Swept Away (27 page)

“Awww,” she said, reaching across the short distance that separated them to run her fingertips along Jennifer's jawline. “That's so sweet.”

She was considerably more talkative on the way home than she had been before, much to the annoyance of her hosts. Fortunately it wasn't a long drive. It was just after ten when they got to the little house and Sylvia was well on her way to being plowed. “Sure you won't come in for another drink?” she invited.

“No, thanks.” Jennifer faked a yawn. “I'm bushed.”

There was a long silence as they left Sylvia in front of her house. Finally Alex said, “Well?”

“Damn, Alex, I found out way more about Sylvia than I ever wanted to know.”

“I'll bet.”

“Her life is more of a train wreck than mine—but here are the two things I know that I consider valuable information. One, Joey's father may be a loser, but apparently he has grandparents who are good-enough people to have pestered Sylvia to see the boy. Hedda seems to have only Sylvia and Sylvia's dysfunctional parents, who, fortunately, have no interest in her. And two—she's an alcoholic.”

“You think?” he asked facetiously.

“Maybe someone should contact Joey's grandparents,” she said.

* * *

The opportunity to bring up the subject of Joey's grandparents came sooner than Jennifer expected. She had not imagined what the onset of summer would bring—the temperatures rose to one hundred degrees daily and the nights were often rent with violent desert storms known as the monsoons. School was out, there was no air-conditioning in the house in which Hedda lived, and the intensity of the heat and the boredom of the days made it difficult to keep Joey occupied, and therefore not easy for Sylvia to sleep. Hedda came in for her shift at one, Joey in hand. There was an angry red welt marking her cheek and her eyes showed the anguish of crying.

Jennifer wanted to storm over to that nasty little shack and knock Sylvia into the middle of next week, but she kept her cool. “Here's what I want you to do,” she told the girl. “When you get up in the morning, go straight over to my house. Er, Louise's house. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to stay there, but when that business is all settled, I'll have to go somewhere.”

“Are you sure it's okay?”

“I'm sure. But one more thing, Hedda. I know you think you can do everything, but I think you should give yourself a break and consider contacting Joey's grandma and grandpa.” The girl instantly dropped her gaze. Jennifer lifted her chin. “What's the problem?”

“They live in Arizona.”

“So?”

“They would take him away,” she said, her eyes watering.

“Arizona isn't so far away. Look, you don't have to make a decision right away, but Hedda, you're almost seventeen. You have to think of Joey, too. Could he have a better childhood in Arizona?”

“Probably,” she said. “But my mom won't give him up.”

Jennifer almost said, I don't see why. But she held her tongue.

“You just think about it.” She touched the girl's reddened cheek. “Meanwhile, just go to my house.”

“You don't understand,” she said. “She needs me. As long as she has me and Joey, she manages to hold it together.”

“I do understand,” Jennifer said. “I've been there. But in case you hadn't noticed, she's not holding it together very well these days.”

She shook her head. “She'll get a grip. She always does.”

It was with Hedda on her mind that Jennifer brought up the subject of the house with Alex. “I wonder if I should be looking for a place to live that will take Alice,” she said.

An expression crossed his face that was almost a wince. “Listen, I didn't mean to keep anything from you, but the house is to be mine. Louise told me a few years ago that if she didn't have to liquidate her property to go into a nursing home, she would leave me the house as long as I would watch over Alice.”

“Why didn't you just tell me?”

“I don't know. Because I didn't want to change anything.”

“But you have to know that things are changing,” she said. “Not the least of which is that Doris is leaving and Jennifer is emerging. I have some explaining to do.”

“There's plenty of time,” he said, reaching for her.

Alex had a hard time focusing, now that he'd had sex. He appeared to be insatiable, and every second they were alone he was pulling her into his arms, tugging at her clothes. She could keep him under control, but the problem was that every time he touched her, she couldn't think, either.

“I wish we'd get enough,” she said. “So we could deal with some of these practical matters.”

“There isn't enough,” he answered. “I've been thinking of taking a leave of absence from work.”

fifteen

Jennifer took the bike out at first light. The sun was coming up earlier with the lengthening of the days. Although she'd ridden back to the park several times, braving the increasing afternoon heat, she hadn't seen the bighorns. But as she got to the park at dawn, she saw the first glimpses of them coming over the mountain and down the trail. It hadn't occurred to her that they would change their grazing habits as the weather changed, but here they were in the cool morning light instead of the midday heat.

She got a spot on the grass, lying the bike beside her, and watched as they approached. She wished she'd thought to bring Alex, but it seemed so unfair to wake him at dawn when he didn't have to go to work until later in the morning. As for work, Buzz wouldn't get excited if she didn't show at five on the dime.

The night before had held the kind of magic she wasn't sure she was entitled to. In all the fantasies of her deprived youth, her Prince Charming had owned a Jag and a yacht, had a mansion in the Azores and his own jet. And when he swept her onto the dance floor, she was always wearing a long white chiffon gown.

But in reality the man to whom she had given her heart wore chinos and loafers, a cotton polo shirt and a Timex. He was far from rich, except in kindness and humor.

They had been right in this spot last night, in his car, necking like high school kids do. With each touch of his lips, she melted further into his arms. The moon had been high and full and reflected on the lake below, and Jennifer knew her most impossible dreams had come to life.

Just when she found herself begging Alex to take her home and to bed, he had other ideas. They went to the Boulder Hotel, where there was underground dancing in the basement underneath. “This is for the younger set,” he said with a laugh, meaning for folks in their thirties and forties.

“I love to dance,” she said.

“I know. I love to watch you dance.”

On that particular night, swing was the dance of the evening. And Alex, who always seemed one surprise ahead of her, twirled her around very expertly and nearly wore her out. Then home, where Louise's old bed was made to creak and rock until the wee hours of the morning. Alex was still there, snoring, when Jennifer got up for a quick ride before work and was now, miraculously, watching the sheep descend.

As they neared, she realized with a leap in her breast that the lambs had come. There were three. No, four. No,
eight
little ones trailing along with their mothers. And just as Alex had predicted, the rams were not separating in the same distant manner; they were sticking pretty close to the ewes and lambs.

It was so hard to just sit there and watch. She felt like part of the family and she wanted to get closer, to pet them. But these were not sweet little white lambs like the one that followed Mary to school. These were brown, rather dusty and their new fleece was already getting matted, though she doubted they were even two weeks old, rocking on their wobbly little legs. It had been tempting since first sighting the lambs to jump on the bike and race back to town to wake Alex, but she wasn't sure she could get back before they left, so she settled for making sure he came with her the next day.

And then they began to leave and she realized that this was not just a beginning, but also the end of something. She promised herself that after the prom and the lambs, she would find out what had become of the life she had left behind. She couldn't make a break and start over completely until she did that.

It was time to get that unfinished business in Florida taken care of.

* * *

The diner didn't start to get busy on the weekends until at least 8:00 a.m., so Buzz had no problem with her wandering in a little late. She was melancholy as she told them all about the lambs, but no one seemed to notice. She had also been concentrating on exactly how she was going to explain who she was and where she'd come from.

It appeared she was not going to have the chance to orchestrate the events in her own order. Before 9:00 a.m. a long black limo pulled up to the diner, and every head turned to look at it.

“Jesus Christ,” Gloria said. “We don't usually get the high mucky-mucks here at the Can.”

The driver got out and held the door open for his passenger, a short and thick bald guy. Well, this is it, Jennifer thought. Here he is. As Jennifer saw Nick stand there looking at the diner, she slowly removed her apron, hung it on the coatrack just inside the door and walked outside, resignation in every step. But at least she was no longer afraid he would kill her.

Just as she had long suspected he might, he knew her instantly. Recognition showed in his eyes. She might be able to fool a lot of people, but not Nick. Nor Alex. These two men could not be more different, yet neither was fooled for a second by her disguise.

“Hi, baby.” He cocked his head, winked and smiled. “You look good.”

Without the heels and teased hair she was shorter than him by a couple of inches. She stood patiently while he looked her over, amazed by how quickly it all came back to her—the way she wouldn't shrink under his gaze but rather let him take his fill. She wore jeans and a collared shirt—the usual diner attire. Her only makeup was some lip gloss, but with her rosy cheeks and dark sooty lashes, that was all she needed.

“You, too, Nick.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I like this version.”

“What about the leggy blond version? I thought you were into that?”

“Aw,” he scoffed. “You're one of those people who can look good no matter what. Got a minute?” He looked around, up and down the street, into the diner. Ten or more faces stared back at him from inside. “This is a little personal.” He stepped aside so she had access to the open door of the limo.

“Sure,” she said, getting inside. When Nick was in beside her and the door closed, she said, “I'll talk to you for a minute, but I'm not going anywhere with you.”

“Hey, what's up with this? Huh? You run away from me and dump me like that? What's your deal? What'd I do? Huh?”

“I guess it turns out you didn't do what I thought you did,” she said. “But that day your wife showed up at the MGM, I overheard your fight. It was awful, Nick. I went back later and saw the room. I'm sorry, but I couldn't deal with that. I can't be with a man who can have a violent fight with a woman—with his wife.”

“What did
I
do?” he asked.

“I didn't just see the room, Nick. While you were taking a shower, I snuck in there. I saw Barbara on the bed. I thought you'd
killed
her!”

“I shoulda killed her,” he said. “She made me so damn mad. You can't believe the threats she was making. She's gonna turn copies of my records over to the IRS, she says. Get me sent to prison for tax evasion. I'll tell you what, I wanted to kill her. But I just gave her a knockout drink. She'd already trashed the room, damn near broke my nose and didn't show any sign of settling down. So I said, ‘Lou! Get Barbara a drink. She's got herself all worked up here.'”

“A mickey?” she asked.

“Well,” he shrugged, “a roofie. Rohypnol.”

“The date-rape drug?”

He laughed hollowly. “You can believe it had nothing to do with rape. I just wanted that broad to shut the hell up. Damn, she pissed me off.”

“Hmm,” she said. “That explains it.”

“And you left me because of that? Jesus, Jennifer. Haven't I been good to you? I ever raise a hand? You ever have reason to be afraid of me?”

“I was never afraid of you. Not until that day. Not until—” She stopped for a moment, thinking. “You mean to say you didn't throw anything, or hit, or—”

“Hey, I was getting real damn close to decking her, you know? I don't pretend to be an angel. If she'd've been a guy, I would have clocked her. Him. But I don't hit girls, okay? There aren't very many places I draw a line, but—” He shrugged again. “You shoulda talked to me, baby.” He reached over and gave her jeans-clad knee a pat. “I was worried sick, you know. I thought someone snatched you or something. I looked. I hired detectives. I posted a reward with the police.”

“Worried?”

“Hell, Jennifer—why do you act like you don't know me? Huh? I was totally wrapped up in you! I thought I'd lost you!”

“I heard you tell Lou to go find that bimbo....”

“I don't always say the right thing, you know that. I'm not as good with women as I'd like to be—but I make up for it, don't I? Didn't I give you nice things? Jesus, baby, you scared me to death.”

“I'm sorry, Nick. It was a huge misunderstanding.”

“Tell me about it...”

“How'd you find me?”

“Get real! You don't think I have contacts all over the place?”

“But how?”

“I'm not going to kid you, Jennifer. It cost me. But it was worth it. I just had to see for myself that you were all right.”

Maybe it was worth it, she thought. Because at least this will be over. Finally. “I'm really glad Barbara's all right and you're all right. Did she turn your records over to the IRS?”

“A lot of talk,” he said with a dismissive wave of the hand. “I don't think she's going to threaten like that again, though. I think she knows she punched the right button that time.” He laughed in spite of himself. “She's a pistol, all right. I always marry pistols. I just don't see 'em coming.” He patted then grabbed her knee. “Now, you—I like your style. You got class. How about that—running off because you can't be with a guy who fights with his wife?” He laughed. “Who'd've known? Huh?”

“If I'd just gone to the police with what I'd seen, it would have been cleared up real fast,” she said.

“Yeah, well, that's not my first choice, either. I guess if you felt you had to—but I have a feeling the cops would've locked me up for the roofies. I don't know what it is—but the cops have a case of the ass for me. You'd think I was some kind of crook or something.”

“Well,” she said, “what about the tax records?”

“Aw, that. It's nothing, really. I might owe a little here and there. Lotta people do. I could get fined. I'd
hate
to get fined. But there's no way I'm going to jail for taxes. Jesus.”

“Then why did you knock out Barbara?”

“Baby, you know how much it costs to defend yourself in these deals? Holy Jesus, it's a fortune. My lawyers are busy enough with real estate deals—they're robbing me blind just to close those. A guy's
wife
goes to the feds and you know what happens? They like to never give up.”

He looked out the left window and right window of the car. “So, baby, what are you doing in this place?”

She smiled her winning smile. “Waiting tables. Dog-sitting.”

“Gimme a break.”

“Serious as a heart attack.”

“Well, let's go get your stuff, take you home....” He looked her up and down again. “You're cute as a button, baby, but this just isn't you.”

“I told you, Nick. I can't go with you.”

“What are you talking about? Of course you're going with me.”

“I didn't do any of this on purpose,” she said, “but this place suits me. I like the pace. I'm not trying to please anyone, and it turns out, I please a lot more people this way.”

“So what? You like the short hair? The jeans? Fine—you can wear jeans anywhere....”

“I met someone.”

The statement seemed to throw him back in his seat. “You're putting me on. Here?”

“It's a nice little town,” she said.

“It isn't you,” he said.

“The other girl wasn't me, Nick. Plastic boobs, puffed-up lips, capped teeth, dyed hair...”

“Dyed?” he asked almost painfully.

She couldn't help herself—she smiled at him. “You can build yourself another Barbie,” she said. “I'm leaving that old life behind....”

“You're leaving me.” It wasn't a question.

“I'm afraid so.”

“Damn!” he said, and looked away as if he couldn't let her see the look in his eyes. And she thought,
Is it possible he really cared for me?
“What about all your things?”

She lifted a brow. “I still have things?”

“What did you think? I sold your stuff or something?”

She shrugged. “I thought it possible you put some other blonde in that condo. If you found one about my size, she'd have a nice wardrobe, too.”

His eyes were sad as he reached a hand toward her face, cupping her cheek against his palm. “Hey, you're killing me here! I gave you the best I had and it turns out you never even trusted me! You telling me you're not even going back to Florida at all? You're going to leave the mail on the buffet table? The Jag in the garage? Your lacy underwear in the drawers?”

She frowned slightly.

“I'm over there every week. Me, personally. Just to see if you've been back. If anything has been touched. Because, baby, I thought you felt about me like I felt about you.”

“I'm sorry, Nick.”

“You're just going to leave it all?”

“I'll go back there eventually. Soon, maybe. Get my mail, pack a bag—but I'm not stupid, Nick. It's not like you're giving me a Jag. And the condo is in your name. Like the furniture. I'm only going to take what's mine.”

“Well, I am stupid,” he said. “Because until five minutes ago, I was going to let you have anything you wanted. Right now I don't think I even want you to have the rings.”

“I'll be happy to give them back. And the bracelet.”

“Got 'em on you?” he asked. Gone was the brokenhearted expression, replaced by an angry smirk. “They at the little old lady's house?”

“Whose...?”

“The little old lady's house where you're staying with the dog?”