Starcrossed Hearts

by Star Crossed Hearts (lit)

  "Yeah. Someone I knew."

  More policemen blocked the front door, and Mac forced his way past them.

  "Jessie? Jessie!" he called, his voice edged with fear. He was stopped momentarily by the sight of two large scarlet stains on the white carpeting in the living room. Several feet away, a telephone lay on the floor. Mac covered his eyes briefly with his hand and took a deep breath, then hurried on to where the activity seemed to be happening in the adjoining dining room.

  He could see another gurney on the floor being readied to move, and he held his breath. Looking down, he watched as they buckled Dane’s still body onto the frame, an IV bag suspended over him. A large white gauze stripe crossed his breast and shoulder, barely visible beneath the sheet.

  "Oh God," Mac moaned softly, immediately dropping to his knee beside the gurney. "Dane?" he whispered. There was no response. Looking around, Mac finally saw Jessica pressed into the corner of the room, her face a silent picture of shock.

  Mac let out the breath he felt he’d been holding since seeing his wife’s car in the driveway. Going to her, he held her cheeks and turned her face to look at him. Neither said a word until the tears came. His voice was only a choked murmur as he whispered a simple prayer into her ear.

  "Jackie’s dead," she gasped between sobs.

  "I know." Mac enveloped her in his arms, unable to hold her close enough or tight enough to calm himself.

  Behind them, Denehy queried the paramedic tending Dane. "What have we got?"

  "Single gunshot, .38 caliber. Went through the girl and lodged in his shoulder. He’s critical, she’s dead. He’s lost a lot of blood, has severe trauma to the left knee. Looks like suicide, maybe attempted murder-suicide."

  "Yeah?" Denehy picked up the plastic bag containing the gun from the dining table.

  "The gun was in her hand."

  "Hey, little brother." They all turned to look to Dane, who opened his eyes sleepily. Mac hastily wiped his own eyes and went to him. "Dane, what happened, man?"

  "Guess I really pissed her off this time, huh?"

  "I don’t believe this…she’s dead." Mac shook his head in disillusion.

  "Your sister, Mac, she’s innocent. Tell her…I’m sorry." Dane closed his eyes. The painkiller they had injected was sailing him away, and he fought incoherence. "It was…Jackie. But…it’s over. It’s really over now."

  The attendants were gripping the handles on the gurney, and Dane reached out to grasp Mac’s arm, now opening his eyes.

  "Mac…if I don’t…make the cut, promise me you’ll take my boy."

  "You’re talking crazy, Dane. Come on, you’re going to be fine."

  "Promise me."

  Mac squeezed Dane’s hand in response, and the attendants rolled the gurney to the waiting ambulance.

  ~ * ~

  "Mrs. MacKendall? Just a few more questions?"

  Mac sat holding Jessica’s hand while she painfully recounted the events of the morning. He wanted to ask her why she’d come to Dane’s in the first place, but the investigators saved him the trouble.

  "It was…a social call, I guess." She looked at Mac briefly before turning her eyes back to Denehy’s. "I was uncomfortable about my…sister-in-law coming home. Just thought I’d hang out here for awhile."

  Denehy glanced to the side where Charlene stood lazily against the wall, her chin held high.

  Mac let out a labored sigh, then stood. "I need some air, if you don’t mind."

  Denehy nodded, and Jessie looked pained. "Are we almost done?" she asked, her eyes following Mac as he went out onto the balcony.

  "Almost."

  Mac closed the patio door behind him and sat in one of the patio chairs. He sighed again, drawing the now warmer air into his lungs, hoping to exhale some of the tension that had built into an enormous, black, shapeless mass inside him. The screaming of a hawk caught his attention and he watched the bird circling and crying distractedly above Dane’s house.

  His eyes returned to the balcony and the glass table before him. He almost missed it at first, the slim black leather-bound book lying there, face down across from him. It seemed carelessly haphazard, a journal forgotten by an unknown author. Curious, Mac reached for it, and was surprised to see Dane’s name embossed on the cover. He opened the book and perused the first few pages.

  A diary. Written in long-hand, Dane’s now familiar mish-mashed cursive filling page after page. The entries began, Mac read, several years ago, and began with words filled with loathing and pain:

  There is no punishment great enough, no torture to equal the crime; the taking of my dear mother’s life cannot be measured by mere mortal standards of payment. Even a life for a life cannot come close to restitution…

  Guiltily, Mac closed the book and placed it on his lap. He looked back into the house, saw Jessica still talking to detectives. He looked again for the hawk, but it had flown on. Against his will, his gaze turned back to the journal and he re-opened it, this time skipping to the middle. The date on this page was December 31st.

  I knew it was hurting her, and still I stood there with Merrily, kissing Merrily in front her…but she was with MacKendall, and it was clear he means to have her…

  "Hey, MacKendall," Denehy called, opening the patio door. The journal snapped shut in his hands, and a blushing Mac stood while slipping the book into the inside pocket of his jacket. He turned his disoriented gaze toward the detective. "What do you suppose Pierce meant? He mentioned her name; the deceased gal, I mean."

  Mac stared at Denehy, squinting his eyes in apparent confusion. "I couldn’t tell you. I honestly have no idea." He followed Denehy back inside, seeking out his sister. "Can you drive a five speed?"

  Mac held up the keys before Charlene’s face. Taking them from his unsteady fingers, she smiled slightly, the first sincere smile she’d offered him since they were children.

  "You oughta know, you taught me fourteen years ago."

  "Go dig out the Mazda and we’ll meet you at home."

  With Jessie beside him in the truck, Mac drove slowly home and did not speak a single word.

  ~ * ~

  Dinner was a dreadful event. With Charlene at their table, Jessica was unable to speak, to share even her grief with Mac. Mac was dealing with his own demons, the journal that did not belong to him still smoldering in the pocket of his jacket. Charlene herself watched the two of them with quiet interest, finally letting herself absorb and understand the brother and sister-in-law she had never really known.

  "So. Let me get this straight. She was his lover?"

  Mac grimaced and Jessie looked away.

  "At first. But things just went…sideways. They had problems we didn’t even know about." Mac shook his head, more to himself. "I joked about her killing him at New Year’s. Remember? I joked about it. Man." He looked across the table at Jessie.

  Jessica looked up briefly, then back to her plate. "Yes. I remember."

  "Well, was he doing someone else or what?" Charlene asked boldly, looking first at Mac then at Jessie.

  "Nothing like that," Mac replied, re-filling his wineglass and holding the bottle over Jessie’s in question.

  "Yes, please."

  "She certainly was beautiful, from what I saw. He must have done something pretty bad to get her to shoot him, Jesus!" Charlene continued.

  Jessica took a deep breath and turned to Charlene, her voice cold and accusing. "It’s really none of your business, and I’d appreciate it if you’d just talk about something else or…shut up."

  Mac put down his fork and turned a look of surprise toward his wife, who refused to meet his eyes, but Charlene only shrugged.

  "Fine," she said simply, and the silence returned for a brief time, with Jessica drinking down her wine and reaching across the table for the bottle.

  "Just one thing," Charlene began again, looking Jessica in the face as she spoke. "He said I was innocent. How the hell did he know that unless he was in on something?" She cut herself a bite of steak and p
opped it into her mouth. "Maybe that’s why she shot him." She chewed some more, thoughtfully, then resumed her unwanted rambling. "Usually, though, it’s jealousy. That’s my bet. Another woman." She turned an innocent look on Jessica, who quietly put down her own fork, got up from the table and left the room.

  "You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?" Mac asked angrily, standing up himself.

  "Ah, let her go pout."

  Mac sat back down but his demeanor did not change. "You don’t get it, do you? She’s upset. She’s really upset. Can’t you imagine what it must feel like to walk into a house and find two of your best friends dying on the floor, blood all over the place? Is your heart so damned hard that you can’t feel the pain she’s feeling, or I’m feeling, for that matter! They were my friends too. Ah hell," he spat, standing up and wiping his mouth with a napkin, which he threw down on the table. "You don’t give a good God damn about either one of us."

  He found Jessica rocking in Devon’s room, the baby asleep in her arms. Remembering the quantity of wine she’d had, Mac took the baby from her and laid him in the crib, then bent over her.

  "I’ve gotta get out of here."

  "Where are you going?"

  "I don’t know." He touched her cheek with his fingers, then stood up. "I’ll be home later. It might be tomorrow, okay? So don’t worry."

  He didn’t wait for her response, because he knew she would protest if he let her and he wouldn’t go. And he needed to go.

  Jessica bit her lip as she heard the motorcycle speed down the gravel driveway.

  ~ * ~

  Cory MacKendall sat on the beach reading until the sun disappeared into the sea. He picked up where he left off in an all-night diner on Pacific Coast Highway, pouring coffee into himself until he thought he could just spin home. The massive guilt he’d felt at first had faded.

  He started at the beginning, reading Dane’s life through Dane’s eyes, struggling to understand his writing and his wit and his worries. His recount of June, two years ago, was especially poignant.

  She is a March breeze blowing into my oppressive August…

  July:

  She is perfect for the role, although that which makes her perfect also makes her deny the same…but she is, without a doubt, my Mariah…

  She isn’t like any of the others. Making love with Jessica was like unwrapping a wonderful gift. A surprise gift, never expected, especially by the likes of me.

  October:

  Try as I might, I cannot seem to put her in the background. It upsets me to think that I could become so completely enticed by one woman. She is like a tattoo upon my soul. This is insane.

  Later, January of last year:

  …and if he’s not sleeping with her, he’s in love with her, and that’s not good. Not good for me, anyway. And she is so sweetly naïve…

  March 3rd :

  It was a fantastic storm. The footage will be incredible…

  …her bungalow was damaged and I had no place to put her except my cabin and I drank enough rum to float the Pacifica…but only because it was the only way I could stop myself…if she only knew…

  March 16:

  If I had any doubts about MacKendall they have been dashed, and I have the sore jaw to prove it. Too bad he is such a fool he can’t see what he is doing to her, and to himself…

  I drove him to the airstrip this morning, playing the role, being his "friend" when in truth I am hoping he takes a wrong turn and ends up in the Bermuda Triangle…or worse. And now she is sad. I can only hope that his abrupt departure will turn her off and buy me some time with her…

  It was well past midnight, and the manager eyed him with cool indifference. Mac put the book down and rubbed his eyes, memories flooding his mind. That morning on the airstrip, Dane’s smile as he said his good-byes, imparting promises to watch over Jessica’s well-being. In truth, hoping Mac’s plane would take a dive into the Caribbean.

  Mac unconsciously began grinding his teeth. And he had known, the minute he was in the air, he should not have left her there. He took another sip of very black coffee.

  March 29:

  I guess it was inevitable that we would be together, at least one more time. It was bittersweet. She was different this time, aggressive, hungry, and angry! Oh yes, she is mad at him, at me, at the world, for nothing is right for her; she drove me wild with her fury. Yet even though she took me there, she invited me, she consumed me, it hurt like hell. To be so close, to have her in my hands, in my arms and yet--I didn’t have her at all. She accused me of hurting her before, but that was nothing compared to the pain she is feeling now, because of him. I cannot tell her what an asshole he is, or she will hate me even more…

  I put her into the cab this morning. And even though I know I will see her in a few days, nothing will ever be the same between us. For she now knows that I know her secrets. She is lost to me.

  Mac took a deep breath. Why am I doing this? It was torture, reading Dane’s most private thoughts, things he never meant anyone else to read, especially one so pivotal in his unhappiness. But he’d already read so much, he was driven to keep reading. Mac was captivated by the story, the whole story, of another man’s obsessive love for his own wife.

  He read for another hour or so, then stood to stretch his legs and use the restroom. He stared into the mirror, the harshness of the fluorescent lights giving him a ghostly pallor behind a day’s growth on his face. His eyes were reddened, and he splashed them with cold water before returning to the empty cafe and the mesmerizing journal.

  June 20:

  She didn’t want to come. I really had to lay it on thick, I know she was reeling with guilt the whole time we were having dinner. I know it was wrong. She’s engaged now, but I had to try. It’s inconceivable to me that he could make her that happy. I know her too well. But damn if she didn’t slip out of my grasp again and run home to him. And if my guess is correct, she’s pregnant too, which of course complicates things terribly…

  August 25:

  From here on, I fully deserve anything bad that happens to me, for I have effected untold damages upon the one I love more than any other. It is beyond my comprehension that I could be so despicable, and yet when I look into her eyes I lose all sense of responsibility to the outside world. She did her best to deter me, to send me packing, but insatiable ingrate that I am, I used what little magic I have left and captured her, if only for a millisecond. Unfortunately, it takes less time than that to incite an already insanely jealous husband…

  …of course he has not returned my calls. I probably would feel the same way, Mac. She is worth your temper tantrums and more.

  He’ll be home in a day or two and they will make up and have a wonderful baby together. Maybe I will just stay in Singapore until I can forget about Jessica. Of course, I’ll be in my grave by then.

  Thanksgiving Day:

  I thought a lot about what I have to be thankful for. I am alive, and that is right up there at number 2. Number 3 is this glorious little boy who spoils me with good-night kisses and hugs and who calls me "Daddy" right to my face. 4 would have to be the fact that I had dinner tonight with seven other people who still profess to like me, despite my nastiness. But the fact that Jessie and Mac will have me at their table after all that’s gone down amazes me. And for now, I am doing pretty well at ignoring the fact that her smile still turns me inside out."

  Jackie is a nice surprise, a delectable dish of a girl whose adoration is almost alarming. She makes a seductive masseuse, but I can’t help but wonder what is really going on behind those chilly gray eyes…

  Indeed, a chill spread across Mac’s body as he read Dane’s description of Jackie Spencer. The vision of her covered body on the gurney was so fresh in his mind, and he was now transported back to the night of Thanksgiving turkey and peppermint schnapps. He shook his head and read on, about the premiere of Lost Season, about how wonderful Jessica looked to Dane, how it touched him when she cried. He read about Dane’s growing fe
ar that Jackie was not the right woman, that there was, perhaps, something terribly wrong with her he couldn’t quite fathom. His shock and dismay the night he broke off the engagement, his disgust and outrage at her for slamming her own face against the wall. Apparently, it was the same night he’d helped with Devon’s birth.

  December 29:

  Well now I have truly seen it all. Despite the fact that I have fathered three children, I now know I was deprived of complete fatherhood by not being present to watch them come into the world. I can honestly say I have not been so scared in years, not even facing those thugs in Singapore could match the terror of watching my darling Jessica in such pain and agony. But what a trooper! She was far braver than I…I didn’t want to see--those places so personal to a woman. I thought this kind of pain shouldn’t happen to anyone…but the mystery of it all, the rain outside, the candlelight flickering on her wet face…God! I shall never forget it as long as I live. And Mac¾ Oh, he had such command of the situation! I have to admit I am in awe of the man, (and he’s a good man, despite the fact that I wish he would fly to the moon next time.) I could not have done what he did tonight, not in this lifetime or the next for that matter. But really, it doesn’t matter.

  Jackie is acting very strangely. She isn’t as pissed off as I when I left, but I think we have to have that talk I am dreading. I know now I cannot marry her, and it is wrong to drag this out any longer. And, earlier I found her going through my desk. She knows there are items in there I consider private, including this journal, so I cannot understand why she would ignore my wishes by digging around. The more I get to know her, the more I don’t want to. She scares me.

  It was the last entry in the book. Thoughtfully, Mac closed the journal and laid it carefully on the table. He fell back against the booth, closing his eyes.

  ~ * ~

  Sunday morning dawned even bleaker than Saturday as Jessica slowly sauntered into the kitchen. Her hangover was for real this time, and she stumbled blindly into the kitchen planning to make coffee. It was already made, however, and she came to the eventual realization that the dinner dishes had been done and the entire kitchen was spotless. Quickly she looked around, thinking Mac had come home.