She thought of Nola and Jonathan and Will. Her relationships with all of them were difficult at best. Adding Sarah to the mix was nearly more than she could bear to think about. And apart from Jarred’s personal secretary, Gwen, who seemed to at least recognize that Kelsey was Jarred’s wife, no one at Bryant Industries could be considered more than a chilly acquaintance.
No wonder the marriage had collapsed. It had no foundations. No pilings. No support. Even the Rowdens, Kelsey’s “parents,” weren’t a part of the family structure. It had only been Kelsey and Jarred, and it hadn’t been enough.
Jarred stirred in the bed, his breath exhaling on a sigh. Kelsey pulled her gaze away automatically, afraid he might awaken and catch her staring at him. Climbing from her chair, she stretched her back, then pulled the chair to the side of the room. Thinking about the past made her feel anxious and unhappy; there were just so many things she would like to change, even now.
You told Sarah you were moving back in with Jarred….
Chewing on her lower lip, Kelsey considered those bold words. She realized she’d made the choice even before she threw the words in Sarah’s face: She was going to move back in with her husband.
“I might as well start tonight,” she said aloud.
After another hour had passed and Jarred slept on, she brushed her fingers lightly across his forehead in a soft good-bye and headed for the cold comfort of her condominium.
“Here, Felix, kitty kitty kitty,” Kelsey called, closing the front door behind her. The condo’s entry was really just an extension of the living room; an S-shaped section cut from the carpet and filled with gold-veined cream marble. To her right lay the kitchen, a utilitarian U whose outside counter was free of upper cabinets and flanked by three maple bar stools. When she stepped around the corner to the narrow hallway that led to two bedrooms and two baths, she discovered Felix sitting on top of the toilet, his tail switching back and forth.
“Well, what are you doing?” she asked, picking up the yellow tabby, who melted limply over her arm and started purring. “We’re moving, you and I. You won’t like it because Jarred has a big, big dog, but we’re moving just the same. I’m certain this is bound to be a huge problem, but then what isn’t?”
Unconcerned, Felix butted his head into Kelsey’s stomach as she sank down on her tiny love seat and arranged the cat on her lap. “Mr. Dog is a golden retriever whose loyalty to his master is totally undeserved. You’re going to hate him, though I must admit he’s a sweetheart. I haven’t seen him in a while.”
Feeling unexpected melancholy, she gave Felix a hard hug. He yowled and jumped off her lap and Kelsey decided it was high time to pour herself a glass of white wine.
She was in the process of doing just that when the phone rang. Glancing at Caller ID, she noticed she’d already had ten phone calls, none of which had left a message on her answering machine. All of them were from different numbers around the Seattle area. Strange. But the current call was listed as private.
“Hello?”
“Kelsey?”
“Jarred?” she responded, surprised. “How did you get my number?” she asked, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.
“I know your number.”
“You know my number,” she repeated dumbly. This, in itself, was a revelation, since he’d never called her more than once or twice at the condominium in the three years that she’d lived there. Add the fact that his memory only seemed to work in fits and starts, and the odds of him recalling this unimportant bit of information were astronomical.
He paused, then replied, sounding somewhat surprised himself, “Yes, I do.”
“What…did you want?” she asked, gulping her wine by mistake and bringing tiny tears to her eyes.
“My dog. I have a dog. Who’s been taking care of him?”
His memory was definitely returning. “Mary Hennessy, I think.”
“What’s his name?”
“Mr. Dog.”
He muttered in frustration. “That’s right. Mr. Dog. A golden retriever. I can’t believe I couldn’t remember him. And Mary Hennessey’s been with my family for years. I didn’t remember her either until Will mentioned her earlier. God, I hate this.”
“You’re doing as well as can be expected, Jarred. Just don’t fight it. It’ll come. “
“How do you know that?”
“Well, I don’t really,” she admitted. “But you always overanalyze. everything and it never works.”
“I overanalyze everything?”
“Always.”
“Well, I don’t appear to have the brain capacity to do it anymore,” he said, sounding more like a thwarted schoolboy than the owner of a multimillion dollar corporation.
Kelsey almost smiled. “Maybe that’s a good thing,” she stated lightly.
“What did you decide about moving back in with me?”
Realizing that this was the crux of his call, Kelsey felt herself tighten up a bit. “I’ll be at the house when they spring you out of that place. And I’m bringing my cat with me.”
“Good.” Relief flooded his voice. Then after a moment, he asked, “What made you change your mind?”
A vision of Sarah Ackerman’s cold face swam before Kelsey’s eyes. “Let’s just say I had an epiphany of sorts. “
“Now you’ve got me intrigued,” he said, sounding more like the old Jarred than she’d heard thus far.
“I don’t think Mr. Dog is going to be happy about meeting Felix, and vice versa,” she said, lithely sidestepping the issue.
“Felix is your cat? Original.”
“Don’t be so quick to criticize. He came with that name. I saved him from death row at the Humane Society, and I just couldn’t come up with anything else. Besides, you have no room to talk with a golden retriever named Mr. Dog.”
“Point taken,” he said good-humoredly. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
“I’ll stop by.”
“Good-bye then.”
“Good-bye, Jarred.”
She hung up the phone, her hand resting lightly on the receiver for several long moments. When was the last time she’d talked to him over the phone without him ordering her around or her complaining about some aspect of their relationship? In their last conversation the day before the accident, Jarred had ordered her to his office. And the time before that, she’d called and coolly announced she’d hired a divorce attorney, mostly because she was feeling angry and had chanced upon a meeting with Seattle’s most accomplished divorce attorney, a piranha named Jacqueline, referred to as Black Jack by the many ex-husbands whose wives had reamed out their bank accounts with Jacqueline representing them. Neither call had been what one might term a success.
How odd that now she found herself feeling so differently. So hopeful. So belatedly thrilled that he’d called her just to check in.
“Oh, Felix,” she said aloud to the tabby, who now sat on the floor beside her feet, looking up at her. “I’m in deep, deep trouble.”
The phone chimed again. Kelsey answered it on the second ring. “Hello?” She could hear someone breathing on the other end and the hairs on her forearms stood up. “Hello,” she said again, more cautiously.
“Kelsey Bennett?” a male voice inquired.
“Speaking.”
“You don’t know me. Not really. I…” His voice trailed off but she could still hear him on the other end of the line.
“What do you want?” she asked, sensing her pulse rise in tandem with sudden, inexplicable fear.
“I need something,” he said, his voice a near whisper. “You’ve got to help me.”
A moment later the line went dead. Reading the number on Caller ID, Kelsey instantly phoned back. The line rang so many times she was about to hang up when someone answered: a woman.
“Who is this?” Kelsey demanded.
“Hey, I just picked up the phone ‘cause it was ringin’ and ringin’. Who ya tryin’ to call?”
“Someone just called me from thi
s number. I’m trying to reach him.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, this is a pay phone down on Fifth, honey. Wha’dya want me to tell ya? There ain’t nobody here.”
“Oh… I see. Thank you.”
Kelsey replaced the receiver. Not liking what she was feeling, she rechecked all the doors and windows and then set about packing up her belongings as fast as she could.
Chapter Five
Backing her Ford Explorer out of its tiny, exorbitantly priced parking spot on a lot outside her office building, Kelsey shook off the weight of depression that had descended upon her as soon as she’d packed the last box into the back of her SUV. She’s spent half the night shoving her meager belongings in the boxes she’d never thrown away from her original move to the condo. Then she’d spent the early morning packing the car. The rest of the day she had been at the office, fighting off Trevor’s furious hysteria at the ineptitude of his own subcontractors.
No wonder a headache had formed at the base of her skull. She wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a cup of tea. But she was moving. Once decided, she’d been in constant motion, more as a way to outrun her own demons than any serious need to move back. After all, Jarred wasn’t even out of the hospital yet, but she needed this change and pronto. The voice on the phone had been the final impetus.
“It’s not going to be the same as that old life,” she muttered, heading out of Seattle city center through a hard rain that kept her wipers slapping double time as she drove toward Jarred’s home.
Your home, too, she reminded herself.
But she couldn’t help feeling like a returning guest. When she’d left Jarred, she’d practically run for her life and her sanity. She’d been going quietly mad inside a house that had been slowly invaded by Sarah Ackerman’s presence while her own seemed to fade away.
Traffic was a mess, and by the time she’d crossed the 1-90 bridge over Mercer Island to Medina and the house on Lake Washington, she was hot, tired, and sick to the back teeth of this incessant rain. Pulling into the drive of the lodgelike shingled house with white trim, she hit the garage-door button—a souvenir she’d never managed to part with, which was another point she didn’t want to examine too closely—with her right hand. The house was massive with an east and west wing and two garages that could house five vehicles. A white elephant. A wedding gift.
And he’d given her a sapphire-and-diamond pendant for an engagement gift, broken now, from the time Jarred had yanked it from her throat in a moment of rage. While packing this morning, she’d seen it within the velvet prison of her jewelry box.
Shivering, Kelsey gathered up an awkward box, stuffed to the gills, and balanced it gingerly, her purse dangling from her arm and thunking against her thigh. Shifting the box’s weight, she tried to twist the knob to the back door. Her hair, banded into a loose ponytail, was coming free, and mist from the rain swept into the garage on the tails of a gust of wind, coalescing on the errant tendrils and sticking them wetly against her neck.
She shivered harder.
By the time she negotiated her way through the door, trekked across the walk-through pantry, and bypassed the double glass-paned doors to the solarium, she felt anxious and uneasy and certain she’d made a terrible mistake.
From the center of the kitchen she called, “Mary?” thinking the housekeeper-cum-cook might still be at the house.
A sharp, delighted woof sounded. Mr. Dog suddenly slid around the corner, tongue flapping happily in his smiling mouth, tail wagging, feet churning on the slippery hardwood floors.
“Whoa, boy!” Kelsey called to the golden retriever, sensing disaster. “Stop! Stop!”
He burst toward her. Kelsey half turned. “No. Stop!Slow down. I’ve got—”
The dog leaped. Paws knocked the load from her arms. Shoes and belts and her jewelry box fell from the box. Her purse slid down her arm, slapped against Mr. Dog’s face, dropped to the floor, upended, and spilled its contents on the polished American cherry floor. Mr. Dog jumped again, and this time Kelsey sighed, patted his silky head, then embraced him for all she was worth until his frenzied licking tongue washed half her face.
“Ugh.” She pushed him away, but he barked in excitement and eagerness and jumped up on her again. “You moron,” she said fondly, scratching his ears. Leaning his big head against her, he gazed up with solemn loyalty. Kelsey laughed. “Oh, sure, you fickle male. If Jarred were here, you wouldn’t even know I exist. Now get down,” she added, giving his head a slight push so that he dropped to his toes, his nails clicking softly as he nosed through the mess of Kelsey’s belongings.
The sapphire-and-diamond necklace lay scattered on the floor, its brilliance dulled a bit in the gray light streaming through the solarium windows from the overcast skies beyond. Picking up the necklace, Kelsey slid its gold chain over her fingers.
“It was my grandmother’s,” Jarred had told her, lifting it from its original box and sliding it around her neck. His fingers had lingered against her skin. She remembered their electric touch and the breath-stopping moment when he’d presented her with such a lovely gift.
“I can’t,” she choked.
“I want you to be my wife,” he whispered in her ear, his hands sliding down her arms. They were in the restaurant at Seattle’s Four Seasons Olympic Hotel and she could see their twin reflections in the white china plate that gleamed beneath the crystalline lights.
“Jarred,” she whispered, speechless.
“Say yes,” he ordered softly, his breath hot on her ear.
“Yes…”
Kelsey shook herself back to the moment. After laying the necklace on the black granite countertop, she bent down. With jerky motions, she gathered up all her spilled belongings, shoving them back in the box. Snatching up her purse by the handle, she hefted the box on the island counter, leaving it next to the necklace, which lay twisted and seductive against the cold black stone.
Feeling like an intruder, she slowly climbed one of the two fir stairways that rose upward as it jogged inward around several landings, then rose again to a gallery above the main entry hall. She turned left, toward the east wing and the guest apartments. She’d lived with Jarred in the west wing but there was no way she would invade his rooms now. Besides, he would be convalescing for a while, and she would be in the way.
Not that she wanted to be with him, she reminded herself quickly. Jarred Bryant had been an autocrat when she’d first met him and he was no better now, accident or no accident. He was just different—that was all. And she couldn’t let her own foolish fantasies keep her from that truth. This was just a temporary situation. She wasn’t giving up her condo just yet.
“How depressing,” she said as she entered the guest bedroom, alluding to her thoughts rather than the beautiful appointments of the suite. The faintest peach color covered the walls and was complemented by various shades of taupe and cream in the lush downy comforter and flowered valance. The furniture was a funky bamboo she’d collected on sale in an equally funky furniture shop. She’d had fun putting the rooms together, she recalled, and Jarred had let her do whatever she wanted. That was in the first days of their marriage when she’d felt as if she was playing house. Later, nothing had been fun, and Sarah Ackerman had haunted the halls like an evil spirit.
Gazing rather grimly through the broad windows to the dark water of Lake Washington and the glimmering lights that surrounded it, Kelsey wondered how long she would be living here alone. Reminding herself to check with Dr. Alastair, she rubbed her arms briskly, trying to shake off the unpleasant sense of not quite belonging in Jarred’s life and world.
The phone rang, causing her to jump. She stood stock-still and heard the answering machine in the kitchen pick up. Kelsey walked to the gallery and leaned over to hear. A feminine voice was leaving a message. With surprise, Kelsey realized it was Nola, her rather brittle voice welcoming Kelsey back to Jarred’s home. Walking slowly downstairs, she stared at the machine as a computer voice declared flatly, “End of message.
”
Grabbing up a box of clothes, she headed back upstairs. Dumping the box on the bed she headed for the bathroom. Closing the door, she ran a hot bath in the heart-shaped “double” tub that she and Jarred had never used together. She’d wanted to share it, she remembered. That had definitely been her original intention. But things happened, and by the time the guest wing renovation was completed, she and Jarred never found the time.
The phone rang a second time just as Kelsey sank into the hot water. “Mr. Dog can answer it,” she muttered, closing her eyes and thrusting all her worries aside for the moment.
“I don’t think she’s there yet,” Jarred said, replacing the receiver. He moved his shoulder and the arm that lay heavily in its cast, feeling everything itch and nag.
“You’re sure she’s moving in today?” Will asked. He sat comfortably in the hospital chair as best he could, an ankle propped on his opposite knee.
“Pretty sure,”
“You sound frustrated.”
Jarred gave his half brother a wry look. “Do I? I wonder why.”
Tugging on his ear, Will made a face. “Look, whatever you want, it’s okay by me. I just don’t want to see you get taken in by her. You know what she’s like better than anyone, and if this crash has destroyed your memory and you need help putting the pieces back together, I’m here to help. Just like always,” he added a bit tightly.
Jarred’s first reaction was to argue with Will about Kelsey. He damn near told his half brother that he trusted Kelsey a hell of a lot more than he trusted him. But then another memory assailed him: the day eleven-year-old Will was dumped on the Bryant doorstep by his uncaring and unhappy mother.
“I don’t want him anymore,” were the words that hit Jarred’s ears as he opened the door to find the two of them standing on the porch. Shy, scared, and uncomfortable as hell, Will brushed the toe of his shoe around in the imaginary dirt on Nola’s brick entry porch, his eyes downcast. A very sore point, he was, between Nola and Jonathan since Will was the result of Jonathan’s romantic tryst with an employee of Bryant Industries when Jonathan was at its helm. Nola made certain Will’s mother was fired tout de suite, and the woman left the company and Jonathan with bad feelings all around. But that sunny Sunday afternoon when she dumped him on the Bryant doorstep was the first Jarred knew any of it.
Not Without You Page 8