Careless Rapture (25 page)

Jackie playfully elbowed him in the ribs.
“We’re a couple now. We’ll handle it together.”

“Right. Together.” He smiled at her then
turned. He halted so abruptly, a man collided into him. The man
looked up at Clay and held up his hands, offering a ready
surrender. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Clay smiled, trying to lessen the man’s
unease. “It was my fault.”

The man took a hasty step sideward. “No, it
was mine.” He hurried away.

Jackie’s mouth kicked up in a quick grin. “Do
you usually scare people like that?”

He ignored her.

“Why did you stop like that?” Jackie asked.
“Are you okay?”

“Only if I’m hallucinating.” He looked at
something in the distance and swore. “No, I’m not.”

“What do you see?” Jackie groaned. “Oh, no.
Don’t tell me. Another case.”

“No, it’s not.” He headed to the building.
“Fortunately, this is something I can ignore.”

A woman called his name. “Clarence!”

He kept walking.

Her voice grew louder. “Clarence!”

Jackie searched through the crowd and saw an
older woman struggling with a suitcase, waving at them. “I think
she’s calling you.”

He shrugged. “I know she is. I don’t
care.”

She stared at him, confused. “But she wants
to talk to you.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to talk to her,”

Jackie tugged on his hand. “Come on. She’s an
old woman.”

“Not that old.”

The woman caught up with them. “Clarence,”
she scolded. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

He slowly spun around and flashed a cold
smile. “Yes, Mum. Unfortunately, I did.”

Jackie stared
at the woman in shock.
This
was Clay’s mother? This woman
with fine, delicate features wearing dangling gold earrings and
jeans that showed off a slender build that could shame any woman
half her age? The woman smoothed down her shoulder-length hair,
dyed—intentionally or unintentionally—an unfortunate shade of
orange. The color matched her high-heeled shoes.

She held out a ringed hand to Jackie. “I’m
Bertha Graham,” she said in a harsh British voice with a hint of
island lilt. “And you are?”

“None of your business,” Clay said. “What are
you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

“Are you dying?”

“No”

He began to leave. “Then come back when you
are.”

“Clay!” Jackie said, appalled. “You can’t
speak to your mother like that.”

He sent her a glance, but didn’t reply.

Bertha said, “I see you’ve been out
shopping.”

He blinked, bored. “At least your eyesight
hasn’t faded.”

“Clay,” Jackie said, embarrassed by his
rudeness.

Bertha took no offense. “I want a second
chance.”

“I’m a little too old for a mother right
now.”

“We could be friends.”

Clay ignored the statement and glanced at her
bags. “Where are you planning to stay?”

“With you.”

He shook his head. “Try again.”

Her ruby lips thinned. “Clarence Jarrett
Graham, am your mother and—”

Clay held up a hand. “Let’s clear up a few
misunderstandings. First, you’re under the misconception that I
don’t know who you are. I do. So you don’t need to remind me.
Second, my name is Clay. You will call me Clay and no variation of
that. Third, my last name is Jarrett, not Graham.”

“So you’re ashamed of your father as well as
myself? You won’t even bear his name?”

“It’s no loss to him, I assure you. He has
other children.” His tone hardened. “What are you doing here?”

“I want to talk to you.”

Clay folded his arms and said patiently, “You
can talk as much as you like, woman. You’re just not going to stay
with me.”

She threw up her hands, exasperated. “Are you
always going to hate me for making a few mistakes?”

“Your mistake was showing up here. You can
correct it by leaving. You left me at five, so it shouldn’t be hard
to do.”

“I divorced your father, not you. I left you
with him because a boy needs his father.”

“A mother helps, too.”

She sighed, tired. “I’m here now. Let me try
to make it up to you.”

“You can’t.”

“Has your heart become so cold?”

His hands fell. “Yes. The night you kicked me
out to roam the streets of London without tossing me a pound, my
heart broke and mended as stone. Congratulate yourself on a job
well done. You taught me a good lesson. I learned then that I’d
never have anything to do with you. That hasn’t changed. I’ll let
you know when it has. Jackie, are you ready to go in?”

Jackie shook her head. “We can’t just leave
her here.”

“Sure we can. There are plenty of men on the
street. She’ll pick one up eventually and go home with him.”

Bertha slapped him—hard.

Clay smiled as though she’d given him a peck
on the cheek. “Ah, the warm tingly feelings of a mother’s love. Oh,
yes, that brings back happy memories.”

“Mind your tongue.”

He opened the front door. “Come on,
Jackie.”

Jackie walked up to him and whispered, “I
can’t leave her here. As much as you despise her, she’s
family.”

“Not mine.”

Jackie clenched her fists. “I can’t leave
her.”

A flash of hurt entered his eyes, soon
replaced by a cool, unreadable look. “Okay.”

She grabbed his arm before he turned. “I’m
not taking sides.”

“That’s fine.” He went inside.

She turned to Bertha. “Give me a moment,”
Jackie said, then raced into the lobby. She jumped in front of Clay
before he entered the elevator. “You’re angry with me.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He tried to move around
her.

She blocked his path. “Yes, it does. You
matter a lot to me.”

He swore when the elevator doors closed. He
pushed the UP button.

“Clay, talk to me.”

He pushed the button again.

She grabbed his hand. “You’re so eloquent
with everything else except with how you feel. Talk to me,
please.”

He briefly shut his eyes. “I don’t know how,”
he said in a harsh whisper. “Just go. It’s all right.”

“It’s not all right if I’m hurting you. Tell
me if I’m hurting you.”

He pressed the button harder.

Jackie seized his shirt, wishing she could
penetrate his thoughts. “Take this opportunity. You have a chance
to change things. Your mother wants to know you.” She let his shirt
go. “My mother is dead.”

“You can have mine if you wish.” Clay stepped
inside the elevator. “Personally, I don’t think it’s a fair
exchange.” He turned in time to see a look of pain cross her face.
He had wounded her with his careless remark. He softly swore and
stepped out of the elevator, gripping her shoulders. “I can’t deal
with her. Better yet, I don’t want to. Do you know how long I’ve
been trying to destroy the memory of her?” He let her shoulders go.
“I can’t pretend I want to know her—even for you.”

She looked at him helplessly. “And I just
can’t leave her.”

“I know. It’s not your way.” He pushed the
button again. “We both have to do what we have to.”

Her eyes filled with regret. “It was a
beautiful day.”

The elevator doors opened. He stepped inside.
“At least I’ve got my puzzle to keep me company.”

Jackie smiled weakly as she watched the doors
close.

***

Jackie schooled her features as she
approached Bertha. She didn’t want to reveal the mixed feelings she
had toward a woman who had caused Clay so much pain. “I guess
you’ll be staying with me.”

“I’m not surprised, really,” Bertha said.
“That one always did have a wicked temper.”

“You came as a shock. He has to get used to
you.” Jackie walked to her car and opened the trunk. When she
picked up the suitcase, she nearly toppled over. “What do you have
in here?”

“A few bits and bobs.”

Jackie slammed the trunk shut, then muttered,
“I think you mean rocks and boulders.”

Once they reached Jackie’s place, Bertha
quickly made herself at home. She dumped her suitcase and the
various items inside all over the living room. She refused the
offer of a quick snack of beans on toast, lit a cigarette on the
stove, then stretched out on the couch as though she were lady of
the manor. “Nice place.” She glanced around the living room. “Bit
odd, but it suits you.”

“Thanks,” Jackie said warily, stunned at how
quickly her small place had been taken over by a seemingly
harmless-looking woman of more than sixty. “I only have one
room.”

“Never mind, love. I’ll just stay here on the
couch till I sort things out.”

“Right.” She nodded uncertain. Knowing Clay,
that could take a while.

Bertha dragged on her cigarette, then tapped
the ashes into a saucer, Jackie had put out for her on the coffee
table. “I will sort them out. Don’t you worry yourself.”

Oh, but Jackie would worry
. A lot. She
opened a window to keep her place from smelling like the inside of
a bar. “Perhaps in a week he’ll calm down and you’ll get a chance
to talk to him.”

“Yeah, perhaps,” Bertha said with little
concern. “Mind if I turn on the telly?”

Why ask? You’d do it anyway.
“Oh, no.
Go ahead.”

Toward evening, Bertha had gone through a
pack of cigarettes and nearly all the contents in Jackie’s fridge.
Jackie could see how she could inspire Clay’s resentment. Though
not maliciously so, she was completely self-absorbed. Bertha was an
attractive woman now and must have been a striking beauty in her
youth; she was used to the attention that attribute had given her.
She seemed the type of woman who would have no use for children,
only adding to the mystery of why she’d had them in the first
place. However, she was Clay’s mother and Jackie found it difficult
to think of throwing her out. The only way to get rid of her was to
reconcile the two.

“Why did you come?” Jackie asked her as she
cleared the dinner dishes. “What do you want?”

Bertha lit another cigarette from the stub of
the last. “A second chance, like I told him.”

“I don’t believe you and neither will
Clay.”

She smoked in silence for a few moments, then
said, “Well, as I’ve gotten older I’ve begun to look back on my
life and . . . Why are you shaking your head?”

Jackie sat in front of her. “That won’t work
either. Try the truth.”

Her lovely features soon looked defeated.
“You want the truth, love? The truth is, I’m bloody lonely. My last
chap ran off. I have no other family left except Clarence—Clay.”
She frowned. “I can’t get used to that name.
Clay
. Imagine
having a nickname that reminds you of dirt when you have a good and
proper name like’ Clarence.”

“You’ve left the subject,” Jackie said.

Bertha thought for a moment. “Oh, yes. I
don’t want to die alone.” She set the cigarette down and gazed in
the distance. “So I want to set things right.” She rested her arms
on the table. “I remember when me and his father split up,” Bertha
said. “Clarence—Clay--and his sister clung to each other and wept.
I’ll never forget his little face in the window, he was such a
pretty boy with eyes that took up his whole face. Nearly broke my
heart seeing him crying as he pounded on the window while I drove
away. I didn’t visit him. I didn’t think I needed to. A boy needed
his father and he had a good one.” She lifted the cigarette and
took a long drag. “Oscar was a bore, but a decent bloke. Have you
met his father?”

“Yes, he seems like a nice guy.”

“Dull as dishwater. You’re probably wondering
why I married him then. Well, here’s a nice piece of advice. Never
marry a man just because the sex is great. You can’t spend all day
in bed.” She flashed a smile that echoed her son’s. “Trust me. I’ve
tried.”

“So you didn’t see Clay because he was with
his father?”

“Yeah. Oscar was well off. When he married
that posh tart of his, I thought, ‘Now he’s got a mother. Why would
he ever need me when he had her?’”

“Did you really send him away when he came to
you?”

“Yeah.” She grimaced. “God, I didn’t know he
was only sixteen. The years can just fly by you know and I’d gone
on with my life. Sure he was skinny, but so tall and had the same
gritty voice he has now. I thought he was a grown man. ‘Sides, I
didn’t know what to do with him and my current bloke didn’t take to
him. It was a mistake. I know that. But he’s never given me a
chance to apologize.”

“Did you really try?”

Bertha grinned ruefully. “You have such a
cute, innocent face, but I can’t fool you, can I?”

Jackie shrugged. “You can try, but it’s a
waste of time.”

“Truth is, I was a selfish cow. It’s the
guilt that’s got to me now After Rennie’s death, I disconnected
from life for awhile. I shouldn’t have been surprised with her
death. I knew her recklessness would lead to a tragic end. She
never listened to any bit of sense and didn’t have any of her own,
but it didn’t make her death any less painful. You’d think her
funeral would have brought Clarence—I mean, Clay—and me closer
together. It didn’t, though.” She stared at her cigarette. “I think
a part of him blames me.” She shrugged. “And perhaps the fault is
mine for not guiding her more. But I did my best and that’s all a
mum can do, isn’t it?” She inhaled, then exhaled. “I like my men. I
admit that, but our Rennie chose the worse of the lot. The type of
man you’d scrape off the bottom of your shoe is the kind she’d fall
for. Every time. Without fail. I couldn’t understand it. I didn’t
understand her.”

She shifted back in her chair and adjusted
her shoulders as though trying to rid herself of the weight of the
past. “So what’s with you and Clay?”

“Most of the time, I don’t know.”

She waved her cigarette in understanding.
“He’s a tricky one, he is. Even as a baby, he was an odd little
thing. Almost never cried. Even if I forgot to feed him, I’d just
find him in his cot munching on his fist.”