Valentine's Child (14 page)

Or so she had thought.

Later that night, sunk in misery, she’d finally found enough courage to call up J.J. To her surprise he was home. She’d expected him to still be out with Caroline, but he’d already returned and was cautiously willing to talk to her. She asked if they could see each other and he drove toward her home, picking her up as she was already walking to Bernies. They walked into the pizzeria together and shared a late-night heart-shaped pizza together.

It wasn’t exactly a reunion but it was a coming-together that gave Sherry hope. He hadn’t liked seeing her with Tim; he didn’t say the words but his feelings were clear.

When he dropped her home that night she turned her face toward his, heart thumping hard, praying that he would kiss her. But he didn’t so much as look her way. She could still remember his harsh profile and clenched hands around the wheel. Whatever he might feel, he refused to succumb, and Sherry left more depressed than ever. If she should have learned anything from that night, it was that J.J. Beckett didn’t care about her.

But her miserable, loyal heart refused to see it.

Now, with his stern visage directly in front of her and so much of the past hanging between them, she said the words she should have uttered long ago. “I was poor white trash to you, so you believed every ugly rumor about me. I loved you, and you used me. If I’d been Caroline Newsmith, you might have loved me back, but you couldn’t love Sherry Sterling.”

J.J.’s eyes were riveted on her mouth, as if he couldn’t believe the words issuing from her lips. “That’s what you think? It was a helluva lot more complicated than that.”

“Wow. Okay. At least you don’t deny it,” Sherry said, surprised. “I’m not sure how to feel about that.”

“We were kids. And we weren’t right for each other for a lot of reasons I couldn’t have explained back then. I don’t think I can explain it now, either. I know I don’t want to,” he added as an afterthought.

“You sound just like a Beckett,” Sherry said. “How sad.”

He almost smiled. “I am a Beckett.” Drawing a long breath, he closed his eyes for a moment as if he were gathering strength. It was a curiously vulnerable gesture, and Sherry, reacting on pure emotion, actually reached forward to touch him, as if contact would assure her that he would handle the information about Mandy like a mature adult and father.

But he expelled his breath before she could act. “So, is this why you came? To get back at me for all the shit I laid on you in high school?”

“Good God, no.”

“I’m not interested in a postmortem on a high school hook up.”

“Neither am I.”

“So what’s your game?”

“What are you talking about?” Sherry’s temper was starting to rise.

“Our whole senior year. Isn’t that what this is about? You with the smart remark and flirting with the whole damn team, and then a quick thing with me, and then Delaney, and God knows who else, then back to me. It was high school. No one cares anymore.”

“It wasn’t a game.”

“Come on, Sherry,” he said in disgust.

“I had — problems.”

“Then three weeks ‘til the end of school you just disappear. I thought we’d gotten past all the bullshit, but wow. That was a kick in the groin.”

“I left because I loved you, and you didn’t feel the same way.”

He almost laughed. “High school love isn’t the same as real love.”

“Oh? Who says?” Sherry demanded.

“You left Oceantides because you loved me?”

“I left because you
didn’t
love me. And I needed you to love me.” She bit into her bottom lip. “I needed to know that what we shared had actually meant something to you.”

“It meant something to me,” he said in exasperation. “But I was eighteen. What did you want? A proposal?”

“I just didn’t want to be another notch in your belt. And you couldn’t admit you cared about me, even a little.”

“This is the same argument we had the night before you left,” he said suddenly.

“Yes. It is. It’s the same issue. I practically begged you to tell me you loved me, and you couldn’t do it.”

“And that’s why you left town?” he asked in disbelief.

“In essence, yes. I had family problems, too. It just was the right thing to do.”

“So, why are you back now?”

“I have something to say to you, and I’ve waited way too long to say it.”

“Well, lay it on me.” J.J. was expansive, sweeping his arm out so that Sherry suddenly saw where they were standing — on a dreary, rain-drenched sidewalk in front of a coffee shop where people walked by every half–minute or so and stared in curiosity.

“Could we go somewhere and talk?” she asked. “Somewhere private.”

A huge drop of rain landed in his hair, then slid down his cheek. All the while Sherry watched the glittering water-diamond, J.J. watched her. “I don’t think so,” he finally said, after a drawn-out moment. “I’ve got a fiancée who doesn’t want me talking to you. If it’s psychological healing you’re looking for, go find it somewhere else. I’m not interested in raking up the past.”

With that he pressed the remote to his Jeep, climbed inside and sketched a fatal, final goodbye.

Silently swearing several pungent curse words, Sherry drove back to her motel room, intent on fleeing town and getting home to Dee and the safety of her other life. But then she thought of Mandy and knew she would never earn her daughter’s respect by being a coward.

Unlocking the motel door and flinging on the light, Sherry gritted her teeth, marched over to the worn desk and began to scratch out a lengthy letter.

VALENTINE’S CHILD — NANCY BUSH

Chapter Six

“Honey, you stay in Oceantides until you get this thing straightened out.” Dee’s voice rang strong and warm over her cell. “I’ve got that trip, comin’ this summer, and I’m going to be gone for three weeks. So, you take all the time you need, ‘cause it’s payback time come August.”

“Thanks,” Sherry murmured, clutching the envelope in her hand.

“If I could help, I would. Just take your time, and relax.”

“Has Mandy called?”

“Mmm-hmm. She’s kind of anxious, poor thing. But don’t worry. Kids that age think there’s a quick fix for everything. They don’t know how to wait.”

“She doesn’t have a clue,” Sherry said.

“Of course, she doesn’t. She’s thirteen! And don’t go blaming yourself. What is, is. You did the best you could. I told her you were explaining things to her daddy, and you’d let her know as soon as everything was arranged.” Dee hesitated. “Have you seen him?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Told him?”

“Couldn’t bring myself to. I’ve… I’ve written a letter.”

“Mmm… Bad idea,” Dee warned.

“I know.”

“Be brave. You can do it.”

“Every time I look at him I just feel
hysterical.
I thought if I wrote everything down, it would come out better.”

“Well, it’s a mess, but I think the direct approach, face-to-face, would be best. I’d hate to do it myself, but I think I would.”

“You’re stronger than I am.”

Dee chortled with laughter. “I’d be feeling the same way you do-probably a hundred times more scared. But when it comes to duty, both of us always do what’s best, don’t we?”

“Do we?”

“You read over that letter and see if you really want to give it to him. Then make your decision. You’ll know.”

Sherry hung up slowly, knowing Dee was right, wishing fervently that she wasn’t. In the back of her mind she’d always felt that the day would come when she would confront J.J., but in her everyday life she’d never been able to envision it. It was just too damn hard.

Smoothing her hair with one hand, she glanced down at the letter clutched tightly between the fingers of her other hand. With sudden fury, she ripped open the envelope, scanned its contents, then growled in frustration. It was terrible. Rambling and apologetic and downright embarrassing, now that she looked at it. Nope — telling J.J. he was father to a thirteen-year-old girl in neat, cursive handwriting wasn’t the way to go. She had to do it in person. Period. Tearing the missive into half-a-dozen pieces, she dusted them into the wastebasket next to the motel room’s nightstand.

With a sigh she swept her purse from the bed, then caught a glance at her reflection in the mirror above the dresser. All she saw were a pair of anxious, violet eyes gazing back at her.

There had been moments in Jake Beckett’s life when he’d glimpsed the future. It wasn’t anything magical or mystical. Hardly. He’d never felt any connection to the unnamed forces around him apart from the occasional jolt of
déjà vu
. No, what he felt was a surety that his life would turn out a specific way if he just worked hard toward whatever end he sought. The threads of his life were woven into a fabric; a fabric that would not unravel unless he forcibly cut it apart — something he would never do.

He’d known from the outset that he was meant to be with Caroline. It was fate. She was a part of him. Another side. A facet. She didn’t demand, she waited — a paragon of patience. She was his other half.

And it didn’t matter that he neither loved nor wanted her. Waiting for the right woman, his perfect match, was a romantic notion he’d given up in high school. Marriage wasn’t like that anyway; it was living with someone day by day — a friend and companion. It was keeping everything in perspective.

He’d resolved himself to his marriage to Caroline years ago — almost from the moment Sherry Sterling had left Oceantides High. Sherry had messed with his mind all through senior year, but he’d determined that was the last time that was going to happen to him, the last time he would be so reckless.

Looking back, he was pretty certain Sherry had cared about him. She’d actually given herself to him — a memory he still couldn’t quite shake. But he’d been unsure of her and yes, he’d listened to the vituperative gossip about her. He’d fought his feelings and pretended he didn’t care. Been flat out mean to her in a way that still had the power to make him wince. Walked away from her and hung out with Caroline. The way he felt was all too intense and he was too young and scared. In retaliation, she’d looked Tim’s way and that had been Jake’s undoing. He’d smashed the grinning bastard in the face, starting a fight that had gotten them both thrown off the football team during the play-offs.

His father had never forgiven him for that, and jerk that he was then, Jake had tried to blame Sherry. Her friends pleaded with him to talk to her, to meet with her, but he’d been too arrogant, proud and just plain stupid. Then she’d called him up Valentine’s Day and he’d buckled. He couldn’t stand it, but all he could remember now was how she’d looked at him, warm and tender and available, but moron that he was, he’d refused to accept the invitation, wrapped up in his own false nobility that had nearly suffocated him.

He’d kicked himself over that. He’d wanted her like he’d never wanted another woman, before or since. And then there was one last chance. One last night of lovemaking with May rain pouring all around the tree house while Sherry whispered words of love and commitment. He’d soaked it up like some life-renewing elixir.

Then she was gone.

Sure, he’d been a jerk. He’d played with her emotions because he didn’t know how to handle his own. He’d been consumed with puppy love and scared over his feelings, so he’d never actually said the words back, although he’d sure felt them.

Love… huh. Thank God he’d kept his feelings to himself and escaped without making a total fool out of himself. It would have been an even more hellish summer after graduation if he’d given his heart and she’d stomped all over it. The best thing, he told himself nightly, was to keep his emotions locked up tight, act like their hook-ups were no big deal. She might have massacred his heart, but at least he’d held onto some dignity and self-respect.

But sometimes he still thought back and wondered what would have happened if he’d just tried harder.

Screeching to a halt in front of his parents’ home, Jake climbed out and turned toward a wild breeze that pelted him in the face. Good. He needed a slap to his senses. He’d looked at Sherry Sterling standing in Beachtime Coffee and felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. Damn it all. What was wrong with him?