Secrets Rising

by Sally Berneathy

  "And your job is ended. I don't want to find out any more about these people. I want to forget them entirely."

  He gazed down at her for a long moment, his eyes black as the darkness that had enveloped her in the pool. Finally he nodded. "Wise decision. I'll wait outside while you put your robe on."

  The distance between them gaped wide and deep. She would spend the night in his bed, but she might as well be back in Dallas. Jake had already let go.

  Chapter 21

  Rebecca stared unseeing out the car window as she and Jake crossed the city limits sign into Edgewater the next morning.

  She'd been so exhausted when they got to Jake's room the night before, she'd slept soundly and awakened in his arms, the thing she'd both wanted and feared. For one luxurious, shining moment, she'd reveled in the feeling...before she came completely awake and remembered all the circumstances, the temporary nature of everything with Jake.

  Jake had awakened when she'd tried to move away from him, and they'd shared a tense breakfast then called a towing service to meet them at Doris' house.

  Tonight she'd be back in her condo, ready to begin sorting things out, trying to find herself and create her place in the world...rather than searching futilely for one that didn't exist.

  At least at home she wouldn't have to worry about snakes in her bathtub or men in black trying to drown her.

  "I keep expecting Farley Gates to show up and slap me with a ticket or haul me off to jail," Jake said, turning onto a residential street—a deceitfully peaceful street. The whole town was deceitfully peaceful.

  "Or worse," Rebecca added.

  "Yeah. You think that might have been him last night?"

  Though she'd like to forget the episode entirely, Rebecca thought back to the steely fingers in her hair, to their strength as she'd tried to pry them loose. "No, I don't think so. Gates is pudgy and has small hands. Charles Morton had big hands, and he looks like he works out regularly. But I guess it doesn't matter. By this afternoon I'll be home, and all this will seem like a crazy dream. A nightmare."

  As they turned onto Doris' street, a block ahead of them Doris and Mary Jordan appeared to be involved in a heated discussion as they came down the walk toward Mary's car.

  Jake stopped and backed up a few feet. They'd still be visible if either Doris or Mary looked up, but that seemed unlikely. The two women stopped at the curb, and Doris held one hand toward Mary beseechingly. Mary shook her head and yanked open her car door. Doris went around and got in and they drove away.

  "Something's going on," Jake said. "We have about an hour before the towing service should be here. Why don't we just ease along behind those two, see what they're up to?"

  "No. Let's park behind my car and wait. I don't want to know. I told you, I'm through with this whole thing."

  Jake stole a quick glance at her. "You're lying. And you don't even do it very well. I can hear it in your voice and see it on your face."

  He was right. In spite of all her good resolutions, she did want to know. Obviously she hadn't honed either of her newly sought skills—lying or letting go.

  They followed Mary and Doris across town, never losing sight but always staying a careful distance behind.

  "This is easier when there's a little more traffic and when I'm not driving a car with a broken headlight," he grumbled, but he was successful in tracking them to their destination.

  The Edgewater Cemetery.

  "This could prove interesting," he said as he parked behind a large tree. He opened his door and turned to her. Rebecca sat frozen even as the oppressive heat invaded the air conditioned vehicle.

  "Might be better if you wait here."

  His comment galvanized her into action. "No. I'm going with you. You were right. I don't care about these people, I don't care who my mother was, but I want to know why they're acting this way. I want to know why somebody wants me dead." Her lethargy of the night before had passed, and she found herself developing a righteous anger. Searching for her birth parents might be misguided, but it shouldn't be a fatal offense.

  She slid out of the car and was already crossing the cemetery in hurried strides, determined to do this before she lost her nerve, when Jake caught up to her.

  "You might try walking a little more slowly and quietly unless you want them to know we're coming."

  She slowed her steps just as they spotted Mary and Doris up ahead. Doris sat on the ground beside a grave and Mary stood.

  In the summer morning the cemetery stretched around them, peaceful with its collection of softly weathered old stones and sharply cut new ones, its recently-mown grass, the stately trees adding the deeper hues of their shade to patches of grass, birds chirping in the background. But the air around Doris and Mary seemed darker and roiling with disturbances.

  Doris rose slowly and spoke quietly, embracing Mary who shook her head again as she stood rigid, arms folded, refusing the comfort offered.

  Jake held out a restraining arm, trying to halt Rebecca while they were still some distance away, but she brushed past him. If she ever stopped, she'd turn around and run back the other direction, all the way to Dallas and out of this nightmare.

  "It's got to stop." Rebecca heard Doris' tense words just before the older woman, apparently sensing or hearing their approach, turned to face them. "Good morning, Rebecca," she said. "And Jake."

  Mary whirled toward them, a horrified expression draining what little color she had left in her pale features, leaving only the dark circles beneath her eyes. Immediately a curtain fell, cutting off any hint of a discernible emotion in the haunted depths of those black-ringed eyes.

  "Good morning, Doris, Mary," Jake replied.

  Mary turned wordlessly and walked a few steps away.

  Rebecca greeted Doris but ignored the younger woman who so obviously disliked her.

  As she and Jake approached, she could see tear stains on Doris' lined face. Her usual tranquility had been replaced by a deep sadness. In spite of the recent rejection, Rebecca wanted to go to Doris, wrap her arms about her, soothe away that sadness.

  She glanced at the stones and noticed that the graves Doris stood between were those of Edgar and Ben Jordan. Her husband and son. Father-in-law and husband of the stoic Mary.

  Rebecca wanted to march over to Mary, grab her shoulder, force her to look into her eyes, shake her and demand to know how she could be so cold, how she could refuse her mother-in-law's comfort. Yet for all her irritation, there was something indefinable about Mary Jordan that tugged at her heart and kept her from completely hating the woman who was consistently rude to her.

  "We came to get Rebecca's car and saw you leaving," Jake said. "We were afraid you wouldn't get back before the tow truck arrived, and we wanted to talk to you."

  Doris cast an anxious glance in Mary's direction. "I apologize for last night, but something's come up. You have to leave. Please."

  Jake folded his arms, making his spraddle-legged stance even more formidable. "We're leaving as soon as we get Rebecca's car. She's given up, decided finding parents who don't want to be found isn't worth risking her life."

  Doris' gaze darted to Mary then back to them.

  Rebecca thought Mary stiffened, but her small body was already so stiff, it was hard to tell. For a fleeting moment, Rebecca considered that Mary was the right size to have worn the blue dress.

  But surely a mother couldn't hate her own child the way Mary hated her.

  Surely.

  Anyway, that made no sense. Mary had been married. Though she might not have wanted a child, it wouldn't be something shameful, something to hide and run away from. Mary in the role of her mother didn't fit with any of the data they had accumulated.

  "What did the police say?" Doris asked. "Did they find any clues? Did they see anybody leaving the pool area?"

  It was Rebecca's turn to stiffen. How had Doris known about the incident last night?

  Jake's arm slid around her waist as if to caution her to be silent.
>
  "No," he said. "Nobody suspicious was seen, and the police don't think there's anything to investigate. Seems they'd already had a call from the Edgewater Police telling them Rebecca was suicidal. They think Rebecca tried to drown herself. Hit herself on the head, too. You know how cops are. They stick together."

  Doris' eyes flared wide, her pupils shrinking to pinpoints, then she turned away and sank to the ground as if she no longer had the strength to stand. Her long fingers traced the name of her son carved into the cold, lifeless stone. "Yes," she whispered. "I know about the brotherhood of police."

  "Doris," Jake said softly, "how did you find out about what happened to Rebecca last night?"

  Doris froze, then shook her head. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is that you need to get out of this town and never come back."

  "We're both getting out of here as fast as we can," Rebecca assured her. Yet none of her determined resolutions of the night before prevented her from feeling empty and desolate. Easy to say she was going to forget about people who didn't want her, but not so easy to do.

  "Let's go, Jake," she said. Only by getting away from Edgewater, from Doris, from all the pain that seethed just beneath the surface, could she make good on those resolutions.

  As Jake walked beside her, close but not touching, never touching in any real sense of the word, she reminded herself that he was one of the things she had to get away from.

  Go home and forget about it. That was the advice he'd given her the first time she walked into his office. If she'd only taken it then, she could have saved herself a lot of heartache.

  But then she'd never have made love with Jake, never have felt him slide into bed next to her to warm her body with his after saving her life.

  Love and let go.

  As she slid into Jake's car and he closed the door behind her, she resolved that she would take that last piece of advice.

  Let go of her parents, natural and adopted. Never think again about the woman in the blue dress. Reclaim the beautiful memories she had of Brenda and Jerry.

  Let go of Jake and sometime in the future when it didn't hurt so badly, she could take out the memories of him and revel in them.

  ***

  As he drove back toward Doris' house, Jake cast a surreptitious glance at Rebecca. Her lips were compressed into a thin line and she was a little pale, but other than that, she appeared to be dealing pretty well with this latest rejection. She was acquiring those emotional muscles fast, growing stronger.

  She wasn't going to have any problem walking away from Doris and Mary...and from him.

  Which was the way he wanted it, the best possible outcome. If her walking away from him caused a ripple of unease, he just needed to flex his own emotional muscles.

  "Doris and Mary are somehow involved in what happened last night," he said, changing the direction of his problematical thoughts. "Otherwise they wouldn't know about it."

  "I don't care. We shouldn't have followed them. I shouldn't have come here. You were right all along. This whole thing has been a mistake."

  First time being told he was right had made him feel lousy.

  He didn't say anything else until they got back to Doris' house. The tow truck had already arrived and was hooking up Rebecca's car.

  "I'll be right back," she said.

  He got out and waited as she walked over to the man and spoke briefly to him then returned.

  "Would you get my suitcase for me?" she asked.

  "Get your suitcase? Why?"

  "I'm going to ride back to Dallas with this gentleman."

  "But...I thought you were going with me. I mean, I'm going anyway. There's no point in your riding in that thing. It's uncomfortable. That's a long ride."

  "I expect I'll survive. There's a car rental place next door to the garage. This will be more practical than to have you go out of your way."

  "I see. Okay, sure. I'll get your bag." Of course she was right. Practical. What difference did it make whether or not he got to spend the next three hours with her? After that, she'd be just as gone. Three hours one way or the other was inconsequential.

  He carried the suitcase over and loaded it in the tow truck.

  "Okay, Ms. Patterson, I think we're ready to go." The operator climbed up in the driver's seat.

  Rebecca turned to Jake, squinting into the sun and shading her eyes with one hand. "Send me your bill, and I'll put a check in the mail. I appreciate all the work you've done, and I certainly appreciate your saving my life last night."

  She sounded so formal. The green slits of her eyes revealed no clue as to what might be going on inside. He could only accept the stiffness of her voice and her posture.

  They'd made wild, passionate love three times and yet it all came down to this.

  He rubbed the back of his neck to give his hand something to do other than reaching for her and pulling her to him for one final kiss. Suddenly he felt an overpowering need to have one more kiss, to touch her lips one more time.

  As if a last kiss would make any more difference in the overall scheme of things than the three hour ride to Dallas would have.

  "So long, Rebecca. Saving your life was my pleasure. Well, have a good one. Life, that is."

  He grinned, spun on his heel, shoved his hands into his pockets and walked back to his car.

  This was the way relationships always ended. He knew that. He'd never expected anything different. They'd had some really good times together, shared fantastic sex, and now it was over.

  So maybe he cared for her more than he should. Maybe he even loved her a little. So? Nothing lasted forever, certainly not love.

  A week from now he wouldn't even remember the way Rebecca had felt in his arms.

  Or maybe a month from now.

  He got in his car and peeled off, determined to be far ahead of them on the highway to Dallas, to avoid any accidental glimpses of Rebecca...to speed up this forgetting process.

  Chapter 22

  May 3, 1980, Plano, Texas

  In the small office in the back of the Plano Diner, Mary finished typing a letter, stretching to reach the typewriter over her enormous stomach. With a sigh, she leaned back and spread her hands over the bulge.

  "Soon, baby," she promised. "Any day now you'll be in my arms instead of my stomach, and I'll be able to see my feet again." She flinched then smiled as one side of her stomach bulged outward. "And we'll see if you're Sharise or Ben. With a kick like that, you could be a great football player."

  She looked around the room and again blessed the Pattersons for helping her, taking her in, accepting her without question...and for insisting she do book work this last month when she'd become too unwieldy to wait tables.

  They didn't want her to leave even after the baby came. Brenda, unable to have children, insisted Mary couldn't take away her God-child.

  With all the horrible things that had happened this past year, Brenda and Jerry Patterson were the rainbow after the storm.

  Almost they'd convinced her that the storm was over. She listened to their reassurances and wanted to believe that Charles couldn't find her this far away, separated from Edgewater by four hours and the sprawling, growing cities of Dallas and Fort Worth with a Metroplex population of over six million. In spite of niggling doubts, she desperately wanted to believe that her baby was safe and she could start her new life here with these caring people who'd so rapidly become her surrogate family. She'd lost so many people she loved...her mother and father, Ben and, by the necessity of her leaving, Doris and Edgar Jordan. She didn't want to lose Brenda and Jerry.

  But Brenda and Jerry didn't know Charles Morton. They'd never looked into those icy blue eyes and seen the madness there.

  As if summoned from her thoughts, Brenda came in, concern marring her normally smiling features. When she carefully closed the door behind her, Mary's heart began to pound even as she told herself to relax, that Brenda was undoubtedly worried about some problem with the new waitress.

  "What'
s the matter?" she asked.

  Brenda slid onto the desktop, dangled her feet and tried to smile. "Nothing. Not really. It's just—" She stopped and bit her lip. "We've never asked who you were running from or why. Not even who you are."

  "I know. I appreciate that." Mary's mouth went dry, and her words came out stiffly.

  "There's a police officer out there with a picture of you, of the way you looked before your makeover." She gave a weak half-grin.

  Mary felt the blood drain from her face as a whirling tornado of panic swept over her, fogging her senses and blurring Brenda's image. She clutched the edge of the desk. "What—" She swallowed and licked her lips. "What does he want?"

  Brenda laid her own hands over Mary's fingers where they gripped the desk. "Jane, it's okay. Relax. Take a deep breath. Do you want a glass of water?"

  Mary shook her head, clutching at Brenda's words—It's okay. How she wanted to believe that.

  "This man is saying the police in Edgewater, a little town about 200 miles from here, are looking for a pregnant woman named Mary Jordan, that she's unstable and could harm herself or the baby if she's not taken into protective custody."

  "Oh, God! It's Charles!" She tried to get to her feet but fell back.

  Brenda slid off the desk and grasped Mary's shoulders, forcing her to look into her eyes, to focus. "Jane! Mary! Stop it! You're safe! I swear!"

  Mary pressed her hands to her cheeks. "I should have known I could never hide from him. The police stick together. They'll do anything for a fellow officer. Does he know I'm here?"

  "No, nobody knows you're here. This officer was checking because he'd heard we had a pregnant waitress, but nobody could identify you from the picture he had. See, I told you the disguise would work." She grinned, but for the first time since they'd met, Brenda's gift of happiness didn't transmit to Mary. "I told him you were my cousin," Brenda continued, "and I knew for a fact you'd never been to Edgewater. When he asked if he could speak to you, I told him the father of your child had shown up yesterday, and you'd left this morning for Oklahoma to marry him."