“Yes, I can hold.” Barry didn’t even complete the sentence. He began listening to canned hold music before the first word completely left his lips.
A few more heartbeats passed after which a new voice came on the line and asked, “Is this Jacqueline Anderson’s husband?”
Barry paused before affirming, “Yes, this is Mr. Anderson.”
The voice went into a kind of rehearsed speech mode. “Mr. Anderson, there’s been an accident. Your wife sustained very serious injuries and was rushed here less than an hour ago. We’ve been treating her to the extent that we can within the limits of the law.”
Barry suddenly realized how serious this conversation was. Out of all the conversations of his life on earth, this one might end up ranking in the top two, second only to when he had asked Jesus Christ to become the Lord and Master of his life as a youth.
The hospital representative continued to explain, “Your friend, Charles Mason, is here but can’t legally sign the consent forms.”
Barry thought, Charles Mason? As in the married man I strongly suspect impregnated my wife, Charles Mason? That Charles Mason? Why exactly would THAT Charles Mason be at the trauma center in the Berkshires?
Then an absolutely terrifying thought struck him and he blurted, “Is the baby okay?” He ignored the widening of Elizabeth’s eyes and the sound of her gasp.
The voice kept talking. “Mr. Anderson, you’re an attorney. You know I can’t speak to that on the phone. We need you to get here as soon as possible so we can advise you as to the prognosis. Could you please allow me to record the remainder of our conversation while you grant me verbal consent to continue treatment?”
Again he heard his own voice, but he had no idea how he was speaking. “Please proceed. Whatever you need.”
With the receiver of his desk telephone pressed into his ear by his massive shoulder, he listened to the questions and answered them. He wished he were on his cell phone so that he could start moving right now. He stated his full name as “Bartholomew James Anderson,” and said, “I’m her husband,” then he impatiently said, “Yes, I agree,” three times. He leaned down, and years of habit made him pack his laptop and some paperwork into his briefcase before he shouldered it. Before hanging up, he said, “I’m on my way.”
He caught Elizabeth’s eye as he stalked out of his office, headed toward the elevators that would take him to the parking garage. Over his shoulder, he ordered, “Cancel the rest of my week.”
THEY sat amongst the debris of the party. A few members of the staff set about removing furnishings and cleaning the room. They studiously avoided the little group stubbornly claiming the head table because the owner of the Viscolli Boston, Tony Viscolli, had arrived to retrieve Robin, his wife.
He sat with her feet in his lap, gently rubbing her arches. Maxine had her head back, reclining as best she could in the cloth-covered banquet chair. Sarah sat next to her, phone in hand, texting someone.
“You two did an amazing job. What a wonderful gift,” Robin said.
“Speaking of,” Maxine said, rolling her head on her shoulders, “what do you want to do with the presents people brought despite our request not to?”
Robin sighed. “I guess we need to open them. There are just so many, though.”
Maxine’s phone vibrated next to her elbow. Recognizing Barry’s number, she snatched up the phone. “Barry, hi. If you’re looking for Jacqui, she isn’t here. Did you get my texts?”
Barry was silent for a few breaths. “I know where she is, Maxi. Is Tony with you? I’ve been trying to get him for the last hour.”
Something was wrong. She could hear it in his voice. Wanting to ask, but feeling it wasn’t her place, she held the phone out to her brother-in-law. “Tony? It’s Barry. He says he’s been trying to reach you.”
Tony patted his jacket then shook his head. “I left my phone in the car.”
Robin smiled. “Miracle of miracles.”
Picking up her hand, he gently kissed her knuckles. “I’m here with you, cara. What call would I want to take?” He smiled at her blush and took Maxine’s phone. “Barry, mi fratello.”
Maxine watched Tony’s face fall as he sat straighter in his chair.
“Come tragica! Where are you right now?” Tony asked as he bolted to his feet. Maxine found herself standing with Tony. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He held the phone out to her and she saw his hand tremble as she retrieved it. “There’s been an accident. Jacqui’s dead.”
Simultaneously, Maxine exclaimed, “What?” as Sarah repeated, “Dead?” and Robin gasped, “When?”
Tony leaned down and kissed Robin’s forehead. “I don’t have all the details and I don’t know when I’ll be home. I’ll call you as soon as I get there.”
“Don’t worry about me.” She looked at Maxine. “Can you take me home?”
“Of course.” Maxine assured. “Or you can stay with me here. Sarah and I have a suite upstairs. I’ll sleep on the couch and you can take one of the beds.”
Derrick quietly asked, “Should I come, too?”
Tony considered, then said, “Better if it’s just me for now. But I’ll let him know you asked about him.” By way of answer, Derrick offered a single nod of understanding.
A well of panic bubbled up in Maxine’s chest as she watched Tony march away. “Tony, wait!” He stopped and pivoted on his heel, a questioning eyebrow raised at the distraction.
Maxine rushed toward him. “Tell Barry…” She paused and felt her throat burn with tears. “Tell him to call me if he needs anything.”
Tony cocked his head and his brown eyes searched her face before he answered, “I’ll be sure to tell him, Maxine.”
“Thank you.” Maxine felt her cheeks burn with unidentified embarrassment as she slowly turned back toward her group. “I left my room key with the front desk so that I wouldn’t have to keep up with it all night. I’ll go get it.”
Robin maneuvered herself to a standing position, rubbing her large belly. “I hate that our evening ended with such tragic news.”
Sarah put one arm around Robin’s back and with her other hand, rubbed Robin’s stomach. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. I have some time yet.” She patted Sarah’s arm. “Just us three girls. Kind of like old times, huh?”
CHAPTER 4
THE engine of the tiny green sports car hummed in perfect tune and all four tires left the pavement as it crested the hill. The tires chirped as the empty street, slick and glistening from a recent downpour, reached up and welcomed the vehicle back to earth. Maxine managed to continue accelerating, watching the speedometer climb as the clock on the dash remorselessly ticked away precious seconds.
The headlights cut through a sudden mist and spotlighted an unforeseen puddle less than a second before all four tires plowed through it, sending an almost artistic rooster-tail spray high into the air that Maxine could see in her rearview window. The engine whirred as she shifted gears and turned the wheels hard. A little bit of a fishtail sent her heart pounding. She regained control, straightened the car, and punched it.
Harsh music blared out of the speakers, a modern staccato rock beat with heavy emphasis on the bass. The music felt exciting, dangerous, thrilling. Maxine stabbed the knob to increase the volume even further as the swift car continued to whip down the interstate ramp. After what seemed like forever but was actually mere minutes, the suburban exit appeared. Maxine hit the blinker to announce her intention to take that exit, then whipped into the left lane to pass three more cars before careening back to the right, barely missing the bumper of the car she just cut off as she downshifted in an attempt to slow down the little green bullet.
Barely pausing at the red light at the end of the exit, she made a quick right, a succession of a few turns into the heart of suburbia, and finally wheeled onto the street where she would find the big white church with the tall black steeple.
She forced herself to slow down. Nothing could be gained by the sound of
screeching tires penetrating the walls of the building. She parked her car, double-parked it, technically, at the end of the parking lot and grabbed her little black purse that perfectly matched her sedate and stylish black suit. A quick check of her lipstick and she could go.
Few women could get away with that shade of red lipstick. Maxine considered herself one of the lucky few. Her straight black hair and olive skin, both traits inherited from her father, made the lipstick a perfect shade for her. She bared her teeth to the mirror to make sure no lipstick marks marred the white surfaces, then slipped out of the car.
The two sets of double-doors at the top of the stone steps were shut tight and no one remained outside the church. The December sky, pregnant with ominous looking gray clouds, silently spit out a few flakes of snow and Maxine shivered. Before quietly shutting the car door with her hip, she bent and reached inside and grabbed her long black trench coat and threw it over her shoulders as she dashed up the stairs.
She silently opened the giant wooden church door just wide enough to squeeze inside, and found herself standing in a huge vestibule with ceilings at least three stories high. Corridors branched off in either direction, with rest rooms on either side of the massive lobby. A large tripod supporting a poster sized framed head-shot dominated the middle of the room. Maxine walked up to it and bit her lip to keep herself from snarling.
Jacqueline Mayfield Anderson’s long, wavy red hair, her porcelain smooth skin, and her glowing blue eyes all mingled together to create a classically beautiful woman. The artist in Maxine allowed herself to admire Jacqueline’s bone structure and cream cheese exterior.
Her personal knowledge of Jacqueline’s character, however, identified a true wolf in sheep’s clothing. Maxine hesitated to speak or even think uncharitably about the dead but she also considered herself a realist. Her own mother had been murdered when Maxine was very young, and Maxine never minced words about the kind of woman she had been in life.
In life, Maxine had never, ever liked Jacqueline. In fact, she sometimes imagined some kind of slimy wormlike alien had inhabited Jacqueline’s insides, feeding itself on her rudeness, carnality, and avarice. So unlike, she thought, the Spirit whose fruits include such things as kindness and self control.
Now, the woman was dead and had to answer to her Maker. The fact was that Maxine wasn’t here for Jacqueline. She was here for Barry. She started forward, stopped long enough to sign the registry, then quickly moved toward the usher who stood sentry by one of the several sets of massive double doors leading to the sanctuary of the church. Her heels made no sound on the carpeted floor.
The usher didn’t return her smile, but opened the door for her. She slipped into the sanctuary and stopped.
Every seat appeared taken. She slipped back out again and spoke in low volumes to the usher, trying to determine if moving up to the balcony would prove worthwhile. In whispered tones, he informed her that she would find the balcony just as full as the main floor, so she slipped back into the room and stood against the back wall.
She could not see her family, but knew that the front rows on the left side were reserved for Barry’s family. Tony would be seated as close to Barry’s parents as possible since he was Barry’s best friend. Maxine often felt the men acted like fraternal twin brothers. Tony considered Barry family in the same way he considered Robin’s sisters family, and to him the differing last names meant absolutely nothing.
She decided to walk along the far left wall until she spotted them. She started to move to the far side of the room so that she could sneak along the wall but just as she took her first steps, Barry took the podium.
At six-nine and nearly three hundred pounds of muscle, Barry looked like the professional football player that the Super Bowl ring on his left hand proclaimed, but Maxine knew football had only been Barry’s shortest path to his law degree, and he had never looked back or regretted retiring from the game. Fitness was center to his life, though, and he still kept in very good shape. She could not help admiring the way he filled out his dark charcoal suit from his broad shoulders to his thick limbs.
Not wanting to distract him by walking to the front while he was speaking, she resumed her position against the back wall just beside the door and watched her best friend eulogize his late wife. As he faced the crowd, Maxine realized he’d shaved off his goatee, and she wasn’t certain if she liked the clean-shaven look or not.
She hadn’t seen him in weeks. She tried to remember the last time she’d talked to him. Mid-September, maybe. She’d called to see if he had a ticket to an upcoming Patriots game.
“I have a client who would probably give me his first born if I could get him tickets,” she said.
Barry had been very abrupt and distracted. “No. Someone else has my tickets this week. I can’t help you. I have to go.”
Despite her occasionally trying to get in touch with him since then, she hadn’t heard from him.
She watched Barry pull a small sheet of paper out of his jacket pocket. On either side of the massive stage, large screens provided a close-up view, and the person manning the camera zoomed in on Barry’s face. Maxine couldn’t help but stare at the handsome man, his strong features hard as stone. He raised one of his massive hands and rubbed his forehead. Maxine noted the Super Bowl ring he sported on his left ring finger in lieu of a wedding band.
She watched him close his eyes and take a deep breath before opening them again, focusing on some point in the crowd near the front. She almost gasped out loud, nearly tried to take a step back, at the intensity of his stare – even from a distance she could see it.
He cleared his throat and put away the paper. “I had a nice speech prepared. Something impassionate and just the right amount of emotional, but it’s all just a bunch of hogwash.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd as hundreds of people bent their heads together and started whispering. Barry gripped the podium with both hands and leaned down toward the microphone. “I would probably have kept up whatever pretense I needed to keep up to save my parents and sisters any kind of embarrassment, but marrying Jacqui eighteen years ago was probably embarrassment enough so that anything that happens now probably won’t even faze them.”
The murmur changed to a full gasp, and now people sat forward, on the edges of their seats, ready for more. “The truth is, I always loved my wife. Even when she gave me absolutely every possible imaginable reason to stop, I still loved her. I always prayed that she would come to know Christ, that I could witness to her. But God chose not to answer that prayer. I don’t understand why. So, in that mission, I failed. I have absolutely no doubt that I will answer for that one day.”
Barry bowed his head. Maxine felt her heart hurting for him. She could almost see the emotions he struggled to hold in check.
The population of the church murmured continuously. It sounded like a constant quiet hum. Maxine wasn’t sure how much time passed before Barry said, with his head still bowed, “As you all sit out there in your funeral best, let me go ahead and confirm whatever rumors I must to keep this town in gossip for a few days. Yes, Jacqui was pregnant when she died.” Suddenly, the church turned so silent it was almost a roar. Barry continued, ruthlessly, his voice even, a monotone. “Of course, the baby wasn’t mine.”
Maxine felt her knees turn to water. Oh, Barry. What are you doing, Barry? Please stop, Barry. Please don’t.
He continued, “Apparently, she was really in love this time. Our divorce was quietly in the works. I have absolutely no business eulogizing her today. So I won’t stand before you and say anything I don’t mean. I won’t be joining you at the graveside. In fact, I have just enough self respect left in me to turn the podium over to Charles Mason, the father of that unborn child and Jacqueline’s future husband. Charles? You have the floor.”
No one murmured as Barry stormed off the stage. The mood of the entire room was that of complete shock. The giant flew down the stairs. His footsteps clapped like nearby thunder in the deafen
ing silence.
Maxine slipped back out the very same door she had entered and moved very quickly across the outer narthex to the double doors leading to the outside. She stepped into the cold December air and made it halfway down the church steps when she heard one of the doors above her slam open hard enough to hit the outer wall.
She looked behind her but kept going down the steps just to keep her momentum going. “Hey, Barry,” she said, holding up her car keys. “Need a getaway driver?”
He stopped – totally stopped – halfway down the stairs. She reached the bottom and turned fully around to look at him. “You probably have about three seconds left before my brother-in-law comes racing through those doors.”
Barry glanced back, then took the last ten steps in three massive strides. “Let’s go,” he urged. They reached Maxine’s car as the doors to the church flew open again. As Maxine buckled up, she heard Tony calling Barry’s name.
She pealed away, tires chirping on the cold pavement. She looked over at Barry, who grabbed the seat belt behind him and clicked it shut just as she turned onto the main road and darted into traffic. “Where to, big guy?”
Barry rubbed his face with both hands. “I don’t care.” He sat quietly for a moment, staring out the car window, then pointed at a restaurant sign. “That’s fine, there. I haven’t eaten today. Pull in and park around back so they don’t see your car.”
MAXINE parked the car behind the restaurant and grabbed her purse as she slid out of the car. Barry put a hand on the small of her back to lead her to the door. Catching their reflection in the glass, she thought they looked like a very serious, very handsome couple. She, in her long black funeral suit, he in his charcoal suit with crisp white shirt and staid gray tie – they matched well.
Even with her six feet of height and additional three-inch heels, Barry towered over her by several inches. Barry leaned around her and grabbed the door handle, scanning the street behind him as he opened the door for her.
Emerald Fire (Christian Romance) (The Jewel Series) Page 4
