When Dreams Cross (17 page)

Her eyes drifted to the telephone beside the red couch and she sat down and set her hand on the receiver. The smoothness of it almost made her feel better, so she picked it up. What would she say? That maybe they could make it? That her love for him was stronger than her pride? That it might be possible for Pierce Production’s small initial income to get her park through the rough periods while she put off her debtors? That maybe she could delay bankruptcy until …

Pierce Productions
. The words punctured her heart, sending the breath of hope whooshing out until there was none left. Pierce Productions was half owned by Promised Land. And if Promised Land was forced into bankruptcy, Pierce Productions would go down as well.

Andi dropped the phone back in its cradle. She had been wrong when she’d thought things could never get worse. They could get far worse.

She had only one choice. She would give Justin his fifty percent back. She would make certain that he was free and clear of Promised Land before she petitioned for bankruptcy. And she would make even more certain that their paths did not cross until the deed was done. That way there would be no turning back. She could not cling to Justin’s dream in hopes it would save her own. The risk of stripping him of everything was too great.

If she could not save herself, she would at least save him. Again, she picked up the telephone. But this time she called her lawyers.

Chapter Twenty-Six

A
ndi buried her head in her arms, wrinkling the useless papers cluttering her desk. It felt as if every ounce of blood had been drained from her veins, and it was just too much to endure. Justin would get the papers today, cutting him loose from Promised Land. He would be angry at first, she thought dismally. But when her lawyer pointed out that he would probably lose his company otherwise, she was certain he’d understand. Justin had fought her control of him almost every step of the way, and now she was simply giving back what she had taken. When the papers were signed, she could go ahead with her petition for bankruptcy.

Then she would start over … somewhere.

Lord, how is this going to make me stronger?
her mind railed. Her father’s notes next to the “consider it joy” verse in his Bible came back to her, and she tried with all her heart and soul to find some joy in what was happening. But the truth was, she didn’t care if it made her stronger to endure this. If that was the cost, she didn’t want to be strong.

The door bolted open, startling her into lifting her head, and suddenly Justin stood before her, his explosive blue eyes burning into her as he slammed the door and stalked to her desk. Leaning over it, he shoved the crumpled paper across the desk top. “You always have the last word, don’t you?”

Andi was stunned into speechlessness, but she opened her mouth and tried to reply.

“Well, swallow this,” he blazed, cutting her off. “Promised Land is half owner of Pierce Productions. And it’s going to stay that way. We’re in this together, and whether you like it or not, we’re going to fight it out together!”

Andi stood up and faced him at eye level, her red eyes tired and swollen. “Justin, you don’t understand. I’m not trying to pull rank on you. I just don’t want your company to be hurt.”

“Forget my company!” he shouted. “It’s not worth anything without you!
I’m
not worth anything without you. Why can’t you understand that?”

Andi couldn’t answer. Trying to hide her pain, she turned her back to him and leaned into one of the closed circuit television screens, busy with the forms of Givens and the state inspectors who had been in and out for the last two days, gathering ammunition to take back to the legislature to hurry her demise.

Anger seeped away from him as he saw a tear drop from her chin. He wanted to hold her, to forget either company had ever existed, to take her away somewhere where they could both start over with new dreams. He stepped around her desk, still keeping some distance between them and honoring her need to hide her face. “We can fight it together, Andi,” he pleaded. “And if it comes to it, losing my company would be nothing compared to losing you.”

She heard him moving toward her, and when his arms closed around her from the back, she thought how easy it would be to just turn to him and accept his love and his help. But it was the coward’s way out. She had always been praised for her vision. And right now that vision was telling her that nothing was going to get better. If he lost his company because of her, deep down he would never forgive her and she would never forgive herself.

“But if we don’t lose our companies, Andi, we’ll be stronger together. You’ve got to get back on your feet if you’re going to invest in my movie.” His soft voice cut into her thoughts, drawing her upward again on the emotional seesaw she rode, as he diagrammed new dreams. “It’ll be a masterpiece for children and adults, and they’ll show it over and over for a hundred years.”

Andi closed her eyes. “You wouldn’t take the money for the film when I had it, Justin. It’s easy to accept now when I don’t have it. I appreciate the effort, but it’s an empty gesture.”

Justin stepped back and dropped his hands, his tone hinting at vexation and helplessness. “Right now you see everything I do as an empty gesture, Andi. I don’t know how to convince you that I have no intentions of letting you or your dreams go.”

Didn’t he understand? Didn’t he realize that the chances of their pulling out of this mess were next to nothing? Maybe his conscience wouldn’t allow him to leave her behind when things were so rough, the way he had done before. She’d just have to make herself strong and show him that she could make it on her own. Somehow, she would have to convince him to forget her and save himself.

Walking to the window, Andi squared her shoulders. “Justin, part of being a dreamer has to do with knowing when to let go. There isn’t going to be some miracle that turns things around this time. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Don’t tell me about letting go!” he shouted. “I’ve had a lot more blows in my life than you have. Being a dreamer means holding on, working and sweating and praying until you see that dream taking shape. If I had let go every time the earth fell out from under me, I’d be in another galaxy by now. Your dad didn’t make his millions giving up when things looked bad. He fought back. He made a lot of enemies that way, but he also built a lot of dreams. And he trusted, because he knew that God was in it!”

“He would have done the same thing I’m doing now!” Andi cried, swinging around to face Justin.

“I don’t think so,” he said, planting his hands on his hips as the pulse beat visibly in his neck. “He would have taken every advantage he had, and you know it.”

Andi’s face glowed with frustration. “Don’t you understand?” she rasped. “I don’t have any advantages right now!”

“You have me!” he shouted back. “We may not be millionaires when we come out of this, but we also will probably not be bankrupt! You’re just too wrapped up in martyrdom to see it!”

Andi’s heart pumped furiously. She would lose the battle and he would lose, unless she did something drastic. “It isn’t martyrdom, Justin,” she cried. “It’s just that the last thing you do before your ship sinks is throw the deadweight overboard. It’ll be months before you show a profit. I want out, Justin. When I’m rid of you I can concentrate on my own interests.”

Justin looked as if he had been struck across the face. He froze, speechless, for a tortuous eternity, his lips a tight slash across his face, his jaws visibly clenched. Slowly, he turned back to her desk and retrieved the paper. She watched the hard way he swallowed as he stared down at it, as if battling the decision that only needed a signature. And when he finally brought his eyes to her again, she saw that the pain had been replaced with something hotter and more vibrant. “We’ve bluffed each other before, Andi,” he said in a quiet, lethal voice. “But the stakes are a lot higher this time.” He started toward the door, opened it, but stopped at the threshold and turned back to her. His blue eyes were luminous with new purpose when he held up the paper and ripped it in half.

Andi caught her breath and started forward to stop him, but he warned her back with an outstretched hand. “We’re going down together, Andi, or we’ll fight it out together,” he seethed, his voice tremulously quiet as he continued to shred the paper, letting the pieces float to the floor. “And when it’s all over, regardless of the outcome, we’ll have something more important than any of it left.”

Then he disappeared, slamming the door behind him, leaving only a scattered pile of paper that represented the hope that Andi was afraid to feel.

J
ustin’s hands still trembled with anger as he rode the glass elevator down to the first floor. Deadweight. He knew her words were only an attempt to shock him into signing her papers, but they still rankled him. He’d show her deadweight. And when he did, she would be begging
him
for a trip to the altar.

“It’s an awesome responsibility being so blasted sure of yourself, Pierce,” Justin said aloud as he stormed across the lobby and out onto the Promised Land grounds. The cool air ruffled his hair, but did nothing to cool his temper. What if it wasn’t a bluff? What if those papers really were her attempt to rid herself of the extra weight while she fought against her own demise? If she had never bought Pierce Productions, she might not be in so much financial trouble. But the irony of it was that if the park were going to open as scheduled, she would still be a wealthy woman and the amount of money she had paid him for half of his company wouldn’t have even put a dent in her bank account. It was the threat of nervous stockholders that would do her in. If he could just convince them to give her some time to make the park work. If he could just convince
her
to try.

He jammed his hands into his pockets and started toward the wreckage, desperately racking his brain for some way to give her back her hope. He understood futility because he’d felt it many times himself. They were two of a kind, he and Andi, and neither of them could survive on someone else’s good graces. But if he could give her back some of what she had lost—if he could find a way to salvage the park’s reputation … Maybe they could put the harsh words and cruelties behind them and just move forward with their dreams.

Rounding the Noah’s Ark section of the park, Justin could see the work crews still laboring to clear the rubble out of the smashed buildings. The wrecked FanTran cars had been removed and were crumpled between two buildings, and the thick tracks hung from the broken bridge, as if waiting for someone to come along to put them back together.
You can do it, Lord,
he prayed silently.
You can put it all back together. You can show us how to.

Helpless, he racked his brain for what could have gone wrong. How could Andi’s engineers have made such a colossal error? The FanTran had been on hundreds of test runs, and there had never even been the hint of a snag in the tracks before. How could they have just worked loose so suddenly? Why would it have happened on that day, of all days?

Walking through the workers and the civil engineers with their clipboards and reports, Justin went to the site where the first car had fallen and kicked aside the splintered beams.

Jeanine Calaveras, the anchorwoman he had met at the press party, came up behind him with her live camera and sound crew. “Mr. Pierce,” she said, taking him by the arm and turning him to face the camera. “How is this disaster going to affect Pierce Productions?”

Moving his arm out of her grasp, Justin took an evasive step backward. “The same way it affects Promised Land,” he said, starting to walk away.

But the crew followed him. “Mr. Pierce, do you regret selling your company to Miss Sherman?”

Justin stopped, keeping his back to the reporter and her camera. “No, I do not.”

“Will this affect your relationship with Miss Sherman in any way? Rumor had it that the two of you were becoming involved again.”

Justin set his hands on his hips and turned to face the probing woman. “What is it, a slow day? No murders? No wars? Is my love life really that interesting to you?”

Squaring her shoulders, Jeanine gave a flick of her fingers telling her cameraman to stop rolling. “He’s not going to give us anything,” she told her crew. “Why don’t we go ask Andi herself?”

Justin’s granite features were cold and unyielding, and his eyes gave warnings that no one with any intelligence would have challenged. “You get within forty feet of her and I’ll have you arrested for harassment. You’re already trespassing.”

Jeanine shrugged. “Security has been a bit lax since the crash. I guess they figure ‘what’s the use?’”

Justin raked his hands through his hair, desperately trying to keep calm. “You know, Miss Calaveras,” he said in a dangerously unaffected tone, “I’ve had a rough day. The kind of day that makes me want to smash someone’s face in. I’m not accustomed to hitting women, but shattering those cameras of yours might let off a little of my frustration.”

“Are you threatening me?” the woman asked in a haughty voice, though she stepped back.

Justin gazed down at her for a moment, a slow, agitated grin curling his lips. “That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he said, then walked away.

A group of men a few feet away caught his attention. Another reporter was interviewing them about their “expert opinions” on the crash. Givens was among them. “It’s simply what I’ve been warning the state about for months. When the legislature takes away a parish’s right to govern something within its boundaries, they’re asking for trouble. If we had been involved in this, the accident would never have happened.”

“But, Mr. Givens,” the reporter prodded, “isn’t it true that the parish was gratuitously involved in inspecting each structure?”

The man shrugged his massive shoulders, clasping his hands over his belly. “Yes, that’s true. But our building inspectors’ suggestions were usually ignored. We had no means of enforcing anything we saw. In this case they obviously used lower-grade materials, did a haphazard job of bolting—”

Unable to stand another word, Justin changed directions and saw Wes sitting off to the side on a crate, his chin propped on a fist. Picking up one of the heavy broken beams, Justin went to sit beside him. “What do you think?” he asked.

Wes shook his head helplessly. “It was not lower grade,” he said in a voice too low for anyone else to hear. “And the bolting was done with an air compressor. I checked them myself.” He slid his hands down his face and looked at the wreckage over his fingertips. “I was here every step of the way. So were the other engineers. When anything looked even questionable, we started over. We don’t do shoddy work. Those tracks were stable.”

Justin stood up and surveyed the broken tracks overhead, then brought his eyes down to Wes. “Then how do you explain what happened?”

With bloodshot eyes, his friend looked up at the tracks still hanging from the sagging bridge. “If it was what they’re saying, we would have noticed it. It wouldn’t have jumped like that. Even a loose track wouldn’t have worked completely free that fast. And I would have noticed it yesterday morning when I ran the detector car around. It would have picked up any flaw in the rails. But there was nothing.” Wearily, he rubbed his hands across his jaws. “I can’t help wondering if I missed something. I’ve been a little tired with the new baby and Clint’s disappearance and Sherry’s depression and all … what if there was something I should have checked, something that could have prevented all this? I just can’t think what it would be.”