Snowflakes on the Sea (10 page)

“Did you hear from Nathan?” she asked without preamble, setting the suitcase down at Mallory’s feet.

Mallory nodded, but was, for the moment, speechless. Why in hell did she feel so guilty, when it was Nathan who had stirred up an ugly scandal, Nathan who had been the betrayer? Or had he? She saw an angry defense of him brewing in Pat’s dark blue eyes.

“He was in pretty bad shape when I left him a few minutes ago, Mall.”

Mallory felt a swift and searing fury flash through her battered spirit, but the emotion was tempered with self-doubt. Suppose Renee Parker’s paternity charge was trumped up, as so many such cases involving celebrities were? Suppose Nathan was as innocent a victim as Mallory herself?

“Be more specific, Pat. ‘Pretty bad shape’ is a broad phrase.”

Pat pulled off her coat in angry motions and tossed it aside. Then she sank into a chair facing Mallory’s and glared at her sister-in-law. “Will ‘dead drunk’ do? Damn it, Mallory, you’re putting the man through hell for something he didn’t do!” Sudden tears brimmed up in the blue eyes and then spilled over. “He’s my brother and I love him and I can’t stand what this is doing to him!”

Mallory shivered. Nathan, drunk? She’d never seen him intoxicated even once, in all the time that they’d been married, and she couldn’t begin to imagine how he would look or sound in such a state. “Pat,” she asserted, “you’re not being fair! I’m not trying to hurt Nathan—”

Quickly, Pat reached out, caught Mallory’s hand in her own. “I know, Mall—I know. It’s just that—well—”

“I understand. A-are you sure he was drunk?” In her mind, Mallory was remembering the day she and Nathan had talked about their Christmas apart from each other, and he’d said,
“I drank a lot.”

A rueful, sniffly giggle escaped Pat. “He was on his lips, Mallory.”

“Was he alone?”

Instantly, Pat was on the defensive again. “Did you think he’d send for Renee Parker, Mallory? Of course he’s alone!”

“He shouldn’t be.”

Hope gleamed in Pat’s misty eyes. “You’ll go to him, then?”

Mallory shook her head. “I can’t, Pat—not yet. But he shouldn’t be by himself. Alex Demming is his best friend—I’ll call him.”

“Forget it,” Pat said sharply, disappointment clear in her voice. “I’ll ask Roger to go over there.”

Mallory looked down at her hands, clasped painfully in her lap, startlingly white against the deep blue of the borrowed chenille robe, and wondered if she was being selfish in avoiding Nathan now when he obviously needed her. She did her best not to hear Pat’s tearful conversation with her boyfriend and felt deep gratitude when Nathan’s sister informed her, after hanging up the phone, that Roger was on his way to the penthouse.

It was a long night. Mallory soon gave up on the idea of sleep and got out of bed to pace the guest room, torn between the fact that she loved Nathan McKendrick with all her heart and soul, no matter what he might have done, and the counterpoint: her own pride.

No matter how deeply she loved that impossible, arrogant, wonderful man, she would never live with him again if he’d betrayed her. There would be no trust, and without trust, love meant nothing.

The sun was barely up when Mallory crept out of Pat’s condo, yesterday’s newspaper tucked under one arm. Sitting behind the wheel of her Mazda, she scanned the article just once more, to confirm her plans.

The girl’s name was Renee Parker, and she lived in Eagle Falls, a small town about an hour from Seattle. Mallory had been in that community once, years before, with her parents.

And now she was going there again.

Nathan rolled over in bed and moaned. Nausea welled up in his middle, and blood pounded in the veins beneath his skull. He swore.

Roger Carstairs, Pat’s boyfriend, appeared in the bedroom doorway, his healthy looks annoying. He was wearing the housekeeper’s apron and stirring something in a mixing bowl. “Breakfast?” He grinned, his green eyes alight with malicious mischief.

Nathan swore again. “How much did I drink last night?”

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t throw a party, if I were you, without replenishing your liquor supply.”

The telephone on the bedside table rang suddenly, jarring Nathan’s throbbing head. “Hello!” he barked obnoxiously into the receiver. If it was a reporter, he’d—

It was Pat, and she sounded worried. “Nate, is Mallory over there?”

Nathan’s jaw was suddenly clenched so tightly that it ached. “No—” He paused and looked questioningly at Roger. “Mallory didn’t drop by, did she?”

Roger shook his head.

“No,” Nathan repeated. “My lovely wife is not here, soothing my tortured brow. Did you call her place on the island or Angel Cove?”

“Yes, I called Kate Sheridan and Trish Demming, too, and they haven’t seen her either.”

Though he was trying to be angry, Nathan was actually scared. Mallory hadn’t been in the best state of mind before the paternity charge, and the pain and confusion she had to be feeling didn’t even bear thinking about. God, she might have left, might have walked out of his life forever. And the hell of it was that he was innocent; whatever other sins he might have committed, he had been a faithful husband from the first.

“She must have said something, Pat—
anything.
”

“She said very little, Nathan. Her clothes are still here, if that’s any comfort.”

It wasn’t. Mallory had enough credit cards to buy all the new ones she wanted. Forgetting his incredible hangover, Nathan threw back the covers on his bed and sat up, still cradling the receiver with his shoulder. He was reaching for a pair of jeans when he barked, “Damn it, if she’s left me—she
promised—
”

“Oh,” Pat marveled in the tones of one who has just had a revelation. “I think I know where she is.”

“Spare me the dramatic pause, Pat!” Nathan snapped, struggling into the jeans.
“Where?”

“Eagle Falls.”

“Eagle what?”

“That little town where your alleged lover lives, dummy. Eagle Falls. Mallory went there.”

The thought made Nathan sick. “What makes you think she’d do a stupid thing like that? What the hell could she hope to accomplish?”

“I’d do that, if I were in her shoes—that’s what makes me think it. Nathan, you have been straight with me, haven’t you? She’s not going to walk into some hideaway filled with romantic mementos and candid snapshots of you, is she?”

Nathan was balancing the telephone receiver between his shoulder and his ear, and wrenching on his socks. “On the basis of our long-standing relationship, sister dear, I’m going to let that question pass. It’s too damned low to rate an answer!”

“All right, all right. So what do we do now?”

Instantly deflated and stung on some primary level, Nathan sank back to the bed, abandoning his previous hasty efforts to get dressed. He ignored Pat’s question to continue angrily, “She
believes
it. God, after everything we’ve been through together,
she thinks I’d go to bed with someone else.
”

“Nathan—”

Rage and hurt made his voice harsh. “Damn her, she knows better!”

“Does she? Nathan, how would you have felt if that story had been about her? Well, I’ll tell you how you would have felt, bozo!”

Nathan calmly laid the receiver down on the bedside table and walked away, and his sister’s tirade was audible even from the doorway leading into the bathroom.

He heard Roger speaking placating words into the phone as he reached into the shower and turned the spigots.

Eagle Falls was smaller than Mallory remembered. In fact, it boasted only one gas station, one café and one grocery store. Behind this one-block business section, about two dozen shabby houses were perched on the verdant hillside, along with a post office, a tiny school and a wood-frame church. Remembering that Renee Parker was, according to the newspaper article, a waitress, Mallory headed for the café.

Inside that dusty, fly-speckled kitchen, she was informed by an eager-eyed fry cook that Renee lived in the pink house next door to the church. Like as not, the man imparted further, she’d be home, since she wasn’t working in the café anymore.

Mallory nodded politely and left. What was she going to say to this Renee person, anyway, once they came face to face?—“Pardon me, but have you been sleeping with my husband?”

Angry tears were stinging her eyes when she slid back behind the wheel of the car, and it was a moment before she dared start up the engine again and drive. Damn it, she didn’t
know
what she was going to say to the bimbo, but she had to see her. One look at her and she would know whether the stories were true or not. Just one look.

I could say I’m the Avon lady,
she thought five minutes later when she drew the car to a stop in the crunchy snow rutting the street in front of Renee Parker’s modest house. After drawing one deep breath, Mallory got out of the car and strode toward Renee’s front door, exuding a confidence she didn’t feel.

There was smoke curling from a chimney in the roof of the small house, and the front door was open, the passage blocked only by a rickety screen door. Inside, a young, female voice was lustily singing along with one of Nathan’s records.

And in that moment, inexplicably, Mallory froze. Nathan was innocent. She was about to force her rigid muscles to carry her back down the crumbling walk when the screen door opened suddenly and a pretty girl appeared on the porch. “Ray—”

Mallory assessed Renee Parker—she looked much as she had in the newspaper picture—and mentally kicked herself. The girl was cute, and obviously pregnant, but she was too young to hope for more than passing notice from a man like Nathan. He was far more likely, if he strayed, to choose someone like Diane Vincent.

Renee paled, then her brown eyes darkened. “Tracy Ballard!” she gasped, reaching wildly for the handle of the screen door behind her. “Mom, Tracy Ballard is out here—”

Mallory lifted her chin. All this and a fan of the soap in the bargain. She nearly laughed. “I’m not really Tracy Ballard, Renee,” she said, with dignity. “I’m Mrs. Nathan McKendrick.”

Renee laid one unsteady hand on her protruding stomach. “Oh.”

“Yes. Could we talk, Renee?”

The girl’s eyes were suddenly very round. “I’m not taking back any of the things I said!”

Mallory advanced a step, trying to look ominous, though she hadn’t the vaguest idea what she’d do if Renee called her bluff.

Fortunately, Renee didn’t. She leapt behind the screen door, pulled it shut and flipped the hook into place, as though fearing for her very life. “This baby belongs to your husband!” Renee cried, “and that’s the truth!”

“We both know it isn’t, Renee,” Mallory said evenly. “Who paid you to file that lawsuit?”

“Nobody paid me! Nathan was in love with me, he—”

“I see. Did you know he’s planning to file a countersuit, Renee? This is slander, you know. His lawyers will make you appear in court, and it will be harder to lie there. You’d be committing perjury, and they can put you in jail for that.”

“Jail?”

“Jail,” Mallory confirmed, feeling profoundly sorry for the frightened girl before her. “Who put you up to this?”

Renee shook her head. “Nobody—nobody!”

“Very well. Then I’ll see you in court. Goodbye, Renee.”

With that, Mallory turned regally and walked back to her car. She was starting the engine when Renee appeared at the window on the driver’s side, her face pinched and pale with fear. “C-could you wait a minute? Could we talk?”

Mallory managed a nonchalant shrug, betraying none of the jumbled nerves that were snapping inside her like shorted electrical wires. “I thought we’d said everything.”

“J-just wait here—just for a minute—please?”

“I’ll wait,” Mallory promised, and when Renee had scurried back inside the small pink house, she allowed her forehead to drop to the steering wheel. Good God, what had she done? Nathan had never said anything about filing a countersuit against Renee Parker. What if Renee called Mallory’s bluff?

Seconds later, when Mallory had composed herself again, Renee reappeared. She was holding a battered
TV Guide
cover in one hand, and there was a pinhole in the top, as though it had been affixed to a wall.

Mallory took the cover and was assaulted by her own smiling face. She had forgotten that interview; even though they’d used her picture on the cover, most of the writer’s questions had been about Nathan. She looked up at Renee, truly puzzled. “What—?”

“Would you autograph it? Would you write, ‘To Renee, from Tracy’?”

For a moment, Mallory could not believe what she was hearing. Was it possible that this girl would ruin her life, shake the very foundations of a marriage she treasured and then blithely ask her for an autograph? “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Renee looked hurt. “I watch your show all the time—”

Mallory drew a deep breath, then fumbled through her purse for a pen. “Tell you what, Renee. I’m going to write a phone number on the back. If you decide to tell the truth about your baby, you call me.”

“D-did you leave Nathan?”

Mallory lifted her chin.
In the lurch,
she thought.
Like a fool.
“I love him, Renee, and he loves me.”

One tear glistened in the corner of Renee’s eye as Mallory handed her the worn
TV Guide
cover, now boasting Tracy Ballard’s signature and several phone numbers on the back. “I didn’t mean to—it was so much money—”

Mallory’s throat ached so badly that she couldn’t speak. She could only look into this young woman’s face and hope.

The girl bit her lower lip and stepped back. “I might call you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Mallory managed.

Renee looked down at the magazine cover in her hands and beamed. “Oh, boy, just
wait
till I show this to my mom—”

Mallory stopped herself from offering the girl a check that would exceed whatever she’d been paid to lie about Nathan and calmly drove away.

When she came to the gas station, however, she pulled up beside the rest rooms, ran inside the appropriate chamber and was violently ill. Afterward, she splashed her face with the tepid water that trickled from the spigot marked Cold and returned to her car. Again, she considered paying Renee.