“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”
“Not at all. Please sit down. Is this just a friendly visit, or do you have something special on your mind?”
“Actually,” she said as she took a seat across from him, “there is something I need to discuss with you. Several things, as a matter of fact.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Well, fire away.”
She took a deep breath. “To begin with, I’ve made up my mind to go back to Pensacola.” When she saw his face fall, she rushed on. “Please try to understand. I do appreciate how welcome you’ve made me feel here. But I know now the life just isn’t for me.”
He sighed. “I’m afraid I do understand. In fact, I’ve seen it coming. You’ve changed since you’ve been away. You seem more mature, more sure of yourself.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Now, what’s the rest of it?”
There was no easy way. “I’m pregnant,” she blurted out.
The pale blue eyes immediately lit up. He came around the desk and beamed. “My dear!” he exclaimed, patting her on the shoulder. “I’m delighted. When Paul died, I reconciled myself to the sad fact that I’d never have a grandchild, and now...” He broke off, his eyes misting.
Jessica gazed up at him, her heart aching for him, what she had to tell him. “It’s not Paul’s child,” she said in a low voice.
He couldn’t hide the hurt look in his eyes. He leaned back against the desk, crossed his arms in front of him, and stood brooding down at the floor, chin in hand, for several moments.
Then he gave her a rueful smile. “I don’t suppose you intend to tell me who the father is.”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
“And I take it there’s no question of marriage?”
“None,” she said flatly.
The smile broadened. “Am I not even allowed to guess?”
Her face flushed, and she lowered her eyes. “Please don’t,” she whispered. “It would serve no purpose.”
Then she felt his arm come around her, his face close to hers, his brief peck on her cheek. “Jessica, I understand that you feel you must leave. I’m sorry to see you go, but I won’t try to change your mind. I just want to assure you that this will always be your home if you want it. You’re as much my daughter as Helen, and your child will be my grandchild.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she raised her head to meet his tender gaze. She couldn’t speak. He meant it, too, every word.
“Thank you,” she murmured at last, wiping her damp eyes on the back of her hand and rising to her feet. Then, steeling herself, she gave him a direct look. “And that makes the last thing I have to tell you that much harder.”
He stiffened visibly. “And what it that, Jessica?”
“It’s about Paul, the way he died.”
Immediately the creases on his worn face smoothed out, and he waved a hand in the air. “Oh, that. I’ve known about that all along. In fact, the reason I asked Fury to come here was to fill me in on the details.” He chuckled. “And that’s one thing you can count on from Luke Fury, the truth.”
“Not always,” she murmured, almost inaudibly.
He gave her a sharp look. “I have one last piece of advice to give you, Jessica,” he said sternly. “I think you underrate that man, and if I were you I’d tell him what he has a right to know.”
She shook her head sadly. “I can’t. You don’t understand. After our—affair—he had to leave for a new job. It was the last I saw or heard of him until he showed up here.”
“I see. Did he break a promise to you, then?”
“Well, not exactly. But he certainly implied...” She broke off and bit her lip, realizing suddenly that those implications were almost entirely the product of her own imagination.
“You know him better than I do, of course,” he went on. “But at my age I’ve become a fair judge of my fellow creatures, and he certainly didn’t strike me as a man to shirk responsibility. I think you should tell him the truth.”
“I can’t,” she said again weakly. “I just can’t.”
CHAPTER NINE
IT HARDLY seemed possible, but by the end of the week Jessica found herself back in Pensacola, the late summer sun blazing overhead, the palm trees swaying in the hot breeze, the blue-green surf and fine white sand as beautiful as she remembered them.
She only had to stay two nights in a motel—not the Paradise, with its bittersweet memories—but a less expensive one closer to town. There was no way she could get back her old apartment, but there was another one available in the same building, almost an exact duplicate, on the ground floor, and she seized upon it gratefully.
Once she’d got her things out of storage, and a place to live was taken care of, next on her list of priorities was a job. She found one immediately at a small, rather exclusive, French restaurant not far from her apartment, as combination hostess and cashier. In fact, everything was working out so well, that she had to believe it was fate, she really was meant to come back.
Before she actually started work, she called Millie and arranged to have lunch with her on her next day off.
“You’re looking great,” Millie said as they seated themselves at one of the round tables in the back. “Being pregnant seems to agree with you. How are you feeling?”
“Oh, I’m disgustingly healthy,” Jessica replied with a smile. She reached across the table and gave her friend’s hand a squeeze. “Golly, it’s good to see you, Millie,” she said warmly. “How have you been? How’s the job? And how are your children?”
Millie laughed. “Hey, one question at a time. The kids are fine, the job is OK, and I couldn’t be better. In fact,” she went on, fiddling with her fork and reddening, “I’ve been seeing someone.”
“That’s wonderful, Millie!” Jessica said warmly, meaning it. “Anyone I know?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, it’s Greg Palmerston.”
“Doctor Greg Palmerston!” Jessica exclaimed. She could hardly believe it, stuffy old Greg and vibrant Millie. “Is it serious?”
Millie nodded, unable to suppress a grin of pleasure. “He even likes my kids.”
“Millie, I couldn’t be happier for you. He’s a great guy, and very lucky to get a classy lady like you.”
“Then you’re not upset about it?”
“Who me? Why should I be upset?”
Millie shrugged. “Well, I know you and he went out a couple of times, and I just wondered if you might still be interested. You know, now that you’re back in Pensacola...”
“Oh, no,” Jessica broke in, shaking her head vigorously. “It was never in the cards for Greg and me.” She laughed. “We’re probably too much alike. And if you’ll remember,” she added dryly, “at the time I had other things on my mind.”
The waitress came then to take their order, and when she was gone, Millie pursed her lips and looked grave. “Speaking of those other things,” she said, “did you ever tell Luke about the baby?”
“No,” was the curt response. “That whole affair was doomed from the start, I’m afraid. I was just too dumb to see it.”
“Too bad,” Millie said. “I thought maybe that was the real reason you came back.”
“Absolutely not. And you must swear on the heads of your children never to breathe a word of it to him.”
Millie gave her a hurt look. “I said I wouldn’t, and you can count on it. Besides, I wouldn’t have had the chance even if I’d wanted to. I haven’t seen him for weeks, and as far as I know he’s still off in some exotic place doing his thing.”
“Well, that’s a relief. I counted on his not being here when I decided to come back. It’s why I didn’t ask for my old job back at the hospital cafeteria.”
For a moment Millie only stared at her. “Well, if you ask me,” she said tartly at last, “you picked a funny way of staying away from him. Maybe you need to ask yourself why you really came back to a place where you were bound to run into him sooner or later.” She
smiled then to take the sting out of her words. “It’s your business, kiddo. But I still think you’re making a big mistake. Under all that macho bluster, Luke’s a pretty decent guy. He’d want to do the right thing.”
It was just two days after her lunch with Millie that Jessica saw Luke himself in the restaurant where she worked.
It was the middle of the afternoon, around two-thirty. She had just arrived to start her evening shift and was on her way from the kitchen to the main dining room when she saw him sitting at a table with a group of other men, some in Naval uniform. They were deep in discussion, and he was turned sideways to her, leaning toward the man at his side.
For a moment all she could do was stare. Then, in the next instant, she swiveled around on her heel and hurried back into the kitchen, the way she’d come. He’d been so engrossed in his conversation that she didn’t think he’d seen her, but still the experience was unsettling. She had counted on being able to avoid him, and now she didn’t know what to do.
Her first instinct was to quit her job and run back to the Senator’s house for sanctuary. It would be bad enough for him to see her at all, but in a few months her condition would be so obvious it would be a disaster.
After about fifteen minutes, she peeked out through the round window set in the kitchen door. The men were just rising from their table, apparently ready to leave, and she breathed a sigh of relief. By the time she ventured cautiously into the dining room to take her station at the cash register, they were gone.
Somehow running across him so unexpectedly had a profound effect on her, unsettling all her preconceived notions. Could Millie have been right? Why indeed had she come running back to Pensacola almost immediately after his visit to the Senator? It did sound pretty foolish. If she really did want to avoid him, this was probably the last place she should be.
Millie had also echoed the sentiments of both Helen and her father not only about her obligation to tell him she was carrying his child, but the character of the man himself. Was it merely pride that kept her stubbornly insisting on keeping it from him? And just why had he come to the Senator’s house? She hadn’t even given him a chance to explain, but the one thing she did clearly recall was that he’d said he cared for her, had come primarily to see her.
She had wildly misjudged the Senator. Instead of the corrupt wielder of power for his own ends she’d always considered him, he had turned out to be the soul of kindness to her, and genuinely moved by the thought of becoming a grandfather, even to a child who bore no trace of his blood.
Perhaps she had misjudged Luke as well. He had sought her out. He did seem to care something about her. And even if he totally rejected the idea of becoming a father, maybe she did owe him the chance to decide that for himself.
What she needed was some time to think about it, to make up her mind what she really wanted to do.
The very next morning, however, the decision was made for her. She was in the kitchen eating breakfast and browsing idly through the morning newspaper when she suddenly came across a photograph of him in the front section, with an article underneath.
He was standing beside an airplane, his hand on the wing, a broad grin on his face. She was so struck by the photograph that it was some time before she noticed the caption at the top of the article: “Test Pilot Injured in Plane Crash.”
Her heart lurched sickeningly, and she quickly scanned the article. According to the reporter, he’d come to Pensacola to look into the near-crash of a Navy plane, and in the course of his investigation had taken it up to test it himself. The article didn’t go into the extent of his injuries, only that he’d been rushed to the base hospital in an ambulance. That could mean anything.
She sat there for several moments, her heart pounding, visions of Luke badly burned, crippled for life, perhaps dead, dancing in her head, until finally she couldn’t stand it another second. She jumped to her feet, ran to the telephone and called the hospital.
“Base Hospital,” came the brusque voice.
“Yes, I’d like to inquire into the condition of one of your patients. His name is Luke Fury.”
“One moment.” She could hear papers rattling in the background, the usual hospital noises of doctors being paged, gurneys rolling by. “Mr. Fury’s condition is listed as critical,” the voice said when it came back on the line.
Jessica’s heart sank. “What does that mean?”
“Are you a family member?”
“Well, no. Just a friend.”
“I’m sorry. We can’t give out any detailed information about our patients to anyone but family members.”
“But he doesn’t have any family,” she cried, near tears now.
“I’m sorry, it’s hospital policy.”
“Well, can you tell me who his doctor is?”
“Yes. It’s Dr. Palmerston.”
Greg! He could tell her what she wanted to know. “Then could I please speak to him? Tell him it’s Jessica Trent. He’s a friend of mine. No, never mind. I’ll come out there myself.”
At the hospital she went straight to the Intensive Care Unit on the fourth floor, but was stopped at the desk by an officious nurse who told her in no uncertain terms that Mr. Fury was definitely not allowed to have visitors and repeated the fact that information about his condition was given only to members of his immediate family.
Just at that moment she saw Greg just leaving one of the rooms, coming her way, and she rushed to meet him. “Greg, how is he?” she asked. “Please tell me the truth.”
Greg gave a weary sigh. “It’s too soon to tell, Jessica. One leg is pretty badly smashed up, and his vital signs are not at all stable. We won’t know the extent of his internal injuries, if any, until we take some tests. But he’s a strong healthy man in top physical condition, and he has a fighting chance.”
“I see,” she replied. “Can I see him?”
He shook his head. “You wouldn’t want to, believe. me.” He took her by the arm and started leading her gently toward the stairs. “We’ll know more in a few days. I’ll leave your name at the desk as next of kin so that at least they’ll let you know how he’s doing.”
She left then, her heart heavy. What if she never saw him again? But Greg was right. He was a strong man, a fighter. He’d come out of it all right. He had to! She called the hospital every day only to hear that there was no change in his condition. Then, on the fourth day, she was told that his vital signs had stabilized, the tests showed no internal injuries, and that although it would take his leg some time to heal, he should recover completely in a few months
“Can he have visitors yet?” she asked.
“Well, yes, as far as the hospital is concerned,” came the guarded reply. “I mean, he’s out of intensive care and in a private room. But he has specifically requested no visitors, and we have to honor the patient’s wishes in the matter.”
We’ll just see about that, she thought as she hung up the receiver. He may not want visitors, but he was going to get one whether he liked it or not, come hell or high water.
At the hospital she found out the number of his room and made her way there with a pounding heart. They couldn’t station a guard at his door to keep her out, after all, and with his injured leg he couldn’t very well throw her out bodily.
Hanging on his door was a large sign with NO VISITORS spelled out in large block letters. Ignoring it, she turned the handle, pushed the door open and stepped inside.
He was lying in bed, his right leg up in traction, but at least he wasn’t attached to tubes and monitors, and a lunch tray was on the table beside him. He seemed to be asleep, his head turned toward the window, his arms lying outside the covers.
She tiptoed over to the side of the bed and stood over him. Although he was a little pale under his tan, and the lines around his eyes were more deeply etched, he looked much as usual. He needed a haircut, she noticed, and obviously hadn’t shaved that morning, from the looks of the light stubble that darkened his face and chin.
His eyes flew open, and flicked over her. He blinked, then with a dark scowl, raised his head up off the pillow. “Can’t you read?” he growled. “There’s a sign on the door to keep people like you out of here.” His head fell back on the pillow and he turned his face away from her.
“Aren’t you glad to see me?” she asked. She made her tone light, playful, but her heart quailed within her at the blunt note of rejection in his voice.
“No,” he muttered. “Just go away, will you?”
She drew up a chair and sat down beside the bed. “I don’t think so,” she replied perkily. “I came to succor the sick, and you could at least give me a chance to do so.”
Slowly he turned to face her again. He didn’t say anything for several moments, then finally heaved a weary sigh. “What are you really doing here, Jessica?” he asked in a low voice.
“I told you, I came...”
“No!” he growled. “No more of that nonsense! Just speak your piece and leave.”
“All right,” she said quietly. “I came because I wanted to see you again, because I behaved badly when you came to San Francisco, because—because I care about you.”
There, it was out. She searched his face to see what kind of response he would make to her open declaration, but the sardonic look on his lean face and mocking curl of his lips made her shrink back.
“I see,” he said at last. “Now that I’m crippled, you feel it necessary to do your duty, to succor the sick, as you put it, just like a well-bred girl is taught. Well, thanks for the kind thought, but I don’t need that brand of charity, especially not from you.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not crippled. Greg says there’s no reason why you won’t gain full use of that leg again.”
“Well Greg’s not the one lying here, is he? Now, if you want to do me a favor, just leave, Jessica. And don’t come back.” He turned away from her again and closed his eyes.
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