Tara honey, you’re going to be all right, too.”

  The others called out encouraging words as well. Only Kathy was silent. He saw her, standing slightly behind as the others surged forward with him, heading around the house for the ambulance. He wound up thrust into the back of the vehicle, seated beside Tara. The rear door slammed; he looked out. Damn. He didn’t want to leave the house.

  Tara’s fingers tightened convulsively around his own. He had no choice.