Sweet Christmas Kisses (49 page)

“Ha.” Sally stopped dead. “I've got it!” She thumbed her fist against her chest. “I'll tell Conran it was Mimi. I'm not hampered by strange humanitarian rules.” She nodded with satisfaction. “Yes, I believe she should get what she deserves.”

“Forget it.” Joanna dropped her head again onto her knees. “He would believe you're lying for me.”

Sally pulled herself up. “I don't lie for anybody.”

“He doesn't know that.”

Sally's shoulders slumped. “True. He hasn't even known me for seven days, so no chance.”

“No chance,” Joanna echoed. The words hung in the air between them.

“Jo.” Sally's voice turned persuasive. “Don't give up. You have to think of something.” She scratched her head. “I've got it! We'll send him an anonymous letter, telling him it was his stepsister.”

“Sally!”

“Oh, all right, all right.” Sally flung her arms wide. “I can see your morals are not up to saving you. I'll have to think of something all by myself.”

“Don't you dare stage anything.” Joanna watched her best friend with misgiving. “Maybe I shouldn't have told you.”

“You have done right.” Sally said. “Mama Sally will find a solution.”

“That's what I'm afraid of.”

That night, Joanna couldn't sleep. Had she misjudged her feelings about Conran? Had it been a purely physical attraction, evaporating at the first real test? She felt too exhausted to cry. Maybe she should take some action, should convince him it hadn't been her. But it felt too humiliating. He should have asked her. He should have given her a chance to explain. If his feelings had the slightest depth, he would have given her the benefit of the doubt.

She sighed and turned around in her bed. Or wouldn't he? The published story had hit the most painful spot in his armor. It had been a betrayal of the highest order. Would she have given him a chance if she had been in his place?

Joanna sat up with a start. No, she wouldn't. In fact, she hadn't. She had the proof. When she had seen Conran with Mimi, she had jumped to conclusions, had turned on her heels, and had gone without hesitation. No time for explanations. No questions, no chance to talk, and all because he had hugged his sister which was such a cliché, even she should have thought of it, in spite of her boiling emotions. Joanna shook her head. She HAD thought of it, but had dismissed it right away, without giving him a chance to explain. She was a fine one to talk.

She pushed her cushion back into shape and dropped her head onto it. Tomorrow, she would try to talk to him, right after the last patient had left the clinic. She would not hint at Mimi if he didn't guess the truth himself, but she would do all in her power to make him believe that she had not betrayed his trust.

Tomorrow.

I

Eight hours later, Joanna thought her day couldn't get worse. She had been bitten by an unhappy poodle, and a parrot had dropped something slimy and green all over her. Sometimes, she wondered why she had chosen this profession. 

Bernice came into the room with the glowing face that announced major news. “Did you know that Conran Dark has left the area?”

Something cold punched Joanna, straight into the stomach. She opened her mouth and closed it again.
I can't talk to him.

“He left together with his sister this morning. Mandy saw them hitting the highway, with stuff piled high inside the car.”

“What about Dimitri?” Joanna's voice sounded strangled.

“Who?”

“The puppy.” Joanna said. “Has Mandy seen the puppy?”

“No, of course not.” Bernice looked at her with dismay. “Don't tell me you think Conran Dark would abandon a puppy?” She hesitated. “But if he really killed his best friend, abandoning a puppy would also fit, wouldn't it?”

Joanna turned around with the speed of a flash. “How dare you say such a thing of Conran!” Her violent reaction surprised her herself.

Bernice lifted both hands. “Hey, keep your hair on. You were the one who asked about the puppy.”

“I'm sorry.” Joanna shook her head.
He wouldn't abandon him.

Bernice frowned. “Wouldn't he have contacted you before taking a puppy on board?”

“On board of what?”

“Of a plane, of course. I guess he has returned to Hollywood in time for Christmas. Or maybe to talk to his lawyers. He might be in for some trouble now, if he's charged with murder.”

Joanna barely listened.
He didn't ask me how to take a puppy on board of a plane. He should have. For heaven's sake, he even asked me about the proper kind of puppy food.
Something cold crept up inside her and grabbed her throat. What if he had left Dimitri outside, to fend for himself?
He wouldn't do that!
She bit her knuckles.
But what if he links Dimitri to me and wants to put the whole memory behind him? Would that include his puppy?

Bernice watched her with an alert expression on her face. “You had no idea, had you?”

“No.” Joanna stared at her, helpless. “I'm sure he asked some other veterinarian.”

Bernice narrowed her eyes. “He stormed out of the clinic like a lunatic yesterday. Have you quarreled?”

“No.”
It was more an earthquake.

“I don't believe you.” Bernice shook her head. “Ever since Conran Dark came here, you've been behaving strangely.” She left the room. “I'll check on the waiting room.”

Joanna whipped out her phone the second Bernice was out of earshot and speed-dialed her best friend's number. “Sally!”

“What happened?”

“Is it true that Conran left town?”

“So the busybodies say.”

“Do the busybodies mention Dimitri, his puppy?”

“No. Nobody mentioned a puppy to me.”

“Darn.” Joanna bit her lips. “Do you . . . do you think he may have abandoned him?”

“I . . . “ Sally took a deep breath. “How can you believe that, Jo? One day, you're head over heels in love with the guy, and the next you believe he abandons a puppy on the highway.”

“I don't
believe
it.” Joanna felt like dirt. “I just . . . wondered.”

“Aha. Just as he wondered if you betrayed him to the press. It seems you're well matched.”

Joanna's chin dropped. “What?”

II

In the evening, Joanna couldn't bear it any longer. She drove her Jeep to Conran's house and got out. The house looked abandoned. No car in the drive, all the shutters closed. An icy wind tore at her coat and sneaked underneath her sweater with long fingers. She shivered and went closer. Everything was dark. She tried the door handle. Locked.

Hmm. 
Joanna looked around. The area was as empty as if the house stood on the moon.
I was so lucky Conran was here during the night of the storm.
She rapped her knuckles on the wood. The sound came back with an eerie echo. “Hello?” Joanna shouted. “Dimitri?” She put her ear against the wood and listened. Nothing. Not a sound.

Good. 
“You're a fool, Joanna.” She felt like slapping herself. “He wouldn't abandon Dimitri like that. No way.” But in spite of her words, a niggling thought remained. What if he linked Dimitri with her? What if he took a twisted sort of revenge on the puppy who had after all created the connection between them?
Nonsense.
Joanna shook her head.
He wouldn't do that.
She looked around. Nobody could see her. It had not snowed today. Maybe she would find some trace to comfort her. With her gaze on the ground, she walked around the house. There. Paw prints! How tiny they were. She smiled with a melancholy feeling and followed them. They danced from the glass door of the living room to the bush and back. She could see a man's foot prints next to them. They were overlapping each other. He seemed to have waited quite some time before returning to the house. Joanna followed the paw prints to the very edge of the garden. Dimitri had enjoyed every minute outside, that much was sure . . . and he had returned inside again.

Joanna returned to her Jeep feeling slightly foolish and much relieved . . . but the empty house also created a funny feeling inside her, a feeling of loneliness so strong, it left her brittle and small.

How could she contact him now? She didn't have his number, nor his address. She could get in touch with him via his secretary or whatever it was, via the address he had left at the clinic. But what could she write that would convince him? “Things are not what they seem, and I can prove that?” How trite. The letter would probably end up in the trash.

Joanna spent the rest of the evening at her desk, trying to compose a letter. Four versions were already screwed up on the floor. Whenever she imagined some platinum blond assistant reading the letter, her courage failed her. In the end, she went to bed, feeling much like a crunched up piece of paper herself, but without a letter to mail. She couldn't bring it across in writing.

When she woke the next morning, she felt like a dried up banana, yellow and hard. With a super-human effort, she tried to force herself to eat a toast with butter but found herself staring at the toast as if it could offer her advice.

“This won't do.” Joanna got up and carried her dirty plate to the sink. “I have to talk to him. At least I have to give it a try.” She checked the calendar. What about Friday? She could not close down the clinic until the afternoon, but she could try to get a plane in the evening.

And then, what do you want to do?
An inner voice mocked her.
Camp in front of his house until he comes out? You don't even know where he lives.

Joanna frowned and switched on her computer. She could spend a whole year in LA without ever finding Conran if she didn't move in the right circles. However, what about Mimi? She wasn't a celebrity, and she had said she lived around the corner from Conran. Joanna googled Mimi Dark and hit gold. Perfect. How typical for Mimi not to care about her privacy even though she was a direct link to Conran. Now she had an address. She had a goal.

And then, what do you want to do? Sit in front of her house and wait? What if she is out of town for the weekend? You have to be back on Monday morning.

Joanna straightened her back. It was a slim chance, but she felt she had to do something. She couldn't just leave things hanging. She had to convince Conran. Mimi would be home at some point during the weekend.

What if she refuses to talk to you?

Joanna shook off the thought. Whatever the odds, she had to try. Her relationship with Conran was too important to give up.

She picked up the phone and dialed the travel agency.

“Travel Over The Moon, my name is Tina Smith, what can I do for you?” The lady spoke so fast, it sounded as if she had been put into fast forward mode.

Joanna took a deep breath. “Hi, my name is Joanna Damanti. I'd like to book a flight from New York to Los Angeles.”

“Of course, Ms. Damanti. When would that be?” A slight note of boredom had crept into the efficient voice.

“This Friday.” Joanna swallowed.

“This Friday?” Tina Smith sounded incredulous. “One moment, please.”

Joanna heard the clicking of a keyboard.

“I'm sorry, but all flights on Friday are booked out. Can I do anything else for you?”

Joanna felt as if she was sitting on a floating raft. Things were going too quick for her, and they weren't taking the direction she wanted. “Em. I . . . “ she did a quick calculation in her mind. “What about Saturday morning?”

“Let me check, Ms. Damanti.” The employee of the travel agency hacked something else into the keyboard. “The first available flight is at 9:59 A.M., from JFK. You'll have to change planes in Phoenix, and you'll arrive in LAX at 3:17 P.M. That's the local time. The cost is $671 including taxes, and it's non-refundable.”

Joanna took a deep breath. She would have less than 24 hours to find Conran and talk to him. She could not afford that kind of money. She cleared her throat. “Please book it.”

III

The phone rang once, then again.

Joanna shot up from her bed, her heart thumping.
I have overslept!
She checked the alarm clock next to her bed. It was 5:27 A.M. Half the night she had been awake with anticipation, too nervous to sleep. Almost time to get up now. The shrill ringing of the phone penetrated into her mind. Gosh. The phone had woken her, not her nervousness or her alarm clock. She jumped out of bed and grabbed the phone. “Joanna Damanti.”

“Ms. Damanti, thank God I reach you!”

“Mr. Allard! What happened?”
Conran! Something terrible happened to Conran.
Her heart constricted.

“It's Fergus.”

Joanna collapsed onto her bed in relief.

Mr. Allard's voice sounded taut. “When I went out to check on them this morning, he was lying in the snow. He had somehow managed to cut himself."

“Where?”

“In the inner side of his hind-leg. It's bleeding, and I can't stop it.”

“Is it a trickle of blood or stronger?”

“Stronger.” He sounded sick.

Joanna's alarm clock went off. She hit it so it would stop beeping.

“Can you come?” Mr. Allard's anxious voice reached her.

I'll miss my flight. I won't make it to LA this weekend.
Her heart felt cold and dead.

“Ms. Damanti? Can you come?”

“Of course.” Joanna swallowed hard. “I'll leave in ten minutes. Press something onto the wound to stop the bleeding. Is he struggling?”

“No. That's what's worrying me so much. He's too quiet.”

“I'll be right there.”

Joanna threw on her outdoor-work-clothes and rushed through the house to get the stuff she needed. In her veterinarian-on-the-road-bag she had all the necessary stuff for a quick stitching-up job, but she wasn't prepared for the caliber of Fergus. She would have to go to the clinic first.
Damn.
If Mr. Allard didn't manage to stop the bleeding, she might be too late. She didn't even want to think about that. As she ran out of the house, her breath formed a white cloud. It had started to snow again, but the roads were still clear. Joanna rushed to the clinic, got the extra material she needed, threw herself into the Jeep again and raced to the Allard's farm with as much speed as she dared in spite of the slippery roads.