Read Pulling Home Online

Authors: Mary Campisi

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #General, #Family Life, #Family & Relationships, #Death; Grief; Bereavement, #Love & Romance

Pulling Home (19 page)

BOOK: Pulling Home
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Joe swore under his breath and said, “Tell ‘em to go stick it.”

“They may show up here asking questions.”

“We won’t tell them anything,” Joe vowed.

“I appreciate that but the Valentine name isn’t exactly lily white. People love to gossip. Someone will give them everything they ask and I just want you to be prepared.”

“Thank you, Audra,” Alice said.

Joe nodded. “You going to be around this afternoon? I might like a play-by-play, if you don’t mind.”

Christian would have been proud of his parents. They offered boundless sympathy

and understanding amidst tuna noodle casserole and meatball subs, which Audra ended up eating after all.

When
On Eden Street
began at 3:00 p.m., Audra did indeed provide Joe Wheyton his play-by-play inside scoop, offering foreshadowing and tidbits on actors to watch, pivotal scenes, and on a more personal level, contract disputes, marriages, divorces, and overall Hollywood gossip.

Jack arrived late that afternoon wearing scrubs and carrying a bouquet of violets for Kara with a card reading,
I love to see you smile.
Audra blushed, knowing the flowers and the note were intended for her. His silver gaze swept her face, settling on her lips in a way that made them tingle. “Jack? Can I talk to you?” It could all go smoothly if he didn’t ask too many questions.

A hint of a smile crept over those beautiful lips. “Sure. Let’s go outside.”

Alice patted Audra’s hand as she passed. Joe gave her a nod. The Wheytons knew

their oldest son could be difficult, but maybe that was all about to change.

“I like your shirt,” he said when they’d settled themselves on the swing in the

backyard. “Purple looks good on you.”

“It’s lavender,” she said, breathy from his closeness and his compliment.

“There’s only one thing that would make it look better,” he said, deftly

unbuttoning the top three buttons of her shirt to expose skin and pink lace. “Pink. My favorite color.”

Heat crept along her neck and smothered her face. She wasn’t good at casual

flirting, but apparently, Jack was.

He traced a finger along the buttons of her shirt, skimming his thumb over her

flesh. “I couldn’t get you out of my head today.” His lips pulled into a half smile. “Very distracting.”

Audra wet her lips.
Just tell him and get it over with.

“Is that a deliberate tease, or do you really not know what you’re doing?”

She moved his hand from her shirt and cupped it between her own. “I need to talk to you, Jack. Please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is.”

When he saw her obvious distress, he tensed, all teasing gone. “What is it?”

“I don’t write advertisements for a medical supply company.”

His gaze narrowed. “Okay, what do you do?”

She took a deep breath and blurted out, “I write soap operas.” His lips twitched and then he threw back his head and laughed so hard tears pooled in his eyes. “It’s not that funny. I’m actually quite good at it.”

“Soap operas?” Another bellow of laughter. “Which one? Please not the one my

father’s obsessed with.” When she didn’t answer, he wiped his eyes and tried to contain another burst of laughter. “Why would you keep it a secret?”

“Because in Soap Opera Land, it’s a big deal. People want to know about the

writers, the stories,
everything
,” she said. “I didn’t want everyone snooping into my private life, following Christian and Kara. Or coming back here. I invented a writing name, but someone figured it out and now my name will be plastered on every newspaper and tabloid in the country.”

His smile faded. “Would they do that?”

“Look what the paparazzi does to every decent human being. They pursue them

and create a story even if there isn’t one. Imagine what they’ll do if they start talking to people around here. You’ll be reading about the soap opera writer’s mother who

overdosed on valium and vodka. Someone will dig up pictures.” She rubbed her temple.

“It won’t be pretty.”

“Isn’t there anything the producer can do to shut it down?”

“Peter thinks he might be behind it. You know how scandal improves ratings.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry.” He grasped her hand and stroked her thumb. “Maybe you

should hide out here until it dies down.”

Was that an offer buried in there somewhere? Did she want it to be?

He shrugged. “It’s just a thought.”

“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be staying once Bernie sees Kara for the

follow-up next week.”

He ignored the comment, saying instead, “She’s done very well. She’s a fighter.”

“She takes after her father.”

Jack’s hand stilled. “Yes, she does,” he said quietly.

Kara banged the back door open and moved toward them, sloshing lemonade over

the sides of two glasses. “Uncle Jack, want some lemonade? Grandma and I just squeezed the lemons.”

Jack leaned forward and accepted the sticky, wet glass. Kara handed Audra the

other one. “Uncle Jack,” she beamed, “do you know my mom writes the stories for
On
Eden Street
?”

“I just heard that.”

She whispered, “Know what it’s about?”

A sliver of panic burst through Audra. “Honey, Uncle Jack doesn’t want to hear

about that silly show. He’s got much more important things to do, like operating on eight-year old girls and boys.”

“I know, but Grandpa says it’s not silly. He says it could really happen.” She

nodded her blond head, and smiled up at Jack.

“Tell me the story, Kara,” he said in a gentle voice. “I’d like to hear it.”

No, you really do not want to hear it.

Kara moved closer and said, “There’s these two brothers and they both like the

same girl, only she just likes one of them.”

“Kara, I really think—”

“Shhh,” Jack said. “Let’s hear the story. And this girl only likes one of them,” he prompted.

“Yup, and she gets pregnant to the guy she really likes.”

“Well, that’s good,” Jack offered in a serious voice.

Maybe Kara’s childish presentation wouldn’t make Jack suspicious. Maybe he’d

pass it off as just another daytime drama.

“Except”—Kara wagged a finger at him—“the guy doesn’t know she’s pregnant

and he breaks up with her. He’s really good looking, too, Uncle Jack. You should see him.” She squinted her eyes to study his face. “He kinda looks like you.”

Jack smiled, unaware of how true Kara’s innocent words were. “Thank you.”

“Welcome. So this guy breaks up with her and just leaves her all alone. She cries and cries and then she goes back home.”

“Where was she?”

“Oh, in college. The guy she really liked was going to be a doctor.” She grinned again. “Like you, Uncle Jack.”

Audra watched him out of the corner of her eye. He sat very still, listening

intently.

“So, the girl goes home and tells this guy’s brother she’s pregnant and he marries her and takes her far away.”

Audra knew the instant he suspected. His nostrils flared, his breathing grew rapid and harsh. “Then what happened?” he asked in a deceptively soft voice.

“Then the girl and the guy moved away and had a baby and lived happily ever

after.” She scratched her curly head. “Well, so far they’re happy.”

“Did the girl have a baby boy or a baby girl?”

“A girl.”

“I see.” He stared at Kara as though he could see her DNA strands with his eyes.

“What happened to the doctor?”

She shrugged. “Dunno, but Grandpa says sooner or later he’s going to find out

that’s his real baby.”

“I suspect Grandpa’s right,” Jack said, turning toward Audra. “Sooner or later the truth always comes out.”

Chapter 22

“That’s my price for silence.”—Jack Wheyton

He couldn’t get her to the Expedition fast enough. With his hand grasping her

forearm, he hurried her along, not quite dragging, but close. She knew better than to fight him, and merely followed, lips pursed, jaw set, eyes straight ahead. Jack threw the SUV

in reverse and sped down the forest of streets he’d grown up on—Elm, Sycamore,

Chestnut. They all blurred in his effort to blank out the last ten minutes.

He drove to the park, past joggers and mothers with baby carriages, boys tossing Frisbees, dogs on leashes, couples on blankets. Normal slices of life—everything his life wasn’t. Normal had shriveled with Kara’s innocent words. When he reached a secluded stretch of park he pulled in, gravel spewing under the tires, dust clouding the blackness of the vehicle. He thrust the Expedition in Park and shut off the motor. “Talk.” He turned toward the woman who had made his life hell for nine years. She met his gaze head on, not a tear in her eye. The Jack Wheyton
look
had scared many a new resident over the past few years. Not Audra Valentine. She played it cooler than a slab in a morgue.

“What do you want to know?”

“Give it up. I’m not playing games.”

“You think you have it all figured out, don’t you?” The emotion seeped from her

voice. “You don’t know anything.”

He’d had enough. “Is she mine?” Before she could answer, a couple burst through

a wooded path, holding hands and laughing.
Fools
. A second of bliss for a lifetime of torture. It sure as hell wasn’t worth it. “Is she mine?” he repeated.

She sank against the seat and closed her eyes with a quiet sigh. The sun glinted across her face illuminating her forehead, lips, lashes, neck. She’d never looked more beautiful. “Yes,” she whispered.

Jack opened his mouth and gulped pockets of air.
My child.
Audra remained motionless, eyes closed, body still. Waiting. When he could take in a full breath, he spoke. “You had no right to keep that from me.” All these years he’d had a child and never known. How many times had he avoided seeing Kara so he wouldn’t be reminded of her mother? He knew the answer—too many.

“It was better that way.”

“Better for whom?”

“You. Me. Christian. Kara. Your parents.” She paused. “Everyone.”

“Did you tell Christian the baby was his? Is that why he married you?” When she

didn’t answer, he said, “That’s it, isn’t it? You let him believe Kara was his. And my brother being the noble one would, of course, marry you.” It all made sense now—the quickie wedding, the move to California, the annual visits minus a wife. She’d planned it all and his innocent lovesick brother had been nothing more than a pawn. Jack might have found out nine years too late, but she was not going to get away with it. “Damn you for using Christian. He was always too damn gullible.”

She opened her eyes and turned toward him. “He knew you were the father.”

Jack gripped the steering wheel so hard he thought he’d rip it off the column.

“That’s a lie.”

“It’s the truth. He knew.”

“So you let him play chivalrous knight and swoop you away even though it

wasn’t his battle to fight.” When she didn’t answer he said, “Damn you for stealing my brother
and
my daughter.”

“You didn’t want me in your life, remember?” Her words blasted him though she

didn’t raise her voice. “Can you sit here and tell me you would have welcomed a baby?”

What would he have done?
No doubt, he would have been upset. School would have been delayed, his goals pushed back and recalculated. But deep down he knew it would have forced him to own up to his feelings for Audra instead of ignoring them until it was too late. “I would have married you,” he said quietly. She gasped and covered her mouth with both hands. Well, apparently she hadn’t been expecting that. So much for true confessions.

Her eyes filled with tears, fast and furious like a river, overflowing onto her

cheeks, her chin, her neck. She swiped at them and muttered, “Don’t say that.”

“Why? Is the idea so offensive?” More tears, more swipes. Well, he was about to

cause a damn break. “I couldn’t wait for that stupid ski trip to finish so I could come back and tell you how miserable I was and what a huge mistake I’d made.”

“Don’t.”

She could barely get the word out around her tears. Even with a red nose and

swollen eyes, she looked beautiful. He wanted to reach across the seat and push the strands of hair from her face. But he wouldn’t touch her. He couldn’t. Jack stuffed his hands in his pocket to keep from doing something foolish. “None of it matters now, does it? It probably never would have worked between us anyway. But the way I see it, you owe me a daughter.”

“Jack—”

“Should I take her for the next eight years? Nine if you count in utero?”

“Please, don’t do this.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not that much of a heartless bastard.” She’d backed up against the passenger door, putting as much space between them as possible. Maybe she really was afraid of him.

“Thank you.”

The words had no breath in them as though she’d been deprived of oxygen too

long. “Don’t get too carried away with the thank you’s. I’m going to be part of my daughter’s life, never mistake that.” Again, she cringed against the door. “Stop that,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you. What do you think I am?”

“You’re not going to tell her the truth, are you?”

“You’re suggesting I follow your lead and lie? I mean, why not? Everything else

is a big lie, why not keep it up, a great, big subterfuge no one will ever figure out, least of all, our daughter. What? You don’t like the sound of that?
Our
daughter, as in you and I procreating.” He forced out a cold, hard laugh so she wouldn’t know how much her revulsion bothered him.

“She just lost her father—I mean the man who raised her. I don’t think it’s a good idea to spring this on her, not with Christian and now her surgery.”

“Of course it’s not a good idea. She needs to heal, mentally and physically. Bernie told you she’s not out of the woods yet. We’ll have follow-up tests and if you insist on returning to San Diego—”

“If I insist? I
am
going back, Jack. It’s my home.”

BOOK: Pulling Home
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