Running from Fate

by Connelly, Rose

  The fear had faded and she just wanted to forget the whole thing. James, however, seemed to have other ideas because he was still hovering, refusing to let her run alone, and performing a security check every night. If she really thought he could be falling in love with her, she might assume his overprotective behavior was an excuse for hiding the fact that he didn’t want to leave her company. Unfortunately, she didn’t buy it as they hadn’t even continued their earlier conversation. For now, it could just as easily be that he was sick of Winston’s cooking or that he really was extremely paranoid.

  Her gaze must be burning a hole in his skull by now, but he didn’t even turn around. She picked up the knife again and contemplated throwing it just to get his attention, but opted to work on the celery instead. “Why did you insist on a security system when you obviously don’t think it can protect me?” she continued. “And for that matter why not bring your things here instead of driving home all the time or getting your poor, overworked butler to come over?”

  James muted the TV and turned to grin at her over the back of the sofa. “Are you asking me to move in because that’s a pretty big step? I mean you’d have to completely rearrange your wardrobe. But,” he added. “If you’re sure about it I’ll give it some thought.”

  He ducked as a washcloth flew at his head and prayed she wouldn’t see through him. If she had any idea that he stayed because he just couldn’t sleep without her it would raise awkward questions. Ones he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to answer the way she wanted.

  “Will you be serious for a minute?” She lifted the cutting board and dumped the vegetables in the broth that she already had boiling. A slice of carrot fell on the floor and Zeus darted over to grab it, crunching merrily as he wandered over to sit at James’ feet. In many respects she was glad that James had dropped a lot of his serious demeanor when he was with her and was becoming more like the irreverent boy she used to know, but there were times when it was a just annoying. Like now.

  “Actually,” he continued thoughtfully. “It would make more sense for you to move in with me. My house is much bigger so there’s plenty of room for your studio and my bed is certainly bigger so I can stop hanging off the side because you’re a bed hog.”

  “I am not.” She tilted her chin and put her hands on her hips. “Besides, you snore. I’ve heard you.”

  He snorted and wisely refrained from telling her that sometimes she did as well, even if it was only lightly. He didn’t feel like nursing a black eye. “I think you’re referring to Zeus. Speaking of which if you both came to live with me Winston could keep a closer eye on the puppy and stop worrying that we’re corrupting him.”

  Now that he thought about it, the idea was a good one. In some part of his mind, James knew he had been working up to this. He had very little faith in the institution of marriage as he had seen what both his friends and his parents had gone through, but he could definitely see the appeal of waking up next to Mira every morning.

  “What kind of an invitation is that?” Mira snapped. She hadn’t been expecting an outpouring of emotion, but he was being very blasé about such a big step.

  “Well you’re the one who brought it up.” He let the conversation drop, glad that the subject had at least been broached. He could work on her some more later.

  Mira sighted heavily. Since their aborted conversation weeks ago there had been no talk of feelings — on either side — so it wasn’t fair to get angry at him. At least he was offering some kind of commitment. “I’ll think about the idea,” she promised.

  “Good.” James walked over, switched off the pot, and grabbed her hand. “Now,” he said, tugging her toward the sofa. “Why don’t we snuggle up, pretend to watch a movie, and neck?”

  Mira sat next to him and scooted under his arm. “I hope,” she teased, “that it’s a romance. Last time you suggested this you chose an epic action movie and you stayed glued to the TV the entire time. I don’t think you glanced at me once.”

  “It was 300,” he said in defense. “And how would you know what I was doing? You were just as interested as I was. And you’ll be happy to know it’s not an action. We will be watching Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds.” He leaned down and nipped her ear. “There is a bit of a love story in it,” he admitted, “but I would really call it more of a horror.”

  “Really,” she laughed helplessly as she evaded his overly eager hands. “What’s the point of that? Fear doesn’t generally inspire amorous feelings.”

  “Come on,” he coaxed. “The movie’s not really scary. Besides,” he wiggled his eyebrows. “I promise to give you my full protection. You won’t even have to see the screen.”

  “How do you propose to accomplish that?”

  “Like this.” He pulled her legs over his lap and bent her back.

  As his mouth slowly descended and the opening credits sounded in the background Mira decided that she really didn’t care what they watched.

  James wasn’t even thinking about the screen. Despite the number of times they had come together, he thought hazily as he let his body sink onto hers, it always seemed to get better. If it got any hotter he might one day simply go up in flames, but it would be worth it.

  As Mira fell deeper under the spell that her lover wove with his whispered promises and sensual caresses, a pounding started. She was so caught up in the moment that the noise seemed to be coming from her own heart as it tried to beat its way out of her chest. It wasn’t until Zeus’ frantic barking intruded that she realized the noise was coming from somewhere else. Giving a mighty shove to James’ chest, she wiggled out from under him and stood next to the sofa trying to gather her wits.

  With shaky fingers she buttoned her blouse and straightened her skirt then she went to answer the door. She had no idea who was knocking, but whoever they were, she would make sure they just turned around and left. She unlocked the bolt, pulled the handle, and felt her mouth fall open in shock.

  “Hello, Mira girl,” Patrick Kelly said as he reached forward and pulled her unresisting body into an enthusiastic hug. “Well, I see that boy o’mine’s car parked in the drive,” he continued. “So I figure that you finally brought him up to scratch. I knew you could do it. Now,” he paused for breath and straightened away. “Where is the lad?”

  With bated breath and shaky nerves, Mira stepped back and let him pass before turning to shut the door.

  James stood stock still in the middle of the room and looked at the man who had ruined his life. Intellectually, he knew that his life was not really a wasteland and his mother had actually died of cancer and not stress and overwork, but he couldn’t help seeing the man through the eyes of a scared 14-year-old, forced to take on a burden that was much too heavy for his skinny shoulders.

  “Son,” Pat said tentatively, slowly walking into the room. “Tis good to see you.”

  “Patrick,” was the clipped reply.

  The silence thickened as the two men stood, separated by feet of carpet and years of anger and pain. Both of them were braced as if expecting a blow to land at any second.

  Zeus, oblivious to the mounting tension, suddenly bounded forward, tail wagging madly, and tried to leap up Patrick’s legs. Obviously grateful for the distraction, the older man bent down and picked up the squirming puppy. “Now there’s a fine fellow,” he crooned.

  While Zeus occupied her unexpected visitor, Mira walked over to James and laid a hand on his shoulder. He started and rubbed a hand over his face, as if coming out of a trance before turning to her with an expression that was so angry she winced.

  When he realized what he was doing James forced himself to relax his facial muscles. “I don’t blame you for this,” he assured her. After all she had come clean after he had discovered who she was and he had known that she knew his father. “I know the type of manipulation he’s capable of.” Hadn’t he done it constantly when needed money to throw away on his gambling? The fact that the man had stopped gambling many years ago didn’t change his b
asic nature.

  “He’s not so bad,” Mira said softly as she watched Patrick playing with the puppy.

  James watched her face gentle as she looked at the man he hadn’t spoken to in years. He had known that they knew each other, but he hadn’t realized how deeply Mira felt about his erstwhile father. She looked at him like he was a beloved parent. Suddenly, a kernel of doubt pushed its way into his thoughts as he remembered something Patrick had said. “Did he ask you to come here?” he said softly.

  She flushed slightly. “It’s not what you think.” He narrowed his eyes and she searched for a way to explain. If he was in love with her, she realized sadly, he wouldn’t look at her with such naked suspicion. He would trust her. “Yes,” she finally admitted as she straightened her back and looked at him squarely. “Your father did suggest I come here, but not for the reason you apparently think. I already knew the reputation of your company and your dad’s reports of your success just gave me a little nudge. I came here, despite our previously rocky relationship, because I wanted to work for EcoSpace. The rest was secondary.”

  “What’s the problem?” Pat chimed in. “It’s lucky you are to have this girl. She’s smart as a whip and as sweet and beautiful as any lass I’ve ever met. Why she would make anyone a fine wife.”

  “You’re not helping,” Mira groaned. “Look,” she said, beginning to get angry at both men and at the entire situation. “Really James,” she said sarcastically. “Do you honestly think that I went out with you, allowed you to practically move in with me, and have shared a bed with you because you’re father asked me to do it?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied stubbornly. In some corner of his mind he realized that he was blowing things way out of proportion, but he seemed unable to help himself. He didn’t like to admit it, but the stress of being in the same room with the man who had fathered him and dealing with the conflicting emotions that he engendered, was really getting to him.

  “How could you not know? I thought you at least trusted me.” Despite her lingering anger, the idea that she might have been so wrong about James clogged Mira’s throat, thickening her voice.

  Apparently unaware of the tension that was crackling in the air, Patrick barreled forward and shoved James in the chest, knocking him back a few steps. “I’ve no care for what ‘modern’ society says,” he yelled into his son’s startled face. “If you’re living with a woman and sleeping in her bed every night, you will marry her!” He stepped back, breathing hard. “She has nae parents to look out for her so I bloody well will!”

  Way past his endurance, James pushed back. Years ago his strength and his size had surpassed that of his father so his shove didn’t just thrust his father back, it knocked him on his arse. “You, old man,” he said coldly, “have nothing to say about it. You lost that right when I was 14.” Without a backward glance he stalked to the door and walked out, slamming it behind him.

  Pat stood up slowly and rubbed his behind. He stared at the door in dismay and moved forward, as if to follow his son, but Mira forestalled him. James rarely let his control slip like that and it would have cost him something. She had to be the one to go after him.

  He was sitting on the front stoop with his shoulders drooping and his head bowed when she found him. His defeated posture drained any anger that remained in her, leaving behind a need to comfort. With a tired sigh, she sat next to him on the cold concrete. When his hand reached out she took it, twining their fingers together.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb along her knuckles. “I didn’t really mean it. I know how much you care about him, but I can’t feel the same.”

  “I know.”

  The night was dark, filled only with the faint sounds of rustling leaves as a gentle breeze stirred them. As the anger drained James kept their hands clasped and let his mind drift. It settled on an unfinished conversation from weeks ago and fast forwarded to her barbed questions this evening. “Why did you do it?” he finally asked.

  She didn’t need to ask what he meant and Mira supposed that it was time to stop hiding. “I’m in love with you,” she whispered. “And I have been for a long time.”

  His hand tightened convulsively on hers, but he didn’t say anything and she felt her hope begin to dwindle. “Do you feel nothing for me then?” she prodded.

  “Of course I do.” In an agitated move, he pulled his hand away and stood up. He wanted Mira to love him, he realized, but at the same time it scared him because he didn’t know if he could love her back and she deserved that. Years spent living in a world where love was nothing but an excuse for bad behavior and divorce was easier than marriage, had made him doubt that such an emotion even existed.

  “What is it you feel then?” Mira wiped her dripping eyes and swore she wouldn’t cry over him again.

  “I don’t know.” He scrubbed his hand over his face and tried to think of a way to hold onto her. He could give her false platitudes and profess feelings that he didn’t possess and he had done things like that in the past with no compunction because he knew the woman’s words were just as empty. He couldn’t, however, do that to Mira. The words simply refused to come. “I want to be with you,” he finally said. “I worry about you and I care for you, more than I have for anyone else. Can that not be enough?”

  Before Mira could reply, James cell phone rang. He thought about ignoring it, but he recognized the number and it could be important. “What is it Devon,” he asked in a clipped voice.

  “Is that any way to talk to a friend,” the detective chided. “Especially when I have such good news to share.” He paused

  “Well?” James prodded.

  “We got him.”

  A fierce exultation filled James. “Have you questioned him yet?”

  “Not yet,” Devon said, “but we can’t hold up much longer. If you want to hear what he has to say you’d better get down here.”

  “Ten minutes,” James promised. He closed the phone and headed for his car, glancing back at Mira. “I’ll call you later,” he promised her.

  The traffic was murder with half the town seemingly incapable of driving and every light was red, but he made it, screeching into the parking lot of the police station in the allotted time.

  The constantly ringing phones, raised voices, and general air of hopelessness flowed, unnoticed, past him as he marched through the door and straight to where Devon stood, leaning against an attractive brunette’s desk.

  He broke off his flirtation when he spotted James. “You can’t be in the room,” he said as he led his friend down a corridor, “but I managed to arrange for you to observe. Just remember, you now owe the chief dugout seats at a Braves’ game.”

  “Fine,” he replied. It was a small price to pay. Moments later he was ushered into the small, dim room. A light came on and he found himself staring through the glass at a large, blond haired man wearing designer clothes. He looked like he hadn’t bathed in a week. Devon walked into view and took the chair across from the suspect. For now, James leaned back in his own metal chair and watched.

  “Your name is Joseph Parker and you have refused the right to counsel. Is that correct?”

  Devon looked the man in the eye and waited for a response.

  “Joey,” he corrected. “And that’s right.” His left leg started jittering and he quickly laid a hand on his thigh, stopping the nervous movement. “I don’t need no stinking lawyer because I haven’t done anything. Don’t you know who I am?” he asked sullenly.

  “I am aware of who your father is,” Devon replied in a calm, unruffled tone. “Are you certain he’s not the reason you’re refusing legal help? I’m sure he wouldn’t like it if he found out that his only son is here.”

  “There’s no need to call him,” Joey said in a slightly more subdued tone. “I can clear up whatever it is by myself.” He tried to cross his arms, but his muscles were too big. Instead he put them behind his head, elbows bent, obviously trying to appear unconcerned. His voice, however, h
eld a faint quiver, as if he was starting to see the seriousness of his situation. “What happened? Did some jealous woman claim I came onto her?” He tried for a smirk, but it looked more like a grimace. “The ladies are always fighting over me. Sometimes they go a little far trying to get my attention. So,” he braced his arms on the table and leaned forward. “Who was it?”

  “Are you certain you don’t want a lawyer?” Devon prodded again. “If you don’t want to call your father you are entitled to a public defendant.”

  “Shit no.” The man sneered and turned his head. James caught the glaze of some kind of drug in his eyes.

  “All right Mr. Parker. Are you acquainted with someone by the name of Kimberly Roberts?”

  “Hell. Is that bitch saying I did something to her?” He dropped any pretense of respectability, reverting to the crude, spoiled young man he obviously was. “Man she was so hot for it I could barely keep her off me.” He stood up as if preparing to leave. “Lots of people saw us together,” he continued. “Just ask.”

  “Sit down Mr. Parker.”

  He sat.

  Devon changed track. “Are you a runner?” he asked.

  “No,” Joey replied sulkily. “I don’t go for that pansy stuff. I’m more into weightlifting.” He shifted in his seat and his eyes turned wary.

  “Why then,” Devon pounced, “were you on the trail behind Crescent Estates on the morning of September nineteenth?”

  “Where?”

  “A nice housing estate about fifteen minutes east of Research Triangle Park. I’m sure you’ve seen it. It has a big, wooded area behind it. In fact,” Devon continued. “I believe your father’s firm had some hand in building it.”