Secrets (4 page)

“Would you like me to carry these suitcases upstairs for you?” Kyle called from down in the entryway.

“Sure. And there’s another box marked ‘closet’ that needs to come up, too, if you don’t mind.” Jessica stood aside as Kyle stomped up the stairs, lugging the heavy bags into her new bedroom. He stopped and gave the room an approving glance.

She wanted to say to him, “Isn’t it darling?” but she hesitated, not willing to be so chatty about her bedroom with this man she barely knew. “You can put them over there,” she said as coolly as if Kyle were a bellhop.

He obliged without a word and tromped downstairs to bring in the rest. When he walked into the bedroom again, carrying the box and her garment bag, the strap from the garment bag caught on his watch. He put down the box and wrestled with the strap.

That’s when Jessica spotted the luggage tag only inches from Kyle’s hand. It still had her old address and “Jessica Grace Morgan” in gold letters across the top.

Jessica held her breath as Kyle unfastened the strap and laid the garment bag across her bed.

“Do you want some help unpacking?”

He hadn’t noticed—or had he? “Uh, no. Thanks. That’s okay. I can get it.”

Kyle ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair and ventured another question. “Are you hungry? Do you want to get a hamburger or something?”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

Now Kyle looked shy again. “Do you need a ride anywhere? Did you want to go back to the hospital to see Hugh?”

“Actually,” Jessica answered, remaining cautious, “I’m feeling kind of tired. I think I’ll unpack a little and maybe take a nap.”

Kyle leaned against the frame of the bedroom door. He seemed to fill the entire space. “Well, I guess I’ll be going then. If you need anything,” he paused until she looked up and met his gaze, “anything at all, just call. You can reach me at the fire station, and if I’m not there, the other guys pretty much know where I am.”

Jessica nodded and looked away. He was too gorgeous. Not just his appearance, but everything about him was appealing. Each time she met his gaze she had to brace herself for the inevitable blush that raced across her cheeks.

“Well, again, thanks,” Jessica said. “It seems that’s all I’ve been saying to you—thank you, thank you, thank you.” She glanced down at her T-shirt. “Oh, and I’ll get the shirt back to you.”

“No need. You can keep it. Actually, this year it’ll be our
fifteenth
annual pancake breakfast. If you keep that eleventh annual for a few more years, it might be worth something. A real collectable.”

Jessica forced herself to look up and smile. A searing pain shot through her upper lip, reminding her it was time for her medication.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” Kyle said, running his right thumb and forefinger across his jawline. He lifted his forefinger and tapped his closed lips. “Feel free to call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“You don’t have to come downstairs. I’ll see myself out. I hope you feel better soon.”

“I will. Bye. Thanks again.”

Jessica stood in place, listening for the front door to close. As soon as it did, she peeked through the window and watched Kyle walk to his truck and drive off. Then she gingerly lay down on her bed and heaved a deep sigh.

I’m dreaming. That’s what all this is. A long, bizarre dream. Kyle can’t be real. Men like him simply don’t exist, so I must be dreaming. I’m going to close my eyes, and when I open them, none of this will have happened, and I will be back in California
.

But that, Jessica decided, would definitely be a nightmare. No way could she have stayed. And no way was she going back.

She reached across the bed and unsnapped the luggage tag from her garment bag. She was in Oregon now. This is where she belonged. She removed the insert card with her name on it and tore the card into tiny pieces. She would have to be more careful, that’s all. Much more careful.

T
he day slipped quickly into evening, and Jessica slept through it all, nestled on her bed with the patchwork comforter pulled up to her chin. When she finally awoke, it was dusk.

She stumbled to the bathroom, smiling when she noticed the quaint claw foot tub and pedestal sink. The window had one brass center latch in the middle of the two panes. Snow White would open this kind of window on a summer day, and all the little bluebirds would fly over to sit on the sill and sing with her.

Jessica debated if she should take more medication or try to find something to eat. The medicine obviously made her sleepy, which seemed good, but her stomach was beginning to complain that the few bites of morning oatmeal were long gone.

Taking the stairs slowly, her left leg feeling wobbly and undependable, Jessica padded into the kitchen to see if any
food might be found. If not, she didn’t know what she would do. She had no transportation, no way of even knowing which direction to walk to find the nearest store or restaurant. That is, if her legs would let her walk far enough to find food. She felt like a rather pathetic pioneer.

The refrigerator was empty. One cupboard held a set of four white plates, bowls, cups, saucers, and salad plates. In the other cupboards she found just enough mixing bowls, pots, pans, and cookie sheets to make it a ready-to-use kitchen. A cordless telephone, a half roll of paper towels, a coffee maker, and a blender rounded out the kitchen’s accessories. Food was the only item missing.

One more shelf remained that she hadn’t checked, a small one above the refrigerator. When she opened it, Jessica thought she spotted something back in the corner. Dragging a chair in from the dining room, she balanced herself on it so she could see inside the cupboard. To her delight, she found booty—two bags of Ramen noodles and four Lipton tea bags.

She had never eaten Top Ramen before, let alone tried to fix it. Still, it was better than nothing.

Within twenty minutes Jessica had prepared and consumed half a bag of noodles, taken her medication, found her pajamas, changed into them, and crawled back into bed. She had no idea what time it was but made a mental note that, when she woke up in the morning, she would unpack her alarm clock. Those were her final thoughts until nearly noon the next day.

She awoke with a pounding headache. She had slept well—hard and deep. But now her neck and head ached as if she had tried to sleep on a long airplane ride like on her last trip to England.
Maybe I better start unpacking the bathroom things first so I can find some aspirin
.

Jessica made her way slowly to the bathroom.
Funny, my lip
hardly hurts anymore, and my leg feels a little better. Or is it just that my neck is so sore I don’t notice the rest of me?

Before she could find the aspirin bottle, the doorbell rang. She wondered if she should ignore it. She was still in her pajamas. It rang again, twice this time. What if it was Kyle? Jessica fumbled through her luggage to find a robe and hobbled down the stairs.

“I’m coming,” she called out on the fourth ring. She unlocked the door and opened it, expecting to see Kyle.

An older woman stood on the doorstep. Her silver-rimmed glasses matched her silver-white hair. She was wearing a purple pansy on the collar of her sweater and held out to Jessica a vase full of the same.

“Welcome! I’m Ida. Ida Dane. I see Kyle helped you move. Did you find everything all right?” The woman reminded Jessica of an older version of Harriet Nelson.

“Yes, thank you. Please come in,” Jessica said. “I must apologize for my appearance.”

“Oh, you poor dear! Don’t even think about it. Kyle told me about the accident. What a miserable way to start off here in Glenbrooke. I do hope you’re feeling better. Here, these are for you.” She handed Jessica the vase bubbling over with pansies.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful. Yes, I am feeling a little better, except for a kink in my neck.” The two women made their way into the living room and sat on the couch. Jessica placed the vase on the coffee table.

“You know,” Ida said, “maybe I’ll just grab a paper towel to place under that. You sit. I’ll be right back.”

Jessica liked Mrs. Dane immediately. Yet she felt awkward inviting someone into her home when it really wasn’t
her
home but the guest’s, and the guest-owner was apparently more concerned about the furniture than Jessica was. She hoped Ida
wouldn’t think this was an indication Jessica wasn’t going to take care of things properly.

“There,” Ida said, folding a paper towel twice to form a thick coaster for under the vase. “That will work just fine. I wanted to make sure you knew the trash and water are included in the rent, and I’ve switched the phone over to your name as well as the power bill.”

“Thank you so much. The house is lovely, and I know I’m going to enjoy living here.”

As if satisfied that the business side of their conversation was complete, Ida moved on to other topics. “So, you say you have a sore neck. Do you know, my son just happens to be a chiropractor. He’s absolutely the best! His wife, Becky, is the sweetest thing. Why, she’ll give you a massage that’ll take that knot right out of there! Why don’t I call them right now and make an appointment?”

“Really, that’s all right. I’m not even dressed yet.” Jessica wasn’t sure how she felt about going to a chiropractor. The experience would be new for her and no doubt an expensive one.

When she had paid her hospital bill yesterday, she had used up all her funds except for twelve dollars and some change in her purse. She certainly hadn’t thought through her financial situation before taking off. She had no possibility of coming up with more money until after her first paycheck, which probably would be two or three weeks away. The reality of her financial situation had sunk in, and she realized she was in a horrible mess. How was she going to buy food, let alone pay for a chiropractor?

“Mrs. Dane, I’m afraid I can’t—”

Ida waved her to silence and spoke cheerfully into the phone. “Becky, dear, I have a new patient for you, and I wanted to know if I could bring her right over. She’s my tenant at the old
house on Marigold. Her name is Jessica Morgan.”

Morgan!
Jessica froze. Mr. McGregor had given her real name to Mrs. Dane, and now somebody named Becky at the chiropractor’s office knew it, too.

“In twenty minutes? Perfect. See you then, dear.” Ida hung up and turned to Jessica with a thumbs up sign. “Get dressed, Jessica dear, and we’ll go right over.”

“You’re awfully kind, but I can’t, I mean I don’t….” Jessica wasn’t sure what to say. She had never been out of money before. In the past, a drive through her bank ATM would replenish her money supply. Now she had no checking account to draw from and no ATM to drive through. The realization was numbing, and she didn’t know how to explain this—especially to the owner of her home, who might change her mind about renting this cottage to Jessica if she knew the truth.

“Go on now. No excuses! Do you need any help upstairs?”

Jessica gave up. “No, I’ll be down in a few minutes.” She decided she could always stall. She could leave her purse at the house and tell the chiropractor she didn’t have any money with her. Then she could ask if he would bill her.

Dressing took longer than she expected. Pulling on her jeans and slipping on her favorite blue Eddie Bauer shirt over her stiff neck took considerable effort. Now her head was really pounding. Maybe, if this chiropractor actually helped, it would be better than living in misery for days. Jessica pulled on her huaraches and spent a few minutes in the bathroom with a brush. Once again, the effort to apply makeup seemed pointless. She emerged at the bottom of the stairs with a weak smile, feeling slightly faint.

“You poor dear,” Ida said, waiting by the front door. “I just realized you probably don’t have a bit of food in the house. You must be starving. Why don’t we stop for lunch afterwards? My
treat. You can tell me all about yourself. Hugh told me so little about you.”

Jessica allowed this sweet woman, who bordered on the side of busybody, to drive her to the chiropractor’s office, where Jessica went through a series of X-rays followed by a consultation. Dr. Dane showed her where the accident had jarred her spine out of alignment and recommended a series of adjustments and massages beginning with three office visits a week.

In the privacy of his closed office, Jessica tried to find the words to graciously turn down his recommendation. “I must be direct, Dr. Dane. I don’t have any insurance, and at this time I’m afraid I can’t pay for the services up front. Perhaps I can begin the treatment after school starts, once I’ve received my first paycheck.”

Dr. Dane looked thoughtful before closing her file on his desk. “You definitely need the treatment now. The problem will only persist and most likely will become worse the longer we wait. Why don’t we call your first month of treatment my little gift to welcome you to Glenbrooke?”

Once again, Jessica was caught off-guard by the generosity of another Glenbrooke resident. “If you’re sure that’s okay. I feel that’s an awful lot for you to do. You don’t even know me.”