C's Comeuppance: A Bone Cold--Alive novel (31 page)

“Well, I wondered where that got off to!” Lyla shot the two chefs a half-smile as she touched the service cart on the way to her place at the table. “How did you manage to get it home?”

“Grandpa brought it for us.” Harrison was delighted to finally have their attention. “We’re going to have ice cream and fried cherries if you’ll sit down!” He indicated the chafing dish. “We found it in the top of the cabinet. Where’d you get that, Mom?”

“It’s what one does with wedding gifts one has no use for.” She smiled at T. “First wedding.”

“It’s not fried cherries, Harrison.” Fletch shook his head, winked at T. “It’s cherries jubilee. But, no panic, T, we have a special non-brew for you. Of course, it won’t flame.”

“I’ve been present at enough fires to last me, Fletch. But by all means, torch the rest of them!”

The atmosphere relaxed and Fletch took center stage with the chafing dish behind C’s place at the table. C stood behind Jemma and massaged her neck and had the satisfaction of feeling her relax into his touch, then pull his hands to her lips, caress his knuckles, bestow a light kiss to his fingertips. All within sight and sound of his family.

At that moment, Edward Charles Samuels plunged over the precipice. His depth of feeling went beyond the physical, beyond anything he had ever known or felt. He girded his mental loins and silently swore to protect her from whatever demons followed her. Jemma didn’t know it, but she’d just taken on her life’s champion.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“
I
feel like I should quote that ol’ poet—what was his name?—wrote about two roads splitting…” C’s voice trailed off as he cast a sideways look at Jemma. She was staring straight ahead, out the windshield of the truck as it bounced them along the county road that led from Lyla and T’s front gate.

“Diverging, not splitting. Robert Frost. He talks about taking the road less traveled by.” She quirked an eyebrow. “That could be your motto.” She turned back to stare at the road. “Why bring it up?”
“Our roads diverge up here at the Quik-Lee. Do I take you home or to Norm’s?” There. It was out. He’d said it. Said what he’d thought about all afternoon. With cat-Norm away, mouse-in-residence C had prepared the house to receive Jemma for this evening. For the night. It had certainly kept him busy. What he’d had trouble fathoming all afternoon was why he was so nervous about it. Like he hadn’t seduced women? Like he hadn’t let them seduce him?

But Jemma was, he’d concluded, not just any other woman. If he hadn’t already decided that about four o’clock, he’d certainly had the point brought home an hour ago when she’d kissed his fingers as they’d watched the Harrison and Fletch cherries jubilee show. In retrospect, it hadn’t been so bad; the smoke alarm had gone off only
once.

“What do you want to do?” She asked the question quietly but didn’t look at him.

“I want you all to myself. No interruptions.” He slowed as the Quik-Lee came into sight.

He could see the smile twist on her lips. “Well, I warned you I’d pick the place. Norm’s it is.”

***

Jemma stood aside while C unlocked the kitchen door. He reached inside, flipped the switch and the ceiling fanlight responded. She smiled as she entered; someone had spent his afternoon in pursuit of a first impression.

“I’m honored.” She turned to him and his smile broadened. She let her fingers slide on the ’40s print tablecloth that featured Florida vacation scenes. There were grocery store flowers in the center, their stems submerged in a jelly glass. Two wineglasses were set by a new acquisition, one she knew Norm hadn’t made. The old man wouldn’t own a bottle of wine, much less a rack full of it. “Been a busy bee?”

“Had to amuse myself somehow.” He rocked back on his heels, stuck his hands in his jeans pockets. “I was hoping you’d come.”

“And if I hadn’t?” She set her bag on one of the dinette chairs.

“I’ve drunk alone before.”

“It would seem I have a choice of vintage.”

“All kinds of flavors. All kinds of years.” Now that he had something definite to do, he moved to the countertop wine rack and started reading off the labels. “We’ve got domestic, we’ve got Aussie, we’ve got red or white, or something that looks to be in between. Sweet, not so sweet, one that the liquor store clerk swears was an excellent year, and one she said was probably a good month for the bottling.” He picked up the corkscrew, twirled it. “Once she got over who I was, she was really quite helpful.”

“And how did you know where to find such a full-service liquor store?”

“Called Marty and Jake. Trust me, they know this place.”

Jemma laughed. “I like a merlot.”

“Got it.” He picked up a bottle, replaced it in the rack. “Somewhere.” Finding what he wanted, he removed the wrapper. “I even,” he said as the cork popped out, “have champagne should you be interested later.”

“Are you always so efficient?” She pulled out a chair and settled in it.

“Only when inspired.” He poured glasses half-full and set them and the bottle on the table as he joined her. “I want you to know that I can sit here all night and talk to you. Being here with me does not imply sex.” He took a nervous sip. “But it would sure be nice.”
“Hold that thought, Charles. I’ve something to tell you, and you may just want to take me home afterwards.”

***

He’d known there was more. After last night’s mom-and-apple-pie rendition of her life, he’d known there had to be more. Even though he’d teased her about leaving out a piece of the puzzle, about being a mysterious woman whose secrets he would divine at his leisure, even though he knew there was more, he hadn’t expected to find out like this.

C’s heart settled somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach, and the wine only worsened the sinking feeling that was pervading his whole body. He pushed the glass away. What could this woman have to tell him that he hadn’t heard? That would upset him? What he hadn’t experienced himself, he’d certainly been privy to in someone’s life. Maybe he should just tell her he loved her, that even if Jessie was a serial killer or her dad locked away for being insane, even if James Thomas smoked weed on the side or Doree ran a whore house, it didn’t matter to him. And what could she have done? Nothing. Absolutely nothing that would alter his feelings for her.

Confession might be good for her soul, but he certainly hoped she didn’t want the same in return. No, it was time to seal her lips with a declaration of love and a sex-inspiring kiss.

But Jemma beat him to it. She took a small sip of her wine, deliberately set it at arm’s length. “I don’t need alcohol for this. I need a very clear head.” She studied her hands as they lay on the table. Long fingers, long ringless fingers, with sensibly shaped nails covered with a clear polish. The clear polish was okay, C thought, but the ringless had to go. Three carats, no four, canary yellow…

She interrupted his train of thought. “I want to make love to you, Charles.”

What a relief! That was the confession? “Hell, Jemma, I can take care of that!” He scooted his chair back, made to rise.

“No, Charles. There’s more. Much more.” She touched his arm.

He captured her hand, held it on his forearm, leaned over and kissed it.

“Babe, I don’t care what has happened in your past. That’s over, that’s done with. If you’re worried about black sheep in your family, I’ll compare you on a one-to-one basis and I think I’ll win.”

“You’re sweet. Not very reasonable at the moment, but sweet.” She disengaged her hand and put them both out of sight under the table. She took a deep breath, looked at him, looked away. “No.” She said it to herself, as if winning some mental point. “That is not the way I’m going to do this.” She lifted her chin and turned to face him, squared her shoulders and looked him fully in the eyes. “I’m thirty-seven years old and the last time I had sex I was in college.” She paused, but he said nothing. “And then it wasn’t my idea.”

The words fell on the table between them, almost visible, almost able to be touched. C drew his brows together, cocked his head at her. “Went out with some jerk who didn’t know what ‘no’ meant?”

“Sorta.” She took a deep breath and plunged on. “I went to a party with a male friend. Well, hell, it was Wiley—”

“I’ll kill him since your father obviously didn’t have the balls to do so.”

She held up a hand. “It wasn’t Wiley. Calm down.” He scooted in the chair. “I just went to the party with him. It was always understood that we went looking for others because it was a cinch Wiley and I weren’t ever going to be buds. He got me a beer and he disappeared to the wilds of womankind, somewhere Wiley is quite comfortable, let me assure you. Eventually, I met a young man. We danced, we laughed, we drank a little.” She studied the wine rack. “We grew tired of the noise and the smoke and adjourned to his car. To the front seat for a while, then to the back.” She pressed her lips together. “It was February. Cold. I wasn’t opposed to kissing. A little touching. I was opposed to someone who didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘no.’” She swallowed and looked at C again.

“Babe, you didn’t do anything wrong here.” C’s mind searched for a reference point, but no woman had ever told him no, even in pre-BCA days. And if a woman had—well, hell, there were too many who would have said yes.

“That’s, that’s not all.” Now she did reach for the wineglass, took a small sip.

“Would you rather have a glass of water?”

She nodded and he got a bottle from the fridge, opened it, poured it into a jelly glass from the dish drainer. She drank, was silent.

“Go on, Jemma. Trust me, there is nothing you can say that would have me wishing you weren’t sitting on my lap telling me this instead of huddled there all by yourself.”

She let out a small puff of breath, finished the water but refused to meet his eyes. “He took me home and I never saw him again. Didn’t want to. I felt dirty and ashamed and part of me—the part my mother well-trained—felt like I got what I deserved, going out to the car with a man I didn’t know. I knew what I was doing, what chance I was taking. I was sober enough to know. That was part of the excitement, I guess. I thought I could control the situation.” She pinched her lips together. “Naive me. So I took my guilt and shame and finished the semester. Except I finished it wearing baggy clothes and having morning sickness.”

He shut his eyes as she finally looked at him.

“See, you are upset with me. You do want to take me home.”

“God, no, Jemma.” He drew a hand through his hair, loosened it, let it stream across his shoulders, down his back. He always thought better with loosened hair. “If I’m upset, it’s sure as hell not with you.” His fingers itched for the clarinet he’d set on the cabinet by the door. He fought the impulse to hide in the music. “What did you do?” He took a deep breath. “And please, please let me touch you while you tell me.” He had to do something with his fingers and she could become his instrument.

“Okay.” She held out her hands to him and he encased them in his. They were cold, lifeless. He wanted to breathe fire back into her.

“Go on.”

“I was scared, Charles. Petrified.” She steadied her gaze on him and he determined not to blink no matter what she said. “And it had nothing to do with bearing a child alone. I wasn’t going to find that guy. What did I want from him? Nothing. Not his money, and sure as hell, not his name. What I really didn’t want to do was come home and tell my parents. That was what had me so scared. I went to one of those Planned Parenthood places that help with decisions. I thought I’d just solve all this and have an abortion.” She bit at her lip. “But I couldn’t. Egotist that I was, that I am, I thought, what if this is the only child I’ll ever have? What if I marry and we can’t have children and this is my contribution to the gene pool, to the mind pool of the world?

“So I came home when school was out and I found my dad alone in his office and I told him. I’ll never forget the look of disappointment in his eyes. Never.” She closed her own and when she opened them, C saw the tears he’d expected to find there all along. But this story was so old, Jemma had probably cried it long ago. At least to a point. At least to where they were now. “Together we told Mother. Daddy wouldn’t make me face her alone. It was just as I feared: what would the bridge club say? And the church circle, the garden group. But I’ll give it to Mother, when push came to shove, she was a trouper. They called an old college friend in Colorado, a lawyer who knew a lawyer who did private adoptions. So I went to Denver and hid in the complexities of city life and had my baby. I suppose I second-guessed myself on the wisdom of giving up my child until the moment I put her in another woman’s arms.” Now tears silently swelled onto her cheeks. “Then I doubted no more when the man who would raise her leaned over and she curled her tiny fingers around his finger and he kissed her forehead with such tenderness. I knew I’d made the right decision.” She sniffed. “I need a tissue.”

C scrambled to comply, grabbing the paper towels and hauling them to the table. “Oh, what a mess!” Jemma dabbed at her eyes and wiped her cheeks. “I’ve never told that to anyone. Just you.”

“Then I’m doubly honored that you trust me so. More water?”

“I think now’s the time for the wine.” She took a large sip. “Yes. Time to switch from water.” She looked at him over the rim of the glass. “You have anything to say?”

“Do you know where she is?”

Jemma nodded. “I have pictures. She has her biological father’s coloring. My nose.” She took another sip.

“What’s the real rest of the story?”

“What do you mean?”

“After Denver.”

“I finished up at school the next semester. Tried very hard to put the whole experience behind me. Forget.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t very good at that. I came home to decide if I really was going to try for law school or maybe an MBA. Daddy was short-handed in the office and I knew the property some new clients wanted to look at as well as he did. I showed it. Took them around the area. They decided to move their entire small company up instead of just having a weekend home. Sudden success went to my head and I decided to stay and go to work at Lovelace and Daughter.”