A Lover's Secret (15 page)

“I don’t have a car.” She was trying to be difficult, but
even as she spoke, desire swelled in her.
Who cared if he had a secret? Who
cared if she had to wait two days for him to do whatever it was he needed to
do?

“Alright,” he went on, “then just get your things, spend a
little time with your family, and then fly to me in a couple days. We’ll pick
up right where we left off.”

She pressed herself against him and dipped her head. “If I
didn’t know better, I would say it sounds like you are trying to get rid of me
for a little while.”

“Good thing you know better,” he said, and he spun her
around and buried his hands in her hair, pulling her mouth toward his.

She let him lead her back to the bed then. The sheets still
warm and wrinkled with sleep, and he made love to her in a new, gentle and
tender way. Skimming his hand along her skin, whispering to her, nibbling
gently on her earlobe and not entering her until her entire body arched
upwards, aching with longing.

Afterward, he lay trembling against her, and, some time
later, he placed a call to Margot, quietly instructing her to book Jess a
flight to Denver, and he one to Los Angeles. His left eyelid twitched wildly,
just the very corner of it, and Jess watched it for a time. The violence of
this tiny part of his face, acting on its own, uncontrolled.

She lay there and wondered several things: How she would
possibly get through the next few days without him, for the world would feel
flat and choking in his absence. And she wondered what she would do if, at the
end of those two days, he no longer wanted her, if his secret truly had the
power to ruin everything.

He sat up, and he paused before wriggling into his clothes
once more. He raked his hands through his hair and she was overcome with a love
so profound for him, she knew that nothing, ever, would take him away from her.
She would give him his two days. She would give him what he needed simply
because he needed it, and, when the time was right, he would tell her what he
needed to tell her. Meanwhile, she would return to her old life. She would try
to bring this life, this feeling of confidence and freedom and power, into her
old one. She would go home, and she would get her things, and she would spend
time with Grandma, and she would say a few proper goodbyes.

And, if there was time, she might even do a bit of
investigative work, if it felt right to do so. Maybe she would make some calls,
do some reading, finish Jake’s book. Maybe she would be able to piece together,
for herself, what Jake was so afraid of. The secret he feared would ruin him.
Them. Everything.

Her entire body went cold, then, for reasons she couldn’t
explain, and she shivered, as she watched him move toward his suitcase, as she
watched him fumble with its zipper, as she watched him slip on his shoes.

Jess

Jess was pleased to see a different driver waiting for her
at the airport. He had the same tall black cap. The same way of standing, with
his arms behind his back. The same quiet way of recognizing her, of putting his
hand on the small of her back and ushering her toward the waiting car, of
waiting for her to speak before he initiated polite conversation. But this was
not the man who had picked her up for a midnight rendezvous. It was not the man
who had watched her grandmother standing in the front yard trampling frail
shoots of grass and shouting warnings.

No, this man had a kind voice and a soft way of being. He
drove slowly, as though he knew Jess was unsure she ever wanted to reach her
destination, but, when they finally arrived, he helped her from the car, then
nodded his head once and wished her luck before sliding back into the driver’s
seat and pulling away from the curb, leaving Jess to make her way up the
concrete path of her mother and father’s home.

Jess thought then, that it was true: this notion that one
could never truly come home again. She observed the painted siding, made drab
by the sun, and she felt a certain distance from the events that had gone on in
there. The events of her own childhood. It was a gentle sense of melancholy, a
tugging, a fading and shrinking of that which had once been meaningful and
beautiful. The mailbox at the end of the driveway, painted to look like a bird.
A tightly rolled green hose. Carefully pruned rosebushes and hedges. All looked
shabby, suddenly, awash with low light. The sight of them made her thirsty
somehow.

Jake’s goodbye at the airport had been rushed. They’d made
love once more before leaving the cottage, and so they were late to meet their
car, and when the driver tried to make up for lost time, he was pulled over for
speeding. From the moment they left the resort, their idyllic, quiet life
together had fractured, and real life had come rushing in through the cracks,
despite her efforts to plug the holes, to stem its tide.

Jake’s flight was already boarding by the time they arrived
at the airport and so there wasn’t time for anything but a peck of the lips
before a ticket agent brushed a manicured hand along Jake’s back and ushered
him down the corridor to his waiting plane.

Jake was gone, just like that, and her own plane was
delayed, so she found herself wandering, alone, throughout the airport,
reflecting on the past two days and catching fragments of her expression in
snips of glass and polished chrome. Sometimes her face shone with bliss; other
times, it showed only bewilderment.

On the plane, she’d closed her eyes, and she had simply
thought. She remembered and wondered and reminisced and analyzed. And now, as
she entered her home, she did so as softly as she could, wanting to witness the
world inside these walls before becoming a part of it. The quiet had a scraping
quality as she walked in the door. It nearly crackled, like static electricity,
and the air smelled of last night’s dishes. Stuck-on noodles, soaking in a pan.
The tired edge of stale garlic, maybe some kind of marinara sauce, which she
knew would be splattered across the stovetop. Then she saw Grandma, hunched at
the dining room table, alone, where the light was low, working a jigsaw puzzle.

Grandma lifted her head then and her face broke into a
smile. She clapped her hands over her heart. “Jessica!” She struggled to rise
up, then sat again. “Thank goodness you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Grandma, I’m fine.”

“Oh, Jess. We were so worried. The way you left, I just feel
terrible about it. Monica, she got me all riled up, all excited, and I just, I
just haven’t been able to get it out of my mind since you left.” Grandma turned
in her chair and pushed against the table until she was standing. Her arms felt
cold as they squeezed at Jess. “I’m just so happy to see you.”

Jess’s arms remained pinned against her body in the
tightness of Grandma’s embrace. Had she really run out on this poor woman? Had
she really put Jake ahead of everything else? Of her family? What had made her
do it? What had given her the courage? She didn’t know, but she was so glad,
finally, that she had. This weekend had changed her. It had made her into
someone new; someone just like the old Jess but better, more loving, more
understanding of her own power. She thought briefly about all that had happened
to her, the grotto, the river, the horseback ride. The hard stone, the Apache
tear, now buried deep in her pocket. It pushed against her thigh as Grandma
administered a final squeeze.

“I was so upset about it… about the way you left,” Grandma
repeated, pulling back and looking at Jess full in the face, “So upset that I
very nearly lost it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s nothing to worry about now, Jessica, but I got
very short of breath and just… well, just not well at all. Your mother took me
to the emergency room last night, in fact, and they gave me some pills for my
heart, which I guess are supposed to help. But you’re here now and so maybe I
won’t even need to take them at all.”

“I’m so sorry, Grandma,” Jess said, trying to meet her eyes,
but Grandma was sitting again and was focused once more on her puzzle. She
grazed her hands through the pieces, and Jess took a seat next to her. “What
kind of heart pills were you prescribed? Do you remember the name?”

“No, dear, but like I said, I don’t think I need them
anymore. You’re here. You’re back.”

Jess patted at her grandmother’s arm, then she gave it a
squeeze. “Grandma, if your doctor prescribed medication, you need to keep
taking it until the doctor tells you to stop.”

Grandma’s nose wrinkled, which pushed up her glasses. She
didn’t look up, but she said, “It wasn’t
my
doctor. It was an Emergency
Room doctor.”

“Still, Grandma. Any doctor.”

“He was very handsome And young, like you.”

 “Where’s your prescription, Grandma? Where are the pills?
Can I take a look?”

“Did I mention that he was very handsome?”

“You did.” Jess said. “Are the pills in your handbag, or on
the counter?”

Grandma snapped two puzzle pieces together. “When you start
working as a physician; that is, if you start working at our hospital here,
which we all hope you do, maybe you two could get to know one another. Or maybe
you could just have dinner with him some night and ask him for some help in
getting your motivation back. Your motivation to finish things up.” She
surveyed the table once again, before plucking a new puzzle piece and rubbing
her fingers along its side. “I told him all about you. He sounded very
interested. Really very interested. And he’s quite handsome.”

Jess stood and searched for the amber pill bottle.
Ordinarily, Grandma kept all of her medications by the phone in the kitchen,
but there wasn’t anything there. No vitamins, nothing. She returned to the
dining room, her hands resting on her hips. It was a familiar role. One that
Jess remembered liking and one that she liked again, just now. The feeling of
control, of knowing what she needed to do next, of doing something that was so
meaningful in a real, black and white, cut and dry way. She was helping
Grandma.

“Don’t you want me to tell you what he looked like?” Grandma
was saying. “Aren’t you the slightest bit curious?”

“No Grandma, I want to know what pills you are taking.”

“Oh, well, they are in my crochet bag, over there, on the
sideboard.” She waved her hand without looking up. “He’s not married, Jessica.
He told me so. I told him that you were nearly finished with medical school,
and
I told him how beautiful you are, inside and out.”

The amber bottle was turned upside down, in the bottom of
her bag. The pills inside were huge. She imagined her grandmother standing at
the sink, gagging and choking and trying to get them down. “Are you able to
swallow these okay?” Jess asked.

“They’re fine, Jessica. There’s no problem.”

Another container rattled in the bottom of the bag. She
fished it out. “What’s this? This St. John’s Wort? Are you taking this, too,
now?”

“Yes, a doctor on the television said it was really good for
a great many things.”

“Well, did you tell the doctor or the pharmacist that you
were taking this, too?”

“I’m sure that I did. Are you even listening, Jessica? About
the doctor?”

“Grandma, do these new pills make you dizzy? Because they
make many patients dizzy. It’s a pretty high dosage.”

“The doctor’s name and phone number are printed right on the
pill bottle. I thought that was a good sign. Really, I think he’s interested in
you. And he’s really very handsome.”

“Grandma, every pharmacy prints the prescribing doctor’s
name and phone number on the prescription bottle. It’s not any kind of sign at all.”

“Well, the man’s a good egg. Believe you me. I can just
tell. And you should give him a call.”

“Grandma,” Jess tried again. “Does this medication make you
dizzy?”

“Only if I get up too fast or if I move my head in a certain
way, but I’m careful. And since you’re home, maybe I’ll call the doctor. The
one on the pill bottle. His name is Dr. Evan Everhart. Isn’t that a wonderful
name for a doctor? Like he should be a character in one of my stories. He looks
like someone from my stories, too. ‘Days of Our Lives,’ or maybe ‘The Young and
the Restless.’” She sighed. “They all run together in my head these days.
Either way, maybe I’ll call him up and maybe I’ll tell him you’re home now
because maybe now I don’t need to take these new pills after all. Since you’re
home.”

“Well, since you brought it up, I am going to be leaving
again, Grandma.”

“Oh!” Grandma clapped her hands together and looked her full
in the face, her eyes bright. “You’ve decided to go back to school! I knew you
would.”

“No, well, not yet.”

Grandma’s face fell, and she looked down at the table.

“I was planning to go to California, actually, for a little
while.”

“Well.” She chose another puzzle piece and held it to the
light. “That’s just nonsense. What would you do there?”

“That man I spent the weekend with. We’re really fond of one
another, Grandma, and he’s asked me to go and be with him. To go and live
closer to him.”

Grandma snorted and wrinkled her nose, which repositioned
her bifocals. She chose a straight-edge piece and examined it.

“I really think you’d like him if you got to know him,” Jess
said. “He’s amazingly thoughtful, and…” she paused and took a deep breath. “And
he loves me. He really does, Grandma.”

Grandma’s mouth pressed into a tight line and she continued
talking as though she hadn’t heard anything Jess said. “Well, if you’re going
to be leaving me again, I guess we’d better call that doctor right now. Let’s
see if we can set up an appointment to see him right away.”

“If he just prescribed your meds, let’s wait and see what
kind of effect they have on your heart. I’ll be here for at least the next
couple of days to watch over you. Then we’ll see what we need to do from
there.”

Her hand drifted to Grandma’s shoulder and Grandma patted at
it with her soft, smooth hands. Grandma’s skin was crepe paper thin and smooth
and cold. Her cuticles were white and crescent-shaped, and her veins seemed to
surge against her skin like fragile cords.

Jess felt a sudden empty space all around her. She breathed
deeply and dipped her chin and grounded herself by silently listing everything
she knew about this new medication. As she did, and as her mind clicked into
action, she felt taller and more precise. She felt a sense of belonging and
understanding. A sense that everything would be okay. And then the image of
Elizabeth flashed into her mind. Tall, articulate, resolute. Maybe Elizabeth
was a doctor or an attorney, or a detective. Someone who could separate herself
from emotion. Maybe Elizabeth had been hired to look after Jake. Or, Jess
scoffed, maybe Elizabeth truly was his lover, whenever no other lovers were
around.

But he’d said he loved her, and her alone, and yet none of
it seemed real, suddenly, and Jess feared that the longer she was away from
him, the more she’d lose the sense that any of this had happened at all. She
intentionally recalled the tilt of Jake’s head then, the way he’d pressed the
obsidian stone into her hand. The way he’d urged her never to forget.

 “Jessica.” Grandma gave Jess’s hand a final pat. “Be a dear,
and hand me the cordless phone.”

“We don’t need to call Dr. Everhart just yet, Grandma. Let’s
wait on that. Can we agree?”

“No, I am going to call Monica. She’s been worried sick. Not
literally
worried sick, like I was—having to go to the emergency room
and all, but worried sick. I’m just going to call and tell her you’re okay.”

“Hey, why don’t you set
Monica
up with Dr. Everhart?”

 “Oh heavens no.” Grandma made a chortling noise in the back
of her throat. “He’s for you.”

Jess made her way to the kitchen, to where the white
cordless phone sat atop its base. It felt heavy in her hand. She set it in
front of Grandma, on top of the rows of edge pieces she had already fit
together.

“Maybe
you
should call her, Jessica,” Grandma said.

“I don’t want to call her.”  

“Well, you really need to talk with her and work things out.
She’s been so worried about you…going off with that Jake character.”

“Only because she wanted Jake for herself,” Jess muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing Grandma. You go ahead and call Monica if you think
you need to. I’m going to…” She wasn’t sure whether she planned to pack her
things or to unpack them. She suddenly wasn’t sure how long she’d be staying. “I’m
going to go downstairs for a bit.”

She didn’t look back to see whether Grandma was making a
call. She didn’t listen for hints of conversation. She listened only to the
sound of her own footsteps on the creaking carpeted stairs.