Authors: Julie Blair
“For a few minutes.” So much like Jac. So dependent on its environment. So fragile out of it. Jac’s attachment to her home and Max and her daily routines was her world as much as this tide pool was the starfish’s. She’d do whatever she could to protect Jac.
“This is better than waves on my feet,” Jac said, holding her arm in the freezing water for several minutes while the starfish crawled off.
Max barked, a sharp, alarming bark, just before a wave crashed against the end of the rocks, lunging up toward them like a specter. She hugged Jac to shield her from the icy spray pelting them.
Jac threw her head back and laughed, her arms outstretched. “Do that again,” she yelled as the water receded around their legs and Max licked Jac’s cheek. “I dare you!”
“Do you want to leave?” Liz asked as they made their way back across the rocks, Max bringing up the rear as if guarding against another attack. They were both soaked and she was shivering.
“No. I want lunch and wine and a long nap.”
“Okay, your majesty,” she said, mimicking Roger. By the time they left, Jac seemed back to herself, as if the encounter with the wave had jolted her out of her obsession with the press.
*
Maybe she’d overreacted to being recognized. Maybe, like being ambushed by that wave, it would wash over her without sweeping her out to sea. Jac reached between the seats and petted Max. His fur was soft, almost fluffy, from the salt water. Relaxed and thinking clearly again, she realized the odds of that woman knowing anyone in the media were low. Peg said she looked embarrassed. She probably didn’t think any more about it. She’d lay low for a few weeks, and she’d have to stay away from Liz’s shows. She’d get her feelings under control before they caused any more damage. Friends. That’s all.
Liz stopped the CD and replayed the song. “That’s what I love about Ellington’s compositions. I think I know what he’s doing and then he surprises me.”
“Your compositions, too.” A few minutes later, tires on gravel indicated they were home. She stepped out and arched her back. Better. “Give me something to carry.” She let Max out.
“Take these.” Liz put a bundle of towels in her arms.
“Jacqueline Richards?”
Jac jerked her head toward the male voice and hugged the bundle as if it could protect her.
“I’m with the
San Francisco Chronicle
.” His voice closer. “I’d like to ask you some questions.”
“Go away!” Fear glued her feet to the gravel and her heart lodged in her throat. Ambushed.
“Hey, who are you?” Liz. Footsteps moving quickly on the gravel.
“
Chronicle
. I’m doing an article—”
“Leave her alone!”
“You’re Liz Randall. Great. I want to talk to you about your collaboration with—”
“You can’t be here,” Liz said fiercely.
The house. Which way was the house? Jac took a step and bumped into the car. Damn it. She clutched the towels against her body, disoriented. Max hugged her leg, but he wasn’t in harness. No way to escape.
“People loved your music, Ms. Richards, and want to know what happened to you.”
“Go!” Liz. “You’re trespassing on private property.”
“What about the accident, Ms. Richards? You were at the peak of your career. Was that why you retired?”
“Leave me alone!” Jac swung her arm in front of her as footsteps approached.
“I’ve got you,” Liz said, taking her arm.
Her legs quivered as Liz hurried her across the gravel, the reporter firing more questions at them. After what seemed like an eternity, Liz opened a door and she was in Peg’s house. She was shaking from the adrenaline. Ambushed. Her worst nightmare.
“How was your afternoon?” Peg asked, when they made it to the dining room.
“There’s a reporter out front,” Liz said.
“Damn it. I’ll get rid of him,” Roger said.
“Sit.” Liz took the towels and put Jac’s hand on the back of the barstool.
Jac slid onto it and gripped the edge of the bar top. Liz held onto one shoulder and Peg the other. The press had found her.
What about the accident, Ms. Richards
? Scandal. Sensation. They’d milk it for all they could. There’d be no safe place.
“He’s gone,” Roger said.
“It’ll be all right,” Peg said.
“No.” Jac’s heart beat nearly out of her chest. Her reputation would be destroyed. All she had left. A strangled groan broke loose. After what she’d done she deserved to lose it. “I want to go home, Peg.”
“I’ll take you,” Liz said.
Too exhausted to protest, she walked on legs that didn’t feel like they’d support her. Max stayed by her side. She meant to say good night, good-bye, at the door, but the words wouldn’t form as heartbreak stacked onto the fear and guilt. She’d lost her career. Wasn’t that enough? Did she have to give up Liz, too?
“I left my car doors open. I’ll be right back.”
The silence was deafening, and she was cold, and her back pain was bad again. She fed Max and took Advil. After turning on Beethoven she paced, her mind tying itself in knots.
A knock and the door opened. “Roger sent this,” Liz said. “If you get it right you get—”
“I’m going to bed.”
“Don’t shut me out.”
“I’m not who you think I am. You don’t want to be associated with me.”
“Now you’re telling me you’re not Jacqueline Richards? Here.” Liz put the bottle in her hand. “It’s dusty and old and probably cost more than I make in a year. I’m afraid to open it.”
“Liz—”
“I’m not leaving.”
She took the bottle to the kitchen, opened it, and drank, searching for the courage to send Liz away.
“Hey, where’s the swirling and sniffing? You can’t just drink it.”
She loved Liz for the teasing and for so much more. Friendship she hadn’t known she wanted and now she had to give it back. “Petrus.”
“What year?”
“Seventy-one.” The year she was born. She poured a glass and handed it to Liz.
“Holy mother of God. That’s like…”
“Enjoy it. Some things don’t need to be described.”
“Roger said dinner in an hour.” The unspoken “I’m not leaving.”
Did she have the courage to tell Liz the whole truth?
What about the accident, Ms. Richards?
“I was thinking,” Liz said when they were sitting in the living room. “I have a friend who’s a freelance journalist. Give her an interview. Answer the questions about your retirement, but you’ll be in control.”
“I can’t.” Jac perched on the edge of the recliner, holding the glass to give her hands something to do. Max’s food bowl slid on the floor as he licked it clean.
“Getting ambushed like that isn’t right, but you were famous and then dropped out of sight. Millions of people loved your music. You can’t blame them for wanting to know why you retired or if you’ll perform again.”
“There’s more to it than my retiring.”
“The blindness?”
“More.”
“I can’t help you if I don’t know what it is.” Always the kindness in Liz’s voice.
“Working with you on the CD took me back. Close to what I had. Too close. I wanted to be part of your world. I used you. Like I used Stephanie.” She hadn’t spoken her name since that night.
“Who’s Stephanie?”
“The woman I killed.”
“That’s not possible.”
Oh, but it was. Jac took a shuddering breath, and emotions imprisoned for a decade broke loose like a torrent over a dam. A sob worked its way up from that cold, dark place. She couldn’t hold it back, and then Liz was kneeling in front of her, holding her while hot tears of guilt and anger and loss ran down her cheeks. When the tears finally stopped, Liz let go.
“Here.” Liz pressed Kleenex into her hand. “It’s the accident. There’s more, isn’t there? Tell me.”
Did she have the courage to tell Liz the parts she’d left out? She didn’t want to. She had to. It would be the end of their friendship, but Liz deserved to know. “That night…” Rejected. Confused. Heartbroken.
No divorce. You’re going to tell Malcolm it was all a ploy for attention. No, you’re not going to start your own production company. If you want this…
Maria running her fingers down Jac’s front
…everything stays as it is.
Her nipples tightening from the touch she craved. Maria smiling because she knew it. Grabbing her purse and fleeing.
“The bar I went to…it was a lesbian bar.” She was Jacqueline Richards. Someone would want her. No change in the concierge’s expression when he said there was one ten blocks away and would she like him to call a cab. The wait on the curb, in the snow, still in the slacks, silk blouse, and high heels she’d changed into before leaving the concert hall. Shivering and pacing, keyed up, glancing back to the lobby, expecting to see Maria running to embrace her, telling her it was a misunderstanding, and of course, they would be together.
“I can’t imagine how hurt you must have felt.”
She heard the sympathy in Liz’s voice. Sympathy she didn’t deserve. She should have gone to the hotel bar or gotten another room. So many choices she could have made that wouldn’t have ended catastrophically. “I’d never been in a lesbian bar. It was Valentine’s Day.” Wall-to-wall women. Most dressed up, many wearing red. The unfamiliar music. Leaning against the bar, watching women dance and touch each other. Aching for Maria. So hurt and embarrassed. She trusted Maria. She loved her. How could she be so cruel?
A glass of champagne. Then wanting to dance, to be touched, to feel something other than emptiness. “A woman asked me to dance.” Beautiful in a black cocktail dress. Short blond hair. Athletic looking. Nothing like Maria’s full-figured dark beauty.
Liz touched her hand. Max scratched and then put his head back on her foot.
“She said she’d been at the concert, lavished me with praise, assured me she wouldn’t tell anyone. Invited me to sit with her and her friends. We danced some more.” At first the unfamiliar touches felt strange, but then she wanted more, anything to distract her from thinking about Maria. She should have left. She’d put her career in the hands of a stranger. So many bad choices that night.
“She kissed me.” Pulling away at first, then kissing Stephanie hard, anything to chase away the ache for Maria. “I got the idea to go back to my hotel with her.” Memories swam through her mind—all those women, champagne relaxing her, someone wanting her. Reckless, but it had seemed right.
“To make Maria jealous,” Liz said.
“I used her. I shouldn’t have dragged her into my drama.” So angry and hurt Maria hadn’t come for her. The concierge knew where she’d gone. It wouldn’t have been difficult to find her.
Filling her hands with Stephanie to drive away the pain. Making out in the back of the bar. She’d felt sexy and powerful at the time. Now she recoiled from the memory. Her emotions had been dangerously out of control.
“You did what we all do—ran from pain.”
“She’s dead and I’m not!” Jac clenched her jaw, blinked in vain to stop the tears, and forced herself not to rock with the anguish of it. She continued before she lost her nerve. Liz had to know the whole ugly truth, why she couldn’t do the logical thing and give an interview. Why Liz needed to distance herself from any association with her.
“I insisted she come back to my hotel.” How dare Maria toss her aside? She’d make her sorry. “She asked the bartender to call a cab, but it was going to be an hour. I was angry and told her she’d have to do better than that if she wanted to be with me. I was desperate to get back to the hotel.”
“She said to wait. The next thing I knew, she was tossing car keys to me, but I said she knew the way to the hotel better than I did.” All over each other as they hurried to the car. “It was snowing hard, and we were swerving and skidding. We should have pulled over.” Cupping Stephanie’s breast, kissing her. Desperate to feel something other than heartbreak. “Instead, I told her to hurry. I was scared but so upset I didn’t care if we crashed. If I got hurt maybe Maria would care. I unbuckled my seat belt so I could touch her.” Sliding her hand under the dress. No panties. Wet. Stephanie spreading her legs and rocking against her. Jac recklessly encouraging her.
“She was laughing and the music was really loud and we swerved some more, only this time we picked up speed. I grabbed for the safety handle and the car slid faster. Then there was screaming and the sound of crunching metal.” It had happened so fast. Images flashed across her mind. Bad images. Bile rose in her throat and her pulse bounced erratically. She forced herself to continue.
“The next thing I remember, something hard and cold was under my cheek. I’d been thrown from the car. I couldn’t feel my legs, couldn’t stop shivering.” Squeezing her eyes shut against the pain and the sight of the car crumpled into the corner of a building, steam rising from the hood. “I heard an explosion. Then nothing until I woke up in the hospital.” She waited for tears, but all she felt was numb, as if the guilt and grief were all that had been holding her together and now she was splintering into pieces.
“I’m so sorry.” Liz slid to the end of the couch and squeezed her hand.
“I can’t talk to the press. They’ll dredge up the accident. Find out what really happened. I was a married woman who went to a lesbian bar and left with a woman. That woman died because of me.”
“I remember reading about the accident, but I don’t remember any of this.”
“Malcolm contained it to avoid publicity that could hurt my career. He didn’t know about the divorce papers at first. He’d never tell me the details, but Stephanie’s family didn’t want her name in the papers. It was reported to the press as a one-car accident. It’s my fault she’s dead, and I have to live with that. If I hadn’t lost control of my emotions…if I hadn’t wanted to make Maria jealous…if I hadn’t been touching Stephanie in the car…” Oh, God, she was responsible for a woman’s death. She clutched the armrests as guilt and remorse shredded her.
“It was an accident. A tragic accident that changed your life. No one will blame you.”
“They already have. Malcolm.” Furious when he found out about the divorce. Furious about the bar.
How long have you been making a fool out of me?
Thank God he never found out about Maria.
“He’s hardly impartial.”