I Know Who Holds Tomorrow

by Francis Ray

  “Wh-what?”

  By the time Velma had sat up and righted her glasses, Louis was beside the bed, smiling and charming. “How do you do, Miss Taylor. I’m sorry to disturb you. My name is Henry Allen, attorney-at-law. Madison Reed sent me because she wanted you to hear this in person.” He forced sadness to his face. “I have some unfortunate news for you. Manda is critically ill and it’s imperative that we learn the identity of the father to help her get well.”

  What little color in the woman’s face drained away. “My Bridget’s baby is sick? Oh Lord. Oh Lord.”

  Louis nodded gravely. “There’s a problem with her blood. If you’ll just tell me the name of the father, we’ll contact him.”

  Tears streamed down the woman’s thin cheeks. “Oh Lord. Oh Lord. Not the baby. Not the baby too.”

  The wailing and all the crying was beginning to grate on his nerves. “We need the name.”

  “The Bible says He won’t put more on us than we can bear.” Her sobs grew louder, more desolate.

  Louis gritted his teeth. “Stop crying and tell me the name of the damn kid’s father.”

  Velma, jumped at the crudeness of the language and the angry tone.

  “The name!” he snapped when she continued to stare at him with her mouth agape. “I don’t have all night. Don’t you want to save the kid?”

  Velma’s tears stopped as quickly as they had started. Leaning toward Louis, she squinted to get a better look at his face. “Where’s the other lawyer?”

  “He’s sick,” Louis put in smoothly, trying to hide his escalating anger. He’d thought she’d be so upset about the kid being ill that she’d tell him what he wanted immediately. “He sent me in his place. Ms. Reed needs to know the name of the baby’s father so she can contact him and help the baby.”

  “You’re lyin’. If anythin’ hadda happened to Manda, Miss Reed woulda called. You’re lyin’ and I’m gonna call the nurse.” Velma leaned toward the call button, but before she could reach it a sharp pain sliced though her. She gasped and clutched her chest with both hands.

  Louis’s eyes widened as the old woman slumped back against the pillows, her face pale, her breathing rapid and shallow. Spit dried in his mouth. Damn ! She was having a heart attack! He couldn’t get out the door fast enough.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  THE MOVIE WAS A melodrama where the hero died in the heroine’s arms after saving her life. Disgusted with an ending that left another woman lonely and miserable, Camille and Madison walked out before the credits started to roll.

  “That’s Gordon’s car,” Madison said as Camille pulled into her driveway. “What are you going to do?”

  “Stay away from him until I’m completely over him,” she said without hesitation as she came to a stop.

  Madison’s hand paused on the door handle. “As men go, he’s one of the best.”

  Camille drew in a shaky breath. “I know. That’s why this is so hard. If he were a user, I wouldn’t waste a second of my time thinking about him. He cooks for me, gives marvelous foot rubs, and when he kisses me I just come undone.”

  She and Camille might be developing a friendship, but Madison wasn’t ready to share her kiss with Zachary just yet. The front door of the house opened. Zachary and Gordon stood framed in the light, then Gordon moved off the porch. “Looks like Gordon has other ideas,” Madison said.

  “Oh my,” she said with rising panic in her voice. “’Night, Madison.”

  “Good night.” Madison hurriedly got out. The door had barely closed before Camille backed up and took off down the street.

  “Camille,” Gordon yelled, running a few steps after her fleeing car. When she didn’t stop he turned to Madison, his handsome face fierce. “You knew I wanted to talk with her. Why didn’t you stay in the car?”

  Madison’s chin lifted. “Because she didn’t want to talk with you and neither do I at the moment.” Passing him, she went up the walkway to the door where Zachary waited. “Thanks for keeping Manda. Good night.” She closed the door with him on the outside.

  Zachary marched up to Gordon. “See what you caused.”

  “I wanted to talk with Camille, and Madison knew it,” Gordon said, peeved with both women.

  “Well, I wanted to spend some time with Madison, and you knew it,” Zachary shot back.

  “Damn!”

  Zachary’s eyes narrowed. “You’re gonna have to watch your language around Manda.”

  Gordon studied Zachary’s tense features closely. “You think you’ll be around to chastise me if I don’t?”

  “Count on it,” he answered with complete assurance.

  “Then you’re not giving up?” Gordon asked, already having guessed the answer.

  “Not in this lifetime.” Zachary started toward his truck.

  Gordon fell into step beside him. “You know it won’t be easy.”

  Zachary opened the door to his truck. “Most things worthwhile aren’t.”

  Gordon activated the locks on his car. “See you around.”

  “Like I said, count on it.”

  Madison had dreamed of Zachary—a dream so erotic that, even awake, it caused her cheeks to heat, her body to yearn. She vividly remembered how he’d slowly undressed her, his lips and hands everywhere. She’d trembled beneath his touch. There had been no hesitation, no worries, only the two of them, uninhibited and needy. His mouth had been hot and avid on her breasts, her stomach. He’d savored and lingered. Frantic with need, she had whimpered for him to come into her and, when he had, she’d come apart in his arms.

  Standing in front of the vanity mirror, Madison’s nipples pouted beneath her sheer, ivory-colored camisole, in memory and anticipation, but this time there was no greedy mouth to take the turgid nipple and gently suckle. No slow hand to knead and stroke and drive her wild with longing.

  “Stop it, Madison,” she chastised herself. If she expected to get over whatever it was, she had to stop thinking about him. With jerky movements she pulled on her blouse and trousers.

  The phone on the nightstand rang. She threw it a nasty look. Whoever the reporter was, he or she was very enterprising to call before seven A.M. She slipped the gold hoop through her pierced ear lobe as the answering machine clicked on.

  “Ms. Reed, this is Harriet Gamble, the head nurse at Green Oaks Convalescent Center in Amarillo. I have some bad news for you.”

  Madison snatched up the receiver. “What is it?”

  “Is this Ms. Reed?” the woman asked.

  “Yes, I’m Ms. Reed. Is there a problem with Ms. Taylor?”

  “She having some chest pains and some difficulty breathing. I thought it best she be taken to the hospital and checked out. Her doctor is meeting her there. The ambulance just left. You asked us to notify you if we had any concerns.”

  Not again, Madison thought. “Yes. Thank you. How … how bad is it? Do you think it’s her heart?”

  “I’m sorry, but nurses don’t diagnose. But it might be best if you could come,” the nurse said. “She’s been taken to Amarillo General.”

  Madison glanced at Manda in the crib. How much more would be taken from her? “I’ll have to make travel arrangements, but I’ll be there as soon as possible. Thank you for calling.”

  “You’re welcome. Velma is a favorite here. I’ve never seen her as upset as she was this morning. She seemed worried about Manda—is she all right?”

  “Yes,” Madison answered, looking again toward the crib.

  “That’s good news. She worried herself sick about who would take care of the baby until your lawyer arrived,” the nurse said. “She showed off the pictures you sent to everyone. She’s a wonderful woman. We’re all praying for her.”

  “Thank you.” Hanging up the phone, Madison walked to the crib and picked up Manda and hugged her. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

  Zachary knew exactly what he wanted to say, had rehearsed it several times on his way to Madison’s house that morning. However, when she yanked open the door, he
r eyes frantic, he forgot all about his speech saying she had kicked him out last night before he had gotten his cap. “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s Velma Taylor. The nurse called this morning. She had trouble breathing, and chest pains. She was taken by ambulance to the hospital. I called, but I can’t get any information. I thought you were my driver coming to take me to the airport.” Biting her lip, she scanned the empty driveway.

  “I’ll take you. Where’s Manda?” Stepping inside, he closed the door.

  “In her playpen.” Madison went into the den and picked the baby up. “You don’t have to bother. Stanley should be here shortly.”

  Zachary didn’t plan to argue. He simply stuck the Birkin under his arm, picked up the carriage and suitcase, then headed for his truck. “What time is your plane?”

  “Zacha—”

  He turned and stared down at her. “Let me help you, Madison. Please. I don’t want you to go by yourself.”

  Madison stared back at him. Relief she didn’t want to feel, swept through her. She nodded. “We have the nine A.M. flight out of Love Field.”

  He didn’t have to glance at his watch to know it was 7:45. “With morning rush-hour traffic it’ll take at least forty-five minutes to reach Love Field.”

  “It can’t be helped,” she said, following him out to his truck. “I didn’t get the call until almost seven and I had to pack and call the station. The next flight isn’t until after twelve and I wanted to get there as quickly as possible.”

  He put the things in the truck’s club cab before facing her. “Madison, I’m not criticizing. You got a lot accomplished in a short period of time. Let’s get the rest and head for the airport.”

  “I think I have everything. I’ve never done this before, but I didn’t want to leave her with anyone.”

  She looked so frenzied he wanted to take her in his arms to reassure her, but now wasn’t the time. He reached for Manda. She gave a delighted laugh and came willingly. “Go make a final check of the house and we’ll leave.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Zachary pulled out his cell phone. He had a few calls to make.

  They arrived at Love Field at 8:49. They sprinted all the way to their gate. Passengers were already lined up at the door, waiting to be the first to board, to grab the best unassigned seating.

  Out of breath, Madison dug in the Birkin for her wallet. “I’m flying ticketless.” She barely glanced at the questions taped on the counter asking if the passenger had been approached by anyone to take a package or if they had left their bags unattended. “No and no.”

  Used to passengers answering the questions before being asked, the young ticket agent smiled and gave Madison a blue boarding pass. “Is the baby flying with you?”

  “Yes,” she answered, trying to catch her breath and watching the growing number of people gathered around the entrance door to board the plane.

  Frowning, he typed more information into the computer. “I don’t see that you purchased another seat. You’ll have to hold her and leave her car seat outside the gate. We’ll make sure it and the carriage arrives safely. The preboarding area for passengers with small children is to the right.”

  Madison pulled out a credit card. It was safer for infants to travel on airplanes in their car seats. “Then I need to buy her a seat.”

  “Sorry. We don’t sell tickets at this counter and you don’t have time to go purchase one.”

  “She has a seat.” Zachary stepped up and placed his driver’s license on the counter. “I have two seats for us. The answers are no and no.”

  “You’re going with us?” she asked.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  “Here you go.” The agent placed the boarding passes on the counter. “You better hurry if you want to have a few minutes to get on board and get settled.”

  “Thanks.” Grabbing Madison’s arm, Zachary went through the preboarding area and down the ramp. Leaving the carriage outside the door of the plane, they took the first three seats. “More leg room.” Storing Madison’s carry-ons, he helped her install the car seat between them.

  “What about your company?” she asked, reaching for her seat belt.

  “They can handle things until we can get back.”

  Eyes wide, her hands paused. “You plan to stay with us the entire time?”

  His gaze held hers. “Where else would I stay?”

  Madison busied herself with her seat belt, her mind recalling the dream all too clearly. Her body heated, her blood pulsed. Why couldn’t her driver have arrived ten minutes early instead of ten minutes late?

  “Camille, I thought you’d like to know that Madison had to go out of town unexpectedly. Manda’s great-aunt is ill. She took Manda with her. Good-bye.”

  Gordon hung up the phone in his office at the TV station, propped his elbows on his desk and linked his fingers. He’d never heard Madison sound as rattled as she had that morning. She’d insisted she didn’t need anyone to go with her. Not knowing what the situation might be in Amarillo, Gordon didn’t agree. He’d immediately thought to call Zachary, but he’d left Zach’s business card at his office. He hadn’t thought he’d need it away from work.

  The only recourse Gordon had been able to think of was to call the car service and delay the driver and hope that causing her to be held up an hour wasn’t the wrong thing to do. He was almost at the station when the dispatcher had called to let him know that Madison had canceled the car. Mr. Holman was taking her to the airport.

  The ringing of his private line dragged him back to the present. He glanced at the readout and unlinked his hands. Camille Jacobs. She’d call for her clients, but wouldn’t give the man she had been sleeping with for the past week the same courtesy.

  While he admired her professionalism and work ethic, the way she had shoved him out of her life angered the hell out of him. But he’d be damned if he’d let her know it … at least not yet. “Gordon Armstrong speaking.”

  “Gordon, thank you for calling. Did Madison know the extent of Ms. Taylor’s illness?” Camille asked, her voice filled with concern.

  Now she called him by his first name. “All the nurse could tell Madison was that Manda’s great-aunt had had trouble breathing, and chest pains. She was taken to an area hospital for evaluation.”

  “Did Madison go by herself?”

  Gordon wished he could see her face when he answered. “Zachary went with her.”

  “I see.”

  He leaned back in his chair. Camille used that phrase when she was puzzled. He intended to give her something else to rack her pretty little brain over. “I hate to run, but I have another appointment.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to keep you.”

  He’d caught her by surprise that time. She actually sounded flustered. Welcome to the club. “No problem. By the way, I wanted you to know that I regret interfering at the studio between you and Madison. Rest assured it won’t happen again. Good-bye.”

  “G-good-bye.”

  Gordon hung up the phone, pleased that he’d been able to slip in his apology. Last night, standing under the spray of cold water, he’d decided he’d handled the situation all wrong. She had a right to be upset with him. Camille went to bat for her kids with her heart and soul. Judging her had been wrong and totally out of line. In any relationship there had to be trust. He’d let his apology sink in, then he’d her hit with phase two.

  Louis woke up with a hangover. Half a bottle of aged scotch sat on his nightstand. It had been full last night. Sitting on the side of the bed, he rested his head in his hands. What if the old woman died and Madison found out? He didn’t have to think long to know that his hide, not hers, would be the one nailed to the wall. He might even face prosecution. Sweat beaded on his forehead and in his armpits.

  Louis grabbed the bottle. His hands shook so hard the neck of the bottle tap-danced against the squat glass. Disgusted with his own fear and lack of control, he slammed both down, then came unsteadi
ly to his feet, swiping his trembling hand over his face as he did so.

  He had to think He was smart. There was nothing to connect him to Velma Taylor. He’d paid cash for the ticket. It would take an act of Congress to get the flight manifest. He’d taken off the beard in an airport bathroom, then put it in his briefcase before he went to the ticket counter. He was in the clear. All he had to do was stay calm. He could still come out on top, exactly where he deserved to be.

  Thank God for Zachary, Madison thought. He’d made the difficult trip flawless.

  He stopped the rental truck at an airport toll booth and dug in his pocket for change. “After we see how Miss Taylor is doing, we’ll check in to a hotel so Manda can eat and have her nap.”

  Madison’s mind went where it shouldn’t go again—she and Zachary wrapped together in sizzling passion. Her breath tangled in her throat. Aroused and flustered, she stared straight ahead and mumbled, “I forgot to get the address of the hospital.”

  Zachary pulled off. “I’ll find it.”

  Madison’s first glimpse of Amarillo General Hospital brought back painful memories of Wes’s death. But this time she mourned rather than cursed him, and thanked God that she had moved beyond the pain and started to heal.

  “You all right?” Zachary asked as he cut off the motor.

  She was glad that in this she could be truthful. “Yes.”

  Without a word, he unstrapped Manda, picked her up, then came around the truck. She thought he’d take her arm. He curved his arm around her shoulder. Giving in to her own need, she didn’t pull away.

  Velma Taylor lay quietly in her bed. Her mocha-colored face was heavily lined, her eyes closed. The end of a single plait of gray hair stopped just below her thin shoulder.

  “Are you sure she’s going to be all right?” Madison asked, remembering all too well what had happened to Wes. At least Miss Taylor’s condition wasn’t critical.