Authors: Elizabeth Seckman
“But how, Maureen? How could Jake have been wrong? I know he went there and he said he talked to Tres.”
“Thunder and tarnation, child, I know Jake went. Lordy, I had to pay his bail every time he went pounding on that mansion door.” Maureen shrugged. “But evidently, something went wrong. I would bet my last dollar that young man hasn’t a clue. He thoroughly believes Tanner is Jake’s boy. I could see the jealousy in his eyes. It darned near steamed out of his ears when he looked at the pictures on the hutch.”
Jenna said nothing as she stared across the room at the pictures of her son, her mind trying to make sense of this situation.
“The final choice is yours, Jenna, and I’ll love ya and you’ll always be my family no matter what you choose to do.” Maureen paused before she added, “That said, answer me this…could you face yourself in the mirror each morning if you weren’t certain he knew about his son?”
“So, you think I should ask him? Tell him if he doesn’t know?”
Maureen’s voice was low, reverent, “Isn’t it really the only option your conscience could live with?”
Jenna nodded. “I will confirm what I already know. Jake didn’t lie to me.”
Maureen pulled her in for another hug. “There are other things that could have gotten screwy. I don’t know what exactly.” She laughed, but all Jenna could do was shake her head slowly. Maureen rubbed her back and sighed, “This will all work out child.”
Her words were confident and comforting. Jenna hoped she was right. Prayed it would all work out simply because Maureen said it would. Jenna dried her eyes and smiled at her weakly. Maureen’s eyes burned with sympathy. She squeezed Jenna’s hands as she said, “But you got to promise me one thing, Jenna Austin.”
“Anything,” Jenna declared, feeling even more indebted to the woman next to her.
“Don’t you ever think you’re not my family. You’ll darn near break this old lady’s heart if I lost the only family I got left in this world.”
Jenna grabbed her and gave her a hug, squeezing and pressing her cheek on her broad shoulder. She gripped her shirt as she promised, “You can’t shake me, Maureen Austin. You know I need you way too much. I’d be a mess without you. I can’t cook. I forget everything. And lately I’ve been blubbering at the drop of a hat.”
Maureen blew her nose and laughed, “Well, seems your blubberin’s contagious.”
Jenna laughed in spite of the pains of the day. She said, “If salt was still valuable, I’d be a rich woman.”
Maureen gave her a last squeeze. “You are rich beyond measure, child. Now.” She pulled away and pulled Tres’s note from her pocket. “Now we need to track down Mr. Coulter and get this business over with.” She handed the note to Jenna.
Jenna’s heart squeezed at the familiar script. She looked up at Maureen, her skin drained of all color but for her red-rimmed eyes and confessed, “And I thought telling Tanner was going to kill me.”
Chapter
10
According to Tres’s assistant, Tres was already at his hotel in Norfolk, Virginia. He must have scooted off the island as soon as he left Maureen’s. Jenna hated driving in the crowded port town, but she promised Maureen she would sort things out, and this kind of conversation needed to be done face to face. Like an adult.
But how did a person start this conversation…“Hey, about the son you abandoned…oh, what son you say?” Jenna’s palms felt slick against the steering wheel. If Tres really didn’t know, how was he going to react? As she imagined his response, her mind interrupted, he knows. You know he knows.
She closed her eyes a moment and rolled her neck to lessen the stiffening. She couldn’t decide which way she wanted the conversation to go. Did she want him to be the ogre or the victim?
She admitted to herself more than a small part of her hoped Maureen was right. Hoped beyond all hopes the Tres she remembered still existed. If he did, then maybe the love they shared might…
No. She stopped the thought midstream.
She had no hard evidence to counter the truth she was forced to accept fifteen years ago. Only Maureen’s instincts contradicted the facts. And to base every hope on that, when Maureen made decisions based solely on her gut… a gut that was usually… solid as a rock. Jenna had never known her mother-in-law to be wrong when judging people.
Her pounding heart made her breathless. Her father had once told her every sin carried an equal punishment, the “reap what is sown” theory. She sinned, and then compounded it with lies, and now she suffered the punishment. Just deserves. Trite sayings took on more profound meaning when applied personally.
Lost in thought, she nearly collided with a stopped car ahead of her on the interstate. She hit the brakes hard, her tires squealing against the pavement, coming to a crooked stop behind the car’s bumper. Scared back to reality, she checked the dashboard clock. She groaned and cursed as her bad luck streak continued. The unending line of vehicles came to a crawl as the rush hour traffic plugged all the lanes. Navigating the busy port city with raw nerves brought the blood to her cheeks and made her regret ever driving past the Herbert C. Bonner Bridge.
She checked her directions as the traffic inched ahead. They were simple enough for a child to follow, thanks to Tres’s assistant. He answered the first number on the list and provided her with all the information she needed. And thankfully, according to his instructions, she was nearing her destination. She could see her exit up ahead. She sighed. She survived the horn blowing, bumper riding traffic with just one near collision and a couple of wrong turns.
As she pulled up to the hotel, she was impressed with the architecture. It wasn’t the typical rectangle box of rooms. The two hundred year old structure had charm and character. Were she not so tense and worried, she’d have been awed by the presence of the place. Even the sounds of the James River lapping against the shore as it merged into the Chesapeake did little to distract her thoughts from the problems that awaited her inside the building’s walls. She handed over her keys to the valet and turned to the door with her shoulders squared and determination on her mind, though her resolve dwindled with every step. By the time she pushed open the glossy oak door, her heart pounded in her chest. The foyer greeted her with musty smell of age and the wooden floors creaked and groaned under her. Through a second heavy, frosted glass door, she entered a lobby filled with antiques and pictures from a bygone era. Out of date gas lights hung unlit from the walls, rendered mere decorations by time. The room was illuminated with hidden track lighting and cut glass table lamps. The wooden floor merged fluidly with colorful mosaic tiles which peaked out from under a thick red wool rug. She walked slowly, cautiously, approaching the concierge desk as one would approach the judge’s gavel.
The desk, a refinished post office counter, had heavily carved legs and mostly empty pigeon holes for messages. She approached the concierge who manned the desk. He towered above the counter with broad square shoulders and skin smooth as melted chocolate. He had a kind, serious face.
He smiled at Jenna as she cleared her throat, her voice barely above a whisper, “I need to get a message to a, ah, friend, Tres Coulter. He checked in this morning.”
“Room number?”
“I, uh, don’t know.”
He frowned, then said in a voice as warm and smooth as his flesh, “I am sorry ma’am, I cannot confirm anyone on our registry, so I cannot send messages by name. If you have a cell phone, you could call him from the terrace?”
Jenna bit her lip. “Yes, of course, thank you.” She started to leave by the way she came when the gentleman cleared his throat and called her back, “Miss? The terrace is through those double doors behind you.” Jenna nodded and blushed wondering if he had read her mind and blocked her escape. She took a deep breath and turned in the direction he pointed.
Night was falling, the air cooling as the birds gave their final song before settling down to roost. The sun nestled in the west, the watery blue in the horizon doused the fiery glow of the sun into the tranquil pinks and oranges of evening.
It was a perfect evening to be outdoors. Jenna supposed others thought the same as people filled up the bistro tables. The cacophony of conversation made as much sense to her ear as the chatter of the nesting flocks. Jenna took a table in a corner wedged against the wrought iron railing and the cut stone wall. Sitting with her back to the crowd, she found comfort in the view of tree tops and waterfront.
She felt out of place and underdressed, though she had put quite a bit of effort into getting prepared. She had applied her make up with care and had curled her hair all over then pinned the ringlets in a loose French twist allowing some to fall over the smooth knot. She donned a sun dress and kitten heeled sandals instead of her usual shorts and flip-flops. But with all her effort, she still felt sloppy and disheveled, out of her element away from the sand and sea.
Glad Maureen made her borrow her cell phone, she dialed Tres’s number. No answer. She sighed and hung up, setting the phone on the table in front of her. The waiter appeared and she ordered a glass of diet coke and a garden salad, waiter’s choice of dressing. She had no intention of eating it anyhow. She’d wait twenty minutes and then phone Tres again. If he didn’t answer, she’d order dessert, wait another twenty minutes, then what? Panic threatened to gnaw through her stomach. Maybe she should go home and try later; maybe send a letter, only this time certified...
“Jenna?”
Jenna nearly jumped from her seat. She turned toward the familiar sound and said with a shaky voice, “When will I get used to you sneaking up on me?” She slid her chair back a little to greet him.
“Maybe if you’d agree to see me more often.” Tres’s smile was cool, one which showed the right amount of perfect teeth and began and ended seamlessly.
Jenna nodded, her own smile nervously twitching at the sides of her mouth. “Did you know I was here? Or were you...”
“The concierge phoned. He said there was a beautiful woman asking for me. Curiosity of course brought me right down.”
“I tried to call.”
“I was probably already on the elevator.” Tres sat across from her, not waiting for an invitation. “I came quickly. I hoped it was you. I hoped guilt had gotten the best of you for not saying good-bye.”
“Guilt.” The word felt hollow, her guilt would be determined in a moment. “Yeah, guilt,” Jenna responded automatically as her mind rushed through the possibility of a real unmerciful guilt to be carried by one of them, she just didn’t know whether it would be her or the man across from her. She bit her lip and looked over her shoulder at the tables of people crowding in around her. They seemed to move closer as she rehearsed the words she needed to say in her mind. Then she imagined his reaction and quickly decided a public place wouldn’t do for the sort of conversation they needed to have.
“Can I buy you dinner?” Tres offered.
“I’m fine.” Jenna poked at her salad.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“I’ve got one.” Jenna lifted her glass.
“So, you have,” Tres admitted with a sigh.
“I’m surprised you came this way,” Jenna said. “I figured you’d leave through Ocracoke.”
“Normally I do, but I have an engagement tomorrow.”
“A date?” Jenna asked cringing as soon as the words left her mouth.
“Yes, a date,” Tres smiled his eyes sparkling with mischief, “a date with my 80 year old Grams.”
“Oh, your grandmother.” The undisguised relief in her voice made her squirm in her chair. Jenna checked to see if he had recognized her faux pas. He did. His smile broadened and he relaxed against the back of his chair. His sudden glow made him striking. He remained as gorgeous today as he was fifteen years ago. He stretched an arm across the table and toyed with an orchid in the centerpiece. His body moved with the fluid ease of an athlete. His long limbs were graceful, his movements confident. How could she not love this man? Her heart raced with the thought. She felt a little dizzy as the night air grew heavy and hard to breathe.
He reached out and took her hand. He turned it over and touched the smooth palm. Jenna felt the warmth spread through to the very core of her being. Alarmed, she jerked it back. She couldn’t think when he touched her.
He returned his hand to his side of the table. “I’m sorry, Jen. Problem is...I’ve missed you every day since the last time I saw you. I think of you every day. I guess I forget your life moved on.”
Jenna nodded, her eyes burned with tears which threatened to fall.
“I’d offer to take you up to my room, but the last time I did, you ran.”
Jenna tried to fake a smile, tried to stop the inevitable tear rolling down her cheek. Tres reached across the table and brushed it away with his thumb. His hand remained on her cheek, his voice low, concerned. “I do have a suite, so I could offer to take you to the sitting room. I promise I won’t try to pounce on you. I just want to talk.”
Jenna scanned the terrace noticing the people who were trying without much success not to stare. She nodded her head, “I think it would be better to talk in private.”
“Good.” He stood, threw some bills on the table, and offered her his hand. She rose, allowing him to walk her to the elevator, a protective arm wrapped around her waist. Once the elevator doors shut, more tears pooled. The tension of the last few days overwhelmed her, and try as she might, she couldn’t stop the flow. Tres pulled her to him wiping the tears as they fell. The doors opened, and he escorted her to his room. He sat her on the couch and went to the bathroom for a warm wash cloth. Sitting beside her, he washed the sticky, salty wetness from her cheeks gently, reverently.