Freefall (20 page)

Her eyes filled with tears when she turned them to him. What happened next would be pivotal. Her lips moved, and at last words emerged. “His condition’s critical. I can’t lay something like this on him.”

Good. That was good. He dropped his chin. “Of course, you’re right. I’m not thinking straight. I just …” He looked back into her face. “I want what’s best for you.”

Tears streamed down her face. “Curt, that’s … I don’t deserve you.”

Oh, but she did. And more than that, he deserved her. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “You’re the best thing I have.” By a long shot.

He rose up and held her tightly. Nothing sensual, just sweet, unselfish comfort. That was what she needed. Guilt would keep her from Rob and Gentry. He knew that road. He’d walked it before. An angel of understanding beside the penitent in sackcloth and ashes.

Uncle Rob looked like a shell of himself. Not even a hard, durable shell but a crushable, papery casing that hardly resembled the man she knew. A sickening sweet odor hovered around him, and Gentry stifled a moan when she felt his fiery hand, cooking with fever.

She ran her gaze down the two ridges under the sheet, both legs wrapped and bandaged; damaged, but not beyond repair. How could the surgeon even consider amputation? This wasn’t the Civil War.

She sat down beside the unresponsive version of her uncle, fighting doubt and fear with the words Uncle Rob would say: All things are possible with God. From the moment he’d taken his leap of faith, he’d scaled its mysteries and procured its power. If their places were reversed, he’d be calling her on with unflagging confidence, but she felt unequal to the task.

Cameron’s revelation of a scandal she couldn’t even recall had triggered nightmare vignettes of all the kinds of things she could have done and forgotten. Darla’s intensity, the fresh assault by the press, and Uncle Rob’s condition dragged her down into a dark, uncertain place she resisted only feebly.

She needed to call home to update Mom and Dad on Uncle Rob’s condition, but couldn’t bear to burden them with the truth. She’d tried to reach Aunt Allegra and wasn’t sure how to interpret the lack of response. But it was coming clear that the decisions were up to her.

She sighed. The most important thing was being there for her uncle. She pressed his feverish hand between hers. “Uncle Rob,” she whispered, “can you hear me?” No response, but she felt his attention somehow. Or imagined it. “I need you to know—”

The strains of “Für Elise” rose out of her purse. Identifying that particular ring, she dragged the phone out. “Hi, Dave.”

“Are you sitting down?”

She’d better be, because one more blow … “Yes.”

“Up for costarring with Alec Warner?”

“I’ve been offered the part?” Where was the exultation?

“Pretty nice package, though they might’ve thrown a little more Alec’s way.”

“Oh yeah, you think?” Alec Warner, the heartthrob who could carry off a part without nudity and heavy petting because he could actually act, who delivered his lines as though each character he played was the real man.

“Of course, we’ll talk.” Her agent was licking his lips at the opportunity.

“They’re not concerned about
Oprah
and …” She still didn’t have a grasp on the scandal.

Dave laughed. “Honey, all that business gave you more recognition than we could have paid for.”

“People who think I’m deviant want to see my next movie?”

“No one thinks you’re deviant. The guy was nuts. Trust me, Gentry. And this amnesia thing’s a great angle. Everyone loves a comeback kid. They’ll want to see if you’ve still got it.”

“You haven’t seen the morning papers.”

“I’m in the Caymans trying not to.”

She told him about the tabloids and Darla’s concerns.

“What’s the spin?”

“I haven’t read them yet. But do you think they’ll play nice?” Throat tightening, she told him about Uncle Rob. Her voice only broke once. “Right now, he’s all I care about.” Great thing to tell her agent in the midst of hot negotiations. But Dave wasn’t just her agent. That pot-bellied, salt-and-pepper-haired bulldog was one of a narrowing field of her friends, and she knew this offer meant as much to him as it might to her.

A scene jumped to her mind. She and Uncle Rob discussing their escape, an adventure equal to the crud she’d been dragged through. They’d laughed about Antarctica but must have settled on Kauai. She’d believed no one would consider her for another part, least of all the one that had been dangled before everything went crazy.

“Look, kid.” Dave’s voice, wrecked by thick, smelly cigars, could still rock her like a baby. “You focus there, and I’ll handle things here.”

Tears stung. She had to get control of that. “Thanks, Dave.”

“Don’t let them get to you.”

She sniffed. It was his kindness, and Cameron’s, that was getting to her.

“Hang in there, darlin’. We’ll talk.”

“Okay.” She dropped the phone back into her purse as Dr. Long came in. She stood up, ready to do battle if he even suggested taking off her uncle’s leg. She stopped the thought before it started and replaced it with one more deserving.
“No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him.”
And who loved him more than Uncle Rob?

The surgeon’s pessimism would not dismay her. Hope would keep its promise. He looked at the chart without addressing her, looked at her uncle, then pulled the sheet aside and began to unwrap his leg. An odor seeped out. No denying the seriousness. But there were drugs to fight infection, to heal and restore.

The doctor spoke without looking at her. “What happens today will determine the protocol. I’ve consulted with two colleagues on his condition.”

“And?”

“It’s grave.”

Grave certainly. But Uncle Rob was in God’s hands. She would not believe, could not believe, God would want anything but the best for his servant, his son. She knew it with all her soul.

The nurses joined them, and she had to go out while they changed the dressings. Things might be dire, but she would not flag in expectation.
Lord. Show your power. Do not allow anything but your perfect will
.

She went out and found Cameron still there with Darla and her assistant, Jett. By their expressions they’d read every applicable word in the tabloids. Though Uncle Rob’s condition outweighed everything, she tried to care. In fairness to the other people involved, she’d have to face it, and fighting a battle on another front might dilute her combative feelings toward the doctor. “Which one’s the worst?”

“Worst written or worst implications?” Jett arranged the papers into a fan on the low table.

She appreciated his humor. “Implications.”

“Ah.” He slid out the one where she and her lover had left her uncle to die.

Anger snapped at her heels. Uncle Rob was not going to die.

Cameron shook his head. “How do they come up with this junk?”

Darla glared at him. “You gave them opportunity; they took it. You didn’t know.” She redirected her glare. “But Gentry ought to.”

Cameron frowned. “How about we all get on the same side here.”

He hardly knew her, yet he’d nailed it. Darla was all gushing enthusiasm talking
about
her, but lately she’d hinted of battery acid whenever they interfaced in person. Might be time for a different publicist. But that would make one more enemy.

Cameron moved one seat over to make room. Gentry took the place he’d vacated, felt his warmth. Funny that he should be supporting her now, when he’d been so cynical. But then, he’d fallen for the mystique. She couldn’t hold it against him.

She picked up the paper, read about her steamy ordeal in the jungle with the new love interest, a mystery man who had made her desert the one who’d been a second father to her. It hit her hard in the stomach. Where had they gotten that? Who outside her family knew how close she was to Uncle Rob?

Pain welled up. Why did people feel justified betraying her? She faced Darla. “This is the worst they had to throw?”

“So far.”

One by one Jett handed her the papers. When she’d digested the current trash fest, she said, “Now I need whatever’s out there from before.”

“You mean the situation with Troy?” Darla’s eyebrow arched.

“Troy?” Gentry took the blow unprepared. “It was Troy?”

Darla looked at Jett and back. “You don’t remember?”

Gentry pressed a hand to her eyes. Troy Glasier. She’d had him in the troupe from the start. They’d worked so hard together. How could he …

She drew herself up. “Show me.”

Darla took her Pocket PC from her purse and accessed her files. Gentry read article after article, each one dragging her deeper. Though she filled her mind with information, it didn’t trigger actual memories, and that was the one grace in it all. The last thing she accessed was the transcript of her interview on
Oprah
.

Tears stung as she read. She ached to be back there with the troupe, feeding them lines, drawing out their laughter and their tears, leeching away the anger like venom from their blood—and creating some wonderful vignettes in the process. But Helen had the program now.

Fine. She’d have to make her own way. She blinked away the tears and told Darla, “They’ve offered me Eva Thorne.”

For the second time that morning, Darla gaped. A smaller gape this time; not disbelief, but wary amazement. “Alec pulled out?”

Of course. Only if everyone who mattered removed themselves from the project could she still be considered. “Not according to Dave.”

Darla clicked the table with her fingernails. “Well.” She looked as though a sugar cube had just melted on her tongue. “That’s great.” She exhaled sharply. “We can use that.”

“It could all blow up if this does.”

Darla’s cheeks bloomed roses. “I’m in control here. This is not blowing up like the last time.”

That would take the grace of God, not Darla, and she wasn’t as sure of God now as she should be. Gentry turned to Cameron. “Think we could find some coffee?” She allowed a flicker of desperation to show.

He stood up. “I’m sure.”

Darla and Jett rose as well.

Gentry gave them her best smile. “Where are you staying?” Darla gave her their lodging information. Gentry didn’t give hers; everyone already knew it. “Okay, then. We’ll be in touch.”

“In touch? Gentry, we need a plan. I don’t want you talking—”

“Right. Got it.” She started out of the room.

“You’ve got a chance here,” Darla hissed. “Don’t blow it.”

Gentry stayed calm until the elevator doors closed, then slammed her palm to the wall and held it there, breathing hard. Cameron stayed back, sensing her need to find her own control. Or maybe after a glimpse of reality, he regretted his brush with her world. Couldn’t blame him.

But his voice sounded warm. “Would you put her in the friend or foe category?”

She glanced over her shoulder, a smile creeping to her lips. “To be honest, I think there’s no divider.”

“Must feel that way.”

“I didn’t intend for you to get snarled up in it.”

“Doesn’t take much, does it?”

She shook her head. “Not even the truth.”

The doors dinged open, and they exited. Cameron directed her outside. No fans hung around that early, and the press had seemingly had their fill. Only a few were left to cover any new developments.

“Gentry, how’s your uncle?”

“He’s going to be fine.” She telegraphed hope, no matter what that doctor said.

“Turn this way, please.” A flash.

“Now over here, Gentry.”

She turned the other way. Cameron would be in these pictures, too, unless they digitally removed him, but he was keeping his distance. The gossip rags would look for more provocative shots, and she and Cameron provided none as they reached the truck. He had learned from last night, but she still felt the need to warn him again.

“The press isn’t done with you.”

“Okay.”

“They’ll follow you, talk to everyone you know, look for anything scandalous.” Her brow pinched. “They’ll twist everything.”

“Nothing to twist.” Cameron entered the highway, traveling the opposite direction from Hanalei. She didn’t push it, though if he knew how little it took, he might not be so sure. She sat back as the tropical countryside passed and tried to release the morning’s strain. Closing her eyes, she bargained with God: help Uncle Rob and she’d deal with her own problems.

Yet she knew it wasn’t so simple. Her situation was serious. Darla might be obnoxious, but she was working hard to clean up the mess. Things could get out of hand for Cameron and Nica. She wished her mind was devious enough to guess what next week’s rags might hold. They’d be digging everywhere. If Cameron or his sister had secrets … She sighed.

Cameron slid her a glance but said nothing. Amazing how they could be together without having to fill the silence. It had started out as ignoring each other. Now it was something rare and sweet. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d met someone who didn’t pump her for details about her life. Who did she know; what was it like; how did she get so lucky? As though they could rub her like a charm for good fortune to come their way.