Private Lives

by Karen Young

  “I certainly hope you’re right.” Still shaking her head, Liz dragged fingers through her hair. “It’s none of my business if you and Austin are intimate, Gee. I just hate to see—”

  “I know, I know. You’re concerned that he’ll take advantage of me, which of course he will if I’m dumb enough to allow it.” Gina suddenly walked over and put her arms around Liz, hugging her and somehow managing a smile. “You don’t have to tell me what a fool I am. He’s a selfish bastard and I would have to be an idiot not to see what he was doing by taking me out today, being so attentive, wining and dining me. We had lunch, we went to the museum, then onto Anthony’s, would you believe? But I left before the entree arrived. Now I guess I’ll never know what the tomato tower is or whether I liked it.” She gave a short laugh. “But the pinot grigio was very nice.”

  Liz was shaking her head. “I can call Ryan Paxton right now and ask him to come over. One look at your bruised face and he’ll believe everything we said about Austin. Will you let me call him? Let him see firsthand what kind of temper his client has?” But even as she suggested it, she knew the chances were slim that Ryan would respond. He would be up to his neck in his own problems tonight.

  “God, no! I still need a reference from the firm.”

  “You can get a job without a reference from those people, Gina!” Exasperated, Liz threw her hands wide. “Even if it takes six months, what does it matter? You can stay here until it happens.”

  “No, I don’t need to impose on you any longer.”

  “It’s not an imposition. We’re family, Gina. Jesse’s my godchild. How can you even think I wouldn’t want to help you now?”

  Gina had started back up the stairs, but at the mention of Jesse, she stopped again. “How did it go tonight with Jesse? Was she okay? Did she settle down at a reasonable hour? I know how she snookers you into delaying bedtime.”

  “She seemed fine. We played with Legos. She loves building things. I explained that you were delayed with last-minute business.”

  “Good. She understands that. God knows, I’ve had to disappoint her many times when Austin needed me to work late.” She hesitated, then asked, “Did she mention Austin?”

  “No. Not a word.”

  Gina frowned. “He has visitation rights, Liz. I’m worried that she might not want to go with him when the time comes.”

  “I think you’re right to be concerned.” Elizabeth felt Jesse showed good sense in being wary of Austin’s unpredictable temper. More sense than her mommy.

  “Louie doesn’t believe he’s going to bother with a five-year-old.” There was hope in Gina’s face. “What do you think?”

  “It doesn’t matter what any of us think. It’s what Austin thinks and does. If Jesse is frightened, she must not be forced to see him alone, Gina.”

  Gina’s arms were wrapped around her waist in distress. “But what can I do about it, Liz?”

  “I don’t know.” Elizabeth ran her fingers through her hair. “Maybe his lawyer could do something. He’s a father. Maybe he could persuade Austin to give it some time.”

  “Yeah, that’s good. That’s something to try.” Looking hopeful, she turned and began climbing again. “I mean, the fact that she doesn’t want to talk about him isn’t normal, I know that. If she doesn’t even want to talk about him, she certainly isn’t going to want to spend any time alone with him.” At the top of the stairs, she stopped and looked down at Elizabeth. “Thanks for baby-sitting, Lizzie. I honestly don’t know what we would do without you.”

  “How many times do I have to say it? You’re welcome. Good night, Gee.”

  “Night.”

  Elizabeth watched with a troubled frown as Gina turned at the top of the stairs and headed for the room where Jesse slept. After she’d slipped quietly inside, Elizabeth walked back to the den, picked up the book she’d been reading, then switched off the lamp. At the foyer, she checked that the door was securely locked and, although she didn’t always do so, fixed the chain in place. Gina seemed to dismiss the likelihood that Austin’s rage might extend beyond herself, but Elizabeth knew him to be unpredictable and she vowed to be extra vigilant until this whole sorry affair was resolved.

  Upstairs a few minutes later, she settled herself in bed, opened the book and tried to pick up where she’d left off reading earlier. But instead of losing herself in the story, she found herself thinking of Gina’s remark that Elizabeth couldn’t understand how a person could love with such abandon. Had Gina’s own problems blurred her memory of that summer when Elizabeth’s whole world had collapsed? Giving up the thought of reading, she closed the book and dropped it to the floor.

  His name was Evan Reynolds. Now, looking back on the affair, it was all so obvious how it happened. Why it happened. Elizabeth was a senior when they met at the University of Texas and utterly focused on her plan to enter law school after graduation. At the death of the judge, a trust fund had been established for Elizabeth and her sisters, so the cost of her education had not been an issue. But the years in foster care had turned her natural shyness into near reclusiveness. She’d not adjusted well to the social demands of college life. Instead, she’d thrown herself into achieving her goal.

  She didn’t remember a time when she didn’t visualize attending law school and then passing the bar and finally earning the credentials that would put her in the same exalted profession as her father. She’d been five years old when she lost him and ever since she’d been locked into a lifelong dream to follow in his footsteps. Once that was accomplished, she’d fantasized, it would make her father proud, had he lived.

  That kind of ambition and her dreams didn’t leave much time for a social life, had she been so inclined. Maintaining a grade-point average at the level necessary to get into law school with no connections prevented many of the dates and social events she might otherwise have enjoyed. So, when she met Evan on a holiday weekend with a friend and her family, she was ripe for his smooth line and quickly dazzled by his slick sophistication. He was seventeen years older than Elizabeth. He was handsome and sexy. He was a judge.

  He was also married. His wife was currently on a sabbatical at Oxford University in England, but Elizabeth didn’t know that until she’d fallen deeply in love and plunged into a sizzling, dizzying affair. She lavished on Evan Reynolds all the passion that had had no outlet when she was shuffled back and forth between foster homes growing up. She loved his intelligence, his confidence, his profession. She loved him. Then, when she found herself pregnant, he told her she’d have to get rid of the baby and why.

  She spent an agonizing summer trying to decide what to do. Somehow, the thought of an abortion was abhorrent. On the other hand, she knew firsthand how it felt to be a child without a father. Marriage to someone else was out of the question, even if she’d been so inclined to trust another man. Ever. Once burned, twice shy. Finally, she decided to have the baby and put it up for adoption. It was the single most difficult decision she’d ever made, before or since. Even today—after ten years—she was unable to see dark-haired, dark-eyed little boys without feeling a pain so deep and wrenching that it took her breath away.

  She never told anyone about her pregnancy except Iris Graham and Gina, who was having a difficult time herself then. Iris, case worker for both Elizabeth and Gina, had been one of the few constants in their lives. Sometimes she seemed more mother or caring aunt than employee of the state of Texas. Looking back, Elizabeth thought that Iris must have wished herself retired and living anywhere else except Houston that summer. Both her “girls” were in trouble.

  Gina had not yet met Austin Leggett, but she was establishing a pattern then that permanently characterized her relationships with men. She invariably chose flashy, selfish, insensitive types who put their own interests far above Gina’s needs.

  Elizabeth’s pregnancy changed all her plans—and thus, her life. Evan’s rejection was hurtful, but the humiliation of having been duped and lied to was equally damaging. She’d been a shy
and introverted adolescent, overly sensitive about everything from her red hair and startling green eyes to her circumstances as a ward of the state. Clearly, Evan Reynolds had seen her striking looks as sexy and appealing, but those painful adolescent memories had rushed back in the wake of her disastrous pregnancy.

  She gave up plans for law school and went back to Houston where she got a job working at an independent bookstore in the Village during her pregnancy. She had the baby and after an all too brief hour with her tiny dark-haired baby boy, gave him up to a childless couple she’d personally chosen with Iris Graham’s help. The adoptive parents lived in Denver, Colorado.

  While working at the library during her pregnancy, she’d been assigned to the section featuring children’s books. She loved the contact with kids. She loved reading to them. Soon, she was thinking about ideas for books that she might write. And then she began writing them. Maybe it was the influence of early memories when her mother read to her that motivated her. She’d been only four when her mother died in childbirth and the memories were vague, but they were there. And real. Or maybe it was recalling the refuge to be found in books as she’d moved from one foster home to another. Or maybe she turned to writing for children to assuage the loss of her own child. Whatever the motivation, to her amazement, she was successful beyond her dreams. And it was success that ended her comfortable, safe, reclusive lifestyle.

  She removed her glasses and reached over to turn off the lamp. Success in the form of winning the Newbery Medal had brought her to the attention of her sisters when Elizabeth would have been satisfied to keep that chapter of her life closed. And now that Lindsay had actually introduced herself, it probably wouldn’t be long before she heard from Megan. Both would show up again on some pretext or another.

  So would Ryan Paxton. Elizabeth thumped her pillow and tried to get comfortable. Ryan had been distracted from his mission to enlist her help with Gina and Austin by his daughter’s mishap, but he wasn’t the type to walk away from a client even if Austin was looking to blame Ryan for the judge’s ruling today. Austin would cool down and then Ryan would be back looking for a way to take advantage of Gina. If only there was a way that he could be made aware of what happened tonight when Austin was alone with Gina. Should she call and tell him? Shifting onto her back, she stared at the ceiling. At least it would be on the record if anything happened. And something would happen. She knew it.

  Eight

  Austin Leggett and his troubles were not on Ryan’s mind when he got home. His own problems were front and center tonight. Diane’s car was parked at the curb out front. She must have taken him at his word, which was a good thing. They needed to present a united front to deal with Jennifer’s latest scrape.

  Unlocking the door, he let himself inside, stooping to pick up the mail which had been deposited through a brass slot in the door. Ordinarily, he would have poured himself a Scotch and sipped it while glancing through his mail, but that was a treat he’d have to forgo tonight. Often he cooked something. He’d found he liked the rhythm of preparation, chopping, slicing, mixing, as well as the creating. And the end result was, more often than not, pretty good. Funny thing was, he’d never been in the kitchen before his divorce except to put out the garbage.

  He wasn’t in the mood for cooking tonight.

  “We’re in here.” It was Diane’s voice. He wouldn’t have had any difficulty finding her, as the smell of her cigarette was enough. He tossed his jacket on a bench in the foyer and headed for the family room. A misnomer for sure. The house wasn’t the one he and Diane had owned together during their marriage. He’d bought the town house after the divorce. It was in a spiffy location off San Felipe, but that wasn’t his motivation for buying it. It was a good investment and only twenty minutes from his office. Diane, on the other hand, had insisted on pulling up stakes and moving with her new husband to Dallas. And taking Jennifer with her.

  Looking impatient and annoyed, she now paced the rug that a decorator had chosen to complement the leather sofa and club chair. Jennifer was curled up in the corner of the sofa clutching a pillow to her tummy. She looked pale and scared.

  “Hi, Daddy.” Her eyes were wary and watchful. What, did she think he was going to beat her or something? He smothered a sigh and thought with longing of his nighttime Scotch.

  “How’s it goin’, Jen?”

  “Not too cool, I guess.”

  He pulled at his tie as he crossed the room and loosened the collar button on his shirt. She looked up at him, eyes filling as he ruffled her hair. “Seems like you’ve messed up big-time, baby.”

  “I guess,” she said again, now studying the pattern on the pillow.

  “You want to try to explain?”

  “Yes, that would be helpful,” Diane said, exhaling smoke. “Try to explain stealing a car and running down a biker, then fleeing the scene, baby.”

  “I’ve asked you not to smoke in here, Diane.” Ryan went to the French doors and pushed them open. Wide. Then turned back to Jennifer. “You have anything to say, Jen?”

  Mouth trembling, she picked at a ragged cuticle. “I didn’t see him. We were sort of acting rowdy, you know? A CD was blasting, I guess.”

  Diane sighed. “I’ve told them so many times to lower the volume, Ryan. They couldn’t hear a train, let alone other traffic.”

  “Who’s we?” Ryan said, after shooting a glare at Diane.

  “Jody Reinhart and Melissa Maness.”

  “The car belonged to Melissa’s parents.” He knew that much. He’d spent the past three hours doing damage control. James Maness could have gone ballistic, but he’d been damned decent. He and his wife were going through a pretty rough patch with Melissa, and Maness suspected the “theft” of the car had been a group decision. Of course, fleeing the scene of the accident had been Jennifer’s decision since she was driving. As for the Reinharts, there had been no answer when he called.

  “Melissa said they wouldn’t even notice it was gone,” Jennifer murmured.

  Ryan’s eyebrows went up. “And your point is—”

  “Huh?” She gave him a blank look.

  “What relevance is it to the situation that the Manesses wouldn’t notice their car was missing? Did you have permission from them to take it? And how did you know they wouldn’t need it later? Come on, Jen. Since when do you help yourself to someone else’s property? And how the hell did you come up with the notion of driving all the way to Houston!”

  She teared up again. “I know it was wrong, Daddy.”

  “It was wrong to hit some guy on a bike and run away, too. You must know that, as well.”

  “He wasn’t hurt bad. We could see that.” Her voice was almost inaudible.

  “Oh? And you based that opinion on what? Your extensive medical training? Your ability to judge a person’s injuries through the rearview mirror? The judgment of your two passengers?”

  “He got right up afterward,” she whispered, hands twisting in her lap. “I mean, he didn’t stand up, but he sat up on the ground. He was looking at us. I mean, he wasn’t unconscious or anything. And before you ask, yes, I saw all this through the rearview mirror.”

  He gave her a stern look before turning away, muttering something vile. “I don’t think I’ve ever been as disappointed over anything as I am about this, Jennifer. I’m shocked that my daughter would take a friend’s vehicle without permission—and you with no license, mind you—drive that vehicle from Dallas to Houston, joyride around Hermann Park, strike a man on a bike and then simply haul ass.” He turned back, pinning her with another hard look. “Did you once think about helping him? Did you even slow down? Did you care, for God’s sake!”

  “It happened real fast,” she whispered.

  “Too fast for you to call 911 on your cell phone?”

  “We were afraid they’d trace the call.” Head bent, she stared miserably at her hands.

  Diane was suddenly fed up. “Listen to yourself, Jennifer! Your father and I want to hear you take respon
sibility for what you’ve done, not simply mouth a few weak excuses. I’ll just be frank here. I’m at a loss as to what to do about this. Grounding you for starters, I suppose. Although that seems too lenient a punishment for nearly killing someone.” She reached for her cigarettes on the table and started to click her lighter.

  “Don’t, Diane.” Ryan pressed a hand to the back of his neck. “Go out on the patio to smoke.”

  “Gladly,” she huffed and stalked across the room, flicking the lighter as she went.

  “She hates me,” Jennifer said woefully, watching as her mother paced angrily on the patio.

  “She doesn’t hate you.” Ryan was shaking his head, wondering at the friends he had who were raising several kids. How the hell did they keep from going crazy? He had just one and she was out of control. “Your mother’s disappointed. Both of us are baffled over the number of bad choices you made in just one evening.” He stopped in front of her. “Look, you can be honest with me, Jen. I’ve been around the block a time or two and I know how it is when you’re with your buddies. Things get out of hand. Somebody wants to show off, prove how grown-up he is. He might have a little beer. Some pot. Everybody tries it eventually. Is that what happened?”

  “No!” Jennifer looked truly shocked. “No, Daddy. I wasn’t drinking and I’ve never even thought of using drugs. Why would you even think something like that?”

  He studied her face. “I’m searching for something to explain what you did, Jen. If you’d had some beer or smoked a joint, that would impair your judgment. It would tell me how it happened that my little girl behaved so callously. And when you say you didn’t, it makes your actions even more incomprehensible. And flat-out wrong.”

  “Now you hate me, too!” She jumped up from the couch with both arms wrapped around her waist. Turning away, she began crying. “Nobody underst-stands! I didn’t m-mean to do any of this. I didn’t m-mean to steal the car. But once we were in it, I wanted to come to Houston and see you. Mom and I had had a big fight. She’s always on my case, Dad. And then—and then—we were in Hermann Park and this guy sort of swung out of the bike lane and I sort of sideswiped him. It was an accident!”