Mack looked at Jenna then. "Sounds like Bub to me."
She nodded and drew in a deep breath to slow her racing pulse. Joy was shimmering through her. Byron was all right.
Mack turned to the boy again. "What's your name?"
The boy said nothing, only glared in defiance as he stuffed the flyer back into his pocket.
"Come on. Your name."
The boy gave in and muttered, "Riley."
"Okay, Riley. You get ten thousand dollars if you give us back the cat."
Riley considered, trying hard to look unimpressed, though excitement made his black eyes shine. At last, he nodded. "Okay. Deal."
Mack gestured at Jenna. "This is Jenna. I'm Mack. Why don't you come inside while we put our shoes on?"
Riley's mouth twisted with disdain. "Fuggetaboutit. I don't go inside a stranger's house. I'll wait on the porch."
"Fair enough."
Jenna saved her second thoughts until she and Mack were alone in her bedroom, yanking on their shoes and tying up the laces. "You're not really going to give ten thousand dollars to that boy, are you? He can't be more than ten or eleven years old."
"What? You want me to cheat him?"
"Of course not. But that's a lot of money to just hand to a child."
He finished tying his second shoe. "I assume he's got parents, or someone who looks after him. We can give the money to them—and hurry up. Who knows how long that kid will wait out there?"
Jenna grabbed her purse and Mack grabbed his keys, wallet and checkbook and they hurried out the door.
Riley refused to get into the Lexus. "Get in a stranger's car? You think I'm outta my mind? You follow me, I'll lead you there. I can move pretty fast on my skateboard."
He wasn't exaggerating. He flew down West Broad Street
, his stringy hair blowing out from under his cap, and turned the corner at Hill Street
so swiftly and sharply that Jenna couldn't hold back a gasp.
He kept going, never breaking stride, down steep streets and around tight corners. Mack and Jenna, in the Lexus, did manage to keep up, but came close to losing sight of him more than once when he suddenly spun around a corner and zipped off in another direction.
They ended up on the outskirts of town where small, run-down houses were tucked among the trees. Battered old cars stood on blocks in dirt driveways. And broken toys littered overgrown yards, yards surrounded by rusting chain-link fences.
Riley turned into one of the narrowest driveways, where an aged Day-Glo-green hatchback with a bashed-in driver's door huddled under a listing carport. Mack pulled in behind the green car. Riley was already at the side door of the dilapidated clapboard house, skateboard under his arm, holding open the sagging screen.
Mack and Jenna got out of the car and went to join him.
"You have to be quiet," Riley said. "If the baby's sleeping, my mom won't like you waking her up."
A long wail from the house put an end to that concern.
Riley winced. "Never mind. She's awake."
The boy led them into a small, dingy kitchen, where ancient linoleum, worn through to black in spots, covered the floor, and a yowling baby sat in a high chair, pounding tiny angry fists on the tray. A thin woman with lank dark hair was trying to feed the baby some kind of cereal, but the child kept yowling and spitting out the food.
The woman turned when they entered, her dark eyes first widening in surprise, then quickly narrowing down to slits. "Riley. What's this?"
"They're here for Blackie, Mom," the boy announced. "And they're paying a big reward."
The baby continued to scream.
The woman's eyes narrowed farther. "What reward?"
"Money, Mom. Lots of it." The boy raised his voice to compete with the screams of the baby and the drone of the television that reached them from the open doorway to the next room. He pulled the flyer from the back pocket of his ragged pants and held it out. His mother took it and peered at it doubtfully.
"Ten thousand dollars," Riley said with unmistakable pride. "They're gonna pay us ten thousand dollars for that cat, Mom."
The woman's mouth dropped open. Then she shut it tight. She wadded up the flyer and tossed it on the table.
Shaking her head, she stood. Went to the sink, grabbed a soggy washcloth and returned to gently wipe the screaming baby's mouth. That accomplished, she dropped the washcloth next to the flyer and pulled the baby from the chair. She laid the child over her shoulder and patted her on the back.
"There, there, Lissa, don't you cry. It's okay. It's okay, now…"
The baby let out one more long wail—and then quieted, hiccuping a few times and grabbing on to the woman with tiny pink hands. "Better?" asked the woman tenderly. "You feel better now?"
The baby hiccupped again and the woman patted her back some more, sending a scathing glance first at Mack, then at Jenna. "What is this? Ten thousand dollars for an old stray cat? Who you think you're trying to fool?"
"We're not fooling anyone." Mack's deep voice was flat. "Mrs.…"
"You from Child Welfare, is that it? Some new trick you people are pulling now? Telling crazy lies to an eleven-year-old boy? We are doing the best we can here, mister. We don't need any tricks played on us, you hear?"
Jenna stepped forward then. "Please. I'm Jenna Bravo and this is Mack McGarrity. We are not from Child Welfare. That black cat means a lot to us. We just want him back."
The baby was starting to fuss again. The woman rocked from side to side trying to soothe her. "Honey, honey, it's okay…" She scowled straight at Jenna. "That cat's in the other room. You take it and go."
Riley grabbed his mother's arm. "Mom! We can have the money, can't we? They said they'd pay, Mom. We got a right to the money."
The woman shook him off and went on rocking the baby. "Hush, you're scaring Lissa. No one pays that kind of money for a cat. Just give those folks what they came for and let them go."
"But—"
"Riley Kettleman, I don't want to have to tell you again."
Riley stared at his mother, mutiny in his eyes. But she looked straight back at him over the downy head of the baby girl. The boy was the one who looked away first. His thin shoulders slumped.
He turned to Mack and Jenna. "Come on. He's in here."
Riley led them into a cramped living room, where two other children, a boy and a girl, were sprawled on the threadbare brown carpet, watching cartoons. Byron lay between them. The cat looked up at them and yawned.
Jenna's heart lifted. "Oh. Glad to see us, are you?"
As usual, Byron said nothing.
Riley scooped him up and scratched him behind the ear. "Gonna miss you, Blackie." He handed the cat to Jenna. Byron was purring quite loudly by then. Jenna grinned at the familiar sound.
The girl on the floor, who was probably about six, blinked and tore her gaze away from the images on the television screen. "Hey. They're takin' Blackie?"
"He's theirs," Riley said. "They got the right."
"I love Blackie!" The little girl's eyes filled with tears.
"Don't be a jerk, Tina," Riley instructed. "It's their cat and they're takin' him."
Tina sniffed. "I'm not a jerk. I just don't want Blackie to go away."
"Maybe we'll get another cat," Riley bargained, "like a kitten, or something."
"Did Mom say?"
"I'll talk to her. But right now, just say bye to Blackie."
The little girl stood and buried her face in Byron's sleek coat. Then she turned soulful eyes up to Jenna. "Maybe we could come visit him sometimes?"
Riley didn't give Jenna a chance to answer. "He's their cat, Tina. Mom says we have to turn him over and let them go."
Tina poked at the other boy with her bare foot. "Blackie's leaving."
The boy waved a hand, but kept his eyes glued to the TV screen. "Bye…"
Jenna raised Byron to her shoulder. His steady purr droned in her ear as Riley led them back through the kitchen where the baby sat in the high c
hair again, quiet and contented now as her mother spooned cereal into her mouth. The woman didn't spare them so much as a glance as they went by.
Jenna paused at the door, letting Riley and Mack go out ahead of her. "Mrs. Kettleman?"
The woman granted her a cool look.
"I really appreciate your taking care of my cat."
The woman straightened her shoulders. Her eyes had changed from cold to accusing. "You shouldn't have lied, shouldn't have gotten my boy's hopes up like that. That's maybe the worst thing in the world, hope. It lifts you up and then you end up crashing down."
"It wasn't a lie. Mack is willing to pay the money he offered."
The woman blew out a disgusted breath, then turned back to her baby. She dipped up a spoon of cereal and patiently poked it into Lissa's tiny pink mouth.
Jenna hesitated, thinking she ought to say more. But what? Riley Kettleman's mother had clearly heard enough. She pulled open the door and left the kitchen.
Outside, Mack was leaning against the Lexus, writing a check.
Riley stood a few feet away, his head tipped to the side, watching Mack warily. "My mom said not to take your—"
Mack looked straight into Riley's dark eyes. "Do you want the money or not?"
Riley chewed his lower lip. "I thought it would be cash money. Checks bounce. I know that."
"This one won't."
"Yeah. Right."
"Listen. This check is drawn on a national bank. There's a branch of that bank right here in Meadow Valley. You get your mother to take this check to that branch. They'll cash it for her."
Riley gulped. And then he nodded.
Mack asked, "You think you can get her to take it in and cash it?"
Riley bit his lower lip, considering, then nodded again. "I'll say, what have we got to lose? Either things will still be the same as they are now, or we'll have ten thousand dollars we didn't have before."
"Good thinking." Mack bent to the checkbook again. "Her last name is Kettleman, right?"
"Yeah."
"How do you spell it?"
Slowly Riley spelled the name.
"I need her first name, too."
"Erin. E-r-i-n."
Mack glanced up. "Or maybe I should make it out to your father?"
Riley lifted his head high. "Like that'll do anybody any good. My dad is dead."
* * *
Byron purred all the way home. The sound filled up the quiet car. Jenna petted her cat and felt so grateful to have him back—grateful and sad at the same time.
Sad for Erin Kettleman and her four children. Sad for Erin's husband, who had died and left a struggling family behind. She closed her eyes and said a little prayer that Riley's mother wouldn't tear up Mack's check. That she'd take a chance on hope one more time.
Jenna glanced over at Mack. He was staring straight ahead and didn't see the tender smile she gave him.
She almost spoke, but what was there to say? Some comfortable platitude? Some cliché? That poor woman … those poor children…?
No. Better just to ride in silence, with Byron purring on her lap and Mack in the driver's seat, taking them home.
* * *
Lacey was almost as happy as Jenna to have Byron home again. She hugged him and he allowed her to fuss over him, purring contentedly for her as he did for everyone else.
She scolded him. "Oh, I just felt so terrible, you naughty boy. And here you are, look at you, back home again and none the worse for wear." She beamed up at Jenna. "He looks great."
"He sure does."
Lacey gazed down at the cat again and pretended to scowl. "Don't you ever do that again, you bad boy."
Byron looked up at her, yawned and went on purring.
"We should celebrate," Lacey said.
"Absolutely," Jenna agreed, pleased to see the happy color in her sister's cheeks.
Mack spoke up then. "I'll go out and get some steaks and a couple of bottles of wine."
Jenna volunteered, "I'll come with you."
"No. Stay here with your sister. I won't be long."
Something in his tone bothered her. Something distant, something withdrawn.
"Mack? Are you sure you don't want me to—?"
But he was already on his way down the hall.
Jenna shrugged and let him go. She and Lacey fussed over Byron some more and Jenna told Lacey about the small house on the outskirts of town where Riley Kettleman lived.
Lacey said what Jenna kept thinking. "I just hope that woman takes a chance and cashes that check."
When Mack returned, they opened the wine. They proposed several toasts: to Byron, to Riley, to the mysteries of fate. Later, Jenna stuck three potatoes in the oven to bake and tossed a big green salad. Mack grilled the steaks to medium rare perfection on the old gas grill out in the backyard.
They ate in the dining room, on the good china.
More than once during the evening, Jenna noticed that Mack seemed preoccupied. But the minute she'd catch his eye or ask him a question, his distant expression would vanish. He would smile and answer her warmly. She'd tell herself that she was just imagining that faraway look in his eyes.
Later, when Jenna and Mack retired to her room, they made slow, perfect love, which neither inclement weather nor a knock at the door interrupted. Jenna thought it was the best kind of ending to a very special day. She fell asleep smiling, with Mack's arms around her and Byron purring steadily from the foot of the bed.
Her dreams, however, were disturbing ones.
In one, Riley Kettleman flew down a busy street on his skateboard, sliding in and around large, threatening vehicles. The drivers honked at him, and slammed on their brakes. Some of the drivers even leaned out their windows and shook their fists and swore. Riley ignored them. He rolled on down the street, fearless and fleet as the wind.
The street faded away. And Riley's mother stood in her small, run-down kitchen and tore up Mack's check. The walls of the rickety house fell in and the pieces of the check blew away in the autumn wind.
And then Jenna and Mack drifted by on the white bed. Mist curled around them. They were in that floating, hazy void again. But now they weren't making love. They were just … sitting there, looking at each other. Jenna reached out her hand to him. But some invisible barrier stood between them. She couldn't touch him.
She called to him, her cries getting louder and more frantic as she saw that he didn't hear her. He only sat there, looking at her so sadly, a few inches … and a thousand miles away.
She began to cry.
The tears were trailing down her face, into her hair, as she opened her eyes.
She was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. It was still dark.
Jenna sniffed and swiped at her cheeks, turning to her side where she could see the bedside clock.
"Jenna?" The sound of his voice, so tender and deep.
Her heart twisted. He touched her shoulder. She rolled to her back again and he canted up on an elbow to look down at her. His eyes gleamed at her through the shadows.
"Our last day," she said.
He saw her tears, gently rubbed them away. "Not yet. It's still night."
"It's 3:00 a.m. Technically, it's tomorrow."
White teeth flashed as he smiled. "Just like technically, we're still married."
"Yes, Mack. We are. And we have to talk."
"We will."
"When?"
"After breakfast. Will that do?"
"Okay." She sighed. "I had bad dreams. I couldn't reach you. You were right there … but I couldn't touch you. And that boy, Riley—"
"Shh." He turned her on her side again, pulled her in against him, so that they lay spoon fashion, his body cradling hers.
"Do you think they'll be all right? That boy. His mother … the other three children?"
He smoothed her hair away from her cheek and brushed a kiss against her ear. "Go to sleep, Jenna. Just go to sleep."
"Oh, Mack. Why is the world so cruel?"
> He kissed her again. But he didn't answer.
"Mack? Whatever happens, I want you to know that this has been the best two weeks of my life."
He chuckled then. "Right. We went to a funeral in Long Beach. Bub ran away and your sister broke her foot."
"We met Alec and Lois. And my sister is going to be okay, and Byron is home again now. And I think we did something really important. I think we … found out why we got married in the first place. We found out that there was love between us, that it never really died. Now, no matter what, when I think of you, I'll think of the good things."
"So," he whispered softly. "No regrets?"
For some reason she chose not to examine, tears filled her eyes again. She blinked them way. "Absolutely none."
"Good. Now go back to sleep."
He pulled her closer. Byron tiptoed from the foot of the bed to stretch out beside them.
It wasn't long at all before sleep came to claim her again.
* * *
Chapter 16
« ^ »
They woke together, with the dawn. In the kitchen they moved about quietly, brewing coffee, poaching eggs, buttering toast. Lacey didn't call to them from behind the louvered doors, so it was just the two of them at the table, with Byron sitting on the little rag rug in the corner, purring and giving himself a thorough morning bath.
"Let's get out of the house," Jenna said once they'd scraped the plates and put them in the dishwasher. "Away from the possibility that the phone will ring or someone will knock on the door."
"All right."
Outside, the air was brisk and the wind had a bite to it. Mack wore his leather jacket and Jenna had pulled on her old red plaid mackinaw coat. They got in the Lexus.
Mack asked, "Where to?"
"How about where we had our picnic yesterday? I don't think anyone will bother us there."
* * *
Mack parked the car in the same place that they'd left it the day before. They got out and he went around to the trunk for the blue-and-red quilt.
He tossed the quilt over his shoulder. "Let's go."
They started into the trees.
It was much cooler in the little glen at the crest of the hill than it had been the day before. But since they both had their jackets, it was bearable. They spread the quilt and Jenna found four smooth rocks to hold the corners down. Then she sat, tucking her legs to the side and shivering a little as the chilly wind found its way under the warm wool of her mackinaw.
THE MILLIONAIRE SHE MARRIED Page 16
