The Sooner the Better (18 page)

“Great! Are you coming to see my mom?”

“Yeah. Is she around?”

“Yup.”

Worried that she might not appreciate his entering the house unannounced, Gary asked, “Would you mind telling her I'm here?”

“Sure. She'll be glad.” The boy dashed up the steps and through the door; half a minute later Marjorie appeared. Gary could tell by the way she hesitated when she saw him that she felt flustered.

“Hello, Gary.”

“Marjorie.” She remained on the top porch step, arms folded protectively.

“I won't take much of your time,” he said, standing a safe distance away on the lawn. “I came to a decision today, and I want you to know what it is, since it definitely concerns you.”

“Concerns me how? What kind of decision?”

“As you pointed out, I'm engaged. But I've learned something—I don't want to be engaged anymore. Lorraine and I… I don't know. She's terrific. Great. We dated for quite a while, and I more or less decided it was time to get married. She felt the same way. That's why it happened. But I'm breaking off the engagement.”

“Is she back from Mexico or wherever she went?”

“No.” He'd thought about that, too. If she was in Louisville, he'd talk to her that very day.

“So she doesn't know?” Marjorie pressed.

“Not yet, but I don't think she'll be too disappointed.”

“How can you say that?” Marjorie demanded with such outrage, Gary retreated a step in surprise.

“There was no passion between us. No…sparks.” He hadn't realized that until he'd kissed Marjorie. The sizzle
between them was strong enough to shoot sparks into tomorrow.

“Sparks.” She arched a brow.

“I'm not a fickle man, Marjorie. I want you to know that.”

She didn't reveal any emotion. “Are you breaking the engagement because of me?”

Gary wasn't sure how to answer. The best policy was the truth, so he met her look squarely, unwilling to discount the intensity of what he felt for her. “Yes. I've been waiting all my life for you. I won't let you slip through my fingers now.”

“Oh, Gary.” She was actually crying.

“Invite him to dinner, Mom.” Brice stood at the screen door.

“Thanks, but I should be leaving.” Gary headed back to his car.

“Gary.”

He turned around.

She was wiping her eyes with one sleeve. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

More than she'd ever know. “Would you like me to?”

She smiled and nodded, then held out her hand to him.

Gary didn't need a second invitation.

 

Jack didn't know where he was. He opened his eyes and bright lights blinded him. He wondered if he was dead, then decided he was in too much pain for that. Pain was a good sign. It meant he was alive.

A nurse stood at his bedside, along with an elderly physician.

“Doctor?” Jack asked in Spanish.

The older man turned to him and smiled when he
realized Jack was conscious. “So you've decided to return to the land of the living, have you?”

“How long have I been out?”

“A week.”

The last thing Jack remembered was the convincing knowledge that he was about to die and take Carlos with him.

“How do you feel, Mr. Keller?”

“Like I fell off a cliff.”

The physician grinned.

“How's the other guy?” He hoped to hell Carlos was dead. “Mr. Applebee?”

“Him, too.”

“Unfortunately, both Mr. Applebee and Mr. Caracol were pronounced dead at the scene.”

“Carlos Caracol?” Jack wasn't taking any chances. Jason's death was news to him, but there hadn't exactly been time to ask Lorraine questions.

“You and your wife are the only two to survive.”

Jack didn't correct the assumption, but turned his head away, not wanting to think about Lorraine.

“Your wife has been at your bedside from the moment you were brought into the hospital,” the nurse told him. “She wouldn't leave you.”

“How is she?” Jack's memory was foggy, but he knew Lorraine had taken one hell of a beating. “
Where
is she?”

“She's with her father having lunch,” the doctor said. “Against her wishes, I might add. As for her injuries, she's much better. Or she will be as soon as I tell her you're conscious.”

Jack closed his eyes.

“You gave us quite a scare recently.”

“I did?” Jack's eyes fluttered open again.

“You went into cardiac arrest a couple of days ago. It's been touch-and-go ever since. You have a strong will to live, Mr. Keller.”

“It's his wife,” the nurse corrected. “She said she refused to let you die.”

He grinned. That sounded like Lorraine, all right.

“For days she's been sitting at your bedside, talking about your future together. She said she wants your child.”

Jack's grin faded. Apparently Lorraine had decided to file for divorce. She was going to do it, going to ruin her life for him. He could see it happening already. She'd return to Louisville and rip apart two lives. Jack couldn't let her throw away her marriage because of him.

“Doctor,” he said from between gritted teeth. He hardly had the strength to talk. He clutched the man's coat sleeve in an effort to convey the urgency of his request.

“Do you need something for the pain?”

“No.”

“I'll get your wife,” the nurse said.

“No!”

“Calm down, Mr. Keller. Whatever is wrong, we can take care of it.”

Jack doubted that. “The woman out there isn't my wife.”

He watched as they stared at him in stunned disbelief.

“She's wearing a wedding band,” the nurse said, as if to disqualify his statement.

“She loves you,” the physician said, frowning. “She's been unwilling to leave you this entire time. The only way we were able to get her out of the room now was because of her—”

“That ring was given to her by another man.”

Both the nurse and the doctor continued to stare at him.

“If you go out there and tell Lorraine I'm alive, you'll be responsible for breaking up a marriage, for destroying a family.” His hand tightened on the physician's sleeve. “Do you understand what I'm saying?”

The doctor's gaze connected with his.

“I love her, too,” Jack whispered. He could feel the darkness closing in.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Tell her I died.”

“No, Mr. Keller, that isn't possible.”

“Tell her I died or…or I'll ruin her life.” He had trouble saying the words. They stumbled off the end of his tongue.

“You love her that much?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Keller—”

“Do it…please.” He wasn't a man who begged or pleaded, but he was reduced to it now. “She has a husband. A good man who loves her…who knows nothing about me.”

The physician took a long time deciding, then, as if he found it acutely difficult, finally agreed with a nod.

“Thank you,” Jack whispered. He could rest now. Could shut his eyes and sink into the beckoning oblivion.

He heard the soft crush of footsteps as the physician walked out of the room.

Jack lost track of time. It could have been five minutes, possibly ten; he didn't know. The next thing he heard was Lorraine's agonized scream.

“No, no! Please, no!”

Hearing her wrenched his heart. The sound of her
sobs followed. Plaintive, pitiful, filled with an agony that touched all who heard them.

Jack closed his eyes and wished he could close off his hearing, as well.

From this point forward, he was dead to Lorraine and she was dead to him.

S
ix months passed before Lorraine was able to sleep through the night. Each time she awoke, an intense sadness settled over her—worse even than the harsh grief she'd felt at the unexpectedness of her mother's death. Often she lay in bed, grateful for the darkness, for the silence, and clutched the memories of Jack to her heart.

Finally she understood the poet's claim that it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. In years past she'd scoffed at those very words, considered them foolish. No more. Even though she would have escaped this pain if she'd never met Jack, she knew she'd gladly go through it all again. Those weeks with him were the most precious of her life. She treasured each and every day.

It hurt, this pain that was sharper than anything she'd ever known, and still she was grateful.

“You've changed,” Gary told her when they met for lunch early in the month of November.

She could only agree.

“You seem more…resilient.”

“Talking about people who've changed,” she said, turning the tables on him, “I hardly recognize you anymore.”
They sat in a Thai restaurant, one they'd frequented while dating.

Gary had the good grace to blush. “I credit it all to love.”

Had she never known Jack, Gary's words would have offended her, but oddly enough she understood. Jack's love had changed her, too.

Her former fiancé had married Marjorie Ellis within a month of Lorraine's return. At the time she'd been in too much pain to really care. Only later did she experience a bitterness mingled with regret and relief. She was happy for Gary and Marjorie, but it hurt that she'd tried to be thoughtful of him and he hadn't afforded her the same consideration.

In time she got over those feelings and found herself pleased that her friend had fallen in love. She'd always enjoyed Gary's company. But she knew she'd never truly loved him. Not the way she'd loved Jack. Her fondness for Gary couldn't compare to the intensity of what she felt for the man who'd given his life to save hers.

Gary set aside his menu. Lorraine wondered why he bothered to look. For as long as she could remember, he'd ordered the same dish every time they ate at the Thai Garden.

“Marjorie should be here any minute,” he said. His eyes brightened as he said his wife's name.

Lorraine had met Marjorie on a number of occasions and liked her a great deal. She approved of the changes that loving Marjorie had brought about in Gary. He was more relaxed and spontaneous, more sensitive to others. It was obvious that they were meant to be a couple.

“Sorry I'm late,” Marjorie said as she rushed toward the table. Slipping off her shoes, she stepped up to the padded cushions and lowered herself beside Gary in the
private booth. “The doctor was behind schedule and—” She stopped abruptly as if she'd said something she shouldn't have.

It took Lorraine a moment to discern her meaning. “You're pregnant!” she said, eyeing the two of them.

Gary and Marjorie both seemed to freeze, awaiting her reaction.

“That's absolutely wonderful!” Lorraine was genuinely delighted. “I'm thrilled for you.” She reached across the table and squeezed Marjorie's hand. “How far along?”

“Three months,” Marjorie said. Gary, who'd never demonstrated a burning desire for parenthood, simply beamed.

“We didn't want to wait, seeing that Brice is already nine,” he said.

“We didn't want to wait, period.” Marjorie smiled as she flattened her hand over her stomach. “The baby was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one.”

Now Lorraine understood why Gary had invited her to lunch. “You're going to make a great father,” she said, and meant it.

“I'm a little nervous about a baby, but Brice said if he could put up with dirty diapers and fussy infants, then so could I.”

“Gary's great with Brice,” Marjorie told her.

“I think that's because he finally has someone his own age to play with,” Lorraine teased. The two women laughed, and so did Gary. Actually, Lorraine figured, it wasn't far from the truth. Gary was crazy about baseball, and apparently so was Brice. Lorraine had recently stopped by the house on a Sunday afternoon and discovered Gary and Brice glued to the television, watching the World Series. They'd given each other high fives and
hooted noisily until Marjorie and Lorraine were forced to adjourn to the kitchen.

“I prefer to think that Brice is mature for his age,” Gary muttered.

The waitress came for their order. She glanced at Gary and Lorraine several times as if to say something wasn't right. It was a look they often received when Marjorie joined them. Since they'd dated for so long, people naturally seemed to consider them a couple.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” Marjorie asked.

Was it that time of year already? Lorraine could hardly believe it. For months now she'd been dragging herself through each day, praying for the strength to endure, the courage to continue alone. That was the key word.
Alone.

She was grateful now that her mother's house hadn't sold. Soon after her return from Mexico, she'd moved in, needing the comfort of familiar things around her.

“We'd like it if you could join us for dinner on Thanksgiving,” Marjorie said.

Lorraine heard the invitation, but didn't respond until she noticed that Marjorie and Gary were waiting for her answer. Both regarded her with concern. Suddenly she realized the invitation had been prompted by guilt as much as affection. It wasn't necessary; neither of them needed to feel guilty on her account. If Gary hadn't beaten her to it, she would have broken off the engagement herself.

“I…I'm not sure,” Lorraine said.

“Will you be visiting your father?” Gary asked.

“No.” Her quick response concealed neither her anger nor her pain. She didn't want to think about Thomas Dancy and in fact had refused to deal with the emotions that beset her every time his name was mentioned.

He should have told Lorraine the truth about Azucena, but instead, had left her to discover it on her own. That was, perhaps, what hurt the most. Thomas had failed her the same way he'd failed her mother. All those years, Virginia had loved him, idolized him, been faithful to him. Not once had she looked at another man. Not once had she been disloyal to his memory.

When Jack was first taken to the hospital, she'd turned to her father for emotional support, but she regretted that now. He'd tried to comfort her when the doctor came to tell her Jack had died, but she was beyond solace.

As soon as it could be arranged, she'd returned to Louisville, where she belonged. Her father had written her a number of times since, but she hadn't answered his letters. Wouldn't have known what to say if she had. Thomas Dancy had made a new life for himself, had another wife, other children. She was part of the painful past, tied to a dead marriage and a woman he'd betrayed. It would be better for everyone if she stayed out of his world—and kept him out of hers.

“Lorraine? We were talking about Thanksgiving?” Gary's voice cut into her musings.

“Oh, sorry,” she whispered. “I'll let you know, okay?”

“Are you ready to talk about what happened in Mexico yet?” The question came from Marjorie, asked with kindness and compassion. Without Lorraine's ever having spoken about it, Marjorie knew she'd endured some horrible trauma.

“No,” she said brokenly, “not yet.” And perhaps not ever. Lorraine hadn't shared her memories of Jack. Not with Gary and Marjorie or her friends at work.

Gary was right. She
was
different, and always would be for having loved and lost Jack. Really, what could she tell them? How could she explain that she'd died that day
in the jungle outside Mexico City? How could she explain that she only went through the motions of living now? That she struggled to make sense out of life and death, struggled to gain acceptance and peace in a world that seemed devoid of both?

 

Jack endured six hideous months. The pain was physical, the suffering emotional. Twice now he'd fallen in love, and both times it had been a disaster. Each day he lay in his hospital bed, the pain so bad it was impossible to sleep. But he welcomed the physical agony. It diverted his attention from thoughts of Lorraine.

His back, he learned, had been broken. That came as no surprise. Nor did the five other broken bones, plus internal injuries. The doctors hadn't made any promises about walking again. Most seemed surprised he'd survived, but no one more so than Jack. He would have shaken hands with death any number of times. Been glad to give up the fight. Even now he cursed God for playing such a cruel trick. If he'd wanted a reward for the noble gesture of sending Lorraine back to her husband, this wasn't it.

The second week of November, Jack stood on his own for the first time since he'd entered the hospital. Stood, not walked. Sweat broke out across his brow at the amount of energy required to maintain an upright position.

Someone clapped loudly behind him.

Jack dared not glance over his shoulder for fear of losing his balance, precarious at best.

“Good going.”

“Murphy?” Jack couldn't believe his ears. His knees gave out on him, and he fell back into his wheelchair. His strength deserted him; otherwise he would have whirled the chair around and cursed out his friend. He wasn't
in the mood for company, and he didn't want anyone's sympathy.

Murphy's long strides devoured the distance between them. “You're a sight for sore eyes.”

Jack turned purposefully away. “What are you doing here?”

“What else? I came to see you.”

Jack didn't meet Murphy's eyes. “Then you made a wasted trip.”

His friend walked a circle around him, shaking his head. “A fine mess you've gotten yourself into this time.”

Jack ignored the comment. He knew Letty and Murphy had been phoning weekly for updates on his condition, talking to Dr. Berilo and the hospital staff. Jack hadn't wanted to talk to them himself and hoped they'd get the message. Apparently they hadn't.

“Doc says you can leave the hospital soon,” Murphy said, facing Jack.

“So I understand.”

“Have you decided where you're going?”

“No.” Jack preferred not to think about the future. His one and only decision had been to sell
Scotch on Water.
He couldn't go back to the cabin cruiser. Every night he'd be haunted by the memory of Lorraine and their time together.

“Are you returning to the boat?”

“Sold it,” Jack muttered. “You sold
Scotch on Water?
” Murphy didn't seem to believe it. “But you loved that boat.”

“That time of my life has passed.” It was all he intended to say on the subject. Murphy would never know the real reason.

“Don't you think it would've been better to wait and make such a drastic decision later?”

“Drop it!” he barked.

Murphy sat down in a nearby chair.

“Is that why you're here?” Jack asked sarcastically. “To check up on the boat?”

“No. Letty sent me. Said I was to bring you home.”

Jack snorted. “Not on your life.”

“Hey, good buddy, you don't know my wife the way I do. That woman is stubborn. When she told me to bring you back, I knew I'd better do it.”

Arguing was a waste of energy, but he wasn't going to involve Murphy and Letty in his troubles. “I'll take care of myself,” he insisted.

Murphy gave no indication he'd heard. “Letty had me working on the old foreman's house. She's cleaned and repainted the place and ordered a hospital bed and whatever else Dr. Berilo suggested. She also had me widen the doorways to accommodate your wheelchair.”

“I plan to walk again.”

“You will,” Murphy said swiftly. “This is just until you're able to get around on your own. I'm telling you, Jack, you don't know my wife. That woman's unstoppable once she sets her mind on something. I don't dare come back without you.”

Well, Letty would just have to be disappointed, Jack thought.

“Another thing. Letty and Francine have been talking up a storm. Last I heard, Francine's hired a physical therapist who's flying out to work with you.”

“Is that a fact?” Jack asked with a heavy dose of sarcasm. He appreciated all the trouble Letty and Francine, the wife of another ex-mercenary friend, had gone to, but he'd rather stay in Mexico.

“I tried to explain to Letty that you'd prefer your own
company. I tried, Jack, I really did, but she said you need family now and we're the only family you've got.”

“I'm not a charity case.”

“I should say not!” Murphy snapped. “You're paying for that physical therapist.”

“Letty doesn't have time for this.”

“I know that, too. With three children under the age of four, she's got plenty to do without worrying about you, but she's convinced you'll recuperate faster at the ranch with us than anywhere else.”

Again Jack reserved his strength rather than argue. Murphy could say what he wanted, but Jack had no intention of allowing his longtime friends to play nursemaid to him.

Three days later, however, Jack was loaded onto a medically equipped private plane and made the long trip from Mexico City to Boothill, Texas. He wasn't pleased to have Murphy step in and take charge of his life. But at this point Jack's options were few.

He needed physical rehabilitation, plus people to assist him. And time. Lots of that. But it'd take more than time for him to heal. He'd never be the same again, emotionally or physically, and he knew it.

 

The flight to the ranch exhausted him, and staying awake long enough to get himself settled in the foreman's house was about all he could manage.

Just as Murphy had said, the structure, which was some distance from the main house, had been set up as a miniature hospital, complete with a bed, wheelchair, walker and more. He fell into a deep sleep the minute he pulled the covers over himself.