Secrets (26 page)

“Jess? It’s Teri. What’s going on? Dawn said Charlotte fired you, and you walked out on the spot.”

“No, I’m actually taking a sick day,” Jessica said, balancing the portable phone on her shoulder and making a second trip to the closet for another pair of shoes. “I’m going to California. I’ll be back Sunday night.”

“You’re
what?”

“I don’t have time to explain now,” Jessica said, hearing Kyle’s truck. “I’ll talk to you on Monday.” She hung up, hoping Teri would accept her hurried explanation.

The phone immediately rang again.

“What do you think you’re trying to pull, walking out of your class like that?” Charlotte demanded.

“I came home sick,” Jessica said. It wasn’t far from the truth. At this moment she was perspiring and felt as if she might throw up. “Teachers are allowed to be sick. It says so in my contract. Please excuse me. I need to hang up now.”

Charlotte’s voice was raised in anger as Jessica pressed the off button and lugged her garment bag down the stairs. She opened the door just as Kyle knocked. “I’m all ready,” she said.

Kyle took her bag from her. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

“It’s been a rather full morning,” she said, reaching for her purse and locking the door. She couldn’t help but feel like a felon, leaving school in the middle of the morning and hurrying out of town. “Plus I didn’t sleep much last night.”

Jessica hopped into the truck, and Kyle started down the road toward the highway. She wiped the perspiration from her forehead and rolled down her window. A light rain fell in the window at an angle. She didn’t mind. It was cooling.

“I’ve been such a jerk, Kyle,” Jessica said, reaching over and squeezing his arm. “I’m sorry I’ve put you through all this. I appreciate you making these arrangements for me and sticking to it. I would have let things go as long as I could, but now, with Charlotte breathing down my neck, you’re right. I need everything to be out in the open and cleared up.”

“What does Charlotte think she’ll find?” Kyle asked, turning on the windshield wipers.

Jessica closed her window and slid over closer to Kyle. “I don’t know what she’s trying to prove. I haven’t done anything illegal or immoral. The bottom line is that I ran away from home. That’s it in a nutshell. I’m a twenty-five-year-old runaway. There’s no law against that, is there?”

“Why didn’t you want anyone to find you?”

Jessica searched her brain for words that she felt comfortable giving to Kyle. “The only way I can say it is that I don’t want to be daddy’s little girl anymore. I know that probably doesn’t make sense to you, Kyle, but it’s the best explanation I can offer you right now. Maybe when I come back Sunday night I can clarify things for you. For now, all I can tell you is that if I ever hoped to have my own life, it had to be far away from my father.”

“How are things different now?” Kyle asked.

“Nothing is different,” Jessica said quickly, resting her hand on top of his. “Except me. I’m different. In all the bizarre circumstances I’ve been through in the past few months, I think I’ve changed a lot. I believe I can stand up to my father now and tell him I’ve made my own life and I intend to live it without his intervention. He will be angry when I tell him I’ve become a Christian.”

“Why’s that?”

“Let’s just say Christianity doesn’t mix well with my father’s lifestyle.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Kyle asked. “Do you want me to go with you?”

Jessica gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll be okay. Thanks for asking, though. And really, Kyle, thanks for making me do this. I can’t believe how much lighter I feel inside knowing that I’m going to clear up this whole mess. You were right when you said that a secret is a heavy thing to carry around. Thank you, Kyle, for cutting my burden in half.”

Kyle glanced at Jessica and said, “Jess, I’m not even sure I know what your secret is. But I guess I don’t need to know all the details. It’s enough for me to see you’re willing to make room in your life for me.” He slipped his arm around her shoulder and said, “Funny thing about hearts. They can be as big as the ocean. But there’s only room in them to either be
open or to harbor secrets. My heart’s open, Jess. It’s waiting for you. But I refuse to share your heart with an unresolved secret.”

Jessica basked in the honesty of Kyle’s words.

“This is a housecleaning weekend,” Jessica said. “Or should I say heart-cleaning. I promise you, Kyle, when I return, everything will be in order and ready for you to move in.”

He leaned over and kissed her softly on the temple. “That’s what I’ve been praying for,” he said.

J
essica felt lighthearted during the flight to Los Angeles. She was able to catch an earlier flight and arrived in the early afternoon. As she stood in line at Hertz to pick up the car Kyle had rented for her, Jessica thought of how giving Kyle was. He had made all these arrangements for her, and when she said she would pay him back, he had brushed aside the offer as if the gift were of several dollars rather than several hundred. He had reserved an economy car for her, but Jessica asked for an upgrade. “A convertible please,” she said, pulling out her Oregon driver’s license.

The autumn afternoon was clear and sunny. Not too much smog and just enough of a breeze to keep things cool. The change was welcome from the drizzle they had experienced in Oregon for the past week and a half. Jessica pulled the red convertible onto the freeway and moved over to the fast lane as quickly as she could. The traffic was light and so was Jessica’s
mood when she turned off on Sunset Boulevard and drove the familiar streets.

She thought about making a quick detour down to Venice Beach but realized she needed to face her father first. She could play on Saturday. Maybe she would go out to brunch at Chez Monique’s in Santa Monica. Or go shopping at the Beverly Center for some new boots to brace her for the Oregon slush she would return to.

Jessica made a left-hand turn into a residential area and wound up the hill. She pulled up to the white, locked gates and pressed her security code into the box beside her car. “Dennis?” She spoke into the box. “Are you there, Dennis?”

“Jessica?” came the startled voice, crackling through the box.

“Yes, it’s me. Surprise! Can you let me in?”

“Yes, ma’am!” The tall, ornate gates electronically swung open, and Jessica roared through them, around the fountain, and stopped in front of a uniformed man at the entryway to the lavish mansion.

“Dennis,” Jessica said, laughing as she hopped out and gave the man her keys and a big hug. “You look like a fish!” He was opening and closing his mouth, with his eyes bulging, but no sounds came from him.

“Where have you been?” Dennis asked when he found his voice. “Does your father know you’re here?”

“Not yet,” Jessica said, giving Dennis a quick peck on the cheek. “It’s good to see you.”

She stepped up to the front door. Before she could turn the knob, the door opened, and Elsie, one of the servants, curtsied and said, “Welcome home, Miss Jessica. We’ve all missed you.”

Jessica hugged Elsie, as well as three other servants who suddenly appeared. They were all too well trained to fully
show their emotional shock, and they knew better than to ask her any questions.

“Is my father home?”

Elsie nodded. “He just walked in a few minutes ago. I’m surprised you didn’t pass each other on the freeway.”

“We might have,” Jessica said, feeling her heart beat a little faster. She was ready for this, wasn’t she? “I’ll see you later.” She gave them all a smile and headed for her father’s office in the south wing.

Jessica couldn’t help but notice how immaculate and expensive everything was. She hadn’t paid attention to the luxuries that had surrounded her when she was growing up here. Now, in contrast to her little cottage, everything seemed spacious and ornate. She hated it.

Slipping quietly into her father’s office, Jessica saw that Sharon was on the phone, taking notes, with her head down. She didn’t notice Jessica.

“Yes,” Sharon said, “I do remember you calling earlier. Yes, Mr. Morgan is in the office. Let me put him on the line for you.” Sharon pressed a button, still not looking up or noticing Jessica. “Mr. Morgan? The woman I told you about, a Ms. Mendelson, is on line one.” Sharon saw Jessica; the secretary looked as if she might faint.

Jessica pressed her finger to her lips. “Let me surprise him,” she said.

Without a word, Sharon pushed the security button on her desk to release the lock on the office door. Jessica tiptoed in. Her father was hunched over the desk, barking into the speakerphone. “Yes, yes. You’re a school principal. Now where is my daughter?”

“Right here, Daddy,” Jessica said. She stood her ground and watched her father’s head snap up and his mouth drop open.

“Are you still there, Mr. Morgan?” Charlotte’s voice crackled over the speakerphone. “Mr. Morgan?”

Jessica stepped forward and said, “Yes, Charlotte, he’s here. And so am I.” Jessica pressed the button on the phone to disconnect the call. Her father rose from his leather chair like a huge bull, fists clenched, knuckles white on the desktop. He stared at her, at her shortened hair, at the scar on her lip. He hoarsely whispered, “Jessica?”

Then, before she could respond with her premeditated hug and kiss, he bellowed, “Where in the world have you been?”

“In Oregon,” she answered, trying to remain calm. “We need to talk, Dad.”

“We need to do more than talk, Jessica.” He stumbled from behind his desk and grabbed her firmly by the shoulders. “Do you have
any
idea what you have put me through? How could you do this to me? What were you thinking? And what on earth are you doing in Oregon?” Depleted of his initial burst of fury, Harold Morgan embraced his only daughter, pressing her face tightly against his suit. With his fierce embrace, Jessica caught the faint scent of whiskey and expensive cigars.

Her father released Jessica and held her at arm’s length. Had his thick, dark hair gone grayer around the temples? Perhaps his stylist was trying a new look on him. It seemed to her that he had had a chin tuck. Or else he had lost some weight. He wasn’t much taller than Jessica, but Harold Morgan was a thick man who devoted an hour a day to disciplined exercise with his personal trainer to keep his 198 pounds from tipping over the 200 mark.

“What happened to your lip?”

“I was in a slight accident. It wasn’t a big deal.” Jessica hated the way he was checking her out, looking her over for blemishes as if she were a fine bred racing horse. She felt the familiar walls of being owned closing in on her.

“Sharon!” Harold called out. The double doors opened.

“Yes, Mr. Morgan?”

“Sharon, get Nate Goldberg on the phone and schedule Jessie for cosmetic first thing Monday morning. Then call Greg and—”

“Mr. Fletcher is on his way over,” Sharon assured him. “And I’ve reached all the board members except Peter to inform them of the emergency meeting at seven o’clock tonight. Will there be anything else?”

“Not now. Just make sure you get ahold of Peter. And where’s the meeting? Downtown?”

“No, I scheduled it for here, sir. Would you like me to change it?”

“Dad,” Jessica tried to cut in.

He waved her to keep silent.

“No, no. Here is good. Have the staff prepare the hearthside room. Seven o’clock, then. Send Greg in here when he arrives.”

Sharon nodded and left, closing the doors behind her.

“Dad, I’m not coming to the board meeting. Not tonight. Not ever. That’s why we need to talk. I’m declining my position on the board. I don’t want anything to do with the corporation. I’m a teacher. I’m happy, and that’s what I want to do with my life.” Jessica spoke fast, knowing he would bombard her with rebuttals and accusations the instant she stopped to catch her breath. It shocked her that he didn’t say a word.

“Come, sit down.” He motioned to the couch, his voice smooth as butter.

Jessica refused to sit down, refused to have her father soft-glove her the way she had seen him smoothly handle dozens of clients right before he moved in to close the deal.

“You don’t mind if I sit down, do you? It’s not every day a man’s daughter walks in his office after she’s been missing for
fifty-four days. Fifty-four of the longest days of a man’s life, during which time he receives no word. No hope. Nothing to give him a shred of confidence his daughter is even alive.

“No word at all,” he continued, “except this.” He pulled from his pocket a well-worn piece of Jessica’s letterhead.

“Dear Father,” he read, “I’ve come to the conclusion that as long as I am under your roof, I will never become my own person. Please try to understand. I’m not doing this to hurt you.” He looked up, finishing the letter from memory. “I have to do this for myself. Please don’t try to find me. Love, Jessica.” He walked back to the couch and sat down. He looked at her with what may have been hurt in his eyes. Jessica wasn’t sure; she had never seen that expression on his face before.

“Dad, I need you to understand. What I said in that note is true. As long as I’m under your roof, I’ll always be your little girl. I’ll never be able to think for myself or stretch or become the person I want to be.” Jessica lowered herself onto the couch next to her dad. She wanted to take his hand in hers, but he never had been that kind of father. Even now he sat perfectly straight. “I meant what I said, Dad. I’m not doing this to hurt you. I’m doing this because I need to do it for me. Is there any way you can understand that?