Authors: Terra Little

Running From Mercy (18 page)

BOOK: Running From Mercy

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“And?”

“And nothing, I'm just saying. You shouldn't have said anything to Paris about us. What if she wrote that down, too?”

“So what if she did? Look, forget about the diary for a minute.” Chad sat back and ran a hand around the nape of his neck. “Nate called the other night.”

“I thought he was still in the Middle East somewhere?”

“He is, but he's ready to come home.”

Happiness about Nate returning to the States safe and sound had a smile turning up the corners of Pam's mouth. Then, just as quickly, she was frowning. “She could ask Nate about us.”

Chad dismissed the possibility with a flap of his hand. “Don't even go there. He won't tell her shit. She's too damn nosy for her own good, though.”

She reached across the table and laid a hand on top of his. “Does he know about Paris?”

“He does now. That's why he called, said he'd just gotten the message. I called his publicist right after it happened, but apparently he's been out of contact for a while. You know he would've been here otherwise. He took it pretty hard.” Nate had cried for ten minutes straight, and all Chad could do was hold the phone helplessly and listen to his friend's grief. “He was shocked when I told him you were still here.”

“Well if he wants to see me, he'd better hurry home. I guess Nikki told you about the tour I've got coming up next month?” Pam took her hand back and lifted her water glass to her lips.

“She mentioned it, but I was waiting for you to bring it up.”

“I would've . . . eventually.”

He looked up and saw Nikki coming down the stairs. “There are some things I need to discuss with you, Pam. Can you come by the house tonight?”

“Can't. I have an appointment with Miss Verna in a few hours and then I'm going to see Moira.”

“What about later?”

“I told David I'd meet him for dinner. What is this about, Chad? Is it something to do with Nikki?”

“I don't want to get into it right now, not with Nikki around.”

Nikki approached Pam from behind and surprised her with a smacking kiss on the cheek. She smiled at her niece and leaned sideways for another kiss on the lips. “Thanks for today, Aunt Pam. I had fun,” Nikki said.

Pam nodded that she was welcome. “Did you take the cream you like?”

“You mind?”

“Of course not, you little thief. I'll see you soon.” She looked up at Chad, who was now standing over the table and sighed. “I guess I'm coming to the house.”

Dear Diary,

Aunt Pam said that my mom embellished things in her diary, but I have proof positive that she didn't. I did a horrible thing today. When I went to Aunt Pam's room to get my bag I looked in her diary. I thought with her being older, she'd have a really sophisticated hiding place for her diary, but she didn't. I stood there, looking around her room, wondering where I would hide my diary if I was her and then I found it at the bottom of her suitcase under the bed.

I didn't get too deep into it, just flipped through the pages near the front. I just wanted to see if Aunt Pam had written anything about my dad. And if so, what? So I could compare stories and know the truth for once and for all. I know the truth now, all right.

My dad was Aunt Pam's first and she was his. How crazy is that? Some really screwed up shit must've been going on back then. Had to be and that's why everybody's so secretive when I ask about stuff now. One thing I know for sure, I'm not asking my dad or Aunt Pam about what I read. They'd know I was snooping big time then. But I'm going to start paying closer attention to what's going on around me from now on.

This is like a mystery or something. Now I have even more questions than I started out with. I feel a little sick to my stomach, thinking about Aunt Pam and my dad being together like that. God, I wish I could go back in time and be a fly on the wall.

Nikki

Scalp still tingling from Miss Verna's magic fingers, Pam pushed through the restaurant door and spotted David sitting in a booth near the back of the room. She sent him a short wave of acknowledgment and then let herself be waylaid by the hostess and two wait staff. She'd been talking all day and a few more minutes wouldn't make too much of a difference. She signed her autograph across the bottom of a menu and helped select the spot on the wall where it would hang, then went to join David.

“Sorry I'm late.” She slid into the booth and smiled across the table at him. “It got a little crazy in the beauty shop and then again in the A&P.”

“Crowds of adoring fans?” Miles wanted to know. He lifted a hand to signal the waiter, a little irritated at having been kept waiting for twenty minutes.

“Not exactly the kind you're thinking about. More like crowds of old folks, anxious to remind me of all my dirty deeds and laugh about them. Seems like I was public enemy number one back then, but now the shit is just plain hilarious. What are you having?” She picked up a menu and perused the selections.

“I thought I'd have the enchilada platter. Have you decided what you're having?” She told him and he gave their orders to the waiter. Then he sat back and studied her intently. “Your hair looks nice.”

“Thanks. I swear Miss Verna has voodoo in her hands. I almost fell asleep over the bowl.”

“So she's not part of the reason you stayed away so long then?”

Pam caught his eyes and held them. “I never said she was. How was your trip to New York?”

“How did you know that's where I was?”

“Moira mentioned it.” She noticed the look on his face. “Was it a secret?”

“Why should it be? What else did Moira say?”

The waiter returned with their drinks and she took a sip of wine before responding. “Nothing much, just that you were in New York on business. We spent the rest of the day looking through old photos and drinking tea. You're the spitting image of your father, by the way.”

“If you'd seen him just before he died you wouldn't think that's a compliment,” Miles said offhandedly. “You looked at pictures of Moira's dead relatives?”

“Grandmothers, grandfathers, parents, the whole bit. I wonder why Moira never had any kids.”

“For one thing, she never stayed married long enough to make any.”

A shocked laugh escaped Pam's mouth before she could stop it. She shook her head at him and tsk-tsked as the waiter arranged their plates in front of them. After he moved away she said, “That wasn't nice, David. She was married to the last one for quite a while, I think. I remember that he was there sometimes when I visited Moira. He was nice enough.” She picked up her knife and fork and cut into her steak.

“Do you ever think about your birth parents, Pam?” The question caught her off guard, just as he'd intended and she stared at him wide-eyed as she chewed slowly.

“Where did that come from?”

“I'm just curious. Most adopted people go looking for their birth parents at some point in their lives. I wondered if you ever had.” He remembered his beer and swallowed a mouthful, completely at ease with the direction of the conversation.

“We weren't adopted, remember?”

“The principle's still the same.”

She shook her head and speared a broccoli floret. “No, it's not. I had and have no desire to look for people who dumped me in a children's home and left me there all those years. No one ever came looking for us, so why would I go looking for them?”

“Simple curiosity? Maybe to rub it in a little?”

“I wasn't curious and, that I know of, neither was Paris. But of course, we can't ask her now, can we?”

“You never wondered where your green eyes came from or who gave you your hair? The color of your skin?” He bit into his enchilada and watched her face suffuse with red heat.

“No, I didn't. Where is all this coming from, David?”

“I told you, I'm just curious.”

“Well don't be. Do I give you the third degree about your life? I've never once asked where you live or what you do, have I? I don't even know if you have a wife and kids at home or a criminal history as long as my arm, for that matter.”

“Ask me whatever you want to know.”

Her silverware clattered to her plate and a frustrated groan filled the space between them. “That's just the thing, David. I don't care. I came back to this dreary little town to bury my sister and to make peace with her death. Then I met you and you seemed harmless enough, so I figured, what's the problem with a couple of meals and some easy conversation? But you keep poking at me and asking questions that are really none of your business, which is starting to be suspect. Now if you want a few tidbits of juicy gossip to sell to the tabloids for some quick cash, just say so and I might oblige you. I mean, hey, we've all got bills to pay and you might have a sick kid at home or something. But if you're just one of those people who didn't learn in kindergarten when to back off, then I'm telling you right now,
back off
.”

“I've upset you,” Miles said unnecessarily. He knew damn well that he had upset her. “I didn't mean to do that.”

“I don't know if I believe that.” She pushed her half-eaten food away and reached for her wine.

“You can't blame me for being curious, Pam. Hell, you said yourself that you hate this town, but you never say why.”

“Leave it alone, David.”

“Why? What are you afraid I'll find out if I don't?”

“I'm not afraid of you finding out anything.” She snatched her purse from the seat and slung it over her shoulder.
I have to get out of here,
she thought with something like panic rolling around in her gut. She slid along the seat until she was free to stand, then looked down at him. “I'm not afraid of you at all, and I don't owe you any explanations for the way I live my life.”

“Pam, please sit down. I'm sorry if I've offended you. I guess I forgot my manners for a minute. Let'sâ”

She cut him off with a trembling hand. “No, let's not. Come to think of it, I don't think you should contact me again, David. It was nice meeting you and thanks for everything, but seeing each other again doesn't seem like such a good idea right now. This isn't really working for me.”

“Pam,” Miles called after her as she darted through the restaurant toward the exit.

He looked out the window and saw her drive off the lot erratically, then slid back down in the booth wearily. “You really fucked that up, Miles,” he mumbled behind the hand over his mouth.

“Excuse me?”

He glanced at the hovering waiter and massaged the bridge of his nose. “I said, could I have another beer, please?”

FOURTEEN

Pam gripped the steering wheel and tried to regulate her breathing as she drove. The restaurant was only a little over ten minutes away from Paris's house, but the minutes seemed to creep by. She could literally hear a clock ticking in her head, and she felt herself becoming more and more agitated in response.

Near the exploding point, she turned into the driveway and shut the car off. She was in such a hurry to be indoors that she left the keys in the ignition and her purse on the seat, and raced across the grass to the porch. Chad and Nikki were in the sitting room when Pam came crashing through the front door and fell against the wall.

“Purse . . . and . . . keys,” Pam wheezed as Nikki came running toward her. She pointed out the door frantically. She sounded like she was having an asthma attack, felt like her throat was closing in on itself. Invisible needles pricked at her skin, all over her body, and the ringing in her ears was getting louder and louder. Nikki bolted out the door.

“What the hell?” Chad took long strides in her direction and all but carried her down the hallway to the kitchen. There, he pulled a chair away from the table and pushed Pam into it. She felt his palm against her neck seconds before he urged her head between her knees. “Take deep breaths, Pam. That's right baby, just like that.” He didn't notice Nikki standing in the doorway clutching Pam's purse and looking sick with worry.

“Bag . . . paper... bag,” Pam huffed. She sucked in air like she was drowning and lifted her head to stare at him. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking and now her legs were trembling. Chad slammed through drawers and cabinets until he found a small paper bag filled with individual tea bags. He dumped them on the counter and brought the bag over to her. She snatched it from him, shook it out, and clamped it over her mouth.

He stood over her, looking on in silence as the bag ballooned and collapsed rhythmically. After what seemed like forever, her breathing regulated and quieted and she took the bag from her mouth. She slumped back against the chair and closed her eyes in relief. Chad knelt in front of her and placed his hands on her knees, willing her to open her eyes and look at him. Finally she did and then she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his.

Nikki watched her father's hands slide back and forth over Pam's thighs in stunned silence. They stared at each other and she stared at them, feeling like she was seeing something personal and private, but she was unwilling to look away or to leave them alone. She was worried about Pam, but she was more worried about what might happen next if she didn't do something quick.

“Aunt Pam, are you all right?” She stepped into the kitchen and stopped beside Pam's chair.

Pam sat back and smiled reassuringly at Nikki. There were unshed tears in her eyes and she swiped them away with ice cold fingers. “I am now. Thanks for getting my purse and keys.” She took her purse and set it on the table, dropped her keys next to it, and ran her fingers through her hair. “It was just an anxiety attack. Every now and again they sneak up on me. Sorry I scared you.”

“Are they always bad like that?”

“I've had worse,” she told Nikki. “Usually by now I'm drenched with sweat and damn near speaking in tongues, so this one was about a five on the Richter scale.” The concerned look on Nikki's face wasn't going away, and she reached up and flicked a finger down her cheek softly. “I promise I'm fine.”

“Would you leave us alone for a minute, Nikki?” Chad took his eyes from Pam's face long enough to shoot Nikki a meaningful look. He rolled to his feet and leaned a hip against the counter, waiting.

“But Dad, Iâ”

“Nikki,” Chad cut her off, his tone no-nonsense and brisk. “A minute, please?” He tracked Nikki's progress as she reluctantly retreated down the hallway, then he motioned for Pam to follow him out onto the back porch. “How long have you been having anxiety attacks?” he asked the minute the back door was closed and they were alone.

“I don't know, Chad. They just started one day, that's all I remember.”

She was pacing around him and wouldn't look him in the eye. He cuffed her arm and brought her up short. She stood in front of him and he used a finger to tip her face up to his. “You could never look me in the face and lie very well, you know that?”

“I'm embarrassed enough without having to talk about it.”

“Since when? We used to talk about all kinds of shit and you didn't know the meaning of the word. Hell, sometimes
I
was embarrassed by some of the things that came out of your mouth, but
you
never were. Tell me when the attacks started, Pam.”

“I started having them before I left Mercy, but I didn't know what was happening back then. I was fine for a while, for a long time as a matter of fact, and then Paris . . .”

“She never mentioned you having anxiety attacks.”

“She didn't know. I never told her.”

“Why didn't you ever tell me? Particularly if you started having them before you left?”

“I didn't want you to think I was losing my mind. I really thought I was and the last thing I wanted was for you to think I was flipping out, mentally. My reputation wasn't the best to start with, anyway. Add in me flipping out and the old folks would've really had a field day. You were at school during the week so you never saw, and I didn't want you to see.”

“That's why you spend so much time in your room, isn't it?”

“The attacks are part of the reason, yes.”

“What the hell happened to you, Pam?” Chad moved closer to her and held her face in his hands. He pushed his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and searched her eyes. “One minute we were talking about moving away together, getting married, and having kids. I proposed to you and you accepted, do you remember that? And the next thing I knew you were getting on a bus and leaving me behind.”

“You still hate me for that.”

“How can I still hate you and still love you at the same time?”

“Chad . . .”

“I mean, yeah, I tried to hate you, and for a while it worked. I couldn't understand how you could do what you did. Still don't. But I had Nikki, so I tried to let you go. I accepted that you didn't want me. Is that what brought on the attacks in the first place, you feeling smothered by me, by us, and needing to get away?”

“I told you once before that you had nothing to do with me leaving. You won't get me to change my answer because it's still the same.”

“I must've played a part in it because you didn't ask me to go with you.” He released her and went to stand at the storm door, staring out at the backyard. “And I would've. I would've packed my shit and gotten on that bus with you and Paris. I was in love with you. I would've gone anywhere if it meant we would be together. I could've gone to school anywhere. Hell, I
wanted
to go somewhere else, but I stayed close for you, Pam. I was waiting for you to graduate and then it was going to be whatever we wanted it to be.”

“You married Paris,” she whispered at his back. “I was in love with you and you married Paris. That hurt me.”

“
Hurt?
” He spun around and gaped at her, incredulous. “How do you think I felt when I found out about Nikki? I can't even begin to describe the hurt I felt then. She was two when I discovered that we'd made a child together, and I swear to God I could've killed you with my bare hands. If nothing else, you could've given her to me but no, you gave her to Paris and there was no way in hell I was going to pretend like she wasn't mine. I couldn't do that, especially knowing that she was yours, too.”

Pam trudged over to a chair and dropped into it listlessly. In the encroaching darkness she leaned an elbow on the table and pressed stiff fingers to her lips. After a time, she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut against the memories floating around in her mind. “She told me you had some classes together and that you didn't know about Nikki. Everything was under control, she said. And then one day she calls me, telling me that you'd gone to the justice of the peace and gotten married. I didn't speak to her for six months after that. I was frozen, in shock, I think. The day . . .” she trailed off and worked to get her throat under control. She felt like screaming. “The day you called, yelling and screaming at me, saying that you hated me, was the first time we spoke after she told me.”

“I remember that day. I snapped, completely lost it, and I needed you to know how I felt.”

“You didn't leave any room for doubt, that's for sure. After that, I figured you had what you wanted, so I stayed out of it as much as I could and still maintain a relationship with Nikki.”

“I wanted you and you weren't here.”

“And I wanted you, but I couldn't
be
here. Then you had Paris and I thought, well that's it then. There's no reason for me to ever go back to Mercy again. I had
nothing
here and no one.”

“You had Nikki and Paris.”

“Portable, both of them. Seeing you again wasn't an option I gave myself.”

“Please don't tell me it's my fault you never came back.”

“I keep telling you, you had nothing to do with me leaving this damn town, Chad. What part of that are you not getting?”

Chad crossed the porch and hovered over her. “Why don't you tell me about the part I'm not getting? If it wasn't me, then what the hell was it?”

“I had . . . things . . .”

“
Things
,” he spat out. “You said that before. What
things
?”

“Things I'm too tired to get into right now. Can we drop it, please?”

“Drop it?” he shuffled back unsteadily, running his hands over his face. “You want to drop it? I'm standing here with my dick as hard as a fucking rock from just
looking
at you and you want to
drop it
? I'm sorry, baby, but I need some answers.”

“And I need you to let it go. Please.” She stood and ran her hands up his arms and over his shoulders. She pulled his face down to hers and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I loved you with everything I had, okay? I still love you, but I need you to let it go right now.” He reared back, resisting her hold, intending to step away and force the issue, but she wouldn't release him. “Come on, Chad. Do this for me, please. Just for now, all right? Just for now. Tell me what you wanted to talk to me about. We haven't gotten around to that yet. Tell me now.”

“I think maybe you did lose your mind way back when, Pam. You must have because you forgot that I was there for you. We could've dealt with whatever you were going through together and still
been
together in the process.”

It was Pam's turn to resist. She tried to step back and take her hands away, but Chad slid his arms around her waist and kept her close. He took in the confused look on her face, the tears in her eyes and let out a long breath. “Okay, okay. We'll drop it. Aw, Pam, don't cry. Don't do that . . .” His hands slid down to cup her butt and pull her in closer, against his erection. She moaned low in her throat and opened her mouth for his kiss.

They were still standing close and breathing hard when the doorknob turned. Chad took a quick step back from Pam and looked at Nikki over his shoulder just as she pulled the door open. She stuck her head out and zeroed in on Pam. “I just wanted to check on Aunt Pam,” she said.

“I'm fine, Nikki. Good as new.” Pam sucked her swollen bottom lip into her mouth and tasted Chad. “I appreciate you looking out for me. It helps.”

“Is the minute up, Dad?”

“No,” Chad chirped. “Could I have like, two
more
minutes, please?”

“I guess, but after that you have to share,” Nikki replied and closed the door.

He waited until he heard the click that told him the door was completely shut, then turned his attention back to Pam. “What are we going to do about her?”

“You think she was eavesdropping on us?” The idea was just now occurring to Pam and it scared her.

“She would've interrupted long before now if she was. I wasn't talking about right now, Pam. I mean what are we going to
do
about her?” He pulled a chair away from the table and straddled it, draping his arms across the back and resting his chin on top of them to stare at her.

“You mean . . . ?” Pam trailed off, comprehension dawning by degrees. As his question settled in her mind, her eyes grew wide and alarmed. Her mouth opened, then closed, then finally fell open again. “Chad, I don't know . . .”

“Paris was her mother Pam, we both know that. I just wondered if you ever intended to tell her the truth about her biological parents? About you? Us?”

“Do you?”

“Some would argue that she has a right to know.”

BOOK: Running From Mercy

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