Jaded

by Tess Thompson

  She’d raised the hush payment to a million dollars.

  Zane laughed, mirthless and dry. “I’d rather crawl across hot coals than take money from you.” He picked up the check from the table and tore it in half. On his feet, he looked down at the pathetic woman who had given him life. “You don’t need to worry about me identifying you as my mother. I’d be too ashamed to claim you. You can rot in hell.”

  He walked out of the restaurant, head held high. I am Hugh Shaw’s son.

  Zane was just boarding his flight home when he received a text from Kyle.

  I picked up the ring this morning. Left it with Sophie at your place. Good luck! I hope she says yes.

  He called Honor and asked her to have the bodyguard escort her to his apartment. The proposal had to be done there. The moment Honor left the house, Lavonne would carry out Zane’s instructions about the proposal. He and Jubie were both in on the plan. He’d had to promise Jubie that they would come back to the house after it was over.

  Champagne was on ice when Honor arrived.

  “What’s all this?” she asked.

  He took her hand and led her to the couch. “I’m in the mood to celebrate. Meeting her was something I had to do and now it’s done. I’m letting it all go.”

  “How was it?”

  He smiled. “It was about as bad as you can get. She was awful.” He told her of the meeting in as much detail as he could remember, ending with the offer of money.

  By the end of his story, Honor’s cheeks had flushed an angry pink. “She offered you money for silence?”

  “Five hundred thousand,” he said. “When it didn’t seem like I was interested, she pulled out her checkbook and offered a million. I politely turned her down.”

  She laughed. “I know you were not polite. Tell me what you said.” She accepted the glass of champagne he held out to her.

  “I told her to stick it, basically.” He told her exactly what he’d said.

  “I didn’t think it would go that way,” she said.

  “I wasn’t sure. But I’m glad I know now.”

  “Do you think your dad would’ve wanted you to take the money?” she asked.

  “I think he thought he wanted that, since he said that in the letter. But the way it went down, he would have told her the same thing.”

  “I make a lot of money,” she said. “We don’t have to worry about finances. You know that, right?”

  “I do know that. But I’m also a man, so you can be sure I’ll be doing my best to make as much money as you. Without my dad’s memory care costs, it gives me a chance.”

  “Plus, the brewery will quickly turn a profit,” she said.

  The box with the diamond ring in his pocket felt like it was on fire. He held up his glass. “I propose a toast. To us. Team Scrappy.”

  They both took a drink from the bubbly. She was so pretty in her sundress and her shiny hair. He stood and offered his hand. “Come here for a minute. So, you know how I was stalking your house with the telescope.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t stalking if the person you’re watching wants to be watched.”

  “That sounded dirty.”

  “Don’t get me all worked up,” she said.

  “Come on. I want to show you the view from the telescope. Just for fun.”

  “I know what my own house looks like,” she said.

  “Humor me.”

  He nudged her over to the window. “Now look right into the lens and tell me what you see.”

  “Oh my God. Zane!” The telescope looked directly into her driveway. A giant sign hung from the garage.

  HONOR, WILL YOU MARRY ME?

  Under the words were two boxes, both marked yes. No margin of error.

  She stepped away from the telescope, beaming at him. “Do I have to mark the box or can I say yes right now?”

  “Here’s just fine.” He dropped to one knee in front of her and opened the small box in his hands. “Honor Sullivan, you’re the finest woman I’ve ever known. I’ll never be good enough for you, but I’ll spend my life trying. Will you be my wife?”

  “Yes, yes. I’ll be your wife.” He slipped the ring on her finger.

  "Is it all right? Do you like the cut of it?” he asked.

  “It’s perfect, but so expensive.”

  “Nothing is too expensive for you.”

  “I don’t care about the ring. I just want you.”

  “I care about the ring,” he said. “It sets the tone for everything. It’s my promise to you that I’ll always try and give you the best.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “It’s happening. I’m marrying the smartest girl in the world.”

  She smiled up at him. “I’m so stupidly happy right now.”

  “Me too.” He led her back to the couch. “Let’s have some more champagne and take a photo to send to the gang of you and your ring.”

  “I suppose everyone already knew this was happening?”

  “Yep. We’re the Dogs after all. Nothing remains quiet for long.”

  The next evening, Jackson texted him.

  I need to see you right away. Urgent but nothing to worry over. Meet me on our bench. I’ll bring the IPAs.

  They hadn’t met for a talk on “their” bench in a while. Whatever the reason, he was more than happy to spend time with his best friend. He had a lot to tell him.

  All that was forgotten when Jackson told him the reason for the meeting.

  They sat on the bench that overlooked the beach. A crispness had crept into the evenings as autumn approached. Maggie and Jackson’s wedding was only a month away. Be in one another’s photos.

  “What’s going on?” Zane asked.

  Jackson stuck his hands into the pockets of his khakis and stared out to the sea. “It’s about Honor.”

  “Shoot.”

  “There was something about her cancer that didn’t make sense to me. I used some of Dad’s medical contacts to do some digging.”

  The word cancer constricted Zane’s throat. “Digging? About what?”

  “About Honor’s cancer diagnosis.”

  Zane unzipped his sweatshirt, suddenly warm. “What about it?”

  “It’s extremely rare for someone that young to have ovarian cancer. It’s possible, of course, but unlikely. Sometimes people are misdiagnosed. That’s also rare, but not impossible, especially for those who can’t afford a second opinion.”

  “Like Honor.”

  “Right. As you know, the doctor who diagnosed her—Doctor Frank Norton—volunteered to do the surgery for free. This is also rare. Which equals three rarities. For me, that was at least two too many.”

  Where was he going with this?

  “I hired the private detective who found Flora’s son to do a little snooping,” Jackson said. “I’ll save you the sleuthing details and get right to the point. Doctor Norton ran a nonprofit clinic in a town in Tennessee that treated the uninsured. He looks like a great guy on paper.”

  “Honor said he was her angel.”

  “Right, yes. However, recently a group of former patients have come forward, accusing him of harvesting their kidneys for profit. It took the authorities a while to figure out how he did it, but the belief is that only about half of his patients were legitimate. The others were falsely diagnosed with an ailment that needed an exploratory surgery to discover if it was cancerous or needed to be removed or whatever. While under, he took one of their healthy kidneys and sold it on the black market for profit. A healthy kidney is sold for over a hundred thousand a pop, so this is a lucrative business. When the patients woke up, he informed them that one of their kidneys had been cancerous and had to be removed, but luckily, they caught it in time. No chemo would be necessary, and they could go merrily on their way after they healed. These were lies, obviously. The poor and uninsured were perfect targets.”

  Zane’s mind had raced ahead. He knew what was coming next.r />
  “I believe that Gorham had Norton falsely diagnose Honor so that he could rob her of her ability to have children. It was a sick revenge, but one he could do from jail.”

  Bile rose to the back of Zane’s throat. Honor had never been sick. They’d just taken the part of her that would ever give her a family. “Oh, God. Jackson.”

  “I know, buddy. Take a deep breath.” Jackson placed his hand on his shoulder.

  “But how did Gorham do this? How did they know Honor would go to Norton?” Zane asked.

  “I’m not sure. We’d have to ask Honor, but something led her to his clinic. All I know is that it wasn’t an accident.”

  “This is going to devastate her.”

  “She deserves justice for what he did,” Jackson said. “I thought it should be you who told her.”

  Without question, he would tell her. How to tell her was the question.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Honor

  * * *

  AFTER JUBIE WAS SOUND ASLEEP in her bed, Honor and Zane opened a bottle of wine and went into the living room to relax. The three of them had gone to The Oar for dinner—a first visit for Jubie. She was perfectly impressed that her “King” owned a restaurant and that she could have anything off the menu for free. Sophie had made a fuss over Jubie, even taking her back to the kitchen to show her how King’s cooks made such good food. Throughout the evening, Zane was quiet, as if something troubled him. She assumed he was mourning Hugh. For her, with everything going on, she could forget for periods of time, but then it would return, flooding her with grief.

  “I have something to tell you. I’ve been waiting until I thought you were strong enough.”

  “Zane, what is it? Are you sick?” Her heart fluttered. The fierce glitter of his eyes scared her to the core.

  “No, I’m fine. Everyone’s fine. It’s about your cancer. Because you were so young, Jackson felt skeptical about your diagnosis. He did some digging and discovered a connection to Doctor Gorham and Doctor Norton. Long story short, you were never sick. Doctor Norton was fraternity brothers with Gorham. They set you up. Everything was a lie. There was no cancer. You didn’t need surgery or chemo. You were a perfectly healthy eighteen-year-old girl.”

  Her stomach fell to the floor, emptying her insides. Ice rushed through her veins. “No, that’s not right. I was sick. It was stage four cancer. Everything had to be removed.” She gulped from her glass. “This wine is good. Was this in my cellar?”

  Zane flinched and moved closer to her. “Sweetheart, you have to listen to what I’m saying. It was a lie, sweetheart. To make sure you never got the family you wanted.”

  A high-pitched laugh rocketed from her twisted guts into the room. “This isn’t funny. Why would you make something like this up?”

  “It’s true. Norton was harvesting organs. His clinic was a fake.”

  The room tilted. Her fingers tingled with a thousand electric shocks. The glass in her hand shook so violently that she spilled wine on her jeans. Zane took it from her and set it on the table.

  “It would be impossible for this to happen. Doctor Norton is one of the good guys.” She scrubbed the stain on her jeans with the palm of her hand. “Jackson has it wrong.”

  “Doctor Norton harvested organs and sold them on the black market.”

  The mole between her thumb and index finger seemed larger than before. Had it grown? Zane’s voice sounded far away, like she had plugs in her ears.

  “He sold my uterus?” The same hysterical laughter burst from her. “People can’t buy uteruses. Or is it uteri?”

  “No, he didn’t sell your organs. Others. Your diagnosis was a favor to his friend. Gorham wanted to make you infertile,” Zane said.

  “Revenge? He did it for revenge?”

  “Yes. That’s our theory anyway.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Jackson followed up with the authorities down there. About fifty percent of patients were exploited for their kidneys. They didn’t catch yours because it was different that the others. The rest of them were all kidney cancer.”

  “Only they weren’t cancerous.”

  “Right. Fake diagnosis.”

  Her body convulsed. She had not been sick. He took it all from her for no reason other than to make her pay.

  She covered her mouth, afraid she would be sick. Black spots danced before her eyes. The room dimmed.

  “Baby, I’m so sorry.” Zane took her into his arms. He murmured condolences in her ear and smoothed her hair. But none of it penetrated the frigid cold or the darkness that blocked her vision.

  “He took everything from me. All of it.”

  Heat flushed through her. It singed her cheeks. “I want him dead.”

  “He’ll be in prison for life, baby. His life is worse than death.”

  “I could have given you a baby.” The reality of what he’d done swelled inside her like a tidal wave of pain and grief until she howled like the baby she would never have.

  Two days later, Honor woke from a deep sleep to a quiet house. She had dreamt of her mother again. They were back in their rundown trailer, only Honor was the same age as her mother. Jubie was there too, asking for a cookie. Honor watched the ceiling fan and thought about the dream. It meant nothing, other than her latent fears of repeating her mother’s mistakes. Her mom had let life defeat her. She’d been knocked down so many times that she could not rise. But she was not her mother’s daughter. Honor Sullivan was no victim.

  Here’s the thing she knew. When a blow knocks you to your knees, a girl can’t sit around and wallow. She’d been down before and had risen. Life had tried to take her out more times than she could count. One more blow wasn’t going to do it. Honor Sullivan was a fighter. Sure, right this second, she wanted to curl up under the blanket and let the ceiling fan lull her into a semi-conscious state. However, she would not. There was a little girl who needed breakfast and a contract to negotiate for Brody and friends to join for a wedding dress fitting. For centuries women had endured tragedies and continued even when their hearts had turned to granite inside their chests.

  All this time she’d told herself that despite cancer, she had survived. Now she knew it was not cancer that she survived but another attempt to demolish her spirit. This would not happen. Ever.

  Zane had suggested a sleeping pill last night and she’d agreed. She felt rested, and surprisingly, no longer in a fog of shock.

  Zane had left a note on the side table. “Gone surfing.”

  She threw back the covers and went down the hall to see if Jubie was awake. Her bed was empty. Honor went downstairs and found Jubie in the living room curled up on the couch with her bear and a book.

  “Good morning, Princess.”

  Jubie looked up from her book and flashed Honor a smile. “Good morning.” Her hair stuck up in the back and marks from sheets were pressed into the side of her face. She hadn’t been up long.

  They went into the kitchen and discussed what to have for breakfast. She’d just put the bacon in the oven when Zane came in from the patio. He must have hung his wetsuit on the patio to dry because he wore sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt. Dried salt water had stiffened his hair and he smelled of sea and air and sweat.

  He leapt across the floor and around the counter to kiss Honor on the cheek. “Good morning, beautiful.”

  She smiled and answered the unspoken question in his eyes. I’m okay. It’s going to be okay.

  He nodded and pecked her mouth before turning to Jubie. “And what do we have here? A kitchen elf?”

  “No. I’m a princess.”

  “Ah, yes, right you are.” He lifted Jubie onto the counter. “Good morning, Princess Jubie.”

  “Good morning.” Jubie stuck her nose up in the air and sniffed. “You stink.”

  “How rude,” Zane said, ruffling her hair. “But I’ll take a shower if I’m so offensive.”

  “Please do,” Jubie said.

  “Maybe I should tickle you instea
d.” Zane wriggled his fingers just under Jubie’s arms.

  “No.” Jubie squealed and then broke into uncontrolled giggles.

  Honor looked out to the patio. Her orange tree glistened in the morning light. Above, the sky was a soft blue. A flock of sparrows sang from an unseen tree to mingle with Jubie’s giggles and Zane’s laughter. The room filled with the strawberry scent of Jubie’s hair, Zane’s ripe odor, and the smell of crisping bacon. A bouquet of orange roses sat in the middle of her kitchen table. So, this was the reason. This moment right here. She’d designed her kitchen for a family. When it could have been an elegant bistro table, she’d chosen the eight-foot farm table with a bench on one side. Her cooktop had six burners instead of four. She had a double oven and an enormous refrigerator installed for this exact moment. This was the life she’d wanted since she was a little girl. A family of her own. It didn’t matter where they’d come from, only that they were here.

  Had her fervent wishes brought them to her? Who knew how these things worked? Not her. Did destiny determine what was to be or not to be? All she knew is that life was mysterious and the inner workings of God unknown for now. Perhaps later, when she was at the end of her life, she could understand the purpose of events, how this led to that, how suffering brought ultimate joy. For now, she would lean into the mystery and accept what is, not what was taken from her.

  “You need to turn the bacon,” Zane said.

  She jumped, startled from her thoughts. Two sets of eyes watched her from across the counter. Clearly, bacon was serious business. “I’ve got this. Bacon cannot defeat Queen Honor.”

  “Phew,” said Jubie. “Because I’m so hungry for bacon.”

  “Me too,” Zane said.

  As she turned the bacon piece by piece, she smiled to herself. This is my family. I am alive.

  Around five that afternoon, she met the girls at Kara and Brody’s house for Maggie’s final wedding dress fitting. There was no dress shop in town, so Maggie had bought the dress in San Francisco and hired a local seamstress, Helga, to do the alterations. Violet and the seamstress were already there when Honor arrived. Kara explained that Maggie was changing into her dress but would be out shortly.