I thought he’d be different.
In the lucidity of her dream, she knew she was sitting beside Drake Evans, powerful owner of three hotels in Richmond, the man who’d given her a place to live and food to eat, a job and friendship and, much later, her second child. Or the beginnings of her second child, anyway. Until he—
Kara sat straight up, yanked from the dream. On her chest, Jade fussed and opened her eyes.
“I’m sorry, baby.” Her heart beat furiously, and she tried to breathe slowly and settle it.
Drake Evans hadn’t been different, of course. In the beginning he’d been sweet and flirtatious, buying her expensive gifts and making love to her in exotic places and even flying her to New York City just to see Times Square at night. She thought she’d hit the lottery. Finally, a man who knew how to treat a woman. One minute she was waiting tables to pay the bills, and the next she was living in the lap of luxury with a man who could’ve had any woman in the world.
Kara adjusted Jade on her lap and pressed her cheek to the baby’s head. When she found out she was pregnant with his child, she’d just about burst with joy. Despite the fifteen years’ age difference between them, she thought she’d found a soul mate in him, someone who wanted the same things she did.
“You’re what?” They sat at a private table in Drake’s favorite restaurant, celebrating yet another million-dollar business deal. She’d thought it the perfect time to share the news, an addition to his already wonderful day. But his face changed when she told him, and all her joy slipped away, like a balloon leaking air. “Get rid of it.”
“Get rid of it?” She felt as though he’d punched her in the gut. “It’s not a stray dog or a piece of furniture that’s gone out of style.”
“Sorry. I don’t have time for kids. Get an abortion. I’ll pay for it.” He’d poured himself another glass of wine and gone back to cutting his eighty-dollar steak without blinking an eye.
Later, after lying awake in bed trying to piece together where she’d gone so wrong in her assumptions of him, she’d crept to the kitchen and looked through his phone, through all his text messages and emails and contacts, all his social media posts, looking for clues and finding nothing until he flipped on the light and discovered her there.
That was the first time he hit me.
She closed her eyes against the memory. Before she’d even known what was happening, he’d backhanded her. She landed on the kitchen floor and instinctively clutched her stomach.
Maybe that was my mistake. Maybe that simple, protective gesture reminded him what was there, and that an unborn baby was fragile, easily damaged, especially in the early weeks.
Kara stood up, still holding Jade, and began to pace. Grayson had been gone over an hour. Had he found Dorrie? Had she confessed to leaving the baby on his porch? And—she didn’t want to give space to the thought, but it was too late to stop it—was he remembering the times they’d spent together, the nights that had led to Jade’s conception in the first place? Maybe he was sorry, or maybe she was, and they were reconciling in the wee hours of the morning while Kara stood here with the baby they’d made.
A strange sound came from outside—a car door slamming, or maybe just tree branches knocking together in the wind. On impulse, she turned off the kitchen light and dimmed the one in the living room, then walked quietly to the side window and peeked behind the curtain without lifting it. The moon had reappeared and cast a thin light over her yard. She didn’t see a thing. The sound didn’t come again. She shifted Jade to her other shoulder and checked the locks on the front and back doors before walking into her bedroom.
Kara laid Jade on the bed and unlocked the gun safe at the back of her closet. Inside rested her pistol, unused except for range practice over six months ago. She’d had her permit for ages, but she hadn’t bought a gun until about two years ago, when a rash of home invasions rocked the Yawketuck Valley. Now she took a long look at the weapon, picked it up and felt its weight in her hand, then locked it away again.
Jade had fallen asleep, so she grabbed her phone and settled on the opposite side of the bed under the spread. Everything OK? she texted Grayson, because it had been too long since she’d heard from him, too long since she’d been left alone with the baby, and between the strangeness of the day and the sounds outside, she felt unsettled. Uncharacteristically nervous.
Something was wrong.
“PUT THAT FUCKING THING down.” Grayson stepped in front of Dorrie, blocking her from Travis as best he could.
“You gonna make me?” He spat on the floor again, a glob of saliva and blood that just missed Grayson’s foot.
I could. The old impulse of sizing up his opponent, of readying himself for the first swing and preparing for the next one, raged over Grayson. He was bigger than Travis, stronger, and sober. He had two decades of martial arts training under his belt. With a feint and a quick grab, he could disarm the asshole.
His fists tightened as he took another step closer. Travis leveled the barrel.
“Bar’s closed,” Cronk said from behind them, and Grayson heard the sound of a round being chambered. Travis’s gaze slid over Grayson’s shoulder and his jaw slacked. Grayson turned to see Cronk holding a monster semiautomatic rifle, the kind he’d seen only in movies, pointed straight at Travis’s head. “You heard what he said. Put that fucking thing down.”
“Crazy motherfucker,” Travis said. His gaze wavered and he licked his bloody lip. After a few seconds, he tucked his gun inside his waistband.
Cronk laughed. “You got that right. I don’t have a choice. Never know who’s gonna walk through my door. You’d be surprised how many drunk assholes I get coming in here after hours. If they got drunk at my place, that’d be one thing. I could head off problems at the pass. It’s the ones who come from fuck knows where, all wild-eyed and smelling like cat shit and whore’s perfume, that get my back up.” He lowered the rifle a few inches. “This right here’s the best insurance policy I ever got for myself.”
Grayson made a mental note to never cross Cronk, not even as a joke, not if he had that thing hiding behind the bar.
“Where you been all day?” Travis asked. He hadn’t left, hadn’t even moved, just stood near the door swaying on his feet.
“You must not-a heard me,” Cronk said. “Bar’s closed. Which means you were just leaving.”
Travis blinked, and his mouth drew down in a snarl. His fingers moved in the direction of his waistband.
“Wouldn’t think about that if I were you,” Cronk added. “Unless you want your insides to be on the outside.”
“Fuck.” Without another word, Travis spun on his heel and left. “This isn’t over, bitch!” he screamed from the parking lot. Dorrie flinched at the threat.
Cronk rested the rifle on the floor and picked at something between his front teeth. “Christ, girl, I thought you knew how to pick ’em better than that.” He shook his head. “I don’t want him back here. I tolerated him for a while, but he’s no good. I know you say he’s nice enough when he’s sober, but he’s a mean sonofabitch when he’s not.” He paused. “And you can do better.”
She didn’t say anything, but when Grayson touched her hand, it was ice cold. She looked like she was about to cry.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
She didn’t answer.
Cronk went behind the bar and set three highball glasses in a row. “I don’t know about you two, but I need something to settle my nerves.” He shook his head and muttered as he lifted a bottle of Jack Daniels from the shelf. “Thought I heard you say you were trying to stay on the wagon, Gray, but it’s late and it’s been a hell of a long day, so what d’ya say you have one with us? Just one, for old time’s sake.”
Grayson hesitated. Bad idea. Terrible idea. He’d feared it all night, coming back to a place that tempted him beyond his resolve. He’d tried. He’d gone to AA, thrown out every drop of alcohol in his house, avoided liquor stores and bars like the plague. He went to mee
tings. He worked the twelve steps. But the sound of whiskey hitting the glass tapped into a deep-seated memory, one that had rooted inside him long ago. Long before Dorrie, before Kara, before he’d even moved to Yawketuck.
Dorrie pulled up a stool, and the scraping sound of its legs against the floor was another familiar sound, another deep-seated memory.
He could have one. Just one. He’d stop there. He could control himself. What would one drink hurt?
Dorrie looked at him over her shoulder as he stood there, uncertain.
He could also go back to Kara’s place and fold himself in her embrace. He could dance with her, or talk to her, or just sit in her living room and say nothing at all. None of that would have the same kind of comfortable familiarity as wrapping his fingers around the glass Cronk was filling, but it might be enough to make him forget what had happened these last twelve hours.
Then Dorrie beckoned him with her thin fingers, the chipped nails that made his heart ache at the sight of them, and her next words made his decision for him.
“Sit with me. For just a few minutes. There’s something I have to tell you.”
4:00 a.m.
To her surprise, Kara fell asleep again, and this time she didn’t dream at all.
When a knock on her door woke her a half hour later, she sat up with a start, but this time no ugly nightmare chased her awake. The knock came again, and then a buzzing from her phone on the nightstand.
We’re outside. You awake?
We’re. Kara studied that word for a long few seconds. We. Two people. Grayson had to mean he and Dorrie. Who else would he have brought to her home in the dead of night?
She typed, Yes, give me a minute, then reached over to gather Jade into her arms.
“I think your mama’s here.” Her heart ached. It didn’t make sense, because Kara had never planned to keep Jade. Still, she’d grown attached to the baby in the few short hours she’d been with her. Returning her to her mother’s arms would be both the right thing and a painful thing to do.
Jade began to cry, as if she could sense Kara’s mixed emotions. She balled up her fists and wriggled in Kara’s arms, and it was all she could do to hold the baby on one hip as she walked to the front door and opened it.
Grayson stood beside Dorrie, shoulder to shoulder, but they weren’t holding hands. He didn’t have his arm around her, and they didn’t look like they’d done any kind of reuniting in the last hour.
A tiny, jealous part of Kara was glad except for the haggard expressions on both their faces. Grayson’s eyes were dark, the circles under them deep and pronounced. Dorrie’s face was resolute, but the minute she saw Jade, her features crumpled. The rest of her followed, like a flower racked by a storm: her shoulders sagged, her legs buckled, and Kara thought she might collapse on the porch until Grayson caught her under the arms and pulled her upright.
“Okay then, let’s get inside.”
Kara didn’t know what to say. No one spoke, so while Grayson settled Dorrie on the couch, Kara fixed Jade a bottle. The motions were almost habit and she did them without thinking, mixing the formula, heating it, testing the temperature, then tipping the bottle to Jade’s mouth. The baby began to suck at once, and her little hands waved in the air as if seeking nourishment every place she could. Kara took a deep breath and carried her into the living room.
“Is she yours?” The judgment in her voice surprised her. She prided herself on being the last to criticize other people’s choices, yet a fierce sense of protection rose in her. You left your baby in the middle of the woods. On top of a mountain. Anything could’ve gotten to Jade before Grayson did: a bobcat, a coyote, a rabid raccoon, even a bear. How dare you do that to a child? To a baby who can’t even defend herself?
Dorrie continued to cry but silently, and when she looked at Jade, Kara saw a whirlpool of emotion there: guilt, shame, fear, and above it all, love. So much love.
“Yes. I’m sorry,” she whispered. “God, I’m so, so sorry.”
Kara hesitated only a moment. Then she handed Jade to her mother.
“Oh, baby girl. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.” Dorrie held the bottle and wiped a spit bubble from Jade’s cheek. Her fingers played over Jade’s head, arranging and rearranging the fine hair. “I was scared.”
“Of what, exactly?” Kara leaned forward and clasped her hands between her legs.
Grayson glanced at her. He’d said nothing since arriving, and she didn’t know how to interpret his silence. Had he already had this conversation with Dorrie? Was he Jade’s father? Did he know the answers, or was he waiting for Kara to piece together the puzzle for them both?
He placed a hand on Kara’s knee, and the simple gesture reassured her. I’m here.
“Of Travis.”
Kara stiffened. “Why? What did he do?” Tell me. Because nothing Dorrie could say would surprise her.
“He thinks he’s Jade’s father.”
Grayson’s hand tightened on her knee. Kara wasn’t sure she could ask the all-important question, but as it turned out, she didn’t have to. Once Dorrie started talking, she didn’t stop.
“I don’t know for sure.” She adjusted the bottle and sat back in the sofa cushions. Her shoulders visibly released from their tense, ready-to-flee position. “I know that’s a terrible thing to say.” She looked at Grayson. “He might be. After Grayson, I was kind of dating this lawyer. Johnny. It was only for a few weeks, but it was really intense. Then I met Travis.”
She stopped, as if searching for the right way to explain. “There was crossover, if you know what I mean.” Her cheeks flushed. “Only once. Johnny had just told me he was married, and I was devastated, so I had too much to drink after my shift. Travis was at the bar and drove me home. He was looking for a place to stay, and one thing led to another. He was kind, and I was lonely.” She shrugged. “The next morning, Johnny called me, all full of apologies, said he couldn’t live without me, he’d tell his wife about me, the usual stupid lies. He met me at the bar, and I was stupid and gave in to him one last time. Then I realized he wasn’t ever going to choose me.”
Kara had said almost exactly the same thing to Drake the night he broke up with her. In the hospital. After her miscarriage. While he was flirting with the on-call nurse.
“I thought you’d choose me.”
“Don’t think it’s gonna work out, babe,” was all he said in response. Then he called Kara a cab, and she never saw him again.
She’d sworn off men completely after that.
“Travis and I started sleeping together on a regular basis,” Dorrie went on, “so when I got pregnant, I figured it was his. But I knew the timing was a little....” She looked at Jade, who’d finished her bottle and fallen asleep. Dorrie set the bottle aside. “She looks more like Johnny than Travis. I don’t know if he notices that, but she does.”
“She looks like you,” Grayson said, speaking for the first time in almost ten minutes. Kara nodded in agreement. Whoever had donated the Y-chromosome to Jade, his genes weren’t as dominant as Dorrie’s. One look at Jade in her mother’s arms and that much was clear.
“A few weeks ago, he came home drunk and pissed off,” Dorrie went on. “He’d gotten fired for cussing at his boss, and he blamed it on me and Jade ’cause we kept him up all night and he was too tired at work to think straight.”
“He’s a jackass,” Grayson growled. “Everyone gets tired at work, or pissed at the boss. It doesn’t mean you—” He cracked his knuckles over and over again, until Kara took his hand and made him stop.
“I know that. But I did feel bad,” Dorrie said. “He worked hard and always gave me money for rent and food and bought a lot of things for Jade, clothes and that carrier, even,” she said with a gesture toward the kitchen table. “And it was true she didn’t sleep very long, maybe two or three hours at a time, and then she’d be up, and the house is so small that—”
“None of that matters,” Kara cut in, her throat raw with holding back everyt
hing she wanted to say. “If a man has a child, then he takes on the responsibility of raising that child, no matter how hard it is.” She hadn’t experienced that herself, exactly, but she’d seen it in other fathers. In Harrison, for one. Somehow, despite the unevenness of his upbringing, he’d grown into a good, kind man with the patience of a saint. Charity hadn’t been an easy baby either, but Harrison hadn’t once lost his temper.
Whether Jade was truly Travis’s flesh and blood didn’t matter, because under the circumstances, he could be. And that meant he needed to act like a parent, even when it was hard. Especially when it was hard.
“Did he hurt you?” Grayson asked. The angry edge hadn’t left his voice. If anything, it had gotten sharper the more Dorrie told them. He reached up and touched the bruise on her cheek.
Dorrie looked at her lap. “He’s lost his temper a couple of times. Just recently, in the last week. I would never live with someone like that for the long term. I was trying to figure out how to tell him it was over.” She sniffed, and her voice broke. “When he hit me two days ago, I told him the next time he did it, I’d call the cops and get a restraining order.”
“How’d he take that?”
“He got real quiet, and then he got meaner than I’d ever seen him. He said if I did, he’d tell the cops I was an unfit mother and have Jade taken away from me. And the next morning when I got up, he was holding her tight, too tight if you know what I mean, and I saw a red mark on her arm, and I just lost it.”
“He hurt Jade?” Kara’s jaw dropped. Give me my gun. Right the hell now.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe she scratched herself, or he accidentally bumped her when he was making her bottle. But I knew just by looking at her that he could hurt her, that he had the ability to. And I thought, what kind of man could do that to a child?” She looked at Grayson. “You were the first person I thought of. I had to get her out of the house. He could hurt me, I wouldn’t care about that, but I’d die if he hurt her.” Her cheeks burned red. “I’m sorry. I know it was wrong, but I just couldn’t think of anything else to do.”
Countdown: Grayson Page 12
