Vampire Blood (21 page)

Jenny felt her face go crimson and tried to shrug the compliments off. “Then you’re blind.”

“I’m not blind any longer, Jenny.” He seemed sincere.

She didn’t know what to say to that.

For a while they merely looked at each other. The years fled by.

“You really were hungry, weren’t you?” she teased, changing the subject, eying him over a second cup of coffee.

“You bet.” He crumbled up a piece of toast and used it to clean the plate, like he used to when they were married. Something about it touched her. “When you’re on the road, you eat when you can. Lately, for me, meals have been hard to come by.” He halted. Again that brick wall. “How about you, Jenny? What have you been up to?” he asked a minute later. “I’ve never seen another one of your books. I’ve looked, too. You stopped writing.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes.” She put her hand up in a blocking gesture. “Don’t ask me why, either. Everyone does, and I’m sick to death of it.”

“Jenny.” He tilted his head, smiling knowingly at her. “No, you haven’t changed a bit. Still running from the real truths in your life.”

Jenny sighed then found herself answering resignedly anyway. “I stopped writing because I decided it was time to live
my
life and stop writing about fictional characters’ lives. The price, in the end, was too high, you see.”

“Did I do that to you, Jenny?”

Courageously, she countered with the absolute truth for the first time. “Yes, in a way, Jeff, you did, but to stop writing was my decision. I don’t blame you any longer for it. In fact,” she offered hesitantly, “I’m thinking of going back to it maybe.”

“Good for you, Jenny.” He brushed her hand, almost captured it, thought better of it and drew his hand back at the last second. “I was wrong to have used it as the excuse to leave you.” He leaned towards her. “I long ago realized that I didn’t leave you because I was jealous of your writing, though I was, or because I’d stopped loving you, which was an out and out lie from day one, you see. I left you because I was a weak fool who’d thought his young years, his real life, were passing him by and simply wanted to play around for a while. Teach you a lesson, I guess. Only it backfired,” he said glumly. There was regret in his eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” Jenny snorted. “The other woman turned out to be a vicious shark who then had you by the—”

“Jenny!” he chided softly.

“It’s all right, Jeff. I don’t care anymore. I despised her, and you, for all these years. It poisoned my life for too long. Now I don’t even want to know what happened between you two. It’s irrelevant. I don’t want that destructiveness in my life anymore. I won’t allow it. If everything that’s happened lately has taught me one thing, it’s that life is precious. Time. I don’t want to waste any more of it hating people. Wishing I would or wouldn’t have done what I did. What good does it do in the end?” She was thinking of her mother as well as Jeff.

“Jenny, you’ve gotten wiser with age.” He smiled, and she gave him one in exchange.

“Well, if you don’t write, what do you do?”

“Before Dad disappeared, we were sort of a two person business. Handy people, you might have called us. We painted houses, did heavy duty cleaning and light carpentry work. Pay’s not great, but the work has been coming in steady. We were our own bosses.” At the raising of his eyebrows, Jenny defended herself, “It’s better than pushing dirty plates at Joey’s restaurant.”

“Joey’s got his own restaurant?”

“Yes, he does.”

He grinned playfully at her. She’d been a carhop the summer she’d first met him. “You never could keep that food on the tray, could you?”

She glared at him. “Thanks for reminding me.

“Joey’s had his own place now for the last two years or so. Next to the old Rebel Theater. He’s the owner and cook. Doing pretty well, too. It was a donut shop before. Remember it?”

“Oh, Delicious Circle Donuts. I remember bringing home their glazed donuts for you many a morning after my night shift at the stove factory. Remember? You were addicted to them.”

“I remember,” Jenny’s voice was small. She also remembered how they’d eat them, too, in bed with steaming cups of hot chocolate, after they’d made love. Jeff must have been recalling the same thing, because his eyes were twinkling.

“I bet Joey likes having his own place. I always knew he was the kind to do good at his own business. Could never see him as some stuffed shirt with a tie going to an office every day. An old flower-child hippie, like him. They’d have made him cut his god awful hair.” Jeff grinned again. He’d really liked Joey.

“Yep, he still has the ponytail.” They both laughed.

“You actually swing a hammer, huh?” he asked her.

“You could call it that. Dad does the heavy stuff. I mostly help him. I’m a whiz with a paintbrush and a cleaning rag, the decorating, though. Now with dad gone,” the tears threatened to return, “I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Jenny,” his voice was soft again, “I’ve been on the move for a long time. Jobs, I took them where and when I could find them. Got involved with some bad people. Hit the bottle for a bit.” His eyes turned haunted. He sighed. “I’m sober now.”

“That’s good, Jeff.” She wanted to reach out, touch his hand in support, but didn’t.

“I had so many jobs in a short span of time that a decent place won’t hire me. I guess you would call me homeless. I don’t have a car anymore. It broke down outside of Denver, and I sold it for traveling money. I hitchhiked here.” Shame hung heavy in his words.

“By coincidence, at times I’ve earned my way by doing the exact thing you and your dad were doing. I’m pretty damn good at it, too. A carpenter friend in Illinois taught me everything he knew, and he was darn good. Remember that shelf I built you? Wasn’t too bad. I’ve learned I have a knack for building things.”

Jenny’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding? You? The guy who once couldn’t hammer a nail in straight, is now a carpenter?
”

“Funny, huh?”

They both broke into grins at the same time.

“What a pair we are, Jeff. Two losers.”

“Yeah, what a pair.” She knew he meant it in another way as well. “Jenny, we’re not losers. We’ve both just gone a little off track. Strange the turns our lives take, isn’t it? We think we know where we’re going and, then, damn it all, how surprised we are when we end up someplace else entirely.”

Jenny stared at him.

“My God,” Jeff suddenly exclaimed. “I’ve been here for over an hour, and I haven’t asked about Samantha. Where is she? Does she live here with you, off at school, or is she married?” He licked his lips. “I want to see her so badly. I have a lot to explain, a lot to beg her forgiveness for, as well. I don’t care if I’m still a nobody. For years, Jenny,” he confessed, “I waited for my life to get better, so she could be proud of me. When it did, I was going to contact her, but it never did, and now ten years have gone by so swiftly. When your mom told me about your dad, I knew I couldn’t let any more time steal by. I had to come and see you two; set things right. I had to.” He’d flattened his hands firmly on the table.

“Jeff, Samantha’s been married for three years. She lives up in Seattle, Washington, with her husband, Russell. She already has a child. A boy about a year old now called David.” Her eyes were misty as she talked. “I don’t see her much myself these days, but I sure miss her.”

“Too late again. The story of my life.” Jeff seemed disappointed. “Is she happy, Jenny?”

“Yes, I believe she is.”

Jeff nodded and swung his head to stare out the window, so she wouldn’t see the tears glistening again in his eyes. “Married. With a child. Good lord, I’m a grandpa. Missed the boat. Again,” he muttered. “Story of my life.”

Chapter Twelve

September 1

Jenny made phone calls while Jeff took a shower. She called Sheriff Samuels, only to hear that he hadn’t any clues yet on the Albers or her father’s case.

“Sorry, Jenny, but I got my hands full. It’s gotten worse. You know the West family out past old Stoley Road? They were found dead this morning, all five of them, torn to shreds and—” he stopped in mid-sentence, unable to finish, his voice trembling.

“No,” Jenny gasped, the horrible news taking its toll.

“I’m getting ready to bring in outside help on this whole situation. State boys or the FBI. If there are any more murders they’ll be coming in and taking over, I’m sure. I can’t handle this alone anymore.” The sheriff sounded frustrated and exhausted.

Jeff walked into the kitchen. He looked almost human. She’d let him wash and dry his clothes, what he had of them, in her apartment-sized washer and dryer. Jenny couldn’t believe how few clothes he’d had stuffed in his knapsack.

She covered the phone and told him about the West family.

“Jenny, here, let me talk to him.” He took the phone. Since Jeff had lived most of his life in the area, he and Samuels were old friends.

Jenny listened as Jeff talked to the sheriff about the ghoulish murders and what had been happening in Summer Haven. Their talk was short. The sheriff was needed on a call.

Afterwards, Jeff commented, “Just like you said, he doesn’t have any leads to what happened to the Albers, your dad and the rest of them.”

“I bet he was wondering what you were doing here,” Jenny remarked with a touch of humor. “After all, we are divorced, and you’ve been away from Summer Haven for a decade.”

“No, not really. He didn’t ask.”

“Really?”

“Really. He had other things on his mind, I suppose. What now?”

“Well.” She had her purse clutched in one hand, ready to go. “I need to stop by Joey’s first, to see if he’s heard or found out anything, and then I should get back to the theater my dad and I were working on. It’s nearly done, and I promised the owner I’d finish it no matter what. I’ve already spent three days away from it searching for Dad. I don’t know where else to look, or what else to do. I might as well work.”

“You need the money that bad?”
Jeff got it right off.

“I need the money that bad,” she replied sheepishly. “To pay the overdue water and telephone bill and so I can keep looking for Dad. Maybe I’ll hire a private investigator.”

“You don’t need to, Jenny, you have me,” Jeff drawled, leaning back against the refrigerator. “I’ve done my share of private eye work in my travels. Pretty good at it, too.”

Jenny smiled, “What haven’t
you done in the last ten years?”

“‘Bout everything and more than you’d ever imagine,” but his words had a trace of darkness to them that Jenny couldn’t help but catch, and it kept her from digging any deeper.

“Can I come with you? I’d like to see Joey and his place.”

At first, she wanted to say no. It was odd having him with her again, but she realized that he had no other place to go. She’d discovered it was nice having someone to talk to.

“Sure. He’ll be glad to see you. He could use something to cheer him up.”

They drove in her car to Joey’s, Jeff making small talk about the changes around their old hometown. Jenny let him ramble on, hardly listening, her mind full of the uneasiness that had settled on her lately.

“God, Jenny,” he said as they drove up in front of the restaurant, laying a hand briefly on hers. “I know it’s not the best time, but still, it’s so damn good to be home.”

Jenny sneaked a quick glance at him, shrugged. “I thought so, too, at first, but now,” she sighed heavily, her eyes distant, unhappy. She nodded at the theater. “That’s what Dad and I were working on when he disappeared.”

“The Rebel? You were redoing the old Rebel?” Jeff’s voice was amazed. “God, the good times we all had in that place.”

“Yeah. I promised Mister Michelson that I’d finish it. Soon. He’s anxious to open it.”

They got out of the car.

“I know I have to have money, even if Dad is gone, and I promised Michelson I’d finish,” Jenny added. “I just don’t know if I’m up to it yet.”

“Jenny,” Jeff offered, “I’ll help you.”

She reached up and shaded her eyes in the sunlight. The weather was finally beginning to act like sea coast Florida weather. It was around eighty. “Jeff, I don’t know.”

“I need money as much as you, and I won’t ask for much,” he pushed, seeing her hesitate, unsure. “I’ve got nowhere else to go, no one to go to.”

“All right, Jeff, but I’m laying my cards face up. I’ll let you stay, and I’ll let you work with me, as long as you understand, that’s all it’ll be. A working partnership. Platonic.”

“I won’t bother you. I’ll stay in a hotel.”

She shifted around to see him better, propped up against the car, a slight breeze riffling her long hair. “Sure, and spend a bundle of money for eight hours on a bed? That’s silly. Jeff, we’re adults. You help me, and I’ll help you. You can stay at my place, free, as long as you’re in town. It’s the least I can do. I have a couch sitting empty. Why pay for a hotel room.”

“I don’t want to impose. I’ll tell you what. I’ll pay for the use of the couch,” Jeff declared generously. His pride again.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I want to.”

“You don’t need to.”