by Linda Warren
THE NEXT MORNING JESSIE WAITED for the divorce papers so she could sign them. When they arrived, she scribbled her name without allowing herself to think. She had the hotel courier them to Hal’s office and then he’d send them to Cadde for his signature.
Their marriage was over.
At ten she was on a plane for New York. She had to wait several hours, curled up in a chair, for her flight to Rome. Her aunts, Teresa and Margaret Martinez, worked in an orphanage on the outskirts of the city. She had no idea what she was going to find across the ocean. Her aunts didn’t even know she was coming. All Jessie knew was that she had to get away and make some sense of her shattered, broken life.
Before she boarded the plane, she called Myra and left a message. It was simple: I’m fine. Please don’t search for me. She didn’t want the people who cared about her to worry.
A man who sat beside her in first class wore a Stetson and cowboy boots. She avoided looking at him. He was too vivid a reminder. She’d left her hair down to cover her bruised face. Suddenly, she felt hot and weak and had to take a couple of deep breaths. She should have eaten something.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” the man asked.
“Yes. I’m just a little nervous about flying. Thank you.” She curled up and turned away from him, hoping the weakness would leave. Her hair fell forward, covering her face. Exhaustion consumed her and she fell asleep. When she awoke, she saw that a blanket was around her.
The man’s long legs were stretched out with his boots crossed one over the other. They were sitting in the first seats. She guessed that’s why he was here, ’cause he needed leg room. He was tall like… No, no, no! She couldn’t think his name. She’d fall apart.
She went back to sleep. The stewardess woke her when she served food. Jessie tried to eat, but nothing tasted good to her. She could feel the man’s eyes on her, so she shifted away to her own thoughts and her own private hell. But sleep eventually overtook her.
A long time later the stewardess gently shook her. “We’re fixing to land. Buckle up.” Jessie had lost track of time. She didn’t even know what day it was. Nor did she care. When the plane landed, the man quickly grabbed his bag and joined the exit line.
Jessie watched as if from a distance. Slowly, she got to her feet, the weakness returning. Somehow she made it through customs, even managed to change her money into euros. There was so much confusion, people speaking Italian and wanting answers. She just wanted to lie down and close her eyes. Someone directed her to a cab and she crawled inside.
“Dove vuoi andare?” the man asked.
She had no idea what he’d said, but she dug in her purse for the address and showed it to him.
“Sì. Benvenuti a Roma.”
The white cab took off at a dangerous speed. Jessie held on to the door. A busy ancient city flashed by so different from the world she’d left. Soon there were stone houses with English ivy growing up the sides, clothes hanging outside on a line, people on bicycles and everyone seemed to be shouting or gesturing.
The scenes faded in and out as dizziness assailed her. She tried to focus on the hilly Italian countryside of pines, orange and palm trees but couldn’t. The man braked to a sudden stop and she saw the big stone structure attached to a church with a bell tower. Children played in a courtyard.
The man flung out an arm. “The good sisters. You nun?” He said the words in English.
She shook her head, not wanting to talk to him. Not having a clue what to pay, she handed him some euros, hoping it was enough.
“Grazie. Grazie.” He happily nodded his head and she got out, clutching her bag. The temperature was chilly and felt good. The cab zoomed away and she stared at the cold, foreign building that had to be hundreds of years old.
What was she doing here?
Her eyes went to the bright blue sky and her head spun. Dizziness gripped her and suddenly she was falling, falling onto the cobblestones. And everything went black.
“CADDE, I’VE HEARD FROM Jessie!” Myra shouted, charging into the living room.
He was immediately on his feet. “When? What did she say?”
“I was in court so she left a message saying she’s fine and not to search for her.”
“But she’s not fine.”
“I know that and you know that, but it seems Jessie has to grieve alone. I say let’s give her some time.”
He gritted his teeth and against every instinct in him he said, “Okay.”
“I had the police on the lookout for her vehicle.”
“And?”
“They got a call from the Marriott Hotel that a silver Suburban had been parked in their garage for several days. It’s Jessie’s.”
“There’s no charge on her credit card for that. She must have used cash.”
“Yes. She checked out two days ago.”
Cadde eased onto the sofa. “Since she left the vehicle behind, I’m guessing she took a flight somewhere.”
“That’s my guess, too. I could continue checking, but I’m going to leave that up to you. Personally, I think we have to give her time and I believe she’ll come home.”
“I…uh…” Cadde wanted to find her as soon as possible, but Jessie didn’t want to see him. She’d made that very clear. Giving her space and time was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, except for losing his child. He drew a deep breath. “Okay. Tell the hotel I’ll pick up the car.”
Before Myra could leave, his cell buzzed and he reached for it. “Damn, thanks, Arnie.”
Slipping the phone in its case, he said to Myra, “I had Arnie, one of the accountants, checking credit card purchases. A charge for a rental car came through on Jessie’s. That’s how she came to the house undetected.” He sighed.
“Cadde, I’m sorry.”
“I know. I have to believe she’ll come home.”
That afternoon he called Kid. They brought the vehicle back to the house and parked it in the garage, in her spot, waiting for her return.
THE DAYS PASSED SLOWLY for Cadde. He didn’t have the mind-set to go back to work. Chance and Kid were doing fine without him. He went into town and bought the biggest Christmas tree he could find and placed it in the window where Jessie had wanted it. As he stared at the baby ornament in his hand, his throat closed up and he had to force himself to hang it high on the tree.
Jessie would be home by Christmas and then they’d decorate the tree like they’d planned. He sat in a stupor, waiting, Mirry at his feet. She followed him everywhere these days. He fed her, took care of her just like Jessie would want. He also tended to her other animals. He thought of letting the fawn go, but Jessie might want to see her one more time.
Rosa and Felix watched him from a distance and he knew they thought he was losing his mind. Maybe he was.
The day he received the divorce papers he lost it. Kid brought them out and Cadde tore the document along with the transfer of one share into shreds and burned the pieces in the fireplace. He kicked the furniture and threw a vase. Kid tackled him as if they were playing football and Felix rushed in. They tried to hold him down.
“Mr. Cadde, please,” Felix begged.
Cadde relaxed, took a deep breath and sat up. “Sorry,” he muttered, and staggered to his feet.
Kid looped an arm across his shoulder. “Let’s go paint the baby’s room and put all the stuff up so Jessie doesn’t have to see it.”
“I don’t have any paint.”
“I brought it.”
“What?”
“Yeah. The lady at the store said it was a popular color and whatever the hell it is, we’re putting it on the wall.”
“Kid…”
Before Cadde knew it, he was painting. The sweeping strokes of the roller eased some of the tension in him. The pale gold color was nice. They put the crib and the baby things in the attic and moved the bedroom set back in. The room didn’t even look like it had been planned for a baby.
Kid left and Cadde returned to the living room, staring at the t
ree. He couldn’t think about the divorce papers. All he knew was that he wasn’t signing anything. Jessie would be home by Christmas.
He clung to that one thought.
JESSIE WOKE UP IN A STERILE-looking room. She lay on a metal-framed single bed. A stiff white sheet and a brown blanket covered her. There was a small dresser and a nightstand with a pitcher of water and a glass. The walls were a gray stone, as was the floor. Sunshine poured in from a slim window.
Where was she?
A woman poked her head around the door. “Ah, you’re awake.”
“Where am I?”
“In an orphanage outside Rome.”
“Oh.” It all came flooding back and she gasped for breath as the pain hit her.
“Rest. Rest.” The woman pulled the blanket up to Jessie’s chin. “You’ve been very ill.”
“Have I?”
“High temperature, so we called the doctor and he examined you.” The woman stroked Jessie’s hair. “You’re Angela’s daughter, sì? You look like her.”
Jessie stared at the dark hair and the dark eyes of the woman. “Are you my aunt?”
“I’m Teresa, sì.” She nodded vigorously and rubbed her stomach. “You lose bambino, sì?”
No, no, no! Don’t say that. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She did neither.
“You rest. Doctor leave pills for you and you have to eat. Margaret and I will take care of you. Rest.”
Teresa disappeared out the door. Jessie threw back the covers and tried to stand. The room spun. Weakly, she sank on the bed, noticing she was wearing a tan nightshirt. It was very plain, with no frill or lace.
Another woman dressed in a long black skirt and long-sleeved white blouse walked in and immediately ran to Jessie’s side. “Child, what are you doing? Get back in bed.” She covered Jessie, clicking her tongue. “Teresa’s bringing you some food. You have to eat. You have to heal.”
“Are you Margaret Martinez?”
“Sì. I’m Sister Margaret.”
She placed her hand on Jessie’s forehead. “What are you doing here, child?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know.”
CADDE SAT IN THE LIVING ROOM, Mirry in his arms, staring at the Christmas tree. He couldn’t seem to force himself to do anything else. He just needed to know that Jessie was okay, but as each day passed he knew that she wasn’t. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
Dr. Barnes’s secretary called. Jessie had missed her appointment. There was nothing he could do about that, either. Except worry.
Suddenly, Myra came in and threw her purse into a chair. “Why in the hell don’t you answer your cell?”
He lifted the phone from its case on his belt. “I forgot to charge it.”
“What if Jessie calls you?”
Oh, God. How could he forget that? He placed Mirry on the floor and stood.
“Just wait a minute, big guy. I have some news.”
“Jessie called you again?” He grew hopeful.
“No.” Myra took a seat. “It’s about Vernon Lynch.”
Cadde stiffened.
“The D.A. won’t let me work on the case because I’m too closely involved, but I’m pulling all the strings I can backstage. I’ve talked them into going for murder one and the death penalty.”
“Oh.”
“Lynch came into this house knowingly and willingly to kill Jessie and the baby. I wanted to fry that bastard.”
“Can you prove that?”
“Believe me, I was going to give it a damn good shot.”
“Was?”
“Vernon Lynch hung himself in his jail cell about an hour and a half ago. I got here as fast as I could. I didn’t want you to hear it on the news.”
Cadde plopped onto the sofa. “Damn!”
“Even he couldn’t live with what he’d done.”
Cadde rubbed his hands together. Somehow the news didn’t make him feel better. It didn’t bring the baby back. And it didn’t bring Jessie home.
All the pain was still there.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“I RECEIVED DIVORCE PAPERS,” Cadde told Myra.
“What?” Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Jessie took the time to do that?”
He shared what Jessie had told him before she’d left about being responsible for the baby’s death.
“Oh, crap, this just gets worse.” She looked at him. “Did you sign them?”
“Hell, no, and I don’t plan to. I burned them.”
“I used to not like you, but you’re turning into a pretty decent guy. I thought you were after the money.”
“Ever since I was a kid I dreamed of being in the oil business, not as a roughneck like my father, but someone in control, running the company. I guess money was part of it. Roscoe brought me into the office and for ten years I spent almost every day with him, learning everything I could. I had offers from other companies, but I turned them down. I liked working with Roscoe. He was different, hard to please, but he knew the oil business. I had no idea Roscoe was going to give me twenty-five percent.”
“And a wife.”
“Yeah.” He ran his hands over his face. “That hit me like a blow.”
“Why? Couldn’t you see how Jessie felt about you?”
“Honestly, no. From day one Roscoe made it very clear I wasn’t to mess with his daughter. I pretty much had that tattooed on my brain.”
Myra’s cell rang and she reached for it in her purse, turning it off. “I thought she was just infatuated with you. After Roscoe died, I took her to a few parties to…”
“You took my wife to parties?” He couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice.
“Now don’t get your nose out of joint, big guy. Jessie’s never been around men her age and she needed to realize she was a desirable, beautiful woman. Guys were buzzing around her like deranged bees, but she didn’t see any of them. It was always you.”
He drew a deep breath. “When I was with her, she never showed any signs. We talked about Shilah and its future, but we never got into anything personal.”
“Because she was scared. That’s why she came up with that insane baby deal.”
“We tore it up and got beyond that.”
“I know. I wish I had some answers for you, but I don’t. I’m just worried.”
“Me, too.” He jammed his hands through his hair. “I told you not to investigate further to give Jessie some space and time, but now I’m changing my mind. I have to know she’s okay. I won’t try to see her. I need to know.”
“Okay.” Myra got to her feet. “I was only waiting for the go-ahead.” She swung toward the door. “I’ll be in touch.”
Maybe if he knew he could find some peace in his private hell.
JESSIE DIDN’T KNOW HOW many days had passed when she woke up again, but she was better. She wasn’t hot or tired and her mind was functioning. Slipping out of bed, she found her clothes in the dresser and changed into jeans and a knit top.
She vaguely remembered a portly man with a black moustache examining her, Teresa bringing her food, brushing her hair, helping her down the hall to the bathroom and giving her a sponge bath.
The room did a crazy spin and she sank onto the bed, feeling weak. She glanced at the stone walls. What was she doing here? So far from home. If she was planning to outrun the pain, it hadn’t worked. It was just as vivid as ever.
Teresa poked her head around the door. “Ah, you’re awake.”
“Yes, and I feel better.”
“Good, you can come for breakfast in the dining room with the children.”
“Oh, no, Teresa, please. I don’t want to be around anyone.”
“They’re just kids and well disciplined.”
“No, no, please.” She wasn’t ready to face the world, especially children.
“Okay. You have to leave this room soon, though. Sister Margaret will insist on it.” Teresa walked closer. “I don’t want to upset you, but since you had bruises we need t
o know if you were beaten by someone. We have to inform the authorities.”
“No, no.” She shook her head. “It was taken care of in the States.”
Teresa eyed her. “You sure you don’t want Mother Superior to call someone?”
“No, please. I’m hoping you’ll let me stay here—to heal.”
“You can tell me anything, Jessie.”
“I know, and thanks. I just need some time.”
“Sì.”
Teresa left and Jessie scooted back on the small bed. She heard children’s voices and stood to look out the window. Suddenly, a loud bell rang and children, single file, marched into the church. The boys wore black slacks and white shirts; the girls were dressed in black skirts and white blouses. They were all ages from six to sixteen.
Teresa rushed back in with Jessie’s breakfast.
“Where are the children going?” she asked.
“To mass. We have mass every morning and I have to run.”
“Teresa,” she called. “What’s the date?”
“December 23 and we’re getting ready to celebrate the birth of Christ. The children are so excited.”
Christmas. She pushed the thought from her mind.
“I don’t know much about religion.”
“It’s not difficult.” Teresa placed her hand over her chest. “You feel it in your heart, you know it in your mind—” she touched her forehead “—and you treasure it in your soul. We’ll talk later.”
Jessie kept watching out the window and saw Teresa flying across the courtyard. What were they doing in there? What was mass like? She gave up trying to figure it out and ate her breakfast. The homemade thick bread slathered in butter was decadent. Rosa had never made anything like this. Rosa…home. The memories seemed to trap her in a purgatory she couldn’t escape.
The children’s voices tempted her again and she returned to the window. The kids were laughing, running, playing. They were happy. How could that be in an orphanage? Maybe it had something to do with their religion.
Teresa rushed back in for the breakfast tray. “Try to walk some today.”
“Could you spare a few minutes?”
