“No, my boy, I race after pretty girls!” he chuckled, giving the boy a sly wink.
“Yuck, GIRLS!” Reagan cried as he led the way out of the room. But he looked up at the man with admiration in his eyes, laughing at his uncle's corny joke. Already he couldn't wait to tell his friends about how cool the guy was.
As they left the room and its strange and eerie silence, Cynne' and Malcolm both wondered how long and how hard Granger would have to beg to get his wife's forgiveness.
***********************
Still giving him the silent treatment, which she knew had always bothered Granger even more than yelling and arguing, Cassandra grabbed the glass of juice Cynne' had brought her and took small sip. Watching her husband pacing the floor like a caged lion with a thorn in its paw, she could barely suppress a smile of satisfaction, knowing how uncomfortable he must feel.
Stopping for a moment, Granger glanced at his wife, who seemed to be more interested in her glass of juice than in him at the moment. Her behavior was unsettling, and he thought, Why doesn't she curse at me, or throw the glass at me and tell me what a jackass I am? Hesitantly, he took a deep breath and approached the pale blue chaise where she was sitting, taking a seat beside her, uninvited. Looking at the floor, he mumbled, “Cassandra, I'm sorry about the way I left you and Regan.”
Finally gracing him with a look of indignation, she replied in a cool, neutral voice, “Left? No, you abandoned us, is more like it. Both of us.”
Nodding his head miserably in agreement, he cleared his throat. “Listen, I thought I was leaving you emotionally better off, and in good hands. I knew Malcolm and Satin would be here to help you.” he said softly, trying to reach for her hand, but it was snatched away as if scalded. Heart sinking, he knew she would never accept his explanations, no matter how well his misguided intentions had been at the time.
“Leaving us in the good hands of your lawyer and aide! They're both good people, Granger, but a lawyer and a personal aide does not a husband or a father make, outside their own homes and lives.” she mocked in a flat voice. Rising to her feet unsteadily, she made her way slowly to the large bay window and stopped, looking out and trying to collect her thoughts. “Do you have any idea, any idea at all, what it's like to hear from a third party that your spouse wants a divorce? Do you?” she asked as she finally turned and faced him.
Shrinking back from that awful, empty glare, he averted his gaze and felt panic welling up inside as he babbled, “Cassandra, I don't want the divorce, and I would have never left if I knew you were carrying my child.” Wrong answer! His mind screamed as soon as the words left his mouth. Sensing it coming rather than seeing it, he barely ducked in time to avoid the juice glass that went whizzing by his head, missing him by a hairs breadth. He flinched as the crystal shattered against the cream colored wall behind him, the remaining orange juice streaming down the wall and leaving stains.
“What makes you think I WANT your ass back? THE NERVE OF YOU!” she raged. “Thinking you could just prance back in here with some half-assed apology and I would fall down to my knees thanking God you're back. Well, I have news for you, Mister Man, I don't need you, I can take care of both my children without you, even without your money. I was making a decent living before...before you came back in my life, and I can do it again! And that's not all, I...” she stammered as a single tear trickled down her left cheek and she grasped her belly and bent over. “I can't stand the sight of you right now, I...never mind.” she sobbed as she suddenly straightened up and bolted for the door.
Leaping to his feet, he made it just in time to stop her from opening the door. His left hand shot out and held the door shut, as his right arm snaked around her firmly, yet gently, to prevent her from moving. Pulling her close to him and holding her stomach in a loving and protective embrace, he rested his forehead on back of her head, the scent of rose and jasmine intoxicating him. “Cass.” he moaned as he frantically searched his heart for the right words. “Please forgive me.” he begged, kissing the back of her head. “When I left, I was lost. I didn't think I had anything to offer you and Regan but pain. Can't you understand that? I didn't want either one of you to suffer like everyone else in my family had. I just didn't want you to grow to hate me the way my mother did Joseph, because of all the emotional trauma he caused her.”
“Granger, the night your mother committed suicide, I knew you were suffering, but I was there for you. No matter what happened, I was willing to be there for you,” she replied in a nearly inaudible voice, then reached down with her right hand and gently stroked the wedding band he still wore. “That night, after we made love, we vowed to face any hardships together. I was willing to do that, to stand beside you no matter what. But you didn't keep your part of the bargain. It's what couples that are married and dedicated to one another should do, stand beside each other, for better or for worse. But you walked away, without looking back.” Then, with an effort that took every bit of willpower she had left, she resisted the urge to turn and caress his face one last time. “You made your decision without even talking to me. You've made your bed, Granger, now you'll have to lie in it. Now please, let me go.” she finished as she reached for the doorknob, and almost broke down completely when she felt his arm slip away slowly, releasing her.
Chapter 50
Martina looked closely at the surveillance pictures the lowlife, third-rate private detective she had hired a few days after returning to the states had given her. Bitterness and hatred burned like a super nova within her as she shook her head wildly in denial. Rocking back and forth, she grasped a handful of her own hair with her free hand and yanked a clump from her scalp, heedless of the searing pain. “NoooOOOOOOO NONONONONO!!!!!” she screeched like a spoiled three year old child who had been denied something she wanted. Unable to bear the look of contentment on the bitch's face a moment longer, she frantically began ripping the photos of a very pregnant Cassandra into dozens of tiny pieces, grinding her teeth so hard that the pain finally did register, even in her maddened state. Cursing the fates and every God and Goddess she had ever heard of, she hurled what was left of the photos in the air, where the pieces fluttered back down to the floor like confetti.
Despondent tears streaming down her pale face, she stomped across the room and glared in the mirror at her new image. Her natural red hair, now died platinum blond, was arranged wildly around her head. “WE should be having a baby, Granger!” she cried as she turned and snatched a pillow off the queen sized bed.
Turning back to face the mirror, she stuffed the pillow underneath her flowing, pink silk nightgown. Making the necessary adjustments against her flat belly, she turned from one side to the other, admiring the image. “I'm having Granger's baby!” she crowed happily. Her eyes suddenly clouding over, she bit one fingernail thoughtfully as she stared at nothing. “Yes, I think it's a girl! Girly Pearly Puddin' 'n' Pie!!” she giggled insanely as her eyes lit up again and she clutched her swelling stomach affectionately. “Yes, our daughter! First I'll get rid of Cassandra and Regan, then I'll...we'll announce the upcoming birth of the Mortensen heiress, the birth of me and Granger's daughter!” she laughed again as what was left of her sanity finally slipped into a dark void from which it would never return. Rocking back and forth again, she began humming a lullaby as her vision swam in and out of focus.
Looking up at the mirror again, she saw Brett, still alive and well, standing right behind her and smiling. How silly it had been for her to assume he was dead, she should have known he would never leave her! “We're going to have a new addition to the family again, Brettie darling! It won't be just you and me anymore!” she cooed as she fairly danced and shuddered with delight.
Returning her smile, he seemed almost as excited as she was by the good news. “How wonderful, my love! You know, I was wrong about Granger, I'm sorry, my true-blue, Pooh Bear! We'll be such a happy family, everyone will envy us!” Stepping closer to her from behind, he placed a hand on her swollen belly. “You simply mu
st name her after our sweet grandmother.”
“You know I will, sweetie-kins!” she smiled brightly, then blew him a kiss. “Well, I must go, got a million things to do. See ya' later!”
The dingy room suddenly transformed into the master bedroom of the Mortensen estate, and she began planning the perfect wedding and reception with a proud and loving Granger at her side. And to announce the birth and her final victory over Cassandra.
Chapter 51
A stone-faced Granger mumbled in frustration as he paced the length of the kitchen, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans.
Nicola glanced up at his brother for a moment, then concentrated once more on pouring the Sauvginon Blanc, to go along with the Arugula and walnut pesto- crusted Halibut. He had just finished making a meal for them as he listened to Granger try to figure out how to get himself back in his wife's good graces.
“Nothing has worked! I swear, my lips are permanently puckered from kissing so much ass! I've begged, I've pleaded, but she refuses to listen!” Granger fretted as he ran his hands over his face, then through his long hair, ready to pull it out in frustration, “Why won't she tell me what I can do to make her happy? She knows all she has to do is tell me, and I'll do whatever it takes to fix the mess I've made. The woman has me tied in knots, but I'm not giving up. Not yet.”
Taking a seat at the marble kitchen bar, Nicola's tone was patient, as if he were dealing with Regan, instead of his grown brother. “Come, eat, and then I'll tell you what I've planned to get your wife back.” he smiled enigmatically.
Taking a seat wearily, Granger gave him a hopeful, questioning look. “Ok now, what’s this great plan you have up your sleeve, that you seem so sure will work on a woman you've only known for two weeks? You don't know her that well, Nic.” he sighed, then picked up the large goblet of wine his brother had poured for him. “I mean, this isn't a game. No offense, but she's not like any of your casual acquaintances. This is serious, Nic, I'm trying to save my marriage here!”
With a confident chuckle, Nicola went into a spiel about what he'd observed about Cassandra in the short time he'd known her. “ I've been watching this almost Shakespearean drama very closely, and this is what I think. I believe your lovely wife is thoroughly enjoying making you suffer, and so she should! She's making you perform just like a trained circus animal.” he laughed, almost enjoying the pained look on Granger's face. “She just wants you to feel a small measure of the same hurt and loneliness you put her through. But believe me, if she was going to tell you to bugger off for good, she would have done it by now.”
Granger's broad shoulders slumped and he looked away in shame as his brother's words cut through him like a knife. While he knew in his heart he deserved everything she was putting him through, it didn't make it hurt any less.
His face softening at the look of despair on his younger brother's face, Nicola leaned over and patted him on the shoulder. “Listen, I'm reasonably confident I can help you, but in order to pull it off, it will require a lot of finesse' on your part.”
Turning to face him again, Granger's eyes narrowed suspiciously at Nicola, who was now wearing 'the cat that ate the canary’ look. Knowing his brother, it would more likely be deception, rather than finesse', and he was unsure if he could follow through with any plan that could possibly make things worse. Well, what could it hurt to hear him out? After all, I've tried everything I can think of.....an inner voice countered. “Alright.” he answered in a slow voice. “Tell me what you've got planned.”
With a mischievous gleam in his eyes, Nicola took a sip of wine, then spoke. “I was visiting the amazing Ms. Satin Johnson and her lovely employees when I overheard some information that'll allow you to spend time with Cassandra.”
“And what would that be?”
With an even cheesier grin, Nicola outlined his plan, one he planned on tagging along for, just for fun.
**********************
Unsure what his next move should be, Raidon cursed in a voice so low he was certain his mother couldn't hear, then slammed his cell phone down on the counter. He wanted to cuss up a storm, loudly, but didn't dare, for fear of one of her frequent lectures about going to church. It was the last thing he needed today.
His blood was boiling. He had just called Cynne' for the third time in the last hour, only to have her answer the phone sounding quite happy, with music blasting in the background, and what had sounded like a boisterous party in progress. He'd all but begged for her to get together with him and talk, explaining that he wasn't dating anyone, and that the woman at the restaurant had lied out of pure spite. But she had refused to listen, then sweetly suggested he go back to ‘Blondie‘, because at the moment she was seeking the company of someone who didn't have a girlfriend.
“What's wrong with me, anyway?” he muttered angrily. “Mooning over a woman who not only doesn't want me, but doesn't trust me, either.” Picking up a tablespoon from the counter suddenly, he turned his face this way, then that, and snorted, “Heck of a guy! Plenty of women want you, so don't sit around on your ass like some pimply-faced wallflower.” he grinned confidently, but his handsome face darkened almost immediately as Mandy invaded his thoughts yet again. Mandy, the treacherous, scheming, jealous blond who had lied to Cynne' about them dating. If only he had known the woman would do something so spiteful. Since he had returned from Mexico he had avoided her, and he didn't think at the time it was a big deal, after all, they had only dated off-and-on, on-and-off ever since they had met. It had never been serious, at least he hadn't thought so. When they both wanted to release some sexual tension, they usually got together for one night of pleasure, and then that would be that. Or so it had been for him. How could he have known?
Frustrated, he tossed the spoon back down on the counter. “Damn women! What's the use pining over her? I think I'll do what she's doing, go out and have a good time. That's what I'll do. Me and you....” he said as he glanced down at his groin area. “Let's go out and have some fun! A little slap and tickle with some fine honey. We have women wanting us, don't we? They don't call you The Crowd Pleaser for nothing. Yeah, that's the ticket. Get us some loving and we'll forget all about her, we won't even remember her name, will we?”
“Talking to yourself? Should I reserve a bed for you in the mental- health unit?” Joy smirked as she strolled into their mother's kitchen, startling him. “Dear brother, it is my professional opinion that you are insane.” Shaking her head as if he were a lost cause, she admonished, “Crazy, letting Cynne' go like that! And you have all your catting around to thank for it! Lord, you hump more than a wild, rutting bull! Frankly, I'm amazed no woman has killed you yet for playing with her heart, or giving her some nasty STD that would have God stumped for a cure.”
He groaned, in no mood to hear one of her lectures, which seemed as frequent as their mother's. But, knowing what would shut her up, he favored her with a condescending smile and spoke in a confidential tone. “ Well now, since you're handing out advice so freely, may I assume you told mom and pop about The Crypt Keeper you're crazy in love with?” Chuckling at her immediate reaction, it was painfully clear she was afraid of what both their parents would think of the elderly Doctor Zachrick.
“Don't call him the Crypt Keeper, he's not THAT old!” she snapped, putting her hands on her full hips, her eyes blazing with sudden anger.
Sauntering to the far side of the kitchen counter where their mother's pot roast, onions, carrots, potatoes and brown gravy sat simmering in a crock pot, he inhaled the heavenly aroma, certain the delicious stew would soon be lifting his spirits. Opening the lid, he shot a furtive glance at the kitchen doorway, hoping his mother didn't walk in on him eating out of the crock pot. Grabbing a spoon from the silverware drawer in front of him, he quickly scooped up some of the rich, steaming brown gravy, blew on it, then slurped it up, moaning with pleasure. “Man, mom gets better and better each year. I should move back home, just for this.” he muttered. Putting the spoon in the sink, he r
eplaced the crock pot lid and turned to stare at his sister, who was still glaring at him. “So, sister dear, can you tell me why you haven't told our folks about the dapper doctor, if he's so great, I mean? What, scared they might see him hobbling up the walkway on a cane?”
Grabbing a wet sponge, she began wiping imaginary stains off the spotless counter nervously as Raidon continued to tease her mercilessly, much the same as he had when they were children and she got on his nerves.
“Yeah, poor mom was hoping you'd settle down and give her a bunch of grandkids by now. But seeing how the old guy is, he’s probably shooting dust, I don't see that happening, do you, sis? Shooting dust! I kill myself!” he laughed at his own tasteless joke.
Joy had heard enough from her crude brother. It was bad enough that the man she was in love with kept bringing up the subject of what people would say about his age, and how much younger she appeared. Gritting her teeth, she turned and hurled the sponge at him as he ducked out of harm's way. “Shut up!” she hissed as the sponge struck the refrigerator harmlessly and fell to the floor. “He's not THAT much older than me.”
“Who's not much older than you, dear?” a third voice asked.
“Mom!” Joy and Raidon both yelped in unison as they turned and faced the kitchen door.
Remember Me Page 62
