by Mary Campisi
Janice’s irritation followed. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“I’m not going to let you trap him.”
Rourke’s eyes flew open. Trap whom?
“What are you talking about?”
“This.”
“Where’d you get that? Give it to me.”
“Not until I tell my uncle. Rourke? Where are you?”
“Give that to me, you little brat.”
“No!”
Rourke pushed away from the wall and flung open the bathroom door. “Abbie? What’s wrong?”
His niece waved a small box in the air. “Ask her!”
Janice tried unsuccessfully to snatch the box. After three swipes that landed her nothing but air, she changed tactics. “She had no business going through my purse. That’s invasion of privacy which is a punishable offense.”
It was? Rourke squinted at the flat box. “What is that?”
Janice rushed toward him, clearly no longer concerned about catching the flu, and said, “It’s not mine.”
“Don’t listen to her. See for yourself.” Abbie thrust the box at him and cast a triumphant smile in Janice’s direction.
“First Response,” he read aloud. “‘Predicting the best two days to become pregnant.’” He flipped the box over and started reading the directions. “What the hell?”
“I told you, it’s not mine.” Janice inched closer and smothered him with explanations. “It belongs to Claudia. She’s been trying to get pregnant forever, and I told her she should start tracking her ovulation cycles and well, you know she’s not good with technical things, unless they’re all spelled out. So, I bought it for her.”
He held the unopened box up and said, “You bought an ovulation kit for a friend.”
Her dark head bobbed up and down like a Chicago Bulls bobblehead. “Yes.”
“That’s bullshit,” Abbie spat out.
“Abbie, that’s enough.”
“She’s lying, Rourke. Can’t you see she’s going to try and get pregnant?”
“I am pregnant.”
“What?” Abbie’s face turned gray.
“I said I am pregnant, little Miss Know-it-all. So, why would I need an ovulation kit?”
“You’re lying.”
Rourke settled his arm around his niece and said, “Abbie, it’s okay. I didn’t want to say anything so soon but Janice is pregnant and starting now, I’m going to be very involved with this child.” Janice’s face split open in a blaze of triumph. “Janice, I’ll need the name of your doctor and a list of your appointments so I can schedule accordingly.”
“Oh. Well there’s no need for you to go right away.”
“I want to.” He smiled at her as she wet her glossy lips and shifted from one stiletto to the other. “And I’ll need a copy of the pregnancy report.” He scratched his head and added, “Oh, and the ultrasound schedule. I want to know the second they find the baby’s heartbeat.”
“Okay. I’ll let you know.”
“Good.”
“Rourke, she’s lying,” Abbie persisted. “That woman is about as pregnant as Maxine.”
The phone rang, cutting off Janice’s retort. “Let the answering machine kick in,” Rourke said. “We’re going to get a few things straight right now.” Like how he was not going to marry Janice.
August Graves’s voice filled the line, blurring Rourke’s thoughts. “Rourke, this is Graves. I got the information you wanted. Negative. Repeat, negative. I’m faxing you the complete report now. Call if you have any questions. And about the other, call me.”
Janice advanced on him and demanded, “Who was that?”
The pounding in his head stopped. And his stomach wasn’t threatening to heave again. Amazing what a few well-placed words could do for a person.
“Rourke? Aren’t you going to tell me?”
He smiled. “He’s a detective.”
“A detective?” A hint of anxiety swirled through her voice. “Why in heaven’s name would you hire a detective?”
He walked toward the fax machine which had started printing and said in a casual voice, “Sometimes that’s the only way to find out the truth.”
“Then I feel sorry for you if you have the need to spy on your friends.”
He shrugged and lifted a single sheet of paper from the machine. “Sometimes your friends aren’t really your friends.”
She inched closer. “What is it? What’s the detective investigating?”
Rourke finished scanning the page and handed it to her. “You. You’re not pregnant.”
Chapter 31
“I guess this whole thing takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?”—Kate Redmond Maden
Kate set the bowl of spaghetti on the table and sat down. “One meatball or two?”
“One.”
“One scoop of pasta or two?”
“One.”
Kate paused midway between retrieving a meatball. “What’s wrong? This is spaghetti and meatballs we’re talking about here. Homemade. Your favorite.”
Julia shrugged. “I’m just not that hungry.”
Julia was always hungry. Her pediatrician called it part of the growth-hormonal phase. If she wasn’t eating, something was wrong.
“I see Abbie called last night,” Kate said, making a big deal out of twirling her spaghetti in a perfect pattern around her fork.
“Hmmhmmm.”
“What did she want?”
“Just to talk.”
“You still want to go to Chicago next weekend for your father’s birthday?”
Julia’s head shot up. “Of course I do. Why are you asking? Don’t you want me to go?”
Kate hesitated a half second. “If that’s what you want, then yes, I want you to go.”
“I do but I hate to leave you alone.”
“I’ll be fine.” It would just take a little time getting used to sharing Julia with Rourke. She’d thought of the detective he’d mentioned the last time she saw him and Angie’s comment about it. He loved you, Kate. From the very beginning, he really loved you and he’s never stopped. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. And then there was Janice. What would Julia say when she discovered she was going to have a sister or brother? “I guess this whole thing takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?”
Julia shrugged. “I guess.”
“I know it’s going to be hard to go there. I felt the same way. But if at any time you don’t want to go, you don’t have to.” She had to let her daughter know that Rourke Flannigan did not own the world.
“I know.”
Kate speared a chunk of lettuce and onion. “Good. And if you ever go and feel uncomfortable, all you have to do is call me.”
“Mom. Stop.”
“What? I’m only trying to make you feel comfortable about going.”
“Is it me you’re trying to make feel comfortable, or yourself?” Those eyes buried her with their silver stare. “Rourke and I talked about it. He’s not trying to replace Dad. He just wants to get to know me. What’s so wrong with that?”
He’s going to break your heart. “Nothing.”
“He’s actually pretty cool.” She smiled. “It’s funny to watch him try to deal with two teenage girls. He is so absolutely clueless.”
Kate jumped on that. “My point exactly. He’s incapable of spotting a problem.”
Julia rolled her eyes. “I cannot believe you just said that.”
“It’s true. He can run a multi-million dollar business and flit from Hong Kong to London but what does he know about PMS?”
“With Janice around, I’d say a lot.”
Which brought to mind another subject. “And what if he gets married and decides to have another child. How will you handle that?”
“He’s not getting married.”
“You sound pretty sure about that.”
Julia snatched a piece of bread and tore a hunk from the middle. “I am sure.” She took a deep breath and said, “I wasn’t going to say anything b
ecause I know how upset you get when we talk about Rourke.”
“I do not get upset.”
Her daughter eyed her with the wisdom of an eighty year old and said, “Yes, you do.”
“Okay, maybe the mention of his name makes me a little tense.” Again, the look. “Okay, a lot.”
“Janice told him she was pregnant.”
Oh God, that’s why Julia was so upset. “Oh,” was all she could manage.
“Yeah, but turns out it was all a big lie and Rourke caught her in it.”
Janice wasn’t pregnant? Hearing about Rourke and the woman he’d been sleeping with from her daughter was against every self-help book she’d ever read, but she couldn’t resist. “How did he find out?”
Julia started shooting details like an investigative reporter. ”Abbie found an ovulation kit in Janice’s purse. Okay, I know she shouldn’t have been snooping, but we all know Janice is just trying to get Rourke any way she can. So, Abbie confronts her with this kit and Janice makes up some big story about how it’s for a friend, and then the phone rings and it’s this detective Rourke hired.”
The same detective he hired to track me?
“And guess what? This detective got some medical records that said Janice is not pregnant.” Her eyes sparkled as she regaled the details. “The kit was to get pregnant.”
Kate hated herself for asking but she couldn’t help it. “So what happened?”
“He booted her skinny backside out.”
“Oh.”
Julia nodded and took a bite of meatball. “Oh, yeah. Abbie said it was better than reality TV. You know, I think I will have another meatball and more pasta.”
Janice wasn’t pregnant. Kate struggled to process the ramifications of it all.
“Mom, the meatball and pasta?”
“Oh. Sorry.” Kate scooped out more pasta and another meatball onto Julia’s plate. Janice wasn’t pregnant…
“Mmmm.” Julia dug into the pasta, twirling a gigantic forkful on her plate. “Boy, I wish I’d been there to see the fireworks. Abbie said Janice gooed all over the place but Rourke wouldn’t have any of it. Told her to leave and he never wanted hear from her again.”
“I’m sure Janice didn’t like that,” Kate said, prickling with satisfaction.
“I’m sure she didn’t. Abbie told me something else, too.”
“What?” This secret camaraderie was addictive.
“She said she made a discovery of her own. It was right under her nose and even Abbie didn’t notice it until it smacked her on the head.”
Kate leaned in close and demanded, “What secret?”
Julia sat back, munching on a crust of bread and said in a casual voice, “Rourke still loves you.”
***
Kate’s life changed in the produce section of Tops. She’d been sorting through heads of broccoli when Len Slewinski sauntered over carrying a ten pound bag of Yukon Golds.
“Howdy, Kate. How’s the prettiest girl this side of the Mississippi doing?”
“Hi Len. I’m fine.” Truth was, she wasn’t fine. Might never be fine again. “How did Loretta get you to go to the grocery store?”
He lifted the bag of potatoes and shrugged. “She said if I wanted home fries with my sausage and biscuits, I had to bring home the taters.” He pushed back his ball cap and scratched his head. “You figure I should get two bags?”
“Uh, no. I think ten pounds should hold you.”
“Hope so. She don’t make ‘em but three times a year. Says it gets grease on the walls and such.”
Kate smiled. “If you get hungry for them, you let me know. I’ve got a big bottle of 409 to take care of the walls.”
Len nodded and cleared his throat. “You’re real special, Kate. Clay called you his princess.”
Guilt seeped through her. She did not want to talk about Clay right now. “Thank you.”
He cleared his throat again and swiped a hand across his eyes. “I’m real sorry about what I did. I know it was wrong but I didn’t want them disrespecting Clay. He didn’t deserve it.”
“Excuse me?” She hadn’t discussed the accident with Len since the day it happened. Had he told her something then? Something he’d been sorry about?
Len shifted from one booted foot to the other. “Didn’t Georgeanne tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
He looked away, kicked the linoleum floor and said in a quiet voice, “Clay wasn’t wearing a harness when he fell.”
“But that’s crazy. That’s the first thing the safety inspectors would check for. He had to have one on. Unless…”
“Unless someone put it on after.”
****
Just three sips. Eight minutes. Georgeanne sloshed a little more vodka in her glass, recapped the bottle and stuffed it in the magazine rack. Kate had called sixteen minutes ago, demanding to speak with her in person. Georgeanne tossed back the last drops of vodka, wiped her mouth, and hid the glass in the seat cushion of the rocker. Her daughter arrived in less than eight minutes. A bad sign since she lived across town and normal travel time was twelve.
The kitchen screen door banged open and seconds later Kate stood in front of Georganne, hurt and disbelief smeared across her face. “Why didn’t you tell me Len came to see you?”
Of course. Len Slewinski had a conscience that kept him awake at night until he checked and double checked every possible misdeed, even when it wasn’t a misdeed. Damn the man. “I was going to tell you, but you’ve been busy with Julia and her trips.”
“You should have told me right away. Do you know what this means?”
Kate looked like she was about to throw up. “Of course I know.”
“We have no case against them.”
“Says who? That big fancy lawyer from New York?” Bottom line, Clay died on Flannigan property. That made the Flannigan’s responsible, didn’t it?
“I don’t need Mr. Dupree to tell me our chances are seriously reduced.” Kate dragged her hands over her face and shook her head. “How could you keep this from me?”
Georgeanne felt for the glass nudged against her right hip. A drink would slow things down and help her gain perspective. What would Kate say if she unearthed the bottle from the magazine rack and poured a short one? “Now settle down.” She ran her tongue along the roof of her mouth, hunting for traces of vodka. “I don’t appreciate being talked to that way.”
Kate threw her hands in the air and paced back and forth. “Well, I don’t appreciate being lied to.”
“I didn’t lie to you.”
She swung around. “What do you call it? Withholding the truth? Permitting misinformation? Take a pick, Mom. They’re all wrong.”
Georgeanne started to stand but remembered the glass hidden in the rocker cushion, and sank back down. “I was only trying to protect you.”
“At what cost? Do you think I’d want a penny of their money if it wasn’t due me?”
“Clay’s life didn’t earn you that due?”
“Not if he wasn’t wearing his safety harness.” Kate sank onto the chair next to her mother and rubbed her temples. “He had a chance to do right and if he didn’t, for whatever reason, he was wrong.”
“So the Flannigans just get off free?”
“They’ve got nothing to do with this anymore.”
“No.” Damn them, no. “They have Julia now, don’t they? They’ve waltzed into this town and snatched her up. Where’s the justice in that?”
Kate shrugged but said nothing.
“It’s not right.” Bursts of anger exploded in Georgeanne’s gut. Someone had to tell the truth. About everything. If she died, so did the truth of what really happened that night fourteen years ago, how lives were manipulated, sacrificed. Even destroyed.
“I’ll make this right, Katie. I swear I’ll get our girl back.”
“It’s too late, Mom. Maybe it’s always been too late.”
***
The envelope from RF Renovations, Limited arrived in th
e afternoon mail. Was this Rourke’s new tactic to win her back? She’d avoided his phone calls since returning to Montpelier, and then five days ago, they’d stopped. Kate placed the letter on the coffee table and sank onto the couch. She couldn’t sit here without remembering Rourke’s long body spread out in elegant comfort as though he belonged here. The man continued to fill every cranny of her life with his voice, his touch, his smile. And that was a very big problem.
It didn’t matter if Janice had lied about her pregnancy. There would always be other Janice’s. Rourke only wanted Kate now because he couldn’t have her, and of course, because of Julia. He’d told her he didn’t like to lose, probably the truest words he’d ever spoken. A man like Rourke wasn’t about love or commitment. He was about winning.
Damn you, Rourke Flannigan for coming back into my life.
Kate snatched the letter and tore it open. See if she’d give in to his new tactics. See if she’d budge one micron. She snapped the letter open, ignoring the check that glided to the floor.
