Banish Misfortune (23 page)

Jessica just looked at him, speechless with shock.

"I wouldn't be so sure—
The Slaughterer
has been very profitable," Elyssa murmured. "But how marvelous for you, Jessica. I'm so glad Hamilton did that. He mentioned he was going to do something, but I hadn't realized—

"Why the Vermont house?" Springer intruded.

"Because that's where Jessica and Matthew have been living during the past year. Surely you don't begrudge them the Vermont house—you haven't been back since you were in your early twenties."

"I had my reasons," Springer snapped, still staring at Jessica as if she were a slimy thing just crawled out from under a rock, she thought. "Would you leave us alone, Mother? I think Jessie and I need to talk."

Elyssa caught the small, imperceptible shake of Jessica's head. "I don't think so, darling. Jessie doesn't need to be subjected to your temper without some protection. Anything you have to say to her you can say in front of me."

He cast his mother an exasperated look before turning the full force of that black glare on the unflinching Jessica. "Are you sure it's Peter Kinsey's child?" he demanded harshly. "And not mine?"

Elyssa sucked in her breath sharply but said nothing, waiting for Jessica's reply. She took her time, opening her blue eyes wide, staring up at him in complete earnestness. "It's not your child, Springer," she said. "It's Peter's." And the wonder of it was, she had even managed to half-convince herself. Enough so that she could look at him quite fearlessly.

He stared at her for a long, searching moment. "All right," he said finally, the rage draining away from him, leaving only a cool, exhausted calm as he crossed the room and sank into a chair, as far away from Jessica as possible. "I believe you."

So easy,
she thought distantly. And so quickly did everything come tumbling down. She was so caught up in trying to assimilate those two facts that she didn't hear what he said next.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said I want you to sell me the Vermont house. You can name your price, as long as it's reasonably close to fair market value."

"I don't want to sell it. And if it's left to Matthew I don't know if I could, legally."

"You're his mother, aren't you? His parents have legal ownership in trust for him—they can do what they please." His attractive mouth curled in an unattractive sneer. "I don't fancy Peter Kinsey having half ownership of the Vermont house, even in trust for his son."

"Listen, Springer, Jessie's in no shape to argue about that, nor am I, for that matter. Your father's scarcely been dead twenty-four hours, and even if you don't give a damn, the two of us are having a difficult time adjusting." Elyssa's voice was low and very angry.

Slowly Springer turned to her, all that naked pain in his dark face terrible to look at. "I gave a damn," he said, and without another word he rose and left the room.

"Dear God in heaven," said Elyssa, stricken. "Why did I say that? How could I have thought that?"

Jessica moved then, putting a comforting arm around her slender shoulders. "He won't hold it against you, Lyss. He's hurting just as much as you are; maybe more. You'll both just have to give it time."

"I know." Elyssa sighed, leaning her silver head against Jessica. "Jessie, Matthew isn't Springer's, is he? You would tell him, wouldn't you?"

"Of course," Jessica said, meaning every word of it. "He'd have the right to know."

"But Peter's never said anything—"

"You didn't ask him, did you?" The slight edge of panic in her voice was indiscernible.

"Of course not. But we've talked about you several times, and he's mentioned how he and his wife hope to start a family right away. I'm just surprised he's never mentioned Matthew."

"It's part...part of our arrangement, Elyssa." She stumbled over the lie, part of her self-imposed fantasy shredding beneath the weight of her falsehoods. "Elyssa, I've got to go."

"Back to Vermont?" At Jessica's urgent nod she sighed. "I understand, darling. Springer hasn't been at his most charming, I'm afraid. I've been so glad to have you with me, but I realize you have to get back to Matthew. I'll miss you, though."

"You will be all right?"

"Of course. I've been dealing with this for a long time—it's nothing new or unexpected. It will take time. As soon as Springer calms down I'll let you know what's going on with the will."

"Are you certain you don't mind about the house?"

"Not a bit. I couldn't be happier. I just hope Springer can be more reasonable—you don't need any added unpleasantness. I'd forgotten how attached he was to thai old place." She shook her head. "And you've got a
Slaughterer
to finish, haven't you?"

"But-"

"Don't worry about it, darling—the public won't know whether it was completed before or after Ham's death. At some point we need to have a talk with Ham's publisher about the future. He's suggested
The Slaughterer
might continue anyway. But that would depend on you, I think. I wouldn't want Johnson to take it over." She gave a little shudder of dislike.

"We'll see. Why don't you come back with me, Elyssa? Vermont is so beautiful in July—no mud, no black flies, no snow. It would do you a world of good, and you could meet your godchild."

"Not yet, Jessica. But soon. Very soon."

"I'll hold you to it," she said firmly, ignoring her son's silky black hair and dark brown eyes that bore no resemblance at all to Peter Kinsey's blue-eyed, brown-haired charm.

"I'll be there."

Newark Airport was old
and seedy and depressing, almost as bad as the Port Authority Bus Terminal, Jessica thought as she slumped back in the curved orange plastic chair. Having the plane be an hour and ten minutes late didn't help matters, nor did the sticky seat of the chair. Some enterprising munchkin must have spilled soda all over it. She could always stand, but there were too many shifty-eyed weirdos ready to accost her. Paranoia came back instantly the moment she left Vermont, she thought ruefully, and compounded with interest each day she was away.

There'd been no sign of Springer when she'd left the town house. She hated leaving Elyssa alone in the house so soon after Ham's death, but her sanity depended on it. One more dark, accusing look from Springer and her determination would sink. One more touch and she'd be lost. She had to get as far away from him, as fast as she could. She knew that full well. So why was it so damned hard?

Things would have been so much easier if it hadn't been for last night. Springer had been distant, removed, a perfect stranger, and Jessica could easily forget the slender, steellike strands that bound them. But he had touched her, and she had emerged from the dark steamy night changed in some imperceptible but life-shaking way. And there was nothing she could do about it but sit here and wait for her plane and mourn for what should have been.

"Where's Jessie
?" Springer was standing in the hallway, dressed in a jacket that had seen better days, his overnight bag at his feet.

"You're leaving?" Elyssa's pale face crumpled in sudden vulnerability, and some of his anger faded. After all, he wasn't really angry at her, he reasoned. She couldn't help it if Ham had decreed he wasn't to be told about his condition, she couldn't help it if Jessie was a cold, lying, scheming bitch.

Moving across the hall, he put his arms around his mother's slender figure, holding her carefully, as if she might break. "I'm just flying out to get Katherine," he said gently. "I'll be back tomorrow morning at the latest. I've already called Maureen and told her to have her ready."

"Springer, are you sure?" Elyssa questioned against the warm comfort of his ancient tweed sport jacket. "There's nothing that would make me happier—it's been so long since I've seen her. But this isn't a happy time—"

"I think she should be at her grandfather's funeral," he said somberly, his tone of voice not leaving it open for discussion.

"If you really think so," she murmured. "I would dearly love to see her, you know that. Springer, you weren't angry about Matthew because Ham didn't provide for his own grandchild, were you?"

Slowly he detached himself, giving her a reassuring little squeeze. "Ham's provided very handsomely for Katherine, Mother. Everything in the will is as you expected, with the exception of Jessie's son." Why did it cause him so much trouble to say that? Why did he resent some poor, distant child with an almost white-hot hatred? He shook himself. "I left a copy of the will in your bedroom. You and Jessie can go over it tonight while I'm gone, and if you have any questions we can ask Dad's—" his voice cracked slightly "—lawyer about it."

"That's the first time you haven't called him Ham in twenty years," Elyssa said softly.

His eyes met hers, matching dark, sorrow-filled eyes, for a long, understanding moment. "So it is. You'll be all right? Jessie will keep you company."

"Jessie's gone, Springer."

"Gone? Where?"

"Back to Vermont."

"Why the hell did she do that?"

"She has a son, Springer, and a life to live. And after your behavior—"

"Screw my behavior," he said savagely. "She ran away again. I'll call Maureen and see if she can put Katherine on a plane by herself."

"Don't be ridiculous—a twelve-year-old on crutches can't manage without you. I'll be just fine. Jessie wouldn't have gone if she weren't convinced that I'd be okay."

"She probably thought I'd still be here."

"And she still thought I'd survive," Elyssa said with a wry smile. "I promise you, Springer, I'll be fine. Go and get your daughter."

He couldn't hesitate any longer—he was cutting the time close as it was. "All right. But when I get back, when everything's taken care of, I'm going after Miss Jessica Hansen and find out exactly what's going on."

Elyssa smiled. "I think that might be a very good idea."

The distant voice
finally called her plane. Slowly Jessica rose, her muscles cramping, her fingers sticking to the edges of the orange plastic seat. In less than two hours she'd be home, back with Matthew, back in the secure fastness of the house by the lake. The house that now belonged to Matthew, according to Springer's terse words. The thought of that security should have made her smile.

But nothing could make her smile right then. Her body ached with the memory of Springer's, her heart ached with the memory of his anger. She had to put him out of her mind, out of her life. He'd certainly looked as if he never wanted to see her again. If she could count on that, maybe she could get on with her life. And maybe pigs could fly.

"I wish you'd cheer up," Marianne said, irritation almost hiding her real concern. "I don't think you've laughed more than once in the past month."

"You're wrong. I laugh every time I see you ducking out of Andrew Cameron's way," Jessie shot back lazily. They were stretched out on the floor of the wraparound porch on what Jessica persisted in thinking of as the MacDowell house, Matthew was dozing in his rush basket in the shade, and the hot July sun was beating down. "You can't run forever."

"Some friend," Marianne responded without a trace of rancor. "Leave my love life alone."

"Love life?" Jessica echoed, sitting up straight and pulling the hot mane of blond hair off her neck. "I didn't know it was a love life. Things must have improved when I wasn't around. When did it become a love life? Last time Andrew came by to give me a banjo lesson you snuck out the back. Have matters improved?"

"It isn't a love life, matters haven't improved, and why don't you mind your own business?"

"When have I ever? There isn't much to do up here but gossip.
The Slaughterer
isn't going at all well, Matthew takes too many naps, the garden hasn't got a single weed in it, and my fingers are raw from playing. I'm ready for you to pour out your heart to me."

"Aunt Jessie's advice to the lovelorn."

"There's that word again."

"Love has nothing to do with it," Marianne said with a sigh. "Andrew Cameron is a very charming, very short, very young man, and I am not in the mood for any man at all."

"That's an improvement. When did you decide he was very charming?"

"You know, you'll look back on the day when Matthew napped so much with nostalgia," Marianne firmly changed the subject. "Just because you're bored right now and want to play with him... You wait till he's teething and nothing will make him take a nap."

"I'm looking forward to it. When did you decide Andrew was charming?"

"What's wrong with the Slaughterer? I thought he was blazing his bloody way through South American jungles right now."

A wry smile lit Jessica's lightly tanned face. "That's what he was doing. Unfortunately he keeps getting sidetracked by his lady friend."

"I didn't know he had a lady friend," Marianne said lazily, taking a deep swig of the Coke beside her.

"He didn't pay much attention to her in earlier volumes, but I built her up. She's a Swedish Valkyrie working for law and order and she has almost as many guns as he has. He calls her his warrior woman."