One Good Thing

by Wendy Wax

  • • •

  The sound that pierced the quiet was not immediately identifiable. It separated itself from Avery’s dreams, growing louder and closer, pulling her awake. A curse brought her eyes open and shoved her into consciousness. Peering through the window into the darkness, she saw a large shape detach itself from the blackness and lurch toward Bella Flora. She shot bolt upright in bed. When a large fleshy object pressed up against the window, she jumped out of bed, a scream forming in her throat.

  “Avuhreee? Issyou in there?”

  She shut her mouth so that she could listen then crept toward the window. The fleshy object was a distorted face. The area around it turned foggy.

  “Iss mee. Yason.” The face retreated. A chair scraped across the concrete. “Kin I come in? I need a . . .” The sound of urgent and heavy urination followed. A hiccup and an exaggerated male groan of relief followed. “Ohhhh, mannn.”

  She crossed to the French door and yanked it open. In the spill of moonlight she saw Jason Hardin leaning against the back wall attempting to zip his pants. Behind him the wall was damp. A puddle of runoff had not yet seeped into the concrete. “You pissed on Bella Flora?” she whispered harshly, taking in his gnarled hair and rumpled clothes. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. Just tired. I had to . . .” He stopped midsentence to yawn and stretch. One hand idly scratched his crotch.

  Angry, she moved toward him, but stopped when his scent hit her nostrils. He reeked of alcohol and weed, and although she didn’t want to acknowledge it, he also smelled of sex. Wherever he’d been, he hadn’t been alone. And he definitely hadn’t been sober. “Jesus, Jason. Where in the hell have you been? Do you know how worried your father is? Do you know . . .”

  “Jus’ need to lie down. Jus . . . just for a little.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to debate whether to bring him inside or try to shove him in her car to drive him home, before he staggered the few steps to the nearest chaise and collapsed onto it. She was still trying to figure out her next move when his eyes shut, his head lolled to the side, and the first snore erupted from his open mouth. She looked from his inert bulk to the open French door and back. She didn’t have the strength to move him inside on her own and she wasn’t sure if she would have bothered even if she could have.

  Bella Flora remained dark around them. No lights came on inside. No one called out to see what was going on.

  “Fine.” She went inside, pulled the afghan off the couch, and threw it on top of him. Inside she picked up her phone, saw that it was three A.M. and sent a terse text to Chase saying that Jason was safe at Bella Flora and that she’d bring him to Tampa tomorrow, or rather later today. Then she climbed back into Nikki’s bed, burrowed back beneath the covers, and closed her eyes. Her last thought as she let go and began to fall asleep was that she was not looking forward to reuniting Chase and Jason. And that before she did, she’d better make sure Jason showered and put on clothes that didn’t bear testament to what he’d been up to.

  • • •

  Nikki’s eyes flew open. The bedside clock read four A.M. The room was dark and close. Although the window had been left open, the air was still. A faint odor reached her nostrils. Her hand pressed into the mattress as she tried to move and she realized that the sheets were wet. No, not wet. They were soaked. The babies.

  She heard a whimpering sound and thought it had come from her. But then a cold nose pushed against her hip. A rough tongue scraped against her bare arm. Sherlock.

  She lay completely still, listening. Bitsy must be asleep on the couch. She needed to wake her. “Bitsy?” There was no answer. Sherlock whimpered again. “Go wake up Bitsy, Sherlock. Hurry.” She managed to reach the bedside lamp. Strained farther to turn it on even though she was afraid of what she might see. Please God, she prayed as she pulled off her covers. Don’t let me be lying in . . . She forced herself to look down. She and her sheets were streaked with a blood-tinged liquid. A stringy clump of blood clung to the inside of her thigh.

  “Bitsy!” she shouted louder as she tried to remember if she had seen or heard Bitsy during the night. She remembered Maddie bringing her back and tucking her in. She’d heard Sherlock snuffle during the night, the shake of his tags on his collar. But had she heard Bitsy? “Bitsy?”

  Sherlock remained next to the bed. He made a tight circle and woofed but he didn’t leave.

  “Go wake Bitsy, Sherlock!” She struggled to sit up, but tried to move carefully, not sure if she was supposed to move at all. Her nightgown was heavy, wet, and clinging as she levered to a standing position. It took time to pull it off, and even longer to find her robe. Despite the cramp she felt in the pit of her stomach, she managed to get it on and zip it up. It strained against her stomach and she thanked God for its stretchiness.

  Sherlock continued to whimper, but he didn’t leave her side. She found the cell phone she’d fallen asleep clutching trapped between the wet sheets and winced as she wiped it against her sleeve, praying fervently that it hadn’t gotten wet enough to stop working. The screen lit up but it didn’t want to take her password. The battery indicator glowed red, not even at five percent. Shit.

  Don’t panic. Just find your charger. She tried to calm herself, but she had no idea where she’d put her charger. And even less idea what had happened to Bitsy.

  She staggered out to the living room but Bitsy wasn’t there. There was no sign that she had been. She was almost to the door when the dull cramp she’d been feeling turned into a sharp pain that sliced through her. She doubled over and clutched her stomach. “Where is she, Sherlock? Where the hell is Bitsy?”

  Sherlock raced to the front door and woofed again. He went up on his hind legs and scratched on the door. She didn’t know dog talk, but clearly he was trying to tell her something. Did he know where Bitsy was or did he just need to go to the bathroom? She straightened slowly and used her hands to steady herself against the wall. Another sharp pain assaulted her before she made it to the door and fumbled the lock open. Oh, God. Were these just labor pains or had something terrible happened?

  Sherlock looked at her. Barked again. She got the front door open and Sherlock bounded out. For a moment she was afraid he was going to bolt and leave her completely alone. But he turned and barked directly at her, raced in a circle as if expecting her to follow, then came back and nudged the beach wheelchair, which sat in front of the cottage.

  Sherlock looked at her and woofed.

  “Right, and if I get into it, are you going to push me to the hospital?” Another pain sliced through her and she clung to the porch support. When she was able to straighten, she got hold of the back of the chair and used it to steady herself as she stepped down onto the walkway. Carefully she lowered herself down into the seat. Out of breath and frightened, she looked down at her phone. The battery glared an accusing red. It registered 4%. She hit speed dial for Bitsy’s phone and heard it ring in the distance. Shit. “What’s she doing in her cottage?”

  Sherlock woofed at her, turned, and took a few steps toward Bitsy’s cottage, then came back and woofed again.

  She punched and prodded and swiped at the screen, realizing her mistake. Faced with so little battery, she should have punched in 911. Sherlock cocked his head at her and whimpered.

  “I know, I know,” she said as the tears gathered, blurring his face. “I’m an idiot. I deserve to go into hard labor all alone and in the dark!”

  Sherlock shook his head and barked as if giving her directions. The wheelchair’s tires were designed for sand and built to be pushed, not propelled by hand. She lifted the footrests so that she could use her feet. Another pain rippled through her. Bitsy’s cottage looked impossibly far.

  Sherlock cocked his head and whimpered.

  “Okay, Sherlock.” Unable to bend over, Nikki used her feet to lift the footrests so that she could try to walk the wheelchair. “You go wake Bit
sy. I’ll be right behind you.”

  When he didn’t move, she lifted her arm and pointed. “Go get Bitsy! Now!”

  Her bare feet on the ground, she started trying to walk the chair, which was far more difficult than she’d imagined. Sherlock barked and circled once around her. Another pain rippled through her and she knew if she’d still been standing, she would be on the ground.

  “You go ahead, Sherlock!” she begged when she was able to catch her breath. “Please! Wake Bitsy!”

  Sherlock took off. Mercifully, he headed in the right direction. As she lifted her phone for a last attempt, she prayed fervently that he’d seen Rin Tin Tin or Lassie in action. And that he understood that she was depending on him to save the day.

  She managed to hit speed dial for Maddie’s phone, held her breath while it rang. Maddie’s sleepy, wonderful voice said, “Hello?”

  Relief coursed through her along with another rolling pain. She gasped for breath and had just begun to answer when the battery died completely. The screen went black.

  Twenty-eight

  “Where is he?”

  Avery bolted out of sleep at the sound of Chase’s voice. “What? Who?”

  “Where’s Jason? You said he was here last night and that you were bringing him to Tampa this morning. It’s ten A.M., and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t deserve to sleep in.” His tone indicated that she didn’t, either. She blinked rapidly but her eyelids clearly weren’t connected to her brain, because she couldn’t seem to get it started. “I . . . he . . . ten A.M.?”

  She leapt out of bed, which was when she noticed that she was still wearing her clothes and that those clothes were a shambles. A hand went to her hair and she felt just how many directions it stuck out in. Her tongue ran over her teeth and she stopped taking stock.

  “Be right back!” She sprinted to the guest bath to relieve herself then splashed water on her face and finger-brushed her teeth. Her face in the mirror was sunburnt from yesterday’s showdown. The dark circles under her eyes were from exhaustion and from . . . Jason’s raucous arrival at three A.M. She caught her breath and raced down the hallway to throw open the French door with Chase on her heels.

  The pool deck was empty.

  “I . . . when I went back to sleep, he was already asleep on the chaise. I . . .”

  Still trying to gather her thoughts, she crossed to the pool house and pushed open the door. It was empty. There was no sign that Jason had ever been inside. She walked back to the chaise and retrieved the afghan she’d thrown over him, trying to order her thoughts.

  “Where is he?” He asked this quietly but there was nothing calm about the stiffness of his body or the look in his eyes. “You told me he was here and that you were bringing him home. I assumed that meant you had an eye on him and that you intended to do what you promised.”

  “I didn’t realize . . . He fell asleep out here and I . . .” She raised the afghan. “I put this over him and went back to bed. I guess I was more tired than I realized and . . . I’m sorry.”

  She went back into the house, trying to think. Chase followed.

  “Sorry,” she said again. “It’s taking me longer than usual to get my brain in gear. I need . . .” This was when she realized there was no warm or wondrous coffee smell wafting from the kitchen. No scent or sign of Maddie, who’d earned the title “patron saint of mornings” for good reason. Bella Flora was empty. She nonetheless ran up the stairs to be sure. Bedroom and bathroom doors were open, the rooms were vacant.

  Back in the salon Chase picked up a note from the bedside table and handed it to her. At the hospital. Nikki in labor. Kyra and Dustin feeding and walking Sherlock. Maddie. There was no mention of Jason.

  “Nikki’s in labor,” she said dully. “And Jason . . .”

  “Is clearly not here! This is serious, Avery. My son ran off to do who knows what and you tucked him in for the night. I’m curious. Did you send him off with a picnic basket?”

  She saw the panic in his eyes and chose her words carefully. “I know you’re upset, but that’s not fair. I assumed he’d wait here or wake me up or . . . something.”

  “Spoken like a woman who’s never had a child and who still seems to identify more with him than with the adults in this equation.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You can’t be seriously attacking me over this? I let you know he was safe and I would have brought him back.”

  “If he’d actually been here when you got around to waking up.” It wasn’t a question, but it was definitely a taunt. “And just so you don’t think I’m overreacting here, I went through his room last night trying to figure out where he might have gone and I found a few interesting things.” He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. “This is a letter notifying me that Jason was suspended for skipping the detention he got for skipping school.” He pinned her with an icy blue gaze. “And I had a call from the marina to let me know that there was a balance due for gas that Jason charged the day he took the Hard Case out. Which coincidentally happened to be the day he skipped school.”

  Avery resisted the urge to step back.

  “When I called the marina this morning, Chuck told me he’d seen Jason talking with a small, curvy blond woman when he and the ‘hot girl’ he’d taken out in the boat returned. Sound familiar?”

  “Chase, I—”

  “Then I found the condoms—well, that wasn’t a complete shock and I guess I should be grateful he’s using them. They were next to his stash of pot and these.” He held up several photographs of the girl Jason had taken out on the boat. Minus the bikini and cover-up. “You met her, right?”

  Avery swallowed and forced herself to look him in the eye. She could not believe how badly she’d screwed this up.

  “She’s underage, Avery. Which means he could actually end up labeled a sex offender or have some other tag applied to his name. And based on the gas bill, this wasn’t the only time he took the boat without permission.”

  “I’m sorry, Chase. I told him he had to tell you what he’d done and that if he didn’t, I would.”

  “But he didn’t.” His stare was merciless. “And neither did you. You knew these things were going on and you didn’t tell me. I’m his father. And I am responsible for him and his well-being. Period.”

  She felt herself shrink under his withering stare.

  “I’ve asked you to stay out of this, but you keep inserting yourself. Which wouldn’t be quite so bad if you were clear about whose side you’re on.”

  “Why do there have to be sides, Chase? I’m not against you. I care about all of you and I’m just trying to help. I think . . .”

  “What do you think, Avery?” His tone was deadly serious.

  “I think if you weren’t all over him like you are, he might not need to rebel the way he does.” She said this in a rush, hating how he loomed over her.

  “And you picked this knowledge up, where? Oprah? Dr. Phil? It’s my job to protect him even if I’m protecting him from himself.”

  “I hear you. But when you go on the attack like this, all the other person wants to do is run away.” Lord knew, she did.

  “Like my son. Who you were supposed to be watching and then bringing back to me.”

  “I told you I’m sorry, and I am,” Avery said. “I didn’t know I was supposed to keep him under house arrest.” Though perhaps she might have if she’d had her wits about her. Guilt and worry and anger formed a knot in her stomach.

  “We’re done here,” he said stiffly. “Because I need to go find my child.”

  He didn’t ask her to come with him. She nodded a sad, miserable nod. Her gut told her that Chase was going about this all wrong, but he was right about the fact that she had never been a parent. Which meant it might be her gut that had it wrong and she had no right to argue. Silent, she watched him leave without a backward glance.

  •
• •

  The ride to the hospital passed in a blur of pain and a kaleidoscope of color that kept time to the wail of the siren. Things had slowed down considerably once the ambulance delivered Nikki to Bayfront Medical Center and even more so after Dr. Payne arrived and finally made sure Nikki got the epidural she’d begged the EMTs for during the ride and then again as they’d wheeled her inside. It was only as the pain faded that Nikki remembered that she owed Sherlock some very juicy bones for waking up Bitsy, who summoned the cavalry. It also allowed her to understand that the epidural would not only make her comfortable, but allow a C-section to take place quickly should it become necessary.

  Maddie’s arrival had been almost as comforting as the numbing medication and she’d floated peacefully for a time. Nikki was sucking on ice chips Bitsy had commandeered for her and telling herself this wasn’t so bad after all now that the pain had disappeared, when one of the monitors she was attached to began to beep. A nurse hurried in and pushed some buttons. Dr. Payne arrived shortly after. Nikki’s sense of well-being evaporated just as the pain had earlier.

  “What’s wrong? What’s going on?” She clamped down hard on Maddie’s hand.

  “Baby B is in some distress,” Dr. Payne said calmly. “We’re going to go ahead and do a C-section to get them out quickly.”

  “Distress? What kind of distress?” Nikki stopped crunching ice. She stared into the doctor’s eyes, trying to gauge the degree of urgency, but Dr. Payne’s expression seemed as unruffled as her voice.

  “There’s no need to panic. We’re all set up. It’s time to get them out of there.” She turned her back to Nikki. “Let’s get her to the OR. I’m going to go suit up now.”