Starcrossed Hearts

by Star Crossed Hearts (lit)

  "He was really pissed off, at her. He had to go outside for awhile, to cool off I guess, then he apologized to me for her ‘behavior’. He seemed almost embarrassed. I got the feeling he didn’t want me to tell you about it."

  Mac could tell from her expression that Jessica could not fathom the picture he was painting. "I told him he’d better straighten things out with her. Jackie’s a confused, screwed up mess. She needs someone to love…and someone to love her. And forgive me, but I just don’t think he’s the right person."

  "So…did she…kiss you?"

  Mac pulled her down to the pillow, leaning over her to peer into her fearful eyes.

  "I mean…it’s…okay…I wouldn’t blame you if you let her…I sure haven’t been much fun lately," she continued, her voice unsure and fearful.

  "Yes, she did, and it’s NOT okay. She kissed me like a woman starved for attention. It was very, very sad." Mac’s words wandered as he thought about Jackie’s kiss. "She’s a beautiful, provocative woman, and all I could think about was how much I preferred your lips."

  "But didn’t you feel just a little…aroused?"

  Mac sighed softly. "Jessie, I’m not dead. But what I felt was only a reminder of how much I miss…making love to you."

  Jessica considered his admission while Mac busied himself planting tiny kisses on her face. "Then why don’t you?" she said at last.

  Mac paused and searched her eyes. "Why don’t I what?"

  "Show me…how much you miss it." Slowly she slid her hands down his firm, nude form as far as they would reach. Mac frowned in concern.

  "But I thought you didn’t want--"

  "I thought you didn’t want. I’m not exactly what you’d call…what was it? Provocative?"

  "Oh, Jessica Lynne, how could you possibly think…" His voice trailed away as he was overcome with the emotional impact of her misunderstanding.

  "I just don’t…want…to hurt you." His words were punctuated by kisses to her neck and shoulders while he worked the buttons on her nightgown. The thought of making love to her had suddenly filled him with an instant passion. He needed her, needed to purge the unclean feeling he’d had since Jackie had approached him. How could Jessica have thought she could ever be unattractive to him?

  Despite the enormous satisfaction their lovemaking brought him, Mac lay awake long after Jessica had drifted off, her arms holding him possessively. Jackie’s desperate, gray eyes loomed before him, alternating with Dane’s cold, steel-edged gaze. Nothing good could possibly come from the situation. Someone was going to get hurt. And there was little he could do to prevent it.

  He thought about Dane’s reaction to finding them, Jackie with her arms around his neck, her reddened lips pressed hard to his, her knee moving between his legs…Dane had been angry, but had he shown even the smallest tinge of jealousy? No! Mac’s memory traveled back to the image of the afternoon he’d returned home early, finding Dane wrapped around Jessica. He’d been consumed with jealous, raging hatred.

  Dane didn’t love Jackie. He was using her…and the reason was unclear.

  ~ * ~

  "She’s resting comfortably. I’m going to stay with her for a little while, but I should be leaving in about an hour. I’ll call you when I leave, okay?"

  "Mac, stay as long as you want. I’m fine, really. I built a fire, and I’m just going to watch some TV for awhile. I do have a little indigestion, probably from that lasagna we had for lunch! Give Mom my love, and call me back when you leave. It’s raining like the dickens outside."

  "You just rest. Don’t go out or anything. Love you, babe."

  Jessica hung up the phone slowly, then picked up the remote control. Idly she flipped through the channels, finally settling on an unfamiliar sitcom; she rarely watched television.

  Her mind wandered during the commercials; her first Christmas with Mac had been so wonderful, she hadn’t wanted the day to be over. They had visited his mother, picked up Megan and had headed for the mountains. She could still feel the tingle of the frozen snow filtering into her collar as they threw snowballs at one another. That night they had stayed at the lodge in Big Bear, drinking hot chocolate before a giant, raging fire in the lounge before retiring to their suite, Megan in tow.

  Now, three days later, it seemed like a dream. It would soon be New Year’s Eve.

  She wasn’t thirty minutes into the program when the "indigestion" got worse; surely the inane comedy wasn’t making her ill? No, this was more like the beginnings of cramps traveling across her abdomen. And the baby was particularly active.

  On a whim, she picked up the phone and called Chrissie.

  "Gosh, twice in one week! How was your Christmas, Sissy?"

  "Fine, Chris. Hey, it’s finally raining! Imagine that, raining in California!"

  "Snowing here. We’re temporarily snowed in, as a matter of fact. And Angie is fussy; Nick’s about to go out of his mind. How’s Mac?"

  "He’s gone right now, his mom’s not doing too well and he’s out at the hospital. Chris, I’m feeling kind of weird."

  "What is it, Jess? Are you in labor?" Her sister’s voice sounded her alarm.

  "I don’t know. Sorta feels like I’m getting my period."

  "Any regularity to it?"

  "No, it just started. It’s probably nothing."

  "Start timing it. If it keeps up, say for the next fifteen minutes or so, call Mac and tell him to get his butt home."

  "You think so?"

  "Honey, better to be safe. He won’t mind. And call me back, okay? I’ll be wondering all night."

  "Thanks, Sissy. It’s probably nothing. I’m not due for a couple of weeks."

  She hung up feeling a mixture of relief and trepidation. Could this be labor, really? It was scary. She wished Mac would call again.

  Five minutes later Jessica felt the first real contraction surge across her stomach. Her eyes widened in surprise and she grasped her belly instinctively. Again she reached for the phone.

  "Westlake Hospital."

  "Reva MacKendall, Room, uh…1123 please."

  "Thank you, I’ll connect…that line is busy, ma’am. Please try your call again later."

  "Thank you," Jessica whispered, putting down the phone.

  Her mind racing, she hoisted herself off of the couch and went to the linen closet in the hall. Quickly she gathered some extra sheets and an old blanket, taking them to the bedroom and spreading them out. Just in case, she thought to herself. Already she could feel the next contraction beginning to build; it had been eight minutes.

  "Oh, God…" she whispered, bending over as she stood beside the bed. "This is no fun." Better call the doctor, then I’ll try Mac again.

  Grabbing the phone from the nightstand, she dialed the familiar number with shaking fingers.

  "Dr. Anderson’s exchange."

  "This is Jessica MacKendall. I think I’m in labor."

  The trained receptionist asked her the usual simple questions before telling her to proceed immediately to the hospital. She would alert Dr. Anderson.

  Now realizing she had little time between contractions, Jessica rushed to her closet to grab her bag, hastily throwing items into it. Suddenly she stopped, realizing she hadn’t tried to call Mac again. Westlake was at least an hour’s drive, possibly more in this weather. Dropping the bag, she hurried back to the phone and picked it up just as a tremendous lightning bolt was striking the power pole on Laurel Canyon a quarter of a mile away.

  "Casa MacKendall" fell into pitch darkness, the sound of the television died away, and the phone in her hand was dead. Outside, the storm raged on, and inside, a tiny storm was building its own fury within Jessica’s body.

  "Oh, no."

  ~ * ~

  Mac cradled the phone in concern. First it had been busy, and now there was no answer. He didn’t like it; it was eleven o’clock, and L.A. was experiencing one of its worst storms in seven years.

  Gently he took the old woman’s care worn hand in his.

  Rev
a MacKendall opened her faded blue eyes and her voice was a soft, yet throaty whisper. "Cory," she began, her hand now moving within his. "Go home. The baby is coming."

  "Mom, the baby isn’t due for two weeks," he told her, his eyes misting over as he looked upon her dear face.

  "Go home," she repeated. "Jessie needs you. The baby is coming, now."

  "Okay, okay," he humored her, now stroking the white wisps of hair from her forehead.

  "Cory, listen to me. I made a deal. He wants me to come now, but I told Him I had to see my grandson first. So He is sending the baby now. Go home, honey. I’ll be fine. Jessica needs you."

  Mac’s brow was knitted in concern. Reva had now passed into a peaceful sleep amidst the monitors, tubes and machines that could keep her breathing and ticking for a few more days, hours or minutes.

  Again he tried to reach Jessica, and again the phone continued to ring in his ear. In vain he listened to Roxie’s phone ring also, and finally in frustration he decided he should go home. His mother’s words haunted him; what if…no, it had been the ramblings of a dying old woman.

  Mac jogged through the pelting rain to the Lotus. Starting the engine, he noticed a slip of paper on the floor and reached for it, switching on the courtesy light. Jessica had been driving the Lotus since they’d returned from New Zealand, and this was an emergency phone number list she’d placed in the car. His own name and phone number was listed first, and just below it he could make out "Dane Pierce, 555-9284". Roxie’s number followed Dane’s.

  His mind was a jumble of troubled thoughts as he approached the on-ramp to the Ventura Freeway. Viewing the overpass, he could see that despite the late hour, the highway was busy and the storm had created a multitude of problems. On a whim, Mac turned the car into a service station just before the on-ramp and leaned across to rummage through the glove box. Surely there was one of those damned phones tucked in there.

  ~ * ~

  Jackie Spencer’s hair was like black satin, lavishly spread about her like an ebony tide; a perfect contrast for the fair skin and glacial gray eyes, now closed in passion. Dane looked down at her, his emotionless face coolly appraising her features as she moaned beneath him, arching herself against him as he only halfheartedly engaged in making love to her.

  Why can’t I enjoy this? His eye caught the glint of the three-carat diamond on Jackie’s left hand. Maybe it was best that he’d declined on setting a date, just yet.

  "Dane…Dane…oh, Dane…" Jackie was a moaner, all right; he was beginning to wish his name was Fred, or anything besides Dane. Sighing, he closed his eyes and conjured the image of another woman, another time, on a tropical island five thousand miles away…and his passion renewed. Would he ever escape Jessica’s spell?

  His attention was fleeting, however, as the telephone rang and shattered the lovely vision in his head. Trying to ignore the insistence of the ring, Dane could sense that Jackie was oblivious to it and nearing the height of her climax. Unsuccessfully he tried to continue the momentum, only to finally pull away from her with a groan and reach for the phone. It just wasn’t meant to be, he thought with despair as Jackie cried out in heated desperation.

  "Yeah."

  "Dane? Mac. I hope I didn’t wake you."

  "Wake me? Ha!" Jackie’s fingernails were sliding painfully down his back, and he swatted his hand behind him to slap them away. "What’s up?"

  "Look, I’m in Westlake and Jessie’s home alone. I’m on the road, but it’s a good hour away, and she’s not answering the phone. You know I’m worried or I wouldn’t be calling. She wasn’t feeling well earlier, and--"

  "I’m on my way."

  Mac slumped back in his seat in relief, then throttled the car back into traffic. "I’m just getting on the freeway. Oh, and Dane, there should be a key in the window box, if you can find it. If you need it."

  "Right. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t sweat it, man."

  Dane bounded from the bed and began hastily dressing. Jackie fell back onto the bed in disgust.

  "Don’t tell me. Jessica, right?"

  "Mac needs my help."

  "Sure. Jessie break a nail?"

  "Something’s wrong. I’m just going to check it out."

  "I’m coming with you."

  "No. Stay here, Jackie. We’ll talk later." He hoped his expression would make an impression; he was in no mood to argue.

  Tears of outrage welled in her eyes as she watched him zip up his jeans and pull a sweatshirt over his head. He’d been working out every day since Thanksgiving, and had regained back much of the fitness he’d lost in Singapore. The wounds were healed, and except for the slight hitch in his walk, Dane was back in form. The left knee would take another several months to completely heal.

  As he turned to go, Jackie jumped from the bed and pressed her nude body against him in one last attempt to stay him.

  "Dane, don’t go. Please, stay with me."

  "I can’t, baby. This is important."

  "And I’m not."

  "I didn’t say that. Let go, Jackie." Again he gave her a steely look. Jackie retreated as he strode from the room.

  ~ * ~

  The gold Porsche sped through Benedict Canyon, the raindrops creating a water show before the headlamps as Dane took the curves as fast as he dared. Mulholland Drive was fairly empty, but turning onto Laurel Canyon caused a delay, even at midnight. Impatiently he threaded his way through the canyon, passing slow vehicles on the narrow right shoulder and pushing the needle past the safe limit. Fortunately, Dane Pierce was a skillful driver, and even under enormous stress he smoothly maneuvered the car to the front porch of the MacKendall home.

  The house and grounds were dark. He rushed to the front door and knocked hard against the sound of the roaring storm. Getting no response, he went to the nearest window and peered into the dark house, spying the glow of the fireplace in the family room. Again he knocked, this time on the glass.

  "Jessie!" he called, the rain drenching him as he ran his fingers along the inside of the flower box beneath the window. The key was in his fingers and he ran back to open the door, only to find the chain drawn.

  Cursing under his breath, he looked around for an alternate method of entry, his fear mounting that Jessica was in trouble. Stepping back from the door, he noticed that a long, narrow window bordered each side of the door, and without hesitation, Dane grabbed a large rock from the planter and slammed it into the glass. With bleeding fingers he reached inside and disengaged the chain, throwing open the door.

  "Jessie?" he called out. Her response was a cry from the direction of the fireplace. Dane ran toward the glow, stopping short as he spied Jessica lying on the floor before the dwindling fire.

  "Oh my God," he whispered, frozen for a moment.

  "Dane," she murmured, her face contorted. "Is Mac here?"

  "He’s on his way, darlin’." He knelt beside her, his hands raised helplessly as he gazed over her. She lay back on a rolled sleeping bag, her knees bent, a sheet over her. Her face was dripping with perspiration, her eyes feverish with pain.

  "How long, honey? How long has it been like this?"

  "I don’t know. The power’s been out a while…I…I…oh, God, it hurts…so…bad…" She was contracting, and Dane grasped her hand for want of anything else to do.

  "Hold on, baby, hold on…Jesus…hold on, Jessie…"

  As the pain subsided, she fell back against the sleeping bag.

  "How long between?"

  "Just a few minutes. Dane, I’m so scared…I need help…I need something for the pain…I’m dying, Dane…"

  "No, you’re just having a baby. I won’t let you die, sweetie. Come on, I’m going to put you on the bed. This isn’t good, on the floor."

  "No! It’s dark in there!" Jessica pushed him away as he tried to lift her off the floor.

  "Cut it out! I’m telling you, Mac wouldn’t want his kid born on the floor, Jess." She continued to beat on him as he struggled to lift her, finally standing and
turning toward the hall. "Mother of God, you must weigh three hundred pounds!"

  "God damn you, put me back!" she screamed.

  "No. Stop yelling at me. And stop hitting me or I’ll tie you up."

  "Screw you, Dane."

  "Fine time to think about that. Any other time, sweetie."

  She collapsed into the softness of the bed gratefully, and Dane rushed around in search of candles, finding some in a kitchen drawer. And then she was screaming again, and Dane held both of her hands tightly in his, as the contraction built and passed.

  Panting, her fire subsided momentarily and she looked up at him in appreciation. "I’m sorry--" she began, and he pressed his fingers to her lips.

  "I put you through worse in Singapore. So dish it out, Jess. You know me, I’m into abuse."

  "Have you ever…delivered…a baby?"

  Dane laughed out loud. "Moi? Surely you jest. I was a waiting room couch potato. All three times." He stood and went to the bathroom, returning with a damp washcloth. Tenderly he wiped her face. "So…your old man better get here soon. You are in no condition to be driven--"

  His words were lost as Jessica again contorted in pain.

  ~ * ~

  Mac hated cell phones. And normally, he refused to use them while driving, especially under hazardous conditions. But tonight he held one in his hand, pressing the SEND button again and again, to no avail. Traffic in the rain was no picnic, and as he glanced through the rain-blurred window, he noticed a red Corvette pulling alongside the Lotus. The driver was beckoning to him, his meaning clear; he wanted to race.

  People like that should be locked up, Mac thought in disgust as he turned away to ignore the driver. It wasn’t uncommon, when driving the Lotus, to be challenged occasionally by young punks in hot cars. But in the pouring rain? On the Ventura Freeway, no less?

  So it wasn’t with much surprise that ten minutes later the Corvette was seen cutting off the big-rig in the lane ahead of Mac; the truck jack-knifed and slid sideways, creating a broad, steel wall before the Lotus. Furiously Mac pumped the brakes while turning the steering wheel hard to the left as he began to skid. But the brakes seemed useless, almost non-existent as the tires hydroplaned across the lane. The result was the destruction of the entire right side of the Lotus as it slammed sideways into the truck.