One Thing I Know

by Kara Isaac

  She pulled out a smile he’d never seen before. Sultry, full of promise. The kind of smile that could make a guy lose his mind and run off to Vegas. “Well, that depends. Will there be a kiss good night?”

  His mouth lost all its moisture at her words. Who was he kidding? This woman already had his heart. Along with every other atom in his body. He looped an arm around her waist and pulled her toward him, eyes on her full, rosy lips. “That’s a possibility, Miss Somers. If you play your cards right.”

  She reached up, ran her fingers from his shoulder to where his hand rested on her waist, and let them linger there. “I’ll meet you in the hotel lobby at ten.” And with that, she spun out of his grasp and walked toward the door, leaving him standing by himself with the world’s stupidest grin on his face.

  - 28 -

  A jaunty tune made its way through Rachel’s pressed lips as she finished wanding her eyelashes. Blinking once, twice. She had to give it to Maybelline: her lashes were indeed both fuller and longer.

  Lipstick. Two tubes stared at her from the bathroom counter in Donna’s suite. The red she’d bought in a fit of daring was more her color, but definitely a bit more “come and get me.” Hmmm, maybe the pink. A little less obvious. Lord knew she didn’t need any help when it came to being obvious about how she felt about Lucas.

  He’d been perfect, again, tonight. Denver had loved him just as much as every other city. He could write sports commentary in the book with Donna and it would fly off the shelves. And there would be a book. Lucas had spoken to Max first thing in the morning. Signed the contract for representation in the afternoon, and Max had promised he would be getting straight on the phone to Randolph to renegotiate the deal. He seemed to think they could have something ready for signing within a couple of weeks.

  Rachel didn’t know herself without the looming deadline hanging over her head.

  Contouring her lips with liner, she dabbed a cotton bud into the tube of dusky rose. Painting it on, she pressed, blotted, and pressed. Her eyes sparkled back at her in the mirror. She hadn’t even touched her cheeks and they were already flushed like she’d been on a long run.

  Maybe it was time to let herself believe that something good could happen in her life.

  The carpet swished as she padded back into the bedroom. The perfume she had spritzed on a few minutes earlier had settled into a lingering scent of summer and promises.

  The clock blinked nine forty-seven. Thirteen minutes to go.

  Shedding her bathrobe, she dropped her dress over her head, the fabric whooshing as it billowed over her hips. She’d found it earlier in the day. Yet another sign of good luck. She was ordinarily jinxed when it came to finding a new outfit when she really needed one. A deep blue like midnight but shot through with some kind of silver thread, the V-neck gave her cleavage that didn’t naturally exist, the waist flaring out into a fifties skirt.

  Was it too much? The mirror reflected someone looking like a starlet from a bygone era. One not out of place crooning “Happy Birthday, Mr. President” into a microphone.

  Her gaze fell to her second outfit option laid out on the bed. A muted green wrap shirt and a black skirt. Much more her, much more . . . ordinary.

  Come dressed for a good time. It wasn’t his words as they’d parted after the show so much as the promise in Lucas’s voice that popped into her head.

  She swept the ordinary outfit onto the floor, sitting in its place to slip on her silver shoes. She was done with ordinary. At least for tonight.

  No thinking about deadlines, or deception, or deadbeat fathers. Tonight was just about possibilities. No backing out, no getting afraid and running away. Time to listen to her own bestselling advice. To take a chance and believe that it might be her turn, for once.

  Walking across to the dresser, the silver heart-shaped locket blinked up at her. As she lifted it, it spun, as if knowing it had been taken out of retirement for something special. Unlatching the clasp, she settled it on her chest. The one thing she had left from her mother that made her smile when she saw it, instead of wanting to cry.

  Her phone rang, the screen flashing a Colorado area code.

  “Hello, Rachel speaking.”

  “Rachel, Dr. Lockhart from Sunhaven here.”

  She sank to the bed, heart free-falling like a crevice had just split through the room. Unbelievable. He’d always known how to time things for maximum destruction. If he’d gone and died, she was going to kill him.

  “Is he dead?”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. No, your father’s fine.” She didn’t have time to diagnose why her heart sank at the news. “No, it’s Cam Grayson. His wife, Anna, asked me to call you.”

  “Is he okay?”

  A pause. “No, I’m afraid not. He’s suffered a significant and irreversible brain bleed. We’ve advised Mrs. Grayson it’s time to take him off life support.”

  Rachel’s body folded over until her head touched her knees. There truly was no justice in the world. “Please let her know I’m on my way. I’m in Denver, but I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “I’ll let her know.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” Rachel threw the phone on her bed, kicking her shoes off just as there was a hammer on the door.

  Flinging it open, she found Lacey standing there. “Anna needs us. Cam’s not going to make it.” The publicist looked as harassed as Rachel had ever seen her.

  “I know. The hospital just called me. Just let me get my coat.”

  Rachel jammed her phone against her ear as she threw her wallet into her purse. Lucas, she had to tell Lucas. His phone went straight to voicemail. “It’s me. Um, Rachel. I’m really sorry, but I’m not going to make it tonight. Something’s come up. I have to go and be with a friend.”

  She was such an idiot. What on earth had inspired her to think things might work out for once?

  • • •

  LUCAS GAZED at his Rolex as the minute hand moved from its position on the three. Rachel was only fifteen minutes late, but it felt like a lifetime.

  How could he have let his phone go dead? Tonight of all nights. How could he not have registered the red bar, oh, at any time today, and given it some juice? Even ten minutes’ worth. Just enough for a quick “Hey Rach, just waiting in the lobby.” Or, heaven help him, receive a “Running a bit late, be down soon” from her. Instead here he was, sweating it out like a soon-to-be convicted felon.

  He tugged at his cuffs. Stared at the delicate posy of spring blooms wilting on the chair beside him. He’d never been a flowers guy. Always swore he would never waste his money on something that would die in a couple of days. But for Rachel, somehow he’d found himself in a florist shop, clucking over buds like they were his grandchildren. Fretting over combinations until the salesgirl took pity and suggested he go for a stroll while she put something together.

  He’d handed over the thirty bucks without even blinking. It would be worth ten times that if they made her smile the smile that he now saw every time he closed his eyes at night.

  Relax, Grant. She’s coming. Women always run late. Especially for dates. Better get used to it.

  He bounced his useless phone in his hand. He’d sent two calls from Brad to voicemail earlier. He could wait another day to hear Lucas was going to go with the book deal. He’d spent two weeks with Donna and she was exactly what she seemed, but Brad was clearly determined that wasn’t an acceptable answer.

  All he had worked toward for the last decade was syndication. And yet, compared to the thought of the chance at something with Rachel . . . everything faded in comparison to that.

  His black shoes tapped the carpet, his eyes focusing on a small checked pattern.

  Scott and Grace would be so happy. Already were. When he’d mentioned to Scott that he was taking Rachel out, his brother had whooped so loud, the whole state was probably roused.

  Long distance. He let his mind meander over the logistics. Denver and Madison weren’t that far apart. It was hardly a West Coast/E
ast Coast divide.

  “Lucas, honey?”

  He jolted at Donna’s voice. She had changed into a purple pantsuit but still had the hairdo from earlier that reminded him of fairground candy floss. “Oh hey, Doc. Is Rachel on her way down?”

  Her eyes crinkled. “Did you two have plans?”

  “Um, yeah.” He gestured at the flowers. “Dinner . . . we were meant to be having a late dinner.”

  Material rustled as she sat on the bench beside him. “I didn’t realize.” She peered at him closely.

  “Has something happened?” Please let her be okay.

  A sigh. “I don’t know, but I suspect so.” The look on her face snuffed out hope. It was the look he imagined a vet might have before they put down a small sick animal. Compassion, pity.

  Something snapped in her eyes, as if she’d made a decision about a debate he hadn’t even known was happening. “Lucas, I love my niece, and for the last ten years I’ve done my best to not interfere.”

  A smile slipped onto his lips.

  A flash of one on hers, too. “Done my best, but there may have been a little interference here and there. If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell another soul, no matter what does or doesn’t happen with you or Rachel?”

  The hair on the back of his neck prickled. He was on the brink of something important. Something that might change everything. “I promise.”

  “As you know, my ex-husband and Rachel’s father are brothers.” She took a breath. Wrapped her arms around herself, clutching her elbows. “It would be fair to say that when the chips were down, neither of them stepped up. My husband left me bankrupt with three young boys to raise alone, and Rachel’s father, well, her mother was the glue that held that family together. Kept him semi-decent. Once it became clear her mom wasn’t going to beat the cancer, her father pretty much disappeared.”

  Donna peered out the window at the dark sky. “Oh, he was still present in body. He paid the bills at least. But he drank. The Somers boys could always hold their liquor, but he hit the bottle like it was the elixir of life.”

  “He didn’t . . .?” Lucas’s insides roiled just at the thought. If he had laid a hand on Rachel, he would hunt him down and . . .

  “No. Not that she’s ever told me anyway. Pretty much every night he would drink until he passed out. Sometimes on the journey there he would say horrible things that no daughter should ever hear from a father’s mouth. But as far as I know, he never touched her.”

  Thank God. The thought of Rachel bearing the brunt of someone’s fists, or worse, on top of everything else she’d had to endure—he didn’t know if he could bottle that up.

  “After she went to college, things got worse. He lost his job. Linda’s life insurance money disappeared down the toilet of his addiction. Every night was a different bar, another strip club. Every night he would ring Rachel at some ridiculous time of the morning and order her to make the hour drive to pick him up and take him home. And almost every night she did. For two years. Extracted him from whatever flea-bitten sleazy joint he’d crawled into and took him home. Then turned around and drove an hour back home.”

  A tear trickled down Donna’s cheek, leaving a dark trail in its path. “Then one night she finally put her foot down. Said no. It was a friend’s birthday, and she told him to call a cab and make his own way home. She told me that was the first time since her mother died that she had felt free. Deciding that her father didn’t get to control her life anymore. The stubborn old codger didn’t call a cab. He decided to walk.”

  Lucas had a gut-wrenching feeling that he knew where this was going.

  “Witnesses say he was weaving down roads like they were sidewalks. Yelling abuse at Rachel.”

  A deep breath. “He was in a hit-and-run. Rachel was the one who found him. She’d called to check that he’d gotten home and when he didn’t answer, she’d driven there. When he wasn’t there, she combed the streets looking for him. She found him in a gutter, left for dead.”

  Lucas didn’t realize he was crying until a tear slid down his neck. His Rachel. His beautiful Rachel. How could anyone do that to another person?

  He realized Donna was still talking. “. . . uncontrollable brain swelling, permanent damage.”

  “Hold on. He’s still alive?”

  Donna blew air out her nose. “ ‘Alive’ is stretching it. In possibly the cruelest thing ever, his body still functions, to a point. But for all other purposes he’s as alive as your average turnip.”

  So many things finally clicked into place. “She blames herself.”

  “ ‘Blames’ would be kind. She is obsessed with living in her own kind of purgatory on earth as penance. That’s why she never lets anyone close. Runs away from any possibility of happiness. She’s convinced herself that she deserves nothing good from life. I thought that maybe that had changed with you, but if she’s not here . . .” Donna’s voice trailed off.

  The desire to find her was so strong, he struggled to keep himself seated. “Where is she?”

  Donna cast him a knowing look. “Probably at his care facility. It’s where she always goes when something good happens. Something like you.”

  “What do I do?” Was Donna really hinting he go gate-crashing into Rachel’s father’s care facility?

  “I’m afraid that if you don’t talk to her tonight, by tomorrow she will have convinced herself of what she always convinces herself of. That she has to spend her life paying penance for what happened to her father. That she doesn’t deserve anything good.”

  He was already on his feet. “What’s it called?”

  “Sunhaven.” The words carried on the wind behind him, chasing him into a cab.

  • • •

  RACHEL’S FOREHEAD left a smear on the cab’s rear window. She’d spent most of the journey from Denver with it pressed against the glass, watching the scenery blur by. At least her cab driver was happy. He’d hummed pretty much the entire seventy miles. She’d be humming too if she were him. Probably the easiest three hundred bucks he had ever made.

  The cab crunched into the driveway. The driver peered through the glass, and she did have to admit the place did look pretty eerie in the middle of the night. “Is this right?”

  “Unfortunately.” She handed a twenty over as a tip. Her credit card had taken the battering in Denver. Couldn’t blame the guy for insisting on proof they were good for the fare before he drove over an hour to the destination.

  Lacey was already getting out the other side of the car. She’d barely uttered a word during the ride. If Rachel didn’t know better, she’d think she was praying. But Lacey had even less use for religion than Rachel did.

  The gravel shifted beneath her flip-flops. Of all the shoes she could have chosen, what on earth had possessed her to grab flip-flops? She clutched her coat tighter, making her way to the front doors. She didn’t need to look hard to find the security buzzer; it was lit up like Christmas. She pressed her thumb against it, waiting for a disembodied voice to ask who was mad enough to be visiting this late. Instead the doors simply clicked and whooshed open. Creepy.

  The reception area was empty, the only real light coming from the glow of the computer screen on the desk. Turning left, she padded toward the passageway to Cam’s room.

  “Hey, honey.”

  Rachel jolted. “Loretta, you scared me.”

  The nurse with a smile like melted butter on grits wrapped a cuddly arm around her waist. Rachel leaned into her softness and closed her eyes for a second. Man, she was tired.

  “This is Lacey. Another friend of Anna’s.” Lacey just nodded.

  “Anna’s in his room. She’ll be glad to see you.” Loretta used her swipe card to open the door into Cam’s wing. “How’re you doing, sweetness?”

  Rachel rubbed her gritty eyes. “Fine. I guess.”

  They stopped outside room 401, its door ajar. “You go on in there. That girl needs her friends tonight. You and me, we’ll talk later, Little Miss Not Fine.
”

  Rachel opened her mouth to protest, but Loretta had already disappeared as quietly as she’d arrived. How did such a large lady manage to move like a ghost?

  She pushed the door open with her fingertips, allowing it to slide on its hinges until the space was large enough for her, then Lacey, to slip through.

  In the dim light Anna lay curled up on the bed next to Cam, her head on his chest, arm across his torso. The remains of a shredded tissue rested by her fingertips, the rest of it scattered across the pale blue sheets like confetti. Above them, the ever-present monitors beeped and flashed.

  Heart rate, oxygen levels; Rachel scanned for the one showing brain activity. Dear God, let there be a mistake. There wasn’t. The lines that had shown enough activity to allow the smallest sliver of hope last time now showed almost nothing. Blips similar to those of her father, but Cam’s were from the ventilator forcing air into his lungs to make his chest rise and fall. It was a cruel hint at life.

  Cam was even thinner than when she had last seen him. Cheekbones set like peaks against the landscape of his wasted face. Eye sockets sunken like craters.

  Rachel took a step back toward the door. An intruder in a sacred space. The last night between a wife and her husband.

  “Let’s go.” She whispered the words to Lacey, who stood like a statue by the door. They could haul some chairs from the activity room, and she and Lacey could stand guard outside.

  Her hand hit the handle just as Anna stirred from her slumber. Her body stiffened, as if sensing someone else present, then relaxed as her gaze landed on them. “Hi,” she whispered. As if Cam were just asleep and a loud noise might wake him up.

  “We can go,” Rachel said, gesturing toward the door. “Come back later.”

  Anna shook her head. The movement wrinkled the sheets drawn across Cam’s chest. “Don’t be silly. Come in, sit.” She tilted her forehead to the chairs on the other side of Cam.

  Rachel slid across the room, her footsteps alternating with the beeps of the monitors. Curling her body into the easy chair next to Cam, she looked at Anna’s fingers wrapped around his now skeletal forearm, rings glinting even in the dim light.