Still Waters (28 page)

“I think it would be better if I go myself.” She knew Frank, after all. He was obviously upset, and he had a right to be. She had broken a promise, and that sort of thing would not be taken lightly, nor would it make breaking up with him any easier. But she couldn’t change what had happened. There was nowhere to go but forward. “Thank you again for the ride.”

Alexander looked at her,
Should I let you go?
written all over his face. Evidently he decided that it would be all right because his expression softened. When he spoke, his words were soft and sincere. “It was my pleasure, Mrs. Appleton. Anytime.”

* * *

Frank’s toes were numb. That was the only way he could tell how long he had been sitting out here in the cold. When he’d arrived — hours ago, apparently — he had expected to find Jenna at home and her car still at the mechanic. But instead he’d found the car in the driveway and the house empty.

Concerned, he’d walked across the street and knocked on Stella’s door, thinking that maybe Jenna was visiting. But Jenna wasn’t there. Stella had no idea where she was. Frank had been forced to suffer the supreme humiliation of Stella’s sympathetic look, which communicated clearly how pathetic was the man who couldn’t keep track of his own fiancée.

And that was when Frank had begun to get angry.

He’d returned to Jenna’s porch, head held high, and had taken a seat on the swing, determined not to get up until he saw her climbing those stairs toward her front door.

Which was precisely what she was doing now.

As the car drove away, Jenna ascended the stairs one at a time, like a queen going to her own execution. She looked at him calmly when she reached to top. “Hello, Frank.”

Her long black coat draped around her like a robe, and a hair ornament sat crown-like on her head, emphasizing the impression of regality. And to Frank, she
was
regal. She was the queen of his heart, sovereign of his dreams. She was royalty, and he could feel himself tremble with the power that she held over him.

Struggling to preserve his composure, he rose and nodded. “Hello.”

“It’s cold out here.” Jenna put her hand on the doorknob and turned it. The door opened inward. “Why didn’t you wait inside?”

“I wanted to give myself the pleasure of seeing you return home.” He permitted himself a small, bitter smile.

Her gaze wavered. “Why don’t you come in and warm up. I’ll make coffee.”

He followed her into the house, closing the door behind him. As he’d done so many times before, he watched her drop her purse on the small table by the door, followed her with his eyes as she went to hang her coat in the closet. It was all so familiar, and yet each movement now seemed fraught with hidden meaning.

Was there something special about the way she placed one booted foot so precisely in front of the other? When she reached out her arm for a hanger, was she trying to tell him something that she couldn’t say with words? He didn’t know the answers to those questions; he only knew that something was different. Some veil had been pulled back, and he was seeing her in a new light. But he couldn’t tell yet exactly how that light would have her cast.

She held out a hand in a silent offer to take his coat, but he shook his head. “I’ll hold on to it for now.” He wasn’t quite willing to give up one of his last bits of security.

She didn’t object, just turned and started toward the kitchen. “I’ll put the coffee on. Are you hungry? I think I have some cookies in the cupboard. I wasn’t expecting you until six, so dinner isn’t ready yet.”

“Jenna.” The sound of her name stopped her in her tracks. Or maybe it was his tone of voice, which to his own ears possessed a sudden force born of anger. He took comfort in the newfound strength, and went on. “Where have you been?”

She turned around slowly. Her face was blank. “I was at a piano recital. The son of a friend of mine was playing.”

“You didn’t tell me anything about it.”

Her eyes wandered around the room as if searching for answers. Finding none, and apparently unwilling to manufacture them herself, she crossed her arms and waited.

“And who was that who dropped you off?”

Impatience flitted across her face, stirring his anger. “Let’s not play this game, Frank. It was Maya Sinclair’s brother. I was at my nephew’s piano recital.”

“Jenna. You lied to me.” Small explosions began to go off inside his head, sending shards of ice into the back of his eyes. He closed them against the pain. “You lied, outright and directly. Again.”

He heard her take a breath. “Frank, I know I broke my promise, and I owe you an apology, but — ”

His eyes snapped open. His hand shot out and he grabbed her arm. “But what?”

She pulled away from him and backed up. Shock was written on her face, which gave him a deep satisfaction. She hadn’t expected him to do that, had she? Hadn’t expected him to lay his commoner’s hands on her without her royal permission. He took a step toward her and she held up her hands defensively.

“Stop right there, Frank. Let’s talk about this, and you’ll see that you’re getting very upset over nothing.”

“Nothing? Jenna, I’m the man you’re going to marry. Or maybe you’ve forgotten that! You might as well slap my face as to tell me that it’s ‘nothing’ when you’ve been out driving around with some darkie.”

She had the nerve to look offended, to shake her head at him. “I never figured you for a bigot. I always thought you were different from the others.” The sincere disappointment in her eyes made him laugh harshly. She grimaced.

“Oh trust me, I am different.” He started toward her again, and she backed away. “I’m so different, in fact, that I let my fiancée run all over creation with a tattooed sailor on one arm and a black man on the other!” He grabbed her arm again, watched her wince. “You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing, running around with that man Balentine? You think I don’t see the looks that the two of you give each other?”

“Frank, you don’t understand!”

“No? Well explain it to me.” He gave her a shake. “What is it you talk about when you’re alone together? Is it me?”

He squeezed her arm tighter, feeling the fragile bones beneath the soft flesh. If he squeezed hard enough, if he did it just right, he would hear the snap.

Her face went pale with pain. “Adam — he’s Christopher’s father!” she blurted.

Ice water froze his body. He pushed her away, watched numbly as she fell to the floor. She scooted backwards, away from him. Fear contorted her beautiful face until it looked like a mask.

“What?” Frank whispered.

Jenna reached the wall and pushed herself upwards. She grabbed her arm and rubbed it. “Adam is Christopher’s father.” She saw his face, and her eyes dropped. “I’m sorry, Frank.”

Something broke inside him. He felt it go, swore he could hear it echoing against the walls of the house. Who was this woman? He felt as if he were looking at a stranger. “When?”

“The night of Bud’s funeral,” she said wearily. “We didn’t plan it, it just happened.”

“And how do you know that Bud wasn’t, that Christopher isn’t — ”

“A woman knows these things.”

Ludicrous though it was, Frank felt himself blush at Jenna’s allusion to female issues. He summoned his strength. “You are a manipulative, lying bitch.” He heard wonder in his voice, the shock of a child who has discovered that the Tooth Fairy is actually his mother.

“I’ve already apologized once, but I’ll do it again if I have to. I’m sorry, Frank.”

“All whores are sorry from time to time,” he said coldly. “It doesn’t make them any less vile.”

“You can call me all the names you want. It won’t change the facts of what happened.”

He narrowed his eyes and spoke slowly. “I realize this is a stupid question, but do Bill and Kitty have any idea?”

“Of course not!” Horror washed over her face. “My God, you know what Christopher means to them! It might kill them to learn the truth.”

“Your lies are what will kill them!” he cried, making her flinch. “Your secrets will ruin them. My God, Jenna. My God. You have got to tell them!”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head. “I can’t. I wouldn’t even know how to begin.”

“Well you’re going to have to figure it out! Because I can’t stand to be the only one who knows!”

She wiped away a tear and looked at him without comprehension. “What?”

“These secrets, Jen!” He balled up his hands, and she took a step backward. But those fists weren’t for her. “Evelyn, Oak Ridge, Kitty…and now you. I know all the secrets, and they’re crushing me! They’re beating my brains in!” He struck himself in the head. She flew forward.

“Frank, stop it, stop it! What are you doing to yourself?”

He cupped her face. “Don’t you see, Jen? You all taught me the truth: life is futile and full of sorrow, and after the sorrow, there’s death, and after death, there’s nothing. There’s death all around.”

He watched her expression melt from shock into compassion, and he wanted to scream in frustration. She didn’t understand!

Her voice was soft with poisonous kindness. “No, Frank, there’s
life
all around.” She clasped his hands tightly. “I used to think the way you do, that all there is to look forward to is death. But there’s life and happiness all around us, and all we have to do is open our eyes to it, open our arms to embrace it, and it’s ours!”

“Get away!” He pushed her back. “I can’t stand to have you in my sight one minute longer. You disgust me. How could you let me touch you, make love to you, knowing all the time what you were? I thought you were so perfect — cool and clean. But now I see that under your façade, you’re filthy and corrupt, just like all women.”

He looked down into her beautiful face, that finely-sculpted face that used to bring him such joy. “You don’t even realize it, do you? Pitiful. Just like my wife!”

He leaned forward and raised a finger. “Well, Evelyn didn’t get away with her sins, and you won’t get away with yours. My wife killed herself because she knew it was the only way out of this wretched life. You won’t have it quite so easy. You will tell Bill and Kitty the truth about your bastard son. You won’t corrupt them any longer with your lies!”

“Frank, no.” She paled. “I can’t do that. I
can’t.
”

“You will, if you know what’s good for you.” He straightened up and buttoned his coat, straining to keep himself under control. “Because if you don’t tell them, I will. And I don’t think you want that.”

He started for the door. “You made this filthy bed with your own hands, Jenna, and you are going to by God lie in it.” Before he walked out, he looked back at her, standing in the wreckage of her own shattered soul. “I’ll give you forty-eight hours, and no longer. You tell them, or I will.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
E
IGHT

J
ENNA SPENT THE HOUR AFTER
F
RANK’S
departure sitting at the kitchen table, trying to put the pieces of her life back together. But they no longer fit the way they were supposed to.

There was the piece that showed her as a young newlywed, with a handsome husband and a bright future in front of her. And there was the piece that showed Bill and Kitty, overjoyed by the birth of their grandson. Try to fit those together with the piece that showed her bedding down with her husband’s best friend. Or the pieces that showed the deaths, the losses, the pain. None of it fit, anyway, so how was she supposed to add a piece where she confessed to Bill and Kitty, crushing their happiness under her heel?

There was simply no way to figure this out, no way to make all the pieces hold together. Before that day, she would have been confident that she could talk Frank out of his threat, convince him to go along with her deception. But that was obviously impossible. She had broken him with her confession about Adam. He wasn’t going to be able to forgive her, and he would make good his threats, of that she had no doubt.

But how in God’s name was she supposed to do this?

When the phone rang, she got up to answer, and heard Stella’s voice radiating concern down the phone line. Jenna answered her questions automatically, not paying much attention to what she was saying. Yes, Frank had been over here. Yes, he was upset. No, now wasn’t a good time to come over. No, there was nothing Stella could do right now. Yes, Jenna would call her later.

As soon as she hung up the phone, it rang again, and that time it was Kitty. The sound of her mother-in-law’s voice almost broke Jenna completely, and she had to lean against the wall to support herself.

“So,” Kitty said briskly, “are you coming over today, or do I get to keep my grandson another night?”

A great dry sob welled up in Jenna’s gut. She fought to keep it down, fought to keep her voice even as she whispered, “I’ll be over there soon. I was just trying to — pick up a little bit, first.”

“Well, don’t hurt yourself. The place will look like a tornado hit it ten seconds after your son gets home.” Love radiated out of every syllable that Kitty uttered. “Bill actually thinks he’s going to have that hunk of junk in the garage running today, and he wants to take us for a drive after dinner. So get over here quick, you hear?”