Shame the Devil (Portland Devils Book 3)

by Rosalind James

  “Exactly … why?” he asked slowly.

  “The usual reason. Because I’m pregnant, and I slept with two guys in the same week.” It didn’t sound any better than she’d imagined it would.

  He said, “You went back to that boyfriend?” Which was not the question she’d figured would come next.

  “What? No. Of course not.”

  “Oh.” Something in his face changed. “Somebody else.”

  “Seriously? I went back to Wild Horse with my stitches and my crutches and hooked up with some guy I met in a bar, because I was convinced said random guy would also provide me with mind-blowing orgasms, as had happened in my previous life precisely never? No. At least—no. I broke up with my boyfriend two days before I met you, though, remember? And even though our date matches with what the sonogram showed, I need to be sure. You need to be sure, before I ask you for anything.”

  “Wow.” He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “You know what? Let’s get something to drink. I need a second here.”

  He was only breathing because it was an autonomic function that didn’t require conscious effort. He thought, Drink, headed to the kitchen, grabbed a plastic bottle out of the fridge, and asked, “Do you want one?”

  “Chocolate milk?” she asked, with a funny look on her face.

  “Yeah. Recovery drink. Probably good for … for pregnancy, too. It’s organic.”

  Pregnancy.

  “Or tea,” he said. “Not sure I have tea, though.” He rooted through the fridge. “Kombucha. I’ve got that. That’s close, right?”

  “I’ve never known what that is,” she said.

  “Fermented green tea. Sort of a yeasty thing. You telling me Dyma isn’t lecturing you on the benefits of kombucha yet? Wait until she goes to college. It’s pretty disgusting, but some people like it. I’ve got a buddy who drinks it. That’s why it’s here.”

  “Harlan,” she said, “I’m pregnant. Do not say ‘yeasty fermented green tea’ to me. It’s not going to end well. I’ll take the chocolate milk, please.”

  He handed her a bottle. This still felt surreal, like it was happening to somebody else, but she was still Jennifer. That part felt the same.

  “Come on,” he said. “We’ll sit by the fire.”

  Another walk across the stone floor, past the twelve-person, iron-and-glass-and-leather dining set, sitting like an island in an endless sea of limestone, and she said, “This is a different house. I said I wouldn’t comment, and here I am, commenting.”

  “Yep.” He pressed a button on the remote, turned on the gas fire, and sat on the enormous semicircular pale-brown leather couch, or whatever you called it, because it didn’t really have enough cushions to be called a couch. Another item of furniture that could probably seat twelve. “This part is sort of the living room, I guess. A friend’s wife told me this place has all the homey appeal of a modern-art museum. I don’t think it was a compliment.”

  She sat down beside him, but not too close, and twisted the top off her chocolate milk. “On the other hand, it probably has a great echo, if you want to practice your yodeling.”

  He grinned, and she smiled. “I rent it,” he said. “I’ve never owned a house, actually.”

  “You mentioned that. When you were explaining how you’re not a sticking-around guy.”

  “Oh, yeah. I did.”

  Silence for a minute, and he said, “So …”

  “So,” she said, “it’s pretty simple. We go to a clinic. There’s one that’s open on Saturday, because I checked. I also made an appointment, which is in about an hour and a half from now. They take my blood. They swab your cheek. We wait a week or two, and you find out if you’re on the hook.”

  “I didn’t mean that. I meant …” He waved his bottle of chocolate milk. “The whole thing. How. All that.”

  “Ah,” she said. “Well … because the condom broke. And I forgot to take my pill for two days. I took extra the next day, but I guess … And I’m not apologizing. I’ve spent the whole way down here telling myself I’m not apologizing. I didn’t mean to do it. You didn’t mean to do it. It happened anyway.”

  He said, “I guess this is where I get mad, but it was my condom. And I put it on in too big a hurry.”

  He was floating somewhere above this, observing himself down here interacting. That was bad. He took a breath and brought himself down. You couldn’t handle the moment if you weren’t in the moment.

  There’d be an answer. He was the father, or he wasn’t. It felt like he was, though. And after that …

  There went his mind, blanking again.

  It wasn’t like paternity suits were anything new in the NFL. He’d just never imagined it happening to him.

  He said, “So I guess you’re having the baby.” Which was, yes, where he needed to go. In the moment. His heart had sunk all the way down to his stomach, like he was hollowed out, but that was where they were.

  A long pause, and she looked down at her chocolate milk and said, “At first, I thought, no way. Not again. I did a lot of … thinking.”

  “Single mom,” he said. “Again.”

  She looked straight at him. No hesitation in her now. “It’s hard,” she said. “Even with my mom and my grandpa, it was hard, and my grandpa’s old and my mom’s not here anymore. And Dyma going to college, and the job with Blake ending.”

  “Owen said you were working for some company,” he said. “Salad dressing.”

  “Filling in for somebody on maternity leave, because Dyma’s in high school until June, so I’ve got this … awkward gap. After that, I think I’m going to have to ask Blake for something here. In his company. In Portland. I realize that’s too close for you, but I think I’m going to have to do it anyway. I’d love to believe I could stick it out in Wild Horse, but the money doesn’t work. Also …”

  “You don’t want to,” he said.

  “No. I don’t. I always thought, you know …” A long, long pause.

  “Yeah?”

  She took another drink of chocolate milk and didn’t look at him. “That I’d be married this time. That it’d be different. You don’t want to know all this, though. I’d say I’m not a hundred percent sure I’m keeping it, but I obviously am, or I’d have had the abortion already. It’s getting late for that now, and it definitely feels too late. I’m not fifteen anymore. I know there’s no magic that makes things not true. I didn’t know I was pregnant for a while, because I had spotting, and the pill makes your periods lighter anyway. I was tired, but I thought maybe I was just depressed about my life. Something you also didn’t need to know, but there you go, I just told you anyway. I found out for sure a few weeks ago. And I … I’m about to turn thirty-five. Whatever I thought would happen in my life, this is what actually did. I don’t want to do this alone again, the timing’s horrible, my life is all wrong for it, but this is probably my last chance. And I keep thinking …” Another deep breath. “Dyma. How that was the worst thing that ever happened to me, but then it was Dyma. It was too hard, and I did so many things wrong, but there she is, and she’s great.”

  He tried to think of something to say, something to feel besides the ceiling falling on his head, and couldn’t.

  She said, “I’m not trying to trap you. Whatever you think.”

  “I get that,” he said. “Hence the DNA test. If it’s mine …” He waited a minute, felt the pressure building in his chest, and didn’t sense any brilliant words coming to him. “I’ll do my best to do the right thing,” he finally said. It came out a little robotically. Not exactly sincere.

  His phone buzzed again in his pocket. He said, “Sorry. Hang on,” and pulled it out.

  Annabelle.

  Four missed calls.

  He told Jennifer, “I need to take this. It’s my sister. Hang on. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll … we’ll figure something out. I’ve got this.”

  “No,” she said. “This time, I’ve got this. But I think I’m going to need your help. Financially. If
it’s yours.”

  He heard her, thought, Financially would be the easy part, but he couldn’t think about it any more right now. He needed a timeout, which was why he was walking toward the kitchen again and hitting the redial button.

  Annabelle picked up on the first ring. “Harlan?” Her voice sounded breathless.

  He had prickles on his arms, a lightness in his head. “What?”

  “Harlan.” She was crying, all of a sudden. Great gasping breaths.

  “Annabelle,” he said. “Tell me.”

  This time, he was calling the cops. He didn’t care if they didn’t want to do anything. He’d make them do something.

  “The police came,” she said. “A … a while ago. I’ve been trying and trying to call you. They took Dad. They read him his rights and everything.”

  Not bad news, then. “For what?” he asked. Drunk driving, he was guessing. Maybe something else, some kind of cheating with the business, or on his taxes. Good. Step One to getting Annabelle out of there. The situation had kept bugging him, these past year. It was the same, and it wasn’t. He could tell it wasn’t. It was worse.

  “They found a body,” she said. “In a car.”

  Drunk driving for sure. He’d killed someone, though?

  Too many emotions in his brain. Annabelle’s. Jennifer’s. His. He had to get control of this.

  He focused like it was the fourth quarter, with the championship on the line. Figure out what you have to do, and do it. “OK. What did they say, exactly?”

  “They … the social worker … she’s still here. Because I’m a minor. She said murder. Harlan …” Some more unsteady breaths. Who had their dad hit? Who had he killed?

  Oh, God. Let it not be a kid.

  “The car …” Annabelle finally said. “It was where they’re building the new shopping center. On the Deane Road land. Dad was so mad when Mr. Boyd sold it a couple years ago, remember? He’s been mad about it ever since. Because Mr. Boyd got a lot for it, and Dad thought he should have held onto it after all. He said he got cheated, but how could Mr. Boyd have known the developer would want it? It was just regular land.”

  “OK,” he said. “What else?” The cold was enveloping him now. He always paced when he talked on the phone, but now, he couldn’t move.

  “They hit it with the excavator,” Annabelle said. “The car. When they started digging out the site. And then they called the cops. It was a … it was a Taurus. And there was somebody in the front seat.”

  He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.

  “Harlan,” she said. “It was Mom.”

  31

  What Matters Most

  Something was very wrong.

  She could see it in his posture. She could hear it in his voice. She could practically feel it in the air.

  Sometime in there, she’d come to stand beside him. He glanced at her, then focused on the phone again and said, “OK. I’ll be there just as soon as I can. Have you called Alison?” A pause, and he said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll call her. Vanessa, too. Look. Who’s that friend you’ve got? Kyla, right? Call her. Ask if she and her mom and can come over until I get there. If she’s not there, call your softball coach, and if she’s not there, call your volleyball coach. Somebody’ll be there, and they’ll come. And let me talk to that social worker. But—Bug. Hang on. I’m on my way. I’ve got this.”

  When he hung up the phone at last, he looked shattered.

  That was the only word. Like he was in a million pieces. He’d sounded steady and sure on the phone, but he didn’t look that way now.

  She had her hand on his arm. “Harlan. What happened?”

  He stared at her, but she couldn’t tell if he even saw her. “My dad’s been arrested for killing my mom.”

  She had a hand at her mouth. “Oh, no. How? I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah. I have to go. I have to book a jet. I have to …” He had a hand in his hair, and it was shaking.

  She said, “You need to get something warmer to wear.” The rest of him was shaking, too. “A flannel shirt or something. And socks. I’m going to make coffee and sandwiches.”

  “You can’t drink coffee. You’re pregnant. And I can’t. I need to arrange for a jet. Right now.”

  “No, you don’t. I’m going to do it. Tell me which company you’re with, and then go get that warm shirt.” When he just stared at her, she gave him a little push. “Go. I’m doing it.”

  That was why, fifteen minutes later, she was hanging up her phone, which she’d put on speaker while she worked. She put roast-beef sandwiches on two plates and told Harlan, who was sitting at the counter, “That’s the jet arranged. Wheels up in an hour and a half, and flight time two and a half hours. I’ll call and cancel that clinic appointment. We’ll do it another time.”

  “No,” he said. He was eating his sandwich like he was starved. She got the fixings out again and started making him another one. “We should go on and do it. Get the answer.”

  “Harlan …”

  “No. It’s swabbing my cheek and doing a blood draw on you, right? It’ll take five minutes. You said the appointment was in an hour and a half. What’s that now? Forty-five minutes?”

  “Well, yeah. I’m not sure how you’ve kept track of the time with that much on your mind, but yes. About that.”

  “So we do it on the way.” He stopped eating, raised his head, and looked at her like she’d just come into focus. “Hey. Would you come with me?”

  “Uh … what?”

  “There’s going to be a lot. My sisters. The police. The social worker asked me if I was there when my mom disappeared. I wasn’t, but my sisters were, and I’m pretty sure the cops will have questions. And there’ll be …” His hand was shaking again. Even as she noticed it, he tightened it around his coffee mug like he was trying to make the shaking stop. “Details. I’m going to have to stay somewhere. My sisters will have to stay, too. And Bug.”

  “Annabelle.”

  “Yeah. She can’t be at the house. I need to move her out. And bring her back here, whatever I have to do to make them let me.”

  “I agree,” she said. “And I can’t imagine that they won’t let her brother take her, if her father’s been arrested for murder.”

  “I can do this,” he said. “But I need help. I know it’s too much to ask. You’ve got Dyma. Your grandfather. Your job. But I need help.”

  Still an hour out from Bismarck, and the thoughts kept circling. He was trying to focus. Next thing. What’s the next thing?

  Calling his sisters. Vanessa, first. He got through the explanation, which sounded just as bad for the repeating, said “I don’t know,” a bunch of times, and gave her the address of the place Jennifer had booked.

  Vanessa said, “I’m supposed to be flying to London tomorrow,” and sighed. “I just can’t wrap my head around this, you know?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I know. I’m supposed to be in L.A. on Monday myself. I don’t think either of us is going to make it. Maybe it’ll be easier if we do it together, though. I have a feeling it’s going to be pretty bad. A lot of … issues.”

  “I’ll let you know when I can get a flight,” she said. “It’ll be tomorrow.”

  “Let me know,” he said, “and I’ll pick it up. Or if you want me to charter something.”

  She laughed, the sound so unexpected, he jumped. “Harlan. I’m a flight attendant. The flight’s the least of my problems. And I’m not exactly …” An exhalation of breath. “Burning to get out there, you know?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his throat trying to close, the dread trying to take him over, to suck him down. “I do.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Thanks for rushing out there, buddy.”

  Buddy. How long had it been since anybody had called him that?

  His mom had called him that.

  Alison next. More, “Oh, my God,” on her part; more, “I don’t know,” on his. Finally, she said, “Uh … we’ll drive down this afternoon, I gue
ss. Steve’s at the hardware store, and Colleen’s at a birthday party. Oh, my God. Mom. I can’t …”

  “Yeah,” he said. He couldn’t either. “I’ll reserve a room for you, then.”

  “It’d be good if it has a pool, so Steve can keep the kids occupied. And make sure there’s a restaurant, will you? I can’t believe it. I can’t.”

  “It does have a pool. Holiday Inn. I’ll pick up the tab.”

  “I hope so,” she said. “Or we couldn’t come.”

  He wanted to say, Really? What would you have done, then? Stayed home? But he didn’t.

  Jennifer had said, before she’d started doing the booking, when she was setting out a little notebook, a pen, and her phone on the fold-down table like a workman arranging his tools, “You need a house, I think, not a hotel. So you can talk and relax a little, and you don’t have to eat meals out. So Annabelle has a space where she feels safe.”

  “Oh,” he’d said, and tried to focus. “It’d have to be a pretty big house.”

  She’d hesitated, and he’d said, “Go on and say it. Whatever it is.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you’re all that close with your other sisters. Just from what I’ve picked up. What do you think about getting them hotel rooms? Otherwise, you’re going to be in a sort of family reunion situation at the most stressful possible time. With kids, too, maybe. I think you and Annabelle will need more quiet than that, and probably your sisters as well. You can have them over for meals if you want. The house could still be a gathering place. Just not so … enforced.”

  “You’re right. That sounds good. Do that. Though I don’t know about meals.”

  “Well, that’s what I’m here for, right?” she’d said cheerfully. “To handle the day-to-day stuff that gets hard to cope with when you’re overwhelmed. I’m not a gourmet cook, but I’m an expert at putting family dinner on the table. I’ve been doing it for almost twenty years now.” And he’d thought again how lucky he was that she was here.

  He also wondered how it was that finding out your one-night stand was pregnant, not to mention getting DNA-tested to see if you were the father, could feel like the most normal part of your day. Jennifer had been absolutely matter-of-fact about it when they’d gone into the clinic. To which she’d driven, because, she’d said, “I have to return this car to the airport anyway.” She hadn’t said, “And you’re not fit to drive,” even though it was probably true. He kept thinking he was normal, and then realizing he’d blanked out.