My Child, Our Child (Silhouette Special Edition)

by Hagan, Patricia

  Dottie’s laugh was sharp, brittle. “No, nothing like that, but when you hear what he’s done you might wish he were.”

  Jackie doubted that. She was not the sort to wish misfortune on anyone, regardless. “Well, suppose you tell me what this is all about, Dottie, because I’m real busy around here.”

  She heard Dottie take a deep breath, then, “Okay, here goes—he’s getting married this weekend.”

  Jackie gripped the phone before it could slip though her fingers. “What are you talking about? We aren’t divorced and won’t be for a year.”

  “He went to Mexico and got a quickie.”

  Jackie leaned against the desk, one hand pressing against her suddenly throbbing temple. “I don’t understand. I mean, I’ve always thought Mexican divorces weren’t legal in North Carolina.”

  “Only if somebody protests, and you can bet your last pair of run-free panty hose he’s praying you won’t, because from what he told Chuck, his bride is almost four months pregnant.”

  “What bride?” She forced her wobbling legs to move her around the counter so she could collapse in a chair before they gave way. “I mean—who is she? None of this makes any sense.”

  Dottie snorted. “I guess not. It was a big blow to Chuck, too. Kevin called him this morning to tell him the news. He wants all his buddies to drive to Winston-Salem this weekend for the wedding his bride’s family is putting on. I understand it’s going to be quite lavish, despite the circumstances. Chuck has to rent a tux, and I’ve got to buy a new dress. The bride’s parents are having it at their country club.”

  She swayed. Dear God, what was going on here? “Does the...the bride have a name?” she managed to ask with a shaky laugh.

  “Yeah. Mimi Faulkner.”

  The Faulkner part was familiar, and Jackie squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the bell of recognition to ring. When it did, her eyes flew open and she spoke so loudly two CNAs down the hall turned to stare.

  “Dr. Faulkner’s daughter. The two-timing creep. Now it all adds up.”

  “That’s right. Her father is the one Kevin is going into practice with.” She paused a moment before reluctantly adding, “Actually, a lot of us wives knew about her, Jackie, but we couldn’t say anything to you. You understand, don’t you? I mean, we really wanted to, because Kevin was being such a jerk. But when I heard about this, I told Chuck enough was enough. You had to be told, because Kevin will have to let you know, won’t he? And this way you can be ready to act like you don’t give a damn.”

  With a sigh of resignation, Jackie quietly said, “Actually, Dottie, I don’t give a damn. Now, thanks for calling, but I’ve really got to get back to work.”

  She hung up the phone and sat there a few moments, needing time to get herself together. It was true that she no longer cared what he did, but it was still humiliating that she had been the last to know he had been seeing someone else.

  And now she understood how he had been able to step into a lucrative practice right out of his surgical residency, not to mention pay off the credit cards. But his girlfriend’s pregnancy had complicated things, making the one-year wait for divorce a great inconvenience. So he had flown down to Mexico—future poppa-in-law no doubt footing the bill for that—and was counting on her pride to keep her from making a fuss about it.

  And he was right.

  “To hell with him,” she muttered under her breath and bolted to her feet.

  The thing to do was get over it.

  Don’t go there.

  Don’t think about how she’d been used, had, humiliated and betrayed.

  Look forward. Not back.

  With head held high, shoulders squared, eyes straight ahead, she continued down the hall.

  Maybe it was time to get serious about the idea she had been toying with ever since Libby mentioned she was thinking about leaving Dove Haven to move into an apartment and have home health care. If they went in together on a large enough place and lived together, Libby wouldn’t need anyone to come in at night.

  Besides, she had come to love Libby as though she were her own grandmother, and Libby had confided she looked upon her as the granddaughter she’d never had. They would be like family.

  Libby could also empathize with her in her despair, for she had suffered anguish in matters of the heart herself, but under different circumstances. Born and raised in the western North Carolina mountains around Banner Elk, Libby had confided how she could not remember a time when she had not loved Roy Colton. And when he had been killed in World War II, she had never been able to love anyone else.

  When Libby had talked of the cool, green mountains, sometimes her eyes would become misty. When Jackie had asked why she never went there, when she seemed to love the peace and serenity of her home so deeply, Libby’s smile had been both sweet and sad. True, she had explained, she did love the Blue Ridge, but going back had been too painful: there were too many memories... too many ghosts. Still, she had returned periodically as long as her parents were alive, but after they died, she never went back.

  Jackie quickened her pace. She hoped Libby was not sick...for many reasons, most of them, she supposed, selfish. She wanted—needed—to tell her the mind-blowing news about Kevin. She also felt the pressing need to persuade her to move somewhere with her, because all of a sudden she understood why Libby had never wanted to go back to the mountains. Only Libby’s memories had been sweet. The ones Jackie longed to forget were the ones that made her feel like a complete and utter fool. The sooner she moved out of the home she had shared with Kevin, the quicker the fresh wounds would begin to heal.

  Passing the physical therapy room, someone called out to her, and she turned to see it was Vickie Thornton, one of the therapists.

  “You’ve got a phone call.”

  Jackie came to a halt, fists clenching at her sides. “I swear if management doesn’t buy me a pager, I’m going to pay for it myself.”

  “Maxine said it’s important. That’s why she’s trying to track you down.” Vickie was holding the phone in her hand as she leaned out the door.

  Jackie groaned. That meant it could only be Dottie, having remembered some other juicy tidbit she wanted to pass along. “Well, I’m busy right now, Vickie. I’ve got to check on a resident I’m real concerned about. Please just tell Maxine to tell Dottie I promise to call her back later.”

  “It’s not Dottie...whoever Dottie is.”

  Something in Vickie’s voice made the hair stand up on the back of Jackie’s neck. “Then tell whoever it is—”

  “It’s Kevin.”

  Her legs felt as if they were made of wood as Jackie walked slowly to where Vickie waited. The last thing she wanted right then was to talk to Kevin, but it would best to get it over with.

  She took the phone, and Vickie politely left to give her privacy.

  She mustered a civil, calm tone. “Yes, Kevin, what is it?”

  She heard him take a deep breath. No doubt to gather his courage, the two-timing bastard.

  “I’ve got something to tell you, and I wanted you to hear it from me before word spread.”

  She let him go on, not about to make it any easier for him by telling him she already knew.

  “I got the divorce, Jackie. In Mexico. All I had to do was fly in and spend the night and a judge signed the decree. It’s done all the time.” He gave a nervous little laugh. “These damn North Carolina laws are so old-fashioned. I mean—what’s the point in waiting a whole year when it’s over, right? It just causes stress for everybody concerned. We need to get on with our lives, and I figured you’d welcome having it over with as much as me.”

  “Not quite,” she said quietly, coldly. “I wasn’t in a hurry to get married.”

  Silence. Then a gasp. “Who...who told you?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  He went into a defensive mode. “You aren’t going to make a big stink over this, are you, Jackie? I mean, hey, it will only make you look bad. Everybody will say you’re just be
ing vindictive, and—”

  She interrupted him, because he was firing words like bullets. And he was also wasting her time.

  “I’d never dream of contesting it, Kevin. I wish you, your bride and the baby you’re going to have in about five months, only the best.”

  “You...you know about that, too,” he said lamely.

  “Yes. I know about that.”

  “So how long—”

  “Kevin, stop it,” she snapped. “This is a waste of time for both of us. It doesn’t matter. Nothing about you matters to me, anymore. Now I’ve told you—I don’t intend to protest your quickie divorce, so we have nothing else to discuss. Goodbye.”

  She hung up the phone and realized she felt better than she had in ages. She was actually glad he had called, so she could have the satisfaction of letting him know that, despite everything, she didn’t have enough feelings left for him to care what he did.

  Because now closure could begin.

  “Thanks, Vickie,” she said as the therapist came out of a supply closet, as if on cue.

  “No problem. Listen, I’m sorry to hear about—”

  “You know?” Jackie had started for the door but whirled about. “Oh, my God, how many others?” She shook her head and blinked back tears of humiliation. “It really is true, isn’t it? That the wife is always the last to know?”

  She hurried on out.

  Vickie rushed to the door. “What are you talking about? I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing....”

  Jackie stepped around kitchen helpers retrieving breakfast trays and maneuvered around CNAs rolling residents to showers or outdoors to enjoy the sunny day.

  Libby’s room was at the very end of the hall. Jackie knew she was probably being selfish to hope against hope her dear friend felt like talking, because never had she needed a sympathetic ear more.

  She slowed, apprehension creeping.

  Libby’s door was closed.

  And that was highly unusual, because, unless she was dressing or undressing, she left it open as an invitation for anyone to come inside. She was just that kind of person—warm, genial, ready to be a friend.

  She started to knock, but her hand froze in midair as she heard a sad voice softly call, “There’s no need, Miss Jackie.”

  Turning slowly, fearfully, she met the tearful gaze of Winnie Porter, the lady who lived in the room opposite Libby’s.

  “She died sometime last night. I was awake when they came by and closed all our doors so we wouldn’t see them take her away.”

  Jackie stared at her for a few seconds, numb and disbelieving, then somehow remembered to disengage the door alarm as she stumbled outside.

  Lowering to Libby’s bench, she covered her hands with her face and wept.

  Something nudged her leg. Something warm and fuzzy.

  She glanced down to see the little fat squirrel Libby had tamed.

  Perhaps it was her imagination...her grief making her mind play tricks, but something in his eyes seemed to mirror sadness over having also lost a dear friend.

  Through her tears she reached into her pocket and took out the bagel she had put there earlier.

  The squirrel eagerly took it from her hand and scampered away.

  His life would go on without Libby.

  And so would hers.

  But, dear Lord, it was going to be so very hard...for never, ever, had she felt so alone.

  Chapter Two

  Jackie thought the memorial service held in Dove Haven’s chapel was sweet and charming...just as Libby had been.

  Late-summer flowers, marigolds and pansies, decorated the altar where residents who had loved her took turns sharing how much brighter their lives were for having known her.

  Jackie could have contributed much from her own experience with Libby but felt it more important for the others to have their say.

  During the service she noticed a man sitting nearby and wondered if he were a distant relative, then remembered Libby had no family. He was probably a friend Jackie never had a chance to meet.

  At last it was over. Madeline Stallings, Dove Haven’s director, invited everyone to a reception in the recreation room. Jackie hurried to be the first out of the door, wanting to make sure the special refreshments she had asked the kitchen staff to make were ready.

  Jackie went to the white linen-covered table and began ladling a lime sherbet and ginger ale punch, Libby’s favorite, into paper cups. When there was no one else to be served, she took a cup for herself. Then she noticed the same man, standing to one side.

  He walked over to her and pleasantly said, “You’re Jackie Lundigan, aren’t you? Miss Pratt pointed you out to me once when I was visiting her, but there wasn’t opportunity for introductions.”

  Jackie politely responded, “And I remember seeing you, but she never told me who you were.”

  He handed her a card, and she read the name: “James Burkhalter, Attorney at law.”

  “I would appreciate it if you’d call my office for an appointment. We need to talk,” he said.

  She looked at the card again, then at him. “And what is this all about?”

  “I was Miss Pratt’s attorney. I made her will for her.”

  Nonplussed, she asked, “Well, what does that have to do with me?”

  “You’re in it,” he said quietly and walked away.

  Aimlessly Jackie leafed through the outdated magazine, glancing often at her watch.

  The receptionist noticed and apologized, “I’m so sorry, Miss Lundigan. I have no idea what’s keeping Mr. Burkhalter. He said he’d only be at the courthouse a few minutes.”

  “It’s all right. I’m in no hurry.” And she wasn’t. Mrs. Stallings had told her she could have the rest of the day off, but curiosity was needling her. What could Libby’s will have to do with her? An animal lover, Libby had told her she was leaving everything to the local shelter’s building fund. Jackie hoped she hadn’t changed her mind. She had not befriended Libby for monetary compensation. Still, if Libby had seen fit to leave her something of sentimental value to remember her by, she would be grateful and honored.

  The outer door to the office opened and James Burkhalter breezed in.

  “I am so sorry to keep you waiting.” He held out a welcoming hand as Jackie rose from her chair. “I ran into a judge I’d been trying to talk to for days and had to take advantage of it. Come on in, please.”

  He hurried to his desk and laid down the manila folders and yellow legal pad he had been carrying. “Just have a seat and make yourself comfortable.” He started leafing through stacks of papers on his desk.

  She sat down and drank in the smell of leather from the sofa as well as the bound volumes of law digests lining floor-to-ceiling shelves on two walls.

  She found herself growing impatient and uncomfortable with the situation. She had heard too many stories about how some unscrupulous care givers manipulated old people into naming them in their wills. She did not want to be thought one of them. Never, not once, had she befriended Libby—or any other resident at Dove Haven—for any reason other than how good it made her feel. She neither expected, nor wanted, anything in return.

  “Ah, here it is—Libby Pratt’s last will and testament. I’m just waiting for the copy of her death certificate to file it for probate. She died a peaceful death, didn’t she? In her sleep. The way most of us would prefer to go. A heart attack, I was told.”

  Suddenly Jackie could stand it no longer and said, “Mr. Burkhalter, there must be some mistake. Libby—Miss Pratt—told me she was leaving everything to the local animal shelter. And I think that’s wonderful. I never wanted anything from her, and—”

  “I know that.” Leaning back in his chair, he templed his fingers as he looked at her over the glasses perched on the end of his nose. “She told me all about you...how kind you were to her...how much your friendship meant.” He smiled, eyes twinkling. “She also told me you would argue about this.”

  “Not if it’s somethi
ng sentimental. Beyond that, I’d have to refuse. In my position I can’t afford to have a resident leave me money.”

  “It’s not money.”

  She relaxed a little. That meant some kind of memento and that was fine. “Well, that’s a relief. Is it the little rolling pin? I’ll treasure that, believe me.”

  “Yes, she left you that...and something else.”

  Jackie was truly puzzled then.

  Suddenly he asked, “Did Libby ever tell you about Roy Colton?”

  “Yes. I know he was the one great love of her life, and when he was killed in the war, she never got over it.”

  “No, she didn’t. She devoted herself to her work and became one of the finest teachers I ever knew.”

  Jackie knew then his visits to see Libby had not been altogether business. “Then you were one of her students?”

  “Yes, and both of my children, as well. And she was wonderful. She made history come alive. I wish you could have known her then, Mrs. Lundigan. She was truly extraordinary, and a lot of people grieved when her dreams for retirement ended so tragically.

  “I was pleased when she contacted me to draw up her new will,” he continued, picking up the blue-backed document once more. “Then she told me the story about Roy Colton. I’d wondered why she never married, but when I heard about their romance and his tragic death, I understood. And when she told me how much she thought of you, I also understand why she wanted to change her will.”

  “But you said she wasn’t leaving me money.”

  He held up a hand. “Please, hear me out. We aren’t talking about money. We’re talking about something that Roy Colton left her in his will that she never wanted to be sold.”

  Curiosity was killing her. “And what might that be?”

  “A Christmas tree farm.”

  “A Christmas tree farm?” she echoed with a laugh. “She never told me she had one. And what am I supposed to do with it?” Then the thought struck, and she cried, “Of course. I’ll just sell it and turn the money over to the animal shelter.”

  He shook his head. “She was explicit that it was not to be sold. If you don’t want it, then it will go on as it has been—run by a neighbor, the profits turned over to the shelter.”