His Touch

by Mary Lynn Baxter

  “All right,” Jessica said at last, giving Elliot a small smile before sitting on the sofa.

  For a moment silence dominated while Elliot drank his Coke and munched on the sandwiches. “Man, these are good.”

  “Damn,” Brant muttered, lunging out of his chair and reaching for his cell phone. “I haven’t called your mother or Thurmon.” He paused. “I’ll be right back.”

  He hated to leave Jessica stranded with Elliot, but maybe that wouldn’t be all bad. Elliot seemed to like her, and vice versa. Anyhow, he didn’t want to call Marsha in front of his son, knowing the fireworks would erupt. She would be worse than pissed.

  He was right.

  “You mean he’s there, with you, at that…that woman’s house?”

  “Yes,” he said through tight lips, trying to keep his voice down, thinking maybe she would get the hint and do the same. Hers was barely a decibel below a shrill.

  “You bring him home right now, you hear?”

  “I want to talk to him first.”

  “No! I’m the one who should do that. Just wait till I get my hands on him.”

  “Dammit, Marsha, get hold of yourself and calm down. He’s all right, for God’s sake. That should be more important than reaming him out.”

  “Don’t you dare lecture me on how to raise my child.”

  Brant’s nerves were on the verge of snapping. “I promise I’ll bring him home shortly. Right now, he’s eating.”

  “What did he say?” Marsha demanded, her voice quivering with anger.

  “Not much yet. He just got here.”

  “You’re responsible for this,” she bit out. “If you hadn’t come back—”

  “I’ll call you when we’re on our way,” Brant cut in. “Right now, I have to call Thurmon and let him know.”

  Without saying anything else, he hung up. Once he’d informed Thurmon and the detectives, he made his way back into the living room, feeling like he’d been gutted.

  Brant paused at the door, taking in the scene before him. Jessica and Elliot were deep in conversation. His son seemed as comfortable with Jessica as he was in a pair of holey tennis shoes.

  Damn, who would ever have thought it? What kind of magic did she have? Whatever it was, he wanted it.

  For a second, envy churned through him. If only he had that kind of easy relationship with Elliot, what a joy that would be. Then his envy turned to remorse. After all, he had only himself to blame.

  Now, however, he had another chance, and he wasn’t about to squander this one.

  As if he sensed his dad had come back into the room, Elliot clammed up, then swung around, an uneasy look on his face.

  Silently, Brant took a seat. “Your mom wants you home.”

  “Figures,” Elliot muttered darkly.

  “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” Brant asked as gently as he could. “Like what you hoped to accomplish by pulling this stunt?”

  Elliot thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I’m tired of Mom trying to run my life.”

  How did one respond to that? “Look, son, just because your mom disagrees with you, that doesn’t mean you can run away and hide. You know better than that.”

  Elliot paled, his lips thinning. “She should let me work. Can’t you make her?”

  So much for his lecture, Brant thought, watching Jessica’s eyes widen while he searched for something suitable to say. “No, son, I can’t make her do anything, and you know that. But what I do know is you owe her an apology for putting her through hell.”

  “She hates you, you know.”

  He heard Jessica suck in her breath and knew she was appalled; he wished she weren’t party to this conversation. “This is not about me and your mother, Elliot,” Brant stressed. “It’s about you.”

  “So she grounds me? That’s nothing new.”

  “Just keep in mind that she loves you very much and wants only what’s best for you. And so do I.”

  “Then why can’t I work?”

  “Isn’t ball important to you, too?” Brant was struggling for the right words to defuse this explosive situation. He felt like a miserable failure, that nothing he said made any sense, much less got through to his son.

  “’Course it is, but I can do both.”

  “Not if she doesn’t want you to,” Brant pointed out as gently and patiently as he could.

  Elliot lunged off the sofa, clenching and unclenching his fists, his eyes firing. “Why does she always get her way?” His voice rose, while his features turned fierce. “Why can’t you have a say?” Tears now blurred his vision. He swiped at them angrily. “You keep telling me I’m your son.”

  Without thinking, Brant shot off the sofa and grabbed Elliot. Seconds later, they both stiffened as if shell-shocked by the sudden move. Afterward, Brant hadn’t known his intentions, whether he was going to shake Elliot or hug him.

  All he knew was that his kid’s pain was simply too much to endure.

  “You are my son,” Brant stressed, raising his head and searching for air. His gaze landed on Jessica. Her eyes were filled with tears; his heart wrenched another notch.

  That was when he realized he was crushing his son against his chest as though he would never let him go. And God, he didn’t want to. “Did you hear what I said, Elliot?” He heard the panicked note in his own voice while fighting back tears. “You are my son. Nothing will ever change that.”

  For several more heartbeats, Elliot let him hold him. Then he pushed himself away. “Take me home,” he said in a dull voice.

  Jessica told herself she shouldn’t wait for him. She should go to her room. He wouldn’t want to see her or anyone else when he got back. But her heart had overruled her head, and she had remained downstairs.

  Even though they had exchanged few words, she wasn’t alone. Sue, the security lady, was with her again and wouldn’t leave until Brant returned. At the moment she was out front, smoking.

  Jessica was puttering in the kitchen when she heard the front door open. Thinking it was Sue, she remained where she was.

  “Jessica?”

  Her pulse leaped, and the tray she held trembled slightly, though she didn’t put it down. Brant hadn’t eaten, nor had she. She wasn’t hungry, and she figured he wasn’t, either, but they both needed a little something in their stomachs. Chicken salad, crackers and fruit should suffice.

  “Jessica,” he said again.

  She heard the question in his voice, and the eagerness. Or had she just imagined the latter? Clutching the tray, she went into the living room, where she gave a start. He looked like he’d been whipped mentally.

  Her first reaction was to drop the tray, dive into his arms and comfort him. But she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t get any more emotionally involved with this man than she already was. It was bad enough that she’d given her body to him with such foolish abandon. But to give her emotions, as well, would be suicidal.

  Still, that session with his son had touched her deeply, that poignant exchange between father and son. She hoped with every fiber of her being that it was the beginning of a fresh start for both of them.

  Yet she feared she was too optimistic, especially after Elliot had all but lunged out of Brant’s arms, demanding to be taken home.

  “It will all work out,” she said lamely, when Brant continued to just stand there, as if he didn’t know what else to do.

  “I doubt that,” he responded wearily, but with a harsh edge to his voice.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, but I’m not sure I can eat.”

  Standing there, even in his low-spirited state, he looked disturbingly attractive. The sight of him never failed to take her breath.

  “Thanks for the offer, anyway,” he said, pulling her out of her thoughts.

  Jessica nodded, then placed the tray on the coffee table and eased into the nearest chair.

  Brant walked to the fireplace and stood with his head down for a moment, then turned around. “Elliot didn’t say a wor
d all the way to his house.”

  “I’m sorry. I was hoping things—” She broke off under the torment she saw in his eyes. If only she knew what to say and do, but she was at a loss. She could only listen if he wanted to talk.

  “I’m sure Marsha’s giving him the devil even as we speak, which will only make it harder for Elliot and me to patch things up.”

  “You can’t stop trying, regardless.”

  “Oh, I know that, but Elliot’s right. His mother hates me, and as a result, she can be vicious.”

  “Surely she’ll back off now that this has happened,” Jessica said cautiously. “This has to have shaken her.”

  He sneered. “Don’t count on it.”

  “All the more reason why you should be there for Elliot.”

  “Meaning?”

  Color suffused her face. “Meaning, while I’m in Zurich, you’ll be able to spend quality time with him.”

  “Exactly when do you leave?”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Jessica said. “You’re not going with me.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “No, you’re not. I’m going alone.”

  A muscle jerked in his jaw. “If you do, then I won’t be here when you get back.”

  Twenty-eight

  Jessica’s head ached, not subtly, either, but like a pounding gong. She didn’t see it getting any better any time soon either, not as long as several vocal members of the city council remained in her office.

  At the moment Lance Saxon was in Chuck Hanson’s face, reading him the riot act for not supporting his position. “What we need to do,” Saxon was expounding, “is simply hire Joe Mayfield back and be done with it.”

  “God forbid,” Hanson fired back. “What’s wrong with Gaston Forrester, the interim? He’s doing a bang-up job.”

  “Horse puckey,” Saxon countered, scrunching his face in distaste. “He can’t hold a candle to Mayfield.”

  It was all Jessica could do not to shout at them to grow up and stop badgering each other like spoiled brats. She also wanted to remind them that she was in the room, that she did exist and was actually running the city whether they liked it or not.

  She did neither. She remained behind her desk and let them continue haranguing each other.

  There were three others present, tipping the table against her by one vote, though this was not an official meeting, so no items were actually coming to a vote. She had met with the five of them out of courtesy.

  However, this type of renegade gathering not only alarmed her but raised her ire, as well. Supposedly these particular members had been mulling over questions on various issues and wanted answers from her in a more relaxed atmosphere. With Lance Saxon involved, however, she should have known the session wouldn’t be cordial, much less relaxing. Regardless of what she wanted, Saxon was against it.

  She didn’t understand his acute dislike of her, unless he had political aspirations of his own and feared her forceful stance on important issues would somehow tarnish him and hurt his endeavors to seek office. Of course, that was just speculation on her part, with nothing concrete to base it on. Still, something had him out for her blood.

  No matter, she still had no intention of changing her mind about Chief Mayfield or the land deal. Unless the council overruled her.

  And they had yet to take the final vote.

  The only plus for her was that no one objected to the budget retreat. As soon as she returned from Europe, that would be her next big project. Maybe getting their minds on the budget would get them off the other controversies surrounding her.

  “Mayor.”

  The use of her title drew her attention to J. D. Wymon, Porter’s old friend, on whom she had always counted. But as she’d told Tony, he had become wishywashy of late, suggesting someone had put pressure on him. Maybe she was about to find out.

  He was a shy but kind man whom Jessica thought was also the most intelligent member on the council. “Yes, J.D.?” she asked with a genuine smile.

  “The plant manager approached me personally,” he said in a steady tone, “and outlined his concerns about building on land that was part of the city proper.” He paused and shifted his feet, as though uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “Curtis Riley was with him. I have to tell you, they’re two unhappy men who are determined this issue won’t pass.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Saxon put in. “You and I have discussed—”

  “I have the floor right now, Lance,” J.D. interjected without so much as looking at Saxon. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

  Although Saxon didn’t have a comeback, he was not happy, Jessica thought, seeing the flush that appeared on his cheeks.

  “I’m aware of their concerns, J.D.,” Jessica said in a calm voice. “I’ve spoken to Curtis myself.” More than once, she wanted to add, but didn’t.

  J.D. rubbed his scrawny chin. “The way I see it, if we don’t annex the land, we still win, still benefit from the windfall. The people who live in Merrick will utilize the city to its fullest by shopping and so forth.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Jessica said, “but the company won’t be paying city taxes, which would be a big shot in the arm for our economy for years to come.” Her eyes touched on each of the members. “That’s been my position from day one.”

  “And you don’t see it changing?” J.D. asked in a somber tone.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “I have to tell you up front, Mayor,” Saxon said, taking the floor once again, “I’m going to continue my campaign against it. I’m like J.D. Why tick off a big corporation to the extent that they’ll opt to move elsewhere, out of this area entirely? Then no one will benefit.”

  “I think they’re bluffing, Lance. And if they’re not, then something else will be done with the land.”

  His eyes slanted along with his lips. “You’re willing to take that gamble?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Well, I’m not.”

  A silence followed his harsh declaration.

  Another councilman, Tiny Conner, who was anything but tiny, stood. He was huge, weighing in at close to three hundred and fifty pounds, she suspected, but his height, well over six feet, helped distribute that excess weight. “I know you’ve informed us by letter that you’re being harassed and that’s the purpose of the bodyguard. But if you don’t mind, I think an update on the situation is in order.”

  While the change of subject was a godsend, she had hoped this particular one wouldn’t come up. She should have known better, especially in such a small, confined meeting. Still, it was something she wasn’t comfortable discussing with the council. If she knew whether the threats were job related or personal, she might be more forthcoming.

  “Unfortunately the culprit hasn’t been apprehended as yet.”

  “That incident downtown was a very serious matter,” Tiny pointed out, concern darkening his ruddy complexion.

  “Rest assured, my work isn’t suffering as a result.”

  “We never thought that at all,” Avery Bates chimed in, the only member who had heretofore kept his silence. “It’s just that we’re concerned about your welfare, Mayor.”

  “I appreciate that, and will keep you informed.”

  “You’ve apparently made a vicious enemy, Mayor,” Saxon said, a glint in his eye.

  And you’re delighted, too, she told herself. “It looks that way, though it could be just some crackpot off the street who really has no agenda, political or otherwise.”

  Byford Downs spoke up. “If there’s anything we can do, you let us know.”

  There were nods from the rest of the group except Saxon. He didn’t move a muscle, though that glint increased in his eye. She fought the urge to slap the pompous know-it-all, suddenly wondering if he was behind the menace.

  Brushing that thought aside as ridiculous, she smiled at the entire group, then said, “As you well know, I respect all of you and your opinions. At the same time, I’m counting on you to respe
ct mine.”

  Before Saxon or anyone else could go off on another tangent, Jessica went on. “I have interviews set up next week for the chief’s job. Meanwhile, we’ll continue to see how Gaston Forrester performs.”

  Although she heard Saxon’s snort, she ignored it. “As far as the land deal goes, I guess that will ultimately depend on the way the council votes.”

  Another member, Tilford Jennings, stood, then faced the others. “I think we’ve taken up enough of the mayor’s time for one afternoon.” He paused with a sarcastic smile. “I know you’ve taken up enough of mine.”

  They all chuckled.

  Tilford shoved back his chair. “So let’s get out of here.”

  “Thank you all for coming,” Jessica said graciously, shaking hands with each of them, even Saxon, who all but glared at her.

  Whatever his motive, he was a bump in the road she could do without.

  Once they were gone, Tony stuck his head in. “Sorry I was out when they bombarded you. How did you make out against Saxon?”

  “I held my own, but it was all I could do not to put my fist in his mouth.”

  Tony grinned. “You don’t have to wait on my permission.”

  Jessica didn’t respond. She merely rubbed her sore head.

  “Why don’t you and he-man outside call it a day and head for the house? You look exhausted.”

  The fact that he never used Brant’s name always conjured up a smile, regardless of her mood. This afternoon was no exception. “I’m sure he-man won’t object,” she said lightly.

  Her cell phone rang. For a second her entire body tensed; then she forced the tension to evaporate. She had changed her number again, which meant this was a friendly call. Flipping the lid, she placed it against her ear.

  “Bitch,” a coarse voice whispered. “I’m counting down.”

  White-faced, she slammed the phone closed.

  “That bastard!” Tony spat, his hands fluttering. “You’d think with all the modern technology they’ve got, the law would’ve nailed him by now.” He paused. “Want me to get he-man?”