Heart Echoes (26 page)

Teal knew everything. His habit of taking half a day off if necessary to visit the site. His emotional upheaval the night before, his need to hold her in the quiet predawn hour. She would walk with him out to his truck, kiss his cheek, and hand him a small bouquet that fit perfectly in the tiny vase attached to the frontispiece. She would tell him she loved him.

That had not happened today. None of it. Teal was up before dawn and out the door soon after, harried, preoccupied. With work or the Cody thing or the unsettledness between them, he had no clue.

He drove Maiya to school, calming her concerns about it being her first day back after the long absence. Would everyone accept her? Had she become a pariah? Would they want to traffic with someone who had caused the school to shut down?

Not that Maiya was aware of the date. But still . . . neither one of them?

Stop your whining, River. It's so not you.

He smiled at the thought of Krissy's voice. She had been good at calling him on the ridiculous.

“It's mourning.”

Baloney. It's self-indulgent hoo-ha.

“Give me a break.”

She laughed and laughed until he joined in.

“Oh, I still miss you, Krissy. I miss you very much.”

He hoped she knew.

Chapter 44

The three men seated across from Teal in a conference room at her law firm on Thursday morning could easily have passed on the street for identical triplets.

James Parkhurst, his attorney, and his attorney's assistant were tall, good-looking, muscular men with square jaws, deep voices, designer suits in black, power ties in red designs, French cuffs, manicured nails, and classic gold wedding bands.

She had addressed the lawyer, Mr. Smith, as Mr. Parkhurst at least twice in the last five minutes. The assistant's name was nowhere to be found in her memory bank. The higher echelons of Hollywood, even in triplicate, did not intimidate her. No. It was simply her mind. It had gone for a hike and had not come back.

As they waited for some technical issue with the video equipment to be resolved, Pamela slipped her a note.
Out. Now.
Now
was underlined.

Obviously her assistant had noticed her fumbling attempts at coherent speech.

Teal excused herself and followed her out the door.

She scurried to keep up with Pamela, down the hall, around the corner, and into the ladies' room, where she sank onto a damask chair. It was such a soothing place with overstuffed chairs, muted wallpaper in shades of pink, lavender-scented potpourri, and vases filled with silk flowers. A part of her wanted to stay put until six o'clock.

In contrast, Pamela was in full-on business mode. Mother Hen was nowhere to be seen. Her hair seemed particularly steely iron in color, its blunt angles extra sharp. It suited the expression on her face. “Girl, you have got to get your act together.”

“I'll be fine.”

She sat in the other chair and leaned forward. “You can't keep their names straight.”

“Don't they seem like brothers? Like identical triplets?”

Pamela pursed her lips. “Parkhurst, main guy, reddest tie. Smith, less main, receding hairline. Marxon nicked himself shaving this morning.” She pointed to the right side of her neck. “A mark, here.”

“Okay, got it.” The clues flittered away like moths. “No, I don't. It's because they're so much alike. They're all just
so nice
. Genuinely nice. Not the ogres Hannah portrayed.”

Pamela leaned back in her chair and sighed. “I noticed. Give me a jackass any day over nice.”

Teal smoothed her black skirt and took a deep breath. “All right. We've identified the problem. We will stay on task and do our job. It's not like the questions have changed. We ask what we have to ask. Reddest tie is the only one I need to address, and his name is Parkhurst. Mr. Parkhurst.”

Pamela squinted, critically studying Teal. “You talk big, but your game face is still AWOL. Did you leave it up in Oregon or what?”

Nope. On the kitchen floor. Saturday night.
When her husband had seen right through her.

“Teal, if you can't do it, say so. Zoe is available. She'll step in.”

Just what she needed. A boss not happy about her long absence covering for her. “No. This is my case. I promised Hannah I would take care of the depo.”

“Then go get him, tiger, or else I'll stomp on your tail under the table.”

Teal's smile slipped. She was unnerved, almost as badly as in the early days, when she would go home from the office and literally cry on her neighbor's shoulder.

What she needed right now was a good dousing in Gammy Jayne's faith, the kind that acted upon God's immanency. He was right there, right now, available.
Just talk to Him. Tell Him what you want.

What she wanted was for God to erase Saturday night. To delete that moment when River Adams—the closest physical rendition of God she had ever seen—saw how reprehensible she truly was.

“Teal, you can do this.” Pamela's expression softened into an understanding smile.

That got her out of the chair and down the hall.

Back in the conference room, after a few taps of Pamela's toe against her leg, Teal settled into what she knew best.

She asked the questions, the equipment recorded, the court reporter did her job, Pamela took copious notes. Whatever word or facial nuance Teal missed, she could find later. Considering she was probably missing three-fourths of them, this encouraged her, and she fell into a rhythm.

James Parkhurst cooperated, disclosing every fact she already knew. Name, age, address, marital history, work history, finances, the nature of his relationship with Hannah Walton.

He maintained eye contact, not once glancing at his attorney for help. There were flashes of charm, but the gentlemanly sort without smarmy condescension. He smiled when he spoke of his current wife. He winced at his description of himself calling Hannah a slut to her face. He blamed it on fear that the pregnancy rang the death knell of his marriage, which he admitted was all but over anyway. In reality, he said, he probably was more concerned about his money than his marriage. A pregnant girlfriend would muddy the divorce waters.

Slut.
Owen had labeled Teal that by the time she was twelve or thirteen. She'd had to look it up in the dictionary and realized what an idiot he was. The definition did not apply to her. After a few beers, Owen would add adjectives, words like
worthless
and
no-good
. She did not need a dictionary for them. Even back then she could have added
despicable
and
reprehensible
, fifty-cent words Owen had no knowledge of.

“Mr. Parkhurst.”

He stopped midsentence in his explanation of alimony. “Yes?”

“Do you drink to excess?”

“I am a recovering alcoholic.”

“To the best of your recollection, were you under the influence of alcohol when you had this conversation with Hannah?”

“Yes, I'm quite convinced that I was.”

“And yet you remember the conversation?”

He sighed. “Distinctly enough to know I behaved badly. She did not deserve my response. I knew she loved me and that she hadn't dated anyone else for over a year. She wasn't the cheating type. Unlike myself.”

Teal held in her own sigh. The guy was building a credible case and she had to go with it. “Did you discuss the situation at a later time while sober?”

“I tried several times to contact her. Some of the voice mails I left while sober.” His lopsided smile reeked of self-deprecation. “She did not answer my calls. She cleared out her desk one Sunday when she would have known I was on the golf course. I went to her apartment one night, not quite sober, and begged her to let me help financially.”

“You and she spoke?” This was news.

“Well, I spoke, and she slammed the door in my face. I can't blame her.”

“Did you have further contact after that?”

“No. She changed her phone number to an unlisted one. I went to her apartment again, but she had moved out. I thought of tracking down her parents, but by then I had caught on that she didn't want me involved.”

“Did you give her money?”

“I tried.”

She let him go on about his attempts to give Hannah money to help with expenses. His mailed checks were not returned, but neither were they cashed.

He said, “I've put money in a trust fund for Maddie. It will be hers when she turns twenty-one.”

Okay. More news.

“Mr. Parkhurst, did you tell your wife—uh, your first wife . . .” She scanned a paper.

As if knowing the typed words blurred before her, Pamela pointed to the name. Janelle, wife number one. Not to be confused with Alison, wife number two.

She looked at him. “Did you inform Janelle about the affair and the pregnancy?”

“Not until later.” His cheeks actually took on the color of his tie. “Because it would have given her something else to hold over me. I was concerned it would give her grounds to demand more than half of my money. It was all about the money in those days.”

Teal had seen the paperwork. Parkhurst and wife number one had settled out of court for a no-fault divorce after ten years of marriage. She received half of their property and should be set for life. A reasonable woman would not have asked for more. Not that Teal had seen much of
reasonable
when it came to divorce.

She said, “You mentioned ‘something else.' Like what?”

He shifted in his chair. “Two affairs. Abuse—mental, emotional, and physical.”

Oops. That was a bit more than recorded. Nice daddy material. “You and Janelle did not have children?”

“No, we did not.”

Thank God.

“We would've had more kids.”
Owen's voice crept in again. “
If you'd gone with your
own
dad, we would've had the money and Lacey could've had a real sister.”

Teal had been sixteen for that one. It was the day she grabbed his belt as he swung it toward her thigh. She swore if he hit her, she would report him to the new neighbor. The friendliest man she had ever met was a sheriff's deputy. Owen believed her. He never whacked her again. A run-in with the guy about property lines must have convinced Owen he'd best not tangle with him.

Her palm burned for days, but it was worth it. His verbal abuse reached new heights, but that she could deal with. She spent as little time at home as possible, going to school, running with other rejects, working at the video store, sometimes even sleeping on the back-room floor there after everyone had gone. She figured out how to get scholarships and grants and go to college.

She might have been a worthless, no-good sister and daughter, but she was no slut. She didn't have time to be.

Parkhurst said, “We never wanted children.”

“Neither of you?”

“Correct.”

“And now you do?”

“Yes. Both Alison and I do.”

“What changed?”

He folded his hands on the table. Much as she studied his handsome face for any sign of the reprobate she wanted to see, there was only an ethereal peace about him.

“In a word, Jesus changed me.”

She had hoped not to bring Jesus into the matter. If Parkhurst's experience was the real deal, if the Spirit of the living God had gotten hold of him, then they might as well pack up and go home right now. Hannah might as well invite Maddie's bio dad over for a get-acquainted dinner tonight.

He went on. “First Hannah left; then Janelle, along with half of my assets. I produced three movies that barely made it to cable TV. I drank more.” He paused. “Then Alison came to work for us.”

Teal had seen photos. The woman was a typical Parkhurst company hire: twentysomething and gorgeous.

He said, “I don't know how to explain it. She was a whiz in the business and refused to let me run it into the ground. I went to AA for her. I went to church for her. Jesus got through to me, probably through her prayers.” He shook his head as if in amazement. “This always sounds hokey, but I have to say it. God invaded my life, and I am not the man I was five years ago. I want to be a good father, even if it's only part-time.”

“Mommy, Mommy! Gammy Jayne says Jesus loves me, and guess what? He does! He told me!”
Teal had laughed at Maiya's big round eyes and four-year-old excitement. “I know, sweetie! I know. He told me too, when you were growing inside my tummy.” The little bowtie mouth formed a speechless O. They had danced a jig around the studio apartment.

The knowledge that Someone watched over them provided a peace that lasted for years and years.

It lasted until an earthquake sent her running to Oregon to be reminded at every turn that she was, indeed, a slut.

“Mr. Parkhurst, I apologize if this sounds indelicate, but why Maddie? Why not move on and have children with your wife?”

His face slackened, he made eye contact, and she knew she had missed something. She had missed requesting a vital piece of his history during discovery.

“My wife can't have children. She has physical issues. We've considered adoption, but for now Alison and I simply want to be a part of Maddie's life. I'm not asking for custody, only for the visitation rights of any father who wants his daughter to see that he loves her very much.”

He had her on “I want to be a good father, even if it's only part-time.”

What if Dutch had ever said that?

What if Cody would say it if he knew Maiya was his daughter?

“All right, thank you. We're finished here.” She abruptly ended the meeting. Before Pamela could kick her, she stood and said her good-byes to the triplets. Mr. Parkhurst. Mr. Nixon. Or something like that. Mr. Jones. Or was it Smith? “Thank you. Thank you. Pamela will show you out.”

Teal made a beeline for the ladies' room. She folded herself onto the chair, head on the armrest, arms wrapped around her knees, and decided this time she would stay put until six o'clock.