“You’re supposed to be with Jarred?”
“Yes. It’s a Christmas thing. Listen. Don’t worry, okay? I’ve got everything under control. Oh, and I need some directions to Chance’s.”
“Chance’s? Kelsey, no! Connor…Connor—he’s not…” she sputtered.
“Shh,” Kelsey said, turning her gently around. “Come on. Let’s go inside and get warm. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Jarred stood apart from the group, wondering if he could down the champagne like water and order two more glasses fast. He wore black. Not a tux, for he’d demanded this event be less formal. Actually, he’d demanded that it be scratched entirely but Nola was a wall. They’d argued on the telephone about it twice, and only when Nola nearly broke down and said she wanted Jarred to speak to Jonathan and find out what was eating the man alive did he agree to attend.
And then only when Kelsey had agreed to be with him. Which she wasn’t. In fact, he had no idea on God’s green earth where she was.
“Another, sir?” The white-coated waiter was their personal host in this upstairs room. Normally it was reserved for a crowd of thirty or more. Tonight, its wreathed windows and twinkling bright lights played for less than ten.
A glittering gold bow adorned the champagne glass Jarred selected at the same moment he handed over his empty. “Don’t get too far away,” he warned the man, who nodded and turned to Nola and his father.
Jonathan sat in a gold-and-white-striped satin chair. Refusing champagne, he asked for scotch. Father and son exchanged a look—Jarred over the top of his champagne, Jonathan as he reached for the glass of amber liquid.
“Hey, bro,” Will exhaled heavily and signaled the waiter. “Pretty dead party, huh?”
“Better than last year.”
“How do you figure?” Will asked.
Because I wasn’t with Kelsey. Jarred glanced at his brother as he finished off his champagne. Will held a glass in his hand, but his face was red, his color high. He appeared drunk already, given the strange look in his eyes and the slight tremble of his fingers. He saluted Jarred with his drink and knocked it back, half laughing.
“My God, life is strange, isn’t it?” he said, not waiting for an answer. “You think you’ve got it figured out. Then something happens bam! right between the eyes.” He signaled the waiter again, more impatiently. “What does it take to get a real drink around here?” he muttered irritably.
“You have to ask for it.”
“Yeah? Well, it’ll be another millennium before he comes back.”
Lost in his own thoughts, Jarred hadn’t paid much attention to Will or anyone else for that matter. Now he examined his younger half brother carefully. “What’s eating you?”
“Have you noticed how frail Dad is? Like he’s dying right in front of our eyes.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“What do you think that means?”
“I don’t know. Nola’s worried.”
“Nola did right by me,” Will said, picking his words carefully. “But she wasn’t any kind of mother to me— or to you either. She’s not made that way. Don’t you think a mother should be more nurturing?”
“Are you drunk?” Jarred demanded.
“If only that were the case,” he said, and then he sighed as if the weight of the world were upon him. The waiter appeared at that moment and Will requested a scotch for both him and Jarred. Then he pulled four glasses off the tray, handing two to Jarred and keeping two for himself. “I think it’s time I was.”
Sarah, in a red velvet dress that hugged her curves and made her appear a trifle less mannish, seemed to pick up on Will’s strange vibes. She hurried toward” them. Her long, determined stride ruined the effect of the dress, reminding Jarred how tough and single-minded she could be. For a fraction of a second he felt a bit of Kelsey’s aversion to the woman.
Where was Kelsey?
“Oops,” Will said. “Here she comes. Before she gets here, one more word of warning: Beware the female of the species. They get what they want.”
Jarred stared at his brother’s flushed face. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
“Kelsey hasn’t been completely truthful about that money. Find out about it before you lay everything at her feet. I don’t want you to lose, Jarred. You know, I just want you to be there. Always.”
“You are drunk,” he concluded.
“Will?” Sarah’s sharp eyes examined him from head to toe.
“I was just telling big bro here about the good news,” Will said with a sweep of his arm that sent scotch sloshing over the edges of his glass. He took a moment to down the rest of his drink, handed Sarah the empty glass, then downed the second.
Sarah looked startled. She turned to Jarred, momentarily speechless. Something weird was going on, and the hairs on the back of Jarred’s neck lifted instinctively.
“Go ahead,” Will urged her, his arm jerking in Jarred’s direction. “You know I’m behind you a hundred percent. Danielle and I are finished. She’s… gone. The future’s so bright I gotta wear shades.” With that, he doubled over in soundless laughter.
Jarred looked to Sarah. She opened her mouth, closed it, thought for a moment, then said simply, “I’m pregnant.”
The cell phone fuzzed and beeped, and Kelsey damn near threw it out the window. Useless piece of garbage. She was late, late, late, and she was bound to be later. She’d miscalculated, believed she could continue on her quest and still make it to dinner in time. But she hadn’t counted on the weather, which had changed from rain to sleet and ice, and she’d crept the last few miles in a sweat of tension, wondering which way to turn. She was almost to Chance’s—and Connor’s, she hoped—and there was no way to make it to the dinner now. Should she continue? Or, should she turn back now and at least try to find an area to call Jarred and explain.
A moment of intense decision passed while the car nosed forward, its tires feeling loose and slippery against the surface of the asphalt. She was so close, and she wanted answers.
And that would be a better Christmas present for Jarred than anything else she could come up with.
Her decision made, she tried phoning his cell phone once again, and once again she got static.
”…was going to invite more people from work, but with your accident and the company in such a state of flux, and then Jonathan…” Nola’s voice trailed off. She glanced toward the door. She’d just come in from one cigarette and was debating if she could sneak another.
Jarred sat in silence. Sarah’s words reverberated inside his head. His scotch sat on the table between himself and Nola. The others were being seated for dinner. His father was out of earshot, at the far end of the table, flanked by Will and Sarah.
“He’s seen a doctor?” Jarred asked.
“Well, of course!”
“That wasn’t meant as a criticism,” Jarred said a trifle brusquely.
Nola swallowed and looked away, across the room toward the gold filigree wallpaper and arched windows. “It’s snowing;” she said flatly.
Jarred’s gaze followed hers. Slick roads. Icy conditions. Inexperienced drivers. He hoped Kelsey had her cell phone with her. He’d left a couple of more messages, but she hadn’t called back. His own cell phone was inside the pocket of his overcoat. He’d shoved it there as he’d left the house, intending to use it to call her again if need be. Now he excused himself, went in search of his coat, then pulled the phone from the pocket.
With a start he realized he had a message. He’d never dreamed she’d call his cell phone because he hadn’t really used it since the accident. He hadn’t even looked at it earlier to see if she’d called him. Gnashing his teeth, he quickly retrieved the message.
”…looks like Sarah’s the one who’s been selling him information. I don’t know what you want to do with this information, but there it is. I’ve got some errands to do, and I’ll meet you at home later. “Bye.”
Jarred blinked, replayed the message, then repla
yed it again. He called the house, but Kelsey didn’t pick up. Trying her cell phone only granted him another turn with the answering machine. Turning off his phone, he thought hard. Her information about Sarah didn’t really surprise him. After tonight, he could believe anything. But she’d said she would meet him at home and she wasn’t there.
“What’s the matter?” Nola asked when he returned to the table.
“I can’t reach Kelsey.”
“I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably on her way but got slowed down by road conditions. It’s your father you need to concentrate on. He’s wasting away.”
Jarred flicked a glance down the table toward Jonathan.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. “Nola reached for the rope of pearls at her throat, unconsciously twisting them with anxious fingers. “It’s as if he’s the one who collapsed after your plane crash. Only he hasn’t recovered. I thought when he saw how well you were doing it would help. But he’s been sitting in the corner all night, every night, nursing a drink. But he doesn’t get drunk. That would be bad enough. No, this is something else, and he’s become embarrassingly devout at the same time.”
Jarred wanted to argue with her. Her terminology assaulted his sense of fair play. But her words resonated with a truth that couldn’t be ignored, and so he simply nodded.
“You’ve heard him talk about the Lord. When did that happen? He’s never been one to so much as mention God or spirituality or anything even mildly religious. It’s like he’s someone else!” she hissed in a worried voice, darting sharp looks around the table to check if anyone were listening. “What is happening? I swear, it’s as if he’s had some epiphany and it’s impossible to talk to him about anything else these days. Do you think he could have had a slight stroke?”
Her words pricked Jarred’s own fears. “Maybe you should just ask him what’s going on.”
“You ask him,” Nola said, plucking at his arm, and Jarred inwardly groaned, realized he was being manipulated by his mother once again. “Try, darling. Please,” she entreated.
Jarred swallowed his watered-down drink and silently prayed that Kelsey was all right and would magically appear ASAP.
Jonathan sat shriveled and distant at the end of the table, his eyes focused outside the windows to the white flakes dipping and weaving beyond. Wind whistled and rattled the windowpanes. A ghostly sound.
“If Kelsey doesn’t show up soon I’m leaving,” Jarred told Nola. “But I’ll talk to Dad first.”
“After dinner. Please,” She fervently clutched Jarred’s arm. “Just let’s get through this meal.”
Shallow-bottomed bowls of white china were placed atop shimmering silver charger plates. Jarred picked up his spoon, swallowed two delicious mouthfuls, put the spoon down, and listened to the clock tick inside his head. The meal was excruciating. Though everyone had asked him where Kelsey was, he had no idea, and he’d been forced to admit that fact, bringing a faint smile to Sarah’s lips.
I’m going to fire her, he thought inconsequentially.
Then his cell phone jingled and he snatched it “Hello? Hello?” The clicking and fuzz on the other end nearly drove him mad. But if it was Kelsey, at least she was able to call. That was something.
“Kelsey? I can’t hear you. If you can hear me, we’re at the Olympic having dinner. Kelsey?”
Crackle. Fuzz. Then, faintly, she said, “Jarred?”
Her voice! He was overjoyed. “Kelsey!”
Nothing. The connection was lost. He tried to call her back, but there was no answer. Still, she was all right. At least she sounded that way. “I’ll talk to Dad,” he told Nola and scraped back his chair.
The weather was blasted. Snow now. And lots of it. The kind of tiny flakes that accumulated so quickly that wipers whipping to and fro at warp speed could scarcely fling it away.
“Damn,” Kelsey muttered softly, seeing a faint sign ahead. A narrow white road sign on a rickety post. It pointed east toward Marsden Road. The way to Chance’s.
Trying automatic dial once again, she slowly herded her car eastward, wishing mightily and futilely for her Explorer. But there was no connection to Jarred. Her cell was dead.
Urgency felt like a bomb inside Jarred, slowly counting down. He’d moved to sit near his father. Then he had been forced to wait to engage him in conversation since Jonathan Bryant seemed focused on his drink and dessert, using them both as a means to stall Jarred’s obvious desire to talk. It was all Jarred could do to make himself wait. Restless, he moved apart from the group while his father dawdled, surveying them, yet lost in his own thoughts. Will had failed in his quest for alcoholic oblivion, and he now sat beside Sarah, neither of them saying a lot. Gwen drank coffee, holding the cup in both hands as if desiring its warmth. Nola had searched for a place to smoke outside of the area, and Jonathan now sat by himself at the head of the table, looking tired and worn. As he laid down his dessert fork, Jarred scooted a chair up beside him. Jonathan picked up his drink and refused to meet Jarred’s eye.
“I haven’t had a chance to talk to you,” Jarred said, undaunted.
Jonathan smiled wanly. “Hello, son,” he said.
“What’s wrong?”
Jonathan sighed and took a swallow of his own watery scotch. “Where’s your mother gone off to? Indulging that nasty habit of hers?”
“She asked me to come talk to you.”
Jonathan rubbed shaking fingers over his chin. He glanced down the table but only Gwen remained, and her gaze was fixed firmly on Sarah and Will, who were lost in their own world.
“Are you ill?” Jarred asked. “Let me rephrase that: Have you been diagnosed as having some particular disease or syndrome since you’re obviously ill. Nola just wants to know what’s wrong.”
My lifes in God’s hands. Where it should be.
“Well, that might be so,” Jarred said slowly, picking his way through this minefield of evasions, “but it doesn’t explain why you suddenly feel that way. This new faith of yours may be commendable, but it’s not like you. In my experience, that means something’s happened to change your outlook.”
“I’ve trusted in the Lord,” Jonathan said, but his words were a faint whisper.
Jarred leaned forward. “What is it, Dad?” For a moment Jonathan didn’t move; then he slowly placed his hands over his face and sat in abject silence. Fear’s icy fingers tightened Jarred’s chest. “What?” Jarred demanded.
Lowering his hands, Jonathan gazed at his son. “Are you all right, Jarred?” he asked. “Are you?”
“Me? Yes. What do you mean? I’ve got most of my memory back.”
“Physically, are you all right?”
“Yes.” His father’s intensity baffled Jarred since he was so obviously better. Even the scars were fading, and his left ankle could move without serious pain or impairment. If people weren’t told, they would not believe he’d survived a plane crash.
“Then I’m all right, too,” was his father’s troubling answer.
“Excuse me. Am I interrupting?”
Sarah’s voice jarred Jarred and he shot her an angry glance.
“Not at all,” Jonathan said a trifle stiffly.
Jarred’s brows lifted at this obvious coolness. Maybe Nola wasn’t the only one objecting to Sarah’s interest in Will. The shit was really going to hit the fan when Sarah’s pregnancy came to light.
“Could I talk to you a moment, Jarred?” Sarah asked.
“Not now, “ Jarred said tersely.
“Go, son,” Jonathan urged. “I prayed you would recover. You had to. You had to remember.”
Jarred’s memory jarred. “I had to recover,” he repeated.
“And you did. By God’s will.”
“Jarred,” Sarah said insistently.
Jarred eyed his father thoughtfully. Scraping back his chair, he followed Sarah to the other side of the room, where Will was standing, looking tense. “More good news?” Jarred asked dryly.
“We’re worried about Kelsey
. Where is she?” Sarah demanded. “What’s she doing?”
“If I knew, I’d tell you.”
“Would you?” Will questioned. He gave his brother a searching look. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you should check out those large withdrawals of money.”
Jarred was irked that Will would bring that up in front of Sarah.
“Have the withdrawals stopped since Chance’s death?” Sarah asked as if it were any of her business at all.
“I’m not certain.”
“You haven’t looked, have you?” Will nodded. “Jarred…” Unlike Sarah, Will sounded genuinely regretful. “You’ve had me check Kelsey’s account in the past, so I just checked it again. I’m worried about you, and the company. I want you to be sure she’s on the level.”
“Thanks.” Jarred was ironic.
“There’s an envelope on your desk at work. The last year and a half of statements on her account. Check it over and see what you think.”
“Or you could just ask her,” Sarah pointed out.
Jarred’s fury at both Sarah and Will knew no bounds. He nodded curtly and walked away. His mood, not particularly pleasant to begin with, had definitely deteriorated. He knew he shouldn’t be so deathly angry at them; their suspicions were unfounded and couldn’t hurt Kelsey. And he had reason to be more suspicious of them than his wife these days!
At that moment, Nola reentered the room. “I talked to him,” Jarred said as he passed by his mother into the hallway.
“Wait! Jarred! Where are you going?” She grabbed his arm. “The streets are an absolute mess. Are you driving?”
“I’ll call a cab,” he said, aware with an uneasy pricking that Kelsey had been slated to drive him home.
“What did your father say? Anything?”
“He said I had to recover. He wanted me to remember. “
“What does that mean?” Nola asked, baffled and a little angry at Jarred’s cryptic comments.
“I don’t know. He doesn’t offer information.” He paused. “I think he thinks he’s dying.”
Nola clutched Jarred’s arm a bit more desperately. “What’s happening to him?”
Not Without You Page 23