Crystal clear, p.14
Crystal Clear, page 14
“Can I stay here with you?”
“Oh, sweetheart, I have to work.” A tiny worry worked its way into her thoughts. “Brittany, does Mr. Waters ever hurt you in any way?”
“He spanks me when I do something wrong.”
“Brittany.”
At the sharp reprimand, Jill slowly stood and watched the thin blonde woman hurry out of the car. She left the door open and behind the wheel Billy Waters took a deep draw of his cigarette.
“Hurry up now, honey,” Karen McIntyre said. “Get in the car.”
Brittany inched closer, her arm winding around Jill’s leg. Annoyance crossed Karen’s features before she took a quick glance over her shoulder. When she turned back, a tiny sliver of fear had replaced the irritation.
“C’mon, now, Brit,” she pleaded. “Don’t mess up this chance for me. If you hurry, maybe we can get Billy to stop and get you a hamburger.”
“The children,” Jill informed her, “have already had lunch.” Which you would know if you took as much interest in your only child as you do in that man you’re trying to hold onto.
“I’ll need your signature on the release form before Brittany leaves early, Ms. McIntyre.”
“Don’t know why you couldn’t just let Billy take her. It’s not like he’s a stranger.”
“You agreed to the rules when you entered Brittany in the day care.” Jill handed over a clipboard. “We have the best interests of the child to consider.”
“Yeah?” Karen finished signing and handed the clipboard back. “Who thinks about the parent?”
“I’m sure you take care of that all on your own.”
“You coming or not?” Billy called out, revving the engine. “I ain’t waiting much longer.”
Karen McIntyre grabbed her daughter’s arm and pulled her away. Brittany made no sound or protest. “You got no right to judge me.” She walked over to the car, waited for Brittany to climb into the back seat. Right before she climbed in, Karen looked over, her features tired and desperate. “You got no idea what my life is like.”
Jill stood silent, watching as Billy put the car in motion as the door closed. Brittany, not kept safe and secure by benefit of a car seat or seat belt, climbed onto her knees to stare out the rear window.
“But I do know,” Jill whispered, to the retreating car, to the little girl waving good-bye. To the watery image of the little girl inside of her. “I do know.”
For the next two days, Jill came up with excuses to avoid spending time with Michael and Jordan in the evening. During the day, she stayed secluded in her office. For the first time since before the day care opened, she kept the door to her office closed. Closing doors and burying her nose in paperwork did not, however, take away the worry.
She maintained that façade of control until the afternoon of the third day. Even as she headed for the playground, she mentally argued she was doing little more than making a cursory check to insure there were no problems.
That didn’t stop her gaze from searching for Brittany.
Today, the little girl sat at a far corner of the playground, a greater sense of isolation than usual making her stand out from the other active children playing around her. She seemed to be concentrating on something in her hand. Jill walked over and knelt down.
“Miss Jill. Look.”
Brittany’s face glowed as she offered what she’d been studying. Attached to a long gold chain totally inappropriate for a child of three was an oval locket. Jill felt a chill skate down her spine and soak deep into her bones.
“It opens,” Brittany went on, inserting her tiny fingernail to pry apart the sides. “This is my momma.”
Jill could barely make out the tiny picture, could barely even see the locket itself. Her hand curled into a fist, as if clutching the pocket watch her father had used to teach her how to tell time. As if clutching the pocket watch her mother gave her the morning she dropped Jill off in front of the school.
The last morning she’d seen her mother.
“Where—where did you get this?” she asked, although she already knew the answer. The hollow ache in the center of her chest drummed with the fear of what this gift represented.
“My momma gave it to me. She has one like it, with my picture.” Brittany looked at Jill. “Isn’t it pretty?”
“It’s beautiful,” she answered and turned the locket over. There, as she expected, was the inscription. Never forget.
“I’m not going to lose it.”
“Of course, you’re not. You’ll take care of it and keep it forever.” She handed the locket back, curled her fingers over the ones Brittany curled around the locket, squeezed once. “I better get back to work.”
It took effort to calmly walk away, to pause and smile and chat when other children ran up to her. She couldn’t afford to panic or alarm anyone. There was still the chance, the very slim chance, she was wrong.
For once, her memory didn’t stand her in good stead. She had to search for Brittany’s file, found it necessary to concentrate in order to punch in the telephone number correctly. Her breathing became more ragged and frantic as the phone call resulted in another, and then another.
She relied on no one; she didn’t alert anyone about her suspicions. With every conversation and the building evidence, she struggled to hold back the past from obscuring the present.
In the end, she had to face the facts. She had little choice.
She alerted the authorities and sat at her desk, still, silent, and staring off into space, until she received confirmation. Brittany McIntyre’s mother not only hadn’t shown up for work, but when the police went by her apartment they discovered it was empty except for two suitcases packed with Brittany’s name on the luggage tag.
Jill continued to sit and wait until a middle-aged woman appeared at her doorway. The memory was so sharp it felt as if her insides were being ripped apart.
“Will you let me tell her?” she asked and received a sympathetic nod.
She would never remember how she managed to walk to the classroom or how she explained the need for Brittany to come with her. She would never recall anything the little girl chatted about during the walk back to her office. She wouldn’t even remember the way Brittany had looked confused and unsure when she was told her mother had left town without her.
But for the rest of her life Jill would never forget the heart-wrenching agony of feeling Brittany wrap those tiny, trembling arms around her neck and tearfully promise to be good if she could stay with her.
When the authorities left with a distraught Brittany, Jill didn’t hesitate. Her vision might have been blinded by the tears she refused to shed, her path might have wavered due to the trembling in her legs, but she had one destination, one need that guided her.
She stopped at the doorway of his office. He stood at the drafting table, his attention on the spread-out drawings. His jacket was off, the sleeves rolled back to mid-arm. He needed a haircut, she noticed, and his jaw already looked as if he had skipped a morning shave. She knew better. She had too many memories of standing beside him in her bathroom as they both prepared for the day.
“Michael.”
His head jerked up. His brown eyes, those wonderfully seductive, intense eyes softened an instant before they narrowed.
As if swimming through a turbulent ocean, she saw him move toward her.
She never felt his arms catch her as her strength crumbled and her legs gave way.
Michael stared down at Jill. The fact that she slept, had in fact been sleeping since he brought her here more than two hours ago, did nothing to ease his worry.
It wasn’t a peaceful, restful sleep. Her complexion was pale, and her brows often knitted together as if she were struggling against images that haunted her dreams. More than once she made a low keening sound as she thrashed beneath the covers, quieting only when he wrapped her in his arms and held on. It was the only thing he knew to do for her.
For the rest of his life, Michael would recall the sound of her voice when she spoke his name. He’d never known a single name, in such a soft tone, could convey so much. She’d been hurt, bewildered, and afraid.
And though it shamed him to make the confession, he admitted a part of him was thrilled he’d been the one she turned to.
“Michael.”
“Mom.”
Jill moaned a little when he eased her out of his arms. He brushed a hand over the hair he’d unbound before tucking her into bed, whispered comfort words as he kissed her cheek. When she seemed to settle back into her sleep-induced cocoon, he crossed the room.
“Did you have any problem?” he asked, accepting the bag his mother handed him.
“No. Everything was just where you said it would be.”
“Jill’s very organized.” He set the bag down. “Not exactly the way you imagined spending your first day back after your anniversary cruise, is it?”
“Now, how can I be anything less than thrilled about having the chance to spoil my grandson for a few days.”
Michael stared at her, the dark hair threaded with gray, her blue eyes softened with understanding and sympathy as she looked past his shoulder to where Jill slept. She was, in her own way, telling him she would keep Jordan as long as Michael needed.
She and his father had always been there for him, no matter what the circumstance or need. Even during those turbulent first days of returning to Abilene with Brenda pregnant with Jordan. Michael glanced back over his shoulder.
What would it be like to grow up without that kind of support and love? Would he have become as strong and independent as Jill? Thank God he’d never had to find out. He turned back to his mother.
“I love you, Mom.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
“I love you, Michael. If you need anything else, let me know.”
“Maybe I should have taken her to her own place rather than here.”
His mother shook her head and again glanced at the bed. “You brought her home.”
Michael hoped like hell that Jill agreed.
“No, I think you’re right,” Michael said a half hour later as he stared at Jill, still sleeping. He smiled when he heard the additional words. “I’m glad David’s with you. Tell him to take good care of both of you. Of course, as soon as she wakes.” He paused, waited through the panting of a contraction.
“She’s not going to be happy with either of us. Yes,” he agreed. “With me, it will be worse. Rest now, while you can,” he said and hung up the phone.
Crawling into bed, he eased Jill into his arms. The fact that she allowed him to do so with little resistance didn’t comfort him at all.
Chapter 12
She surfaced.
Jill fought the awareness, the wakefulness that would bring back the pain. She wanted that dull cloud of retreat. She didn’t care if it was hiding; it was less painful than facing the reality.
Even as she hoped to burrow her way back under the blessed blanket of oblivion, she became aware of her surroundings.
It was in fact a blanket that surrounded her. There was also the security of a soft down comforter. Michael’s comforter. But it was the warmth from his embrace that seeped through to penetrate her consciousness.
He held her. Just as he’d held her in his office and as he carried her. She had no clear memory of him doing either, simply the sensation of being embraced. It hadn’t been a lover’s embrace, then or now. Nonetheless, her mind grabbed the thought and ran with it.
There was no reason why it couldn’t be.
It would provide a release, a way to unleash all the torrent of emotion she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. It could bring her a physical exhaustion that would surely then block any and all emotional thoughts or feelings. She could return to the blessed blankness of sleep.
Speed and heat were what she wanted, what she needed.
She shifted so she could reach him, touch him. Her mouth found his in the dim light.
His taste was so familiar now. She feasted on him with the desperate hunger racing through her. Because she felt the temptation to slow down and enjoy rather than hurry and forget, she practically ripped the buttons from his shirt.
He groaned when her hands raced over the broad planes of his chest. Beneath her roaming mouth, she felt his heart speed, heard his quickly in-drawn breath when her fingers lowered to the zipper of his pants. Her mouth was quickly heading for the same target.
“Jill.”
She crushed her mouth back to his, cutting off his protest. His voice had been low, not soft but harsh with need. Still, it had rung with something incredibly close to tenderness, so close that it tempted her to slow down. Or stop. Only she didn’t want care or concern, she wanted heat.
“Michael.” Her own breathing was ragged now. She wrapped her hand around the length of him. “I need you.”
His fingers gripped her wrist, not stopping her but slowing her enough to have panic sprinting down her spine.
“Not like this.”
Tears burned behind the eyelids she closed while temper spiked her blood. “Why not?” she demanded, her fingers continuing to flex and stroke around him. He couldn’t say it was because he didn’t want her. The evidence to the contrary was literally in her hand.
He lifted her face to his for a kiss rather than answer with words. His mouth was gentle, soothing even as it excited.
She’d been afraid this kind of care and gentleness would hurt, that it would allow too much room for pain to slide through her. Instead, it clouded her brain more than speed.
She felt the warmth seep into her as his arms shifted to hold her close, as he slowly, oh so slowly, stroked his hands over her. He didn’t touch her intimately, and he didn’t plunge into her the way she believed she’d wanted.
A low fire of longing replaced the hot ball of impatience.
She’d wanted to use and be used.
She ended up being loved and returning love.
She woke late the next morning, acutely aware of just how long she’d mired herself in self-pity. Most of that period was fuzzy, deliberately so.
She didn’t want to recall how much she’d depended on Michael. This is what happened when you let yourself feel, when you cared. Your heart got ripped out. It was so much better, easier to keep apart, to separate yourself and your emotions from those around you.
She thought she’d learned that painful lesson years ago. Apparently not. She wouldn’t be foolish or careless enough to make that mistake again.
It startled her to realize how weak her legs were when she threw back the covers and stood. Locking her knees and stiffening her spine, physically as well as metaphorically, she made her way to the bathroom.
After a quick shower, she stood at the mirror applying makeup when Michael appeared behind her. Jill felt thankful she at least was dressed in her own clothes rather than his T-shirt that she’d been wearing upon waking.
His jaw was shadowed. As was his expression. He stared at her, his eyes as intense as always. For the first time since meeting him, however, he looked unsure about what to say or do. She supposed she should thank him for everything he’d done, only the words stuck in her throat.
“It’s time I went home,” she ventured, eyeing his reflection as she applied a final sweep of mascara to her left eyelashes. “I can call a cab if you need to pick up Jordan.” She tucked all of her cosmetics back into the bag, both out of necessity and as a means to avoid his penetrating gaze. “Or I can call Annette.”
She looked up in time to see him wince.
“What?” Suddenly alarmed and fearful, she spun around. “Is something wrong? The baby?” She rushed forward even as the recent need to hide away threatened to take control again. She reached for his hand and gripped hard. “Please tell me. Did something happen to Annette?”
“She’s fine. She and the baby both.”
Her breath shuddered free, and her shoulders slumped in relief. Then the full impact of his explanation hit home.
“Both?” she repeated. Her fingers crushed his. “Both? She had the baby?”
“Early this morning. A daughter.”
“Why didn’t she call me? I was supposed to be with her in the delivery room.”
“She did call.” Michael cleared his throat. “Between us, we decided you were in no shape to be of any help to her.”
“She was alone?” She wanted to moan but couldn’t allow that much emotion to show.
“No, David was with her. He’s the father. Apparently, she’s been in love with him for years, but said nothing until after his divorce was final. They’ve been together, secretly, for more than two years.”
“Yes, I know. Annette told me a short while ago. But she said they were keeping their relationship a secret. Because of their age difference and the family connection.”
This was why Annette had asked her to be with her during labor. That was the reason why she’d asked her to stay and manage the day care.
“You decided,” Jill said, the ache in her head shifting to the center of her chest. “You decided,” she repeated, taking a step away from him.
Anger swept in, obscuring her momentary confusion. Michael had made a decision for her, taken away her choice. All because she’d been weak and dependent upon him.
Exactly as her mother had always been with the men in her life.
It didn’t matter that he was right, that even in her anger she could admit she'd been in no frame of mind to be of any help to Annette. She couldn’t even see beyond her fury at him to recognize that Annette was every bit as guilty for taking away her choice.
All Jill knew, all that frightened her beyond compare, was the specter of her mother turning to other men for the decisions in her life when she’d been emotionally fragile and weak.
“Who the hell gave you the right to make my decisions for me?”
“You did,” he fired back. “You did when you collapsed in my arms. You did when you continued to hide here in my bed. You did when you told me that you needed me.” He stepped forward, forcing her to take a step back in retreat. Against her back, she felt the edge of the bathroom counter dig deep into her skin.
