In a Heartbeat

by Tina Wainscott

  I’ve seen more sides to Mitch than I ever saw of Paul. Mitch chose that moment to glance up and catch her with goodness-knows-what expression on her face. She tightened her mouth and kept looking through the files.

  Mitch had said he could feel Paul’s love for her, yet he swore that was not the reason he wanted her. Maybe he just didn’t realize that Paul was reaching out to Jenna through Mitch. Was Jenna falling in love with Mitch because of that connection?

  Was she falling in love? No, this was all wrong! But her heart confirmed her worst fear. Well, this was ending here and now.

  Jenna redirected her thoughts to the folder in front of her. She had insisted on trying to find out where Paul had put the money he’d taken out of his account, but not a penny could be accounted for. Through their tax papers, though, she could account for the entire eight hundred thousand dollars. It had come into their account, and gone right back out again. They’d paid taxes on it. And it had virtually disappeared.

  Mitch finally tossed the last folder on the floor and said, “He didn’t put the money into your houses. Anyplace else you want to check?”

  She stared at the empty place where the folders had been. “No,” she said at last. “I can’t think of anywhere he would have put the money.”

  “You’re sure he didn’t gamble or have any other vices?”

  “I’m sure. He could hide his past, but he couldn’t hide his present. We were together all the time.”

  “Did he buy you any jewelry that could be worth more than you thought?”

  Jenna shook her head, unable to remember any jewelry besides her wedding ring. She looked at the simple gold band. He hadn’t even been able to afford an engagement ring. “No, nothing I can think of.”

  Mitch stared at that ring for a moment before turning away. “Then we’re left with one other option.”

  Jenna shot to her feet, not willing to hear it. “There has to be something we’re not thinking of.”

  “And that is?”

  She chewed on her knuckle. “I don’t know! There has to be something, though.”

  “Jenna, look at these dates again.”

  She pulled herself to the desk and stared at the list of dates representing Paul’s withdrawals from his account. “What about them?”

  “I know you say that you and Paul were never apart, but he left you the day he went to Maine. Were there other times around these dates when he took off for a while?”

  She found herself staring at his finger and not the dates it was pointing at. She blinked, focusing on the numbers. The date before the last withdrawal was almost Christmas two years before. “I think he took off one afternoon to go Christmas shopping. We lived in New York, and he said he was going into the city to find something special. But not two hundred thousand dollars’ worth of special.” Her voice sounded thready, flat. “I can’t remember way back to nineteen ninety-three, and the first one was right around the time we met.”

  “We’re going to need to find out if Becky was out of town during these dates. The only person I know to ask is her father. They have an awfully nice spread on the east end of town for a trucker’s salary. Seems to me that the write up in the paper about her death said she’d still lived with him, but it didn’t say what she did for a living. Oh, I think her dad said something about her writing articles for magazines or something.”

  Jenna had gone still at the mention of Becky. “He wasn’t seeing her. You even said so yourself. He didn’t have time to carry on an affair with her.”

  She saw Mitch’s expression soften for the first time since she’d walked into the office. “I’m not saying he was doing her. But we can’t ignore the fact that they were from the same place, and died near the same place years later.”

  “Maybe it’s a coincidence.”

  “Like you coming to Ponee and finding me.”

  “Could it be that Paul had gotten her pregnant, way back when? Maybe he was supporting the child?” She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it earlier.

  Mitch was shaking his head. “She didn’t have any children.”

  Like that day when all this had started, Jenna reached for the drawer that held the extra supplies and pulled out the plastic bag. Mitch couldn’t see what she held in her hands, but perhaps he felt the significance the way she did; he sat back in the chair and waited, drumming his fingers on the arms of the chair.

  Finally she unrolled the bag and let the jewelry fall out on her lap. She picked up the mysterious wedding band.

  Jenna sucked in a breath as the image wrapped around her, sweeping her into that pitch-black sky and brisk, salty air, into Paul’s anger. She kept holding on, feeling stronger than she had last time.

  Jenna saw the ring lying in the palm of Paul’s hand, felt the anger this ring represented. And then she saw the woman — Becky White. Becky looked smug, arms crossed over her chest. Paul moved closer, calling her names Jenna had never heard him use. Becky’s expression turned to concern and rapidly to fear as he advanced, closer, closer, reaching out for her.

  Becky screamed and ran backward, losing her balance on some loose rocks and falling back into that abyss of blackness. Past the yellow sign warning of the danger of falling. All Jenna could hear was the pounding of the surf far below and of Paul’s heart as he stared down into that blackness. She felt his fear and disbelief. Jenna swayed, opening her eyes to find Mitch shaking her shoulders.

  “Jenna! My God, Jenna, are you all right?”

  She blinked, stunned by the fear in his eyes. “I … I think so.”

  “Your heart was racing. You went limp, and you had no color, and you wouldn’t answer me.” He ran his fingers back through his hair. “Cripes, you gave me a scare. I thought you were — what’d you call it? Rejecting. I was about to give you CPR.”

  She hadn’t thought how her flashbacks of Paul’s life would look to an outsider. For a moment she felt warmed by Mitch’s intent to save her. But no one could save her from the truth now, and she had no one to protect her from its aftermath.

  Her hand was closed tight, but slowly she opened it and lifted it to Mitch. His eyes moved from her face to what lay in her uplifted hand, and they widened in recognition.

  He took it, holding it up so that the diamonds sparkled in the light. “My dad’s ring. Where’d you get this?”

  Her heartbeat was still pounding from the image, but she felt it slowing as if under a great weight. “Paul was wearing it the night of his accident. It was too big for his fingers, so he’d wedged it on his thumb. I had never seen it before.”

  “My God.” He was staring at it as though it was the truth he sought. “Remember when I told you that whoever killed my parents made it look like a burglary?” He looked at her. “This was one of the missing pieces.”

  Her eyes were locked to Mitch’s as the truth dawned. “I saw it.”

  “Saw what?”

  “Becky’s death.” Her voice was so soft, she could hardly hear it herself. “Paul was there. She gave him the ring, and he was angry. She fell off the cliff trying to get away from him. He must have panicked, and that’s … that’s why he was driving so recklessly that night.”

  “What do you mean, you saw it happen?”

  “Some organ recipients get food cravings from their donors. Some sleepwalk, some can’t dance anymore, some hate country music. One man had to go see the ocean, but he died before he ever got there. But that’s not the point,” she said, shaking her head. “The point is, I got some of those things, and something else, something no one else ever has. When I touch certain items belonging to Paul, I see things. Like a dream, only I’m not asleep. I experienced the car accident through him, and I felt that sense of doing the right thing I told you about earlier. When I first touched this ring, I felt his anger and saw the cliff that Becky fell from.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  She was staring at the sleeve of his shirt, at the muscles bunched up in aggravation. “I didn’t think you’d believe
me. And … maybe I wasn’t ready to tell you then.” She looked at the ring he still held in his fingers. “But I can’t hide from the truth anymore. Paul did it. Why else would he and this woman have had the jewelry?” She squeezed her eyes shut, but it didn’t keep the tidal wave of pain from crashing down on her. “He and Becky probably did it together. And all these years, he’s been seeing her, giving her blood money. But she did something to make him mad, and he inadvertently killed her, too.”

  “Jenna —” He reached out to touch her arm, but she pushed him away and got to her feet.

  “Don’t touch me! Haven’t you done enough?” Her face felt hot, eyes stinging. “You got what you wanted. You have the truth, and all I have are the lies. Are you happy now?”

  “No.”

  She wanted him to be feeling the anguish that rocked her. “Well, you ought to be. I want you to leave. We have no more business to discuss.” Her voice was broken, rising in pitch.

  “What about the baby?”

  She let out an anguished sound she’d never heard before and pushed at his chest. He took a step back, but his arms were still out to steady her.

  “I don’t want Paul’s baby, and I don’t want your baby! Here, take his watch and ring, pack up your things and get out of here. I want you gone when I get back. I never want to … see … you again!”

  Now the tears were coming, clogging her throat with emotion. She twisted off her wedding ring and threw it across the room. It hit the glass window with a sharp sound. She pushed past Mitch and ran through the kitchen and out into the cool night air. Her heart was pounding in her ears, as though a great monster chased her. She glanced back, but saw no one coming after her.

  Quickly she climbed over the rocks down to the beach, stumbling on the path she knew so well. Her bare feet slid across the damp rocks, but she didn’t care. She had to make it far away from her house, from the lie that was her life.

  The coarse sand was cold and damp, the water rushing in as though it intended to grab her and pull her out to sea. She walked to the water’s edge, and a frigid wave washed in over her ankles. It slowed her heartbeat, Paul’s heartbeat, she thought with disgust. She had the heart of a killer! She’d wanted the baby of a killer.

  A sob wrenched from her throat, and she took a step farther into the water. Her feet began to feel hot, her ankles stiffened. The wind buffeted her, as if trying to send her back to shore, but the waves kept pulling her forward. She took another step, water now licking at her knees. The spray dampened her leggings like a hundred icy pinpricks. She welcomed the numbness. If she submerged herself, would that numbness settle into her body and take away this shattering pain?

  Chapter 10

  Mitch stared at the ring, then at the doorway Jenna had run through. He wanted to give her time to cool down so she wouldn’t beat her small fists against his chest, so he wouldn’t have to restrain her and end up kissing her again. But something stronger urged him to follow her.

  He walked outside, expecting to find her in the gazebo. It was dark and empty. He listened, but could only hear the sound of waves crashing in against the rocks. She wasn’t anywhere in the yard; he was sure of this, yet he couldn’t see every dark corner. His hand went to his chest, where his heart was thudding like a bass drum in a rock and roll song. He looked out over the ocean, where a shimmering sliver of moonlight pointed right at him. She was down there.

  He maneuvered over the rocks in the darkness, his bare feet slipping against the cold, slick surfaces. The beach wasn’t far away, but the trek seemed like miles. He barely felt the gritty sand and pebbles when he reached the beach, only aware of the pull that led him forward.

  And then he saw her, standing in the water looking out to sea. She didn’t see him and wouldn’t hear him. What the hell was she doing? Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to let it happen. She looked so small and frail standing there with all of God’s fury washing in around her, hair blowing around her face. Damn her for scaring him like this!

  The frigid water bit at his ankles as he sloshed through the water behind her. In one movement, he grabbed her around the waist, twisted her, and slung her over his shoulder.

  She screamed at first, caught off-guard no doubt. “Stop it! Put me down!”

  He gritted his teeth and kept walking toward the house, trying to remember the path he’d taken. Her legs felt like ice against his arms. She wriggled, but her fight wasn’t hard. Her fists banged against his back as she murmured over and over, “Put me down. Please, put me down.”

  He steeled himself against her pleas and kept trudging onward, up over the rocks. She was smart enough not to struggle as he balanced himself all the way up to her back yard, but the moment he hit terra firma, she started in again. Her motions couldn’t cover the fact that she was shivering.

  Are you happy, you son of a bitch? He hoped Paul was watching from wherever his soul was condemned. Or maybe he’d been talking to himself.

  Mitch carried her inside the house and upstairs to her bedroom. He knelt before her bed and dropped her down onto the blue spread. The light from her bathroom spilled in over the bed, washing her stricken expression in a pink glow. She didn’t move, and he wondered if she was in shock. Her body was trembling, hands clutching the spread.

  God, she looked so lost. He climbed up on the bed, legs straddling hers as he wrestled with the soaked leggings. She wasn’t fighting him anymore. He wasn’t sure if that was good or not, but he didn’t care about anything but getting her warm. He jerked the bedspread down from beneath her and got her legs underneath it. They were both breathing hard, staring at each other.

  “Don’t you dare do that again,” he said, lowering his head.

  “I wasn’t —” Her teeth were chattering, and she clamped her mouth shut.

  Through the spread, he started rubbing her legs. All he wanted to do was get her circulation going again, make sure her state of mind was stable before he went to his room. No way was he leaving this house tonight, not with her like this. He concentrated on his task, but something made him look up at her. She was watching his hands, and he saw that spark of life return to her eyes. But he could still see the despair, too.

  “He wasn’t seeing her,” he said. “I promise you he wasn’t. I would have felt it.”

  Her mouth opened, but it took her a second to say, “But he killed them.”

  He took her hands in his, finding them just as cold as her legs. She was a porcelain doll, soft and limp, beautiful. “We don’t know that for sure. But we’re going to find out.”

  “No, I don’t want to find out anymore.”

  “It can’t get worse than what we already think. Come back to Bluebonnet with me, touch something in his room.” He still wanted to find out that Paul wasn’t guilty. Now the reason was for her, only for her. “We’ll find out what really happened.”

  She met his gaze, eyes dry, hair damp and salty. “All right.”

  He smiled, filled with something he couldn’t define. “That’s my girl.” My girl. Had he ever said those words to anyone before? His hands involuntarily tightened on hers. She squeezed back. She felt like she belonged to him, like she’d taken up a space inside him. It hurt and it felt wonderful at the same time. “That’s my girl,” he said again, softly.

  With closed eyes, she pulled their linked hands toward her, kissing his knuckles with her cool lips. His body trembled at that simple act. He felt himself sliding toward a place of forbidden beauty, a dangerous paradise. Even through the blanket between them, he could feel the warmth of her thighs pressed against his.

  “Jenna,” he said in a hoarse, broken voice. It was a word of warning, of question. He couldn’t tell which anymore. He had to leave right now, before this went too far.

  She opened her eyes, and that despair he’d seen was gone. Her eyes were dilated, eyelids heavy. She lowered his hands and maneuvered herself from beneath the covers. He started to move back, to get off the bed and put some distance between them. She was on her knees now,
and all she had to do to stop him was reach out. He stilled, not sure what she was going to do, almost hoping she would slap him.

  Instead, she placed her hands on either side of his face, tilting her head and studying him. Her hands felt warmer now. What are you looking for, Jenna? Paul’s not in here. He wanted to say the words, but nothing would come.

  Her hand slid from his cheeks back through his hair. He felt the shiver rocket through his body, making him tremble, making his head rock back with the impact of her touch. He heard her sigh, a soft sound he felt against his throat.

  Her hands journeyed down his neck, over his shoulders and down the front of his shirt, then across his stomach. He pulled his head forward, sweeping his hands up into her hair and looking at her. Was she seeing Paul in those dazed eyes? God help him, but he’d sell his soul to make love to this woman no matter who she saw. He knew it was wrong, knew it would only hurt in the end, but he didn’t care.

  “Jenna —” He leaned forward and kissed her, the way a starving man would embrace a feast. Her lips responded the way they had earlier, melding with his, moving with his. He pulled her up against him, and her arms slid around his waist. And they were lost. He knew the moment she pulled him even closer that he couldn’t look back now. Face the reaper in the morning, but for the price of heaven.

  Her breasts were crushed against his chest. He wanted to feel her, all of her. He broke the kiss long enough to pull at the bottom hem of her shirt. Midway, she put her hand up, and he thought the dream was over already. But the look in her eyes wasn’t to stop him, but something else he couldn’t define.

  “I … I have a scar,” she whispered.

  He kissed her softly, then tugged her shirt over her head. Then he unsnapped her bra and tossed both aside. She had started to cover herself with her hands, but let them drop to her sides. He slid his splayed hand down the front of her chest, where a scar ran from the hollow of her throat to just beneath her rib cage. It marred her creamy skin, and yet, it was as though he’d seen it a thousand times, as though he had accepted it long ago. Following his hand was his mouth, kissing every inch of that scar.