The Sooner the Better (20 page)

“She said—” Andy paused and let out a slow breath “—it would take longer for your heart to get better. Did your heart get hurt when you fell off the cliff, Uncle Jack?” He turned and regarded Jack quizzically.

“In a manner of speaking.”

“What's that mean?”

“It's difficult to explain.” Jack didn't want to talk about Lorraine and, in fact, hadn't. Not to Murphy or Tim or their wives. But that didn't mean she was ever far from his thoughts. Although it'd been a year and a half, not a day passed that he didn't think of her.

Bits of memory came to him at the oddest times, often when he was least prepared to deal with them. He couldn't help wondering what had happened to her once she'd returned to the States.

Was she happy? Had she told her husband about him? How had Gary Franklin reacted? Had she forgotten him and gone on to have the baby she'd wanted so badly, badly enough to mention to Dr. Berilo's nurse? The thought of Lorraine with a child wrenched his heart. Only recently had he come to realize how much he wanted children himself. It was seeing his friends with their sons and daughters….

“Is Andy talking your ear off?” Tim joined him at the fence.

“Hardly.” Jack enjoyed the boy's company and his energetic bursts of conversation.

“Some pretty freakish weather going on around the
country,” Tim said, glancing up at the sky, which was a clear bright blue with clusters of high clouds.

“Looks downright perfect to me,” Jack murmured. In fact, he liked Washington and had given some consideration to purchasing a few acres here himself. Somewhere near the water. Early on, in a moment of pain, he'd sold
Scotch on Water.
He'd done it knowing he'd never be able to sleep on the boat again and not think of Lorraine. Little did he realize then that he wouldn't be able to sleep
anywhere
and not think of her.

“The weather here seems fine,” Jack said.

“I'm talking about what happened in Louisville, Kentucky.”

“Louisville?” Lorraine and Gary lived in Louisville.

“You didn't hear?”

“No.” It required an effort to conceal his interest.

“Tornadoes in the area. They've done a lot of damage to the city. The news is full of pictures.” He shook his head. “Hard to believe a storm could cause so much destruction.”

“How many people were killed?”

“Five so far, but they're sure to discover more bodies in the next day or two.”

“That's a lot,” Andy inserted.

“It wasn't just one part of the city, either,” Tim continued. “From what the newscaster said, quite a few neighborhoods were affected. Crazy how one house'll be leveled to the ground, while the house across the street is untouched.”

That night, Jack stayed up late and watched the news reports for himself. Afterward he couldn't sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes, Lorraine was there, and when he did manage to drop off, his dreams were filled with her. In one, he was searching but couldn't find her. Her voice
grew weaker, more plaintive and urgent. Then he saw her, buried under a huge pile of rubble. No matter how hard he dug, how frantic his attempts, he couldn't reach her. He awoke in a cold sweat.

By the time dawn swept over the pasture and the nearby water, bringing the bright crisp sunshine of November, Jack had packed his bags and booked a flight out of Sea-Tac for Louisville.

“You're leaving?” Francine said as she poured him a cup of coffee.

Jack took his first restorative sip and nodded.

“Any particular reason?” Tim asked. He secured the straps of his coveralls and retrieved a mug from the kitchen shelf.

“Yes,” Jack said. He didn't elaborate. He caught husband and wife exchanging a look.

“Is it important?” Francine asked. She buttered toast and piled it on a platter.

“Yes.” Her questions were a subtle way of telling him it might not be a good idea to take on too much just yet. After all this time, he was still as weak as one of Tim's newborn llamas. He was sick and tired of being sick and tired.

“Where are you going?” Tim pried. “Kentucky?”

Jack was surprised he'd been that readable. “What if I am?”

Tim and Francine sat next to each other, across the table from him. “Is she there?” Francine asked.

No one outside of Mexico knew about Lorraine—and yet they all seemed to know. Jack couldn't figure it out.

Both husband and wife waited for his response. “I don't know where she is now, but I suspect it's Louisville,” he said grudgingly.

“And you're going to find out,” Tim announced with finality, as if this would be the romantic conclusion they'd all been expecting.

While Jack hated to shatter their illusions, he thought he'd better do so. “I just want to make sure she's okay. That she doesn't need anything.”

“You'll talk to her, won't you?”

“No,” he insisted.

“Why not?” Tim asked.

“Because then I'd probably have to talk to her husband.”

That shut the two of them up, Jack noticed. He should have set the record straight a lot sooner.

Jack flew out of Sea-Tac that morning and landed in Louisville four hours later. Luckily the airport hadn't sustained any damage. It took him forty-five minutes to secure a rental car and locate his hotel. Once he'd checked into his room, he pulled open the nightstand drawer and found a Louisville telephone directory.

“Gary Franklin,” he muttered as he opened the white pages to the
F
s and ran his finger down the columns until he came to the listing. Only one G. Franklin. Lorraine had mentioned her husband's name just once, but it had stayed in Jack's mind. He'd repeated it often, reminding himself that this was the man who loved her and waited for her at home.

Grabbing a pad and paper, Jack wrote down the address. He'd been serious when he told Tim and Francine that he had no intention of speaking to Lorraine. None. But for his own peace of mind, he needed to know she was unhurt.

Exhausted from the long flight, Jack knew he would've been well advised to wait until the following day before
venturing into the city's neighborhoods. But he'd never been a patient man, and the storm had heightened his anxiety.

He got the car keys and headed out. With a map of the city and the concierge's directions, he drove until he found the part of town where Lorraine lived. Then he saw a street sign that said Dogwood Lane.

Jack followed the house numbers until he came to the one he was looking for: 323. It appeared that the house, the entire neighborhood, had escaped the worst of the storm. He felt immediate relief. This was what he'd come for; now he should drive directly past and be done with it.

Instead, he pulled over on the opposite side of the road and sat there with the engine idling.

The house was ordinary enough. One story, painted a pale shade of yellow. The structure itself was like thousands of others built shortly after the Second World War. The type that often sported a white picket fence…and a couple of kids playing out front.

There was a convertible parked in the driveway, top down. He saw something yellow in the backseat. He strained to see what it was and remembered that yellow was Lorraine's favorite color.

A yellow baby blanket, tucked into an infant carrier.

Lorraine must have recently had a baby. A baby. Lorraine and Gary's. He closed his eyes and waited for the pain to subside into numbness. It was what he'd wanted for her, what he'd hoped would happen.

Swallowing tightly, Jack turned the key in the ignition. He had his answers, he told himself again. He'd learned everything he needed to know. More than he'd wanted to, actually. Now he could go back to his life without her ever realizing he'd been there.

He'd just eased the rental car back into the street when out of nowhere a baseball slammed into his windshield. The force of the impact shattered the glass.

“Y
ou okay, mister?” Two boys ran to the passenger window and peered inside at Jack.

“I was until about two seconds ago,” Jack said, somewhat dazed.

“Brice?”

The boy whirled around and looked over his shoulder. “It's my dad!”

“You're the one who threw the ball,” the second kid said. “I'm outta here.” With that, Brice's pal took off running.

Jack put the car in Park and climbed out to study the damage. A man approached from the same side of the street as Lorraine's house—a businessman, if the dark suit he wore was any indication.

“What happened?” he asked, directing the question to Brice.

The boy had difficulty meeting his father's eyes. “Todd and I were just practicing and I decided to see how far I could throw with my left hand and…” He paused, staring at the ground.

“The baseball collided with my windshield,” Jack completed for him. “Other than the window, no harm's
been done.” He downplayed the damage. “Accidents happen.”

“Must have been one heck of a pitch,” Brice's father said, examining the broken windshield on Jack's rental car.

“I'm really sorry,” Brice said, his voice quavering.

The man placed his hands on Brice's shoulders and looked at Jack. “Naturally we'll pay for all damages.”

Jack nodded, thinking it would probably be best to exchange information quickly, then leave. He didn't want to stick around in case Lorraine happened to come outside.

“Were you injured?” the kid's dad asked.

“No. If you'll give me your insurance information, I'll take care of everything myself.”

The man released his son's shoulders and gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “Great. And thanks for not yelling at the boy. It was an accident, but one that won't be repeated—right, Brice?”

“Right!”

Jack smiled at the obvious respect between father and son.

The father took out his wallet and removed his insurance card. “Gary Franklin,” he said, and extended his hand.

Jack's head jerked up. Then, seeing the man's hand, he thrust his out and they shook. “You're Gary Franklin?” he asked before he could stop himself. He wondered if he had the wrong man.

“Do you know me?”

Jack shook his head.

Jack was spared any further need to explain when a woman approached with an infant held securely against her shoulder. “What happened?” she asked, looking
sternly at her son. Her frown said she had a fair idea but wanted Brice to tell her himself.

“My baseball hit Mr.—” He paused, waiting for Jack to supply the name.

“Jack Keller,” he said. He couldn't stop staring at the woman. The baby, too.

Judging by the intent expression on Gary's face, he must have noticed. “This is my wife, Marjorie,” he said, and placed an arm lovingly around her shoulders. “And our daughter, Alana.”

Jack's instantaneous surge of relief was difficult to explain. Even more difficult to understand. Clearly this wasn't the Gary Franklin who was married to Lorraine. The fact that this baby wasn't hers shouldn't be cause for a lighter heart. Jack had cut Lorraine free, sent her on her way to live a good life with the man she'd loved enough to marry long before she'd met him.

“You have a beautiful little girl,” Jack said. “How old is she?”

“Eight months,” Marjorie answered. “Listen, there's no need to do all this in the middle of the street. Won't you come inside, Mr. Keller?”

“Jack Keller,” Gary repeated his name slowly. “I knew a man by that name. Unfortunately I never met him, but I heard enough about him to know I would've liked him.”

“It's a common enough name,” Jack said as they walked toward the house.

“You might say Jack Keller is a friend of a friend.” Gary opened the screen door that led to the living room. The house was cluttered without looking messy. Evidence of the baby was everywhere. A rocking chair with a flannel sheet draped over the back. An infant swing situated
next to the sofa. Toys scattered about. An empty baby bottle on the coffee table.

Jack hadn't intended to accept the family's invitation to come into their home. All he needed was the Franklins' insurance information. And yet… He felt oddly drawn to the young couple. Even though this Gary Franklin wasn't Lorraine's. Or maybe because of that.

“Do you want to see your name?” Brice asked. At Jack's puzzled look, he moved toward the television set and lifted a photo from the cluster assembled there.

“Brice,” his mother said, stopping him, “I don't know if that's such a good idea.”

“Why not?” Brice asked.

“Because that Jack Keller's…gone.”

“Oh.” Brice set the framed snapshot back on the television.

“I don't mind,” Jack said, his curiosity aroused.

The boy reached for the photo and brought it over to him. But the picture wasn't what he expected. Far from it. It was so much of a shock, in fact, that he knew it would forever change the course of his life. The photograph wasn't of a man, as he'd expected, but of a woman. Lorraine. Her beautiful face smiled back at him.

The sight was enough to wildly affect his heart rate. She stood in front of an adobe structure, a new building, between Antonio and Hector Dancy, her tanned arms around each boy. All three of them were grinning.

For an instant he almost didn't recognize her as the woman he'd once known. She wore khaki shorts and a sleeveless blouse. Her hair was short. And her eyes…they reflected happiness and—he could sense it—pain. He wondered if she'd walked through the same valley he had these past eighteen months. Had she found a shaky
sense of peace, as he had? If so, he suspected it hadn't come easy.

Neither had his own.

All he'd had to sustain him these long months had been his memories. He didn't have her picture, nor did he have the luxury of some memento from their time together. But none was necessary, or so he'd believed. Then again…

Apparently he didn't know as much about her as he'd thought.

When he managed to drag his eyes away from Lorraine and the boys, he received yet another shock. A wooden sign hung over the doorway. He had to squint to read it: The Jack Keller Memorial Health Clinic, in English and in Spanish.

“Is something wrong?” Gary asked.

Jack lifted his gaze from the photo and shook his head.

“You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“That's the way I feel,” Jack didn't mind telling him. “It appears we have more to discuss than I realized.”

 

Lorraine had lived in El Mirador six months now, and it felt as though she'd been part of the community all her life. Her Spanish was still rudimentary, but she was working on it. Antonio and Hector took great pride in teaching her new words, and she, in turn, practiced English with them.

As soon as she'd announced her intention of building a medical clinic in Jack's memory, she had more offers of help from the people of El Mirador than she knew what to do with. The clinic, with living quarters for her, was constructed in record time.

The building itself was only the start. Her friends at Group Wellness back in Louisville had raised more than
$25,000 for medicine, and Med-X had donated medical supplies, with a commitment for the following year, as well.

Lorraine's last hurdle before moving into Jack's clinic was her certification to practice medicine in Mexico. With her father's help—he filled out the forms—and assistance from a government grateful for her efforts in returning the Kukulcan Star, Lorraine was ready to open her doors to the public in less than two months.

The first day she'd been shocked by the number of patients waiting outside the clinic. The line had stretched out the door and down the narrow walkway.

At the end of her first week Lorraine knew this was exactly the right thing to do. Before, everything in her life had felt pointless. Unnecessary. In El Mirador her medical skills were badly needed. Knowing she was helping others also helped her; she had learned to accept both her past and her future. Teaching here had done the same thing for her father.

For the first time since losing Jack, Lorraine slept through an entire night. A whole day sometimes passed without her thinking of him. And when he did drift into her mind, she wasn't overwhelmed by blinding grief. She sensed with certainty that he would have approved of her returning to El Mirador and doing this work.

Sometimes, especially at the end of a long day, she'd sit back, put her feet up and wish he could somehow see her. How different she was from that self-righteous, prudish woman he'd first met. She'd changed so much since then, but she hadn't understood the full extent of her transformation until recently.

All her life, her mother had insisted that life was full of compensations. When one door shuts, another opens was how she used to put it. Lorraine hadn't given the
matter much thought until she realized how much she'd come to love her three half brothers.

Jack was lost, but her heart was full again. Antonio, Hector and Alberto returned her love in full measure. The older two usually stopped by to spend time with her late in the afternoons. More often than not, they dragged her home with them for dinner. Two or three nights a week, she joined her father and Azucena for meals. The more she came to know Thomas, the more she loved and respected him. Again and again she wished she'd known him sooner, and she still struggled not to blame her mother for the long years of separation.

Her relationship with Azucena, too, had grown into one of affection and mutual assistance.

Alberto, her youngest half brother, had made a full recovery. The chubby toddler was her greatest joy. His round happy face lit up with delight when he saw her. He would dash cheerfully to her side, knowing she'd lift him high in the air, and his infectious laughter would echo through the house.

In some ways it was as if these cherished little ones were Lorraine's own children. The family she would never have with Jack. He'd shown her how much love her heart could hold, and now that love spilled over, embracing her young brothers.

In the stillness of late afternoon Lorraine sat at her desk and finished up the last of her paperwork. The door opened, and half expecting Antonio and Hector, she set her pen aside.

“I'm in the office,” she called out in Spanish.

When no one answered, Lorraine got up and walked to the door. She kept regular hours, but didn't hesitate to see a patient after closing time. She stepped into the waiting area and saw a man framed in sunlight, standing
just inside the clinic door. But this wasn't a man—it was a ghost.

The ghost of Jack Keller.

One so real, so lifelike, it was all she could do to keep from running into his arms. Reaching for a chair, she clenched her fingers over the top to anchor herself. All the while she greedily drank in the sight of him.

Dear heaven, he seemed so real!

Her heart pounded wildly. Fear coursed through her, although she believed this particular ghost would never hurt her. Her concern was for her sanity. She was afraid that somehow, some way, her mind had slipped. That loving Jack with such intensity had pushed her beyond reason.

Or perhaps she'd been working too hard, she thought in those first shock-filled seconds. Spending too many hours at the clinic. Not taking enough time for herself.

Could Jack be real? Could he possibly be alive? Had God and the universe made some horrible mistake? Had Jack been sent back to her to make it right?

She yearned to say his name, to call out to him. To bring this dream to life. And yet she feared that if she spoke he might disappear.

Not yet. Please not yet. Let me have him for a few minutes more.
But finally she couldn't bear not knowing any longer.

“Jack?” His name trembled on her lips.

His features relaxed and his eyes softened as he walked toward her. With exquisite tenderness he pressed his palm to her cheek. His hand felt warm and solid, and for an instant Lorraine thought she might faint.

Needing to hold on to him, she covered his hand with her own and urged his palm toward her lips, where she planted a single kiss.

“Oh, Raine.” He caught her by the shoulders and his mouth swept down on hers as though waiting another moment was more than could be asked of him.

She'd dreamed of this so often, it was difficult to know if it could actually be happening. If this
was
a dream, she didn't intend on waking anytime soon.

She wound her arms around his neck and, leaning into him, kissed him back. Hunger and urgency, love and need. They blended until coherent thought escaped her. She and Jack strained against each other, mouths seeking, their passion fierce. She buried her fingers deep in his hair and held tight, almost as if that might prevent him from leaving her again.

“Am I dreaming?” she whispered, desperate for answers. “Tell me, please. Is this really happening?”

He lifted his face from hers and closed his eyes. “It's real, Raine, it's real. I'm here. I'm alive.”

Sobbing, choking, hardly able to breathe, she clung to him, her hands digging into his shoulders. It wasn't possible. Dr. Berilo had told her Jack was dead. He'd sat with her, comforted her. Jack's presence here, now, was beyond comprehension.

“I'm sorry,” Jack repeated between kisses. “I'm sorry, so sorry,” he whispered again and again.

“What happened?” she pleaded, needing answers and yet fearing them, too. Still, her desire for the truth overcame her fears. “Tell me,” she demanded. “I need to know.”

He found a chair, then sat her down and kneeled in front of her. He looked into her eyes for a long moment before cradling her face with his hands.

“Jack, please. Tell me!”

An eternity came and went before he spoke. “I thought you were married.”