Careless Rapture

by Dara Girard

He sent her a glance, but didn’t reply.

  Bertha said, “I see you’ve been out shopping.”

  He blinked, bored. “At least your eyesight hasn’t faded.”

  “Clay,” Jackie said, embarrassed by his rudeness.

  Bertha took no offense. “I want a second chance.”

  “I’m a little too old for a mother right now.”

  “We could be friends.”

  Clay ignored the statement and glanced at her bags. “Where are you planning to stay?”

  “With you.”

  He shook his head. “Try again.”

  Her ruby lips thinned. “Clarence Jarrett Graham, am your mother and—”

  Clay held up a hand. “Let’s clear up a few misunderstandings. First, you’re under the misconception that I don’t know who you are. I do. So you don’t need to remind me. Second, my name is Clay. You will call me Clay and no variation of that. Third, my last name is Jarrett, not Graham.”

  “So you’re ashamed of your father as well as myself? You won’t even bear his name?”

  “It’s no loss to him, I assure you. He has other children.” His tone hardened. “What are you doing here?”

  “I want to talk to you.”

  Clay folded his arms and said patiently, “You can talk as much as you like, woman. You’re just not going to stay with me.”

  She threw up her hands, exasperated. “Are you always going to hate me for making a few mistakes?”

  “Your mistake was showing up here. You can correct it by leaving. You left me at five, so it shouldn’t be hard to do.”

  “I divorced your father, not you. I left you with him because a boy needs his father.”

  “A mother helps, too.”

  She sighed, tired. “I’m here now. Let me try to make it up to you.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Has your heart become so cold?”

  His hands fell. “Yes. The night you kicked me out to roam the streets of London without tossing me a pound, my heart broke and mended as stone. Congratulate yourself on a job well done. You taught me a good lesson. I learned then that I’d never have anything to do with you. That hasn’t changed. I’ll let you know when it has. Jackie, are you ready to go in?”

  Jackie shook her head. “We can’t just leave her here.”

  “Sure we can. There are plenty of men on the street. She’ll pick one up eventually and go home with him.”

  Bertha slapped him—hard.

  Clay smiled as though she’d given him a peck on the cheek. “Ah, the warm tingly feelings of a mother’s love. Oh, yes, that brings back happy memories.”

  “Mind your tongue.”

  He opened the front door. “Come on, Jackie.”

  Jackie walked up to him and whispered, “I can’t leave her here. As much as you despise her, she’s family.”

  “Not mine.”

  Jackie clenched her fists. “I can’t leave her.”

  A flash of hurt entered his eyes, soon replaced by a cool, unreadable look. “Okay.”

  She grabbed his arm before he turned. “I’m not taking sides.”

  “That’s fine.” He went inside.

  She turned to Bertha. “Give me a moment,” Jackie said, then raced into the lobby. She jumped in front of Clay before he entered the elevator. “You’re angry with me.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He tried to move around her.

  She blocked his path. “Yes, it does. You matter a lot to me.”

  He swore when the elevator doors closed. He pushed the UP button.

  “Clay, talk to me.”

  He pushed the button again.

  She grabbed his hand. “You’re so eloquent with everything else except with how you feel. Talk to me, please.”

  He briefly shut his eyes. “I don’t know how,” he said in a harsh whisper. “Just go. It’s all right.”

  “It’s not all right if I’m hurting you. Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

  He pressed the button harder.

  Jackie seized his shirt, wishing she could penetrate his thoughts. “Take this opportunity. You have a chance to change things. Your mother wants to know you.” She let his shirt go. “My mother is dead.”

  “You can have mine if you wish.” Clay stepped inside the elevator. “Personally, I don’t think it’s a fair exchange.” He turned in time to see a look of pain cross her face. He had wounded her with his careless remark. He softly swore and stepped out of the elevator, gripping her shoulders. “I can’t deal with her. Better yet, I don’t want to. Do you know how long I’ve been trying to destroy the memory of her?” He let her shoulders go. “I can’t pretend I want to know her—even for you.”

  She looked at him helplessly. “And I just can’t leave her.”

  “I know. It’s not your way.” He pushed the button again. “We both have to do what we have to.”

  Her eyes filled with regret. “It was a beautiful day.”

  The elevator doors opened. He stepped inside. “At least I’ve got my puzzle to keep me company.”

  Jackie smiled weakly as she watched the doors close.

  ***

  Jackie schooled her features as she approached Bertha. She didn’t want to reveal the mixed feelings she had toward a woman who had caused Clay so much pain. “I guess you’ll be staying with me.”

  “I’m not surprised, really,” Bertha said. “That one always did have a wicked temper.”

  “You came as a shock. He has to get used to you.” Jackie walked to her car and opened the trunk. When she picked up the suitcase, she nearly toppled over. “What do you have in here?”

  “A few bits and bobs.”

  Jackie slammed the trunk shut, then muttered, “I think you mean rocks and boulders.”

  Once they reached Jackie’s place, Bertha quickly made herself at home. She dumped her suitcase and the various items inside all over the living room. She refused the offer of a quick snack of beans on toast, lit a cigarette on the stove, then stretched out on the couch as though she were lady of the manor. “Nice place.” She glanced around the living room. “Bit odd, but it suits you.”

  “Thanks,” Jackie said warily, stunned at how quickly her small place had been taken over by a seemingly harmless-looking woman of more than sixty. “I only have one room.”

  “Never mind, love. I’ll just stay here on the couch till I sort things out.”

  “Right.” She nodded uncertain. Knowing Clay, that could take a while.

  Bertha dragged on her cigarette, then tapped the ashes into a saucer, Jackie had put out for her on the coffee table. “I will sort them out. Don’t you worry yourself.”

  Oh, but Jackie would worry. A lot. She opened a window to keep her place from smelling like the inside of a bar. “Perhaps in a week he’ll calm down and you’ll get a chance to talk to him.”

  “Yeah, perhaps,” Bertha said with little concern. “Mind if I turn on the telly?”

  Why ask? You’d do it anyway. “Oh, no. Go ahead.”

  Toward evening, Bertha had gone through a pack of cigarettes and nearly all the contents in Jackie’s fridge. Jackie could see how she could inspire Clay’s resentment. Though not maliciously so, she was completely self-absorbed. Bertha was an attractive woman now and must have been a striking beauty in her youth; she was used to the attention that attribute had given her. She seemed the type of woman who would have no use for children, only adding to the mystery of why she’d had them in the first place. However, she was Clay’s mother and Jackie found it difficult to think of throwing her out. The only way to get rid of her was to reconcile the two.

  “Why did you come?” Jackie asked her as she cleared the dinner dishes. “What do you want?”

  Bertha lit another cigarette from the stub of the last. “A second chance, like I told him.”

  “I don’t believe you and neither will Clay.”

  She smoked in silence for a few moments, then said, “Well, as I’ve gotten older I’ve begun to look back on my life and . . . Wh
y are you shaking your head?”

  Jackie sat in front of her. “That won’t work either. Try the truth.”

  Her lovely features soon looked defeated. “You want the truth, love? The truth is, I’m bloody lonely. My last chap ran off. I have no other family left except Clarence—Clay.” She frowned. “I can’t get used to that name. Clay. Imagine having a nickname that reminds you of dirt when you have a good and proper name like’ Clarence.”

  “You’ve left the subject,” Jackie said.

  Bertha thought for a moment. “Oh, yes. I don’t want to die alone.” She set the cigarette down and gazed in the distance. “So I want to set things right.” She rested her arms on the table. “I remember when me and his father split up,” Bertha said. “Clarence—Clay--and his sister clung to each other and wept. I’ll never forget his little face in the window, he was such a pretty boy with eyes that took up his whole face. Nearly broke my heart seeing him crying as he pounded on the window while I drove away. I didn’t visit him. I didn’t think I needed to. A boy needed his father and he had a good one.” She lifted the cigarette and took a long drag. “Oscar was a bore, but a decent bloke. Have you met his father?”

  “Yes, he seems like a nice guy.”

  “Dull as dishwater. You’re probably wondering why I married him then. Well, here’s a nice piece of advice. Never marry a man just because the sex is great. You can’t spend all day in bed.” She flashed a smile that echoed her son’s. “Trust me. I’ve tried.”

  “So you didn’t see Clay because he was with his father?”

  “Yeah. Oscar was well off. When he married that posh tart of his, I thought, ‘Now he’s got a mother. Why would he ever need me when he had her?’”

  “Did you really send him away when he came to you?”

  “Yeah.” She grimaced. “God, I didn’t know he was only sixteen. The years can just fly by you know and I’d gone on with my life. Sure he was skinny, but so tall and had the same gritty voice he has now. I thought he was a grown man. ‘Sides, I didn’t know what to do with him and my current bloke didn’t take to him. It was a mistake. I know that. But he’s never given me a chance to apologize.”

  “Did you really try?”

  Bertha grinned ruefully. “You have such a cute, innocent face, but I can’t fool you, can I?”

  Jackie shrugged. “You can try, but it’s a waste of time.”

  “Truth is, I was a selfish cow. It’s the guilt that’s got to me now After Rennie’s death, I disconnected from life for awhile. I shouldn’t have been surprised with her death. I knew her recklessness would lead to a tragic end. She never listened to any bit of sense and didn’t have any of her own, but it didn’t make her death any less painful. You’d think her funeral would have brought Clarence—I mean, Clay—and me closer together. It didn’t, though.” She stared at her cigarette. “I think a part of him blames me.” She shrugged. “And perhaps the fault is mine for not guiding her more. But I did my best and that’s all a mum can do, isn’t it?” She inhaled, then exhaled. “I like my men. I admit that, but our Rennie chose the worse of the lot. The type of man you’d scrape off the bottom of your shoe is the kind she’d fall for. Every time. Without fail. I couldn’t understand it. I didn’t understand her.”

  She shifted back in her chair and adjusted her shoulders as though trying to rid herself of the weight of the past. “So what’s with you and Clay?”

  “Most of the time, I don’t know.”

  She waved her cigarette in understanding. “He’s a tricky one, he is. Even as a baby, he was an odd little thing. Almost never cried. Even if I forgot to feed him, I’d just find him in his cot munching on his fist.”

  Jackie only nodded, wondering how a mother could casually mention forgetting to feed her baby.

  “So what does he do?”

  “He’s a private investigator.”

  She tapped the cigarette ashes. “Successful?”

  “I’d say so.”

  “That’s good. He’s not quite bright, but he works hard.”

  Jackie stiffened, taking offense. “I think he’s very smart.”

  “Fortunately, his looks save him. Thank God for that. Imagine having a son who’s ugly and stupid.”

  “He is not stupid. He’s one of the most intelligent men I know.”

  Bertha grinned. “Love him, do ya?”

  Jackie ignored the question. “Actually, he’s helping me with a case right now.” She hesitated, then said, “We, um, we met Prince again.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Prince? Am I supposed to know him?”

  “Yes, the man Rennie married.”

  She sniffed. “You call that a marriage? Running about half naked with leaves on your head and picking passages out of the Bible? Besides, a man that needs more than one wife is making up for something. Most men fool themselves into thinking they can satisfy one woman, let alone four. She wasn’t a wife.”

  “It was real to her.”

  She shook her head, amazed. “Prince,” she said with disgust. “Bet you he calls his willy ‘Sir’ or something equally daft.” She dragged on the cigarette, her face becoming pensive. “I don’t remember seeing him at the funeral. But I don’t remember much then. I’d had a couple of drinks to get me through it.”

  “He’s the leader of the Careless Rapture Ministry. We’re trying to shut him down.”

  “Why try? Rennie failed.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Rennie failed? Bertha’s statement echoed in Jackie’s mind an hour later. Clay never mentioned that Rennie may have tried to defeat Emmerick. Had he not known or just failed to mention it to her? And if he hadn’t known, how would Bertha have gotten that impression? Had Rennie contacted her during the time she was with Emmerick? Was there much more to her death than anyone realized?

  Someone knocked, interrupting her disturbing thoughts. Jackie raced to the door, thankful for the break from Bertha.

  Cassie smiled. “Hi.”

  She hugged her. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “I’m just stopping by.”

  “Please, come in,” she said in a low voice, “I need your help.”

  “Why?’ Cassie asked as Jackie hastily pulled her inside. She closed the door and nodded at the woman sitting on the couch. “Clay’s mother is here.”

  Cassie blinked, then laughed. “Funny. It sounded like you said Clay’s mother is here.”

  “I did.”

  “What?”

  “He was going to leave her wandering around D.C. because he dislikes her and I couldn’t let him do that, but I can’t keep her here indefinitely. I don’t know what to do.”

  Cassie patted her hand. “Calm down. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Jackie walked farther into the apartment. “Bertha, this is my sister-in-law, Cassie. Clay’s half-sister.”

  Bertha stood and shook her hand. “Yes, I can tell. You both have your father’s forehead.”

  “Oh, thank you,” Cassie said, without taking offense. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ll be right back. Excuse me.” She went to the bathroom.

  Bertha pulled Jackie aside and whispered, “She’s a big girl, ain’t she?”

  Jackie’s eyes flashed. “She’s pregnant.”

  “Thank goodness for that. 1 thought she was one of those fatties you see waddling down the pavement. You Americans like to eat. I saw one woman so large I don’t know how she fits in the toilet.” She waved her cigarette. “I’m not sure she’ll lose all the weight once the baby’s born, though. Shame, she has such a pretty face.”

  “Her husband thinks she’s beautiful and so do I.”

  “Oh, she has a husband, does she? That’s a surprise. So many women don’t nowadays. Do you think he’ll stick around?”

  “He’s my brother.”

  Bertha took a long drag and squinted her eyes. “Is that supposed to be an answer?”

  Jackie counted to ten. She was trying hard not to dislike her, but Bertha was making that difficult. When Cassie
returned, Jackie led her away before she could get into a conversation with Bertha. She took her to the bedroom, closed the door, and leaned against it. “Well?”

  Cassie sat on the bed. “I can’t believe that’s Clay’s mother.” She shook her head, amazed. “Wow. Dad’s taste sure did change,” she said, thinking of her own more refined mother.

  “Your tastes would change, too, if you’d married her.”

  “How did this happen? How did she end up here with you?”

  “It’s complicated,” Jackie said, not wanting to mention her relationship with Clay just yet. “The question is what should I do with her now?”

  Cassie grinned mischievously. “I could call Dad and tell him his ex-wife is in town.” She rubbed her hands evilly. “Oh, wouldn’t Mom love that?”

  “Do you think you could persuade him to talk to her?”

  “Sure, Dad would talk to her and—”

  Jackie shook her head. “No, I mean Clay.”

  She grimaced. “I don’t know. Getting Clay to do something he doesn’t want to is nearly impossible.”

  Jackie clasped her hands together as though in prayer. “Please try. You’re his sister.”

  “His little sister. How often does Drake listen to you?”

  Jackie sat down beside her. “I know, but you have to try.”

  “All right. I will.” She opened her bag. “Before I forget.” She handed her a box.

  Jackie opened it. A glass angel sat inside among purple tissue paper.

  “Drake’s been worried about you so I thought this may cheer you up, and if you’re happy, he’s happy.”

  “Drake’s worried about me?”

  “Yes, he hasn’t been himself lately and when I finally confronted him he said he was worried about you.” She playfully pinched her arm. “He loves you a lot, you know that.”

  Jackie held the glass figurine in her palm, knowing it had been given to her based on a lie. Drake was worried about Eric, not her. But Cassie wasn’t to know that. Her heart broke that she couldn’t tell Cassie the truth. Not about Eric or Clay. She felt like a fraud, a traitor to their friendship. She set the figurine back in the box. “I can’t accept this.”