There are thin mats on the floor. Jack sits on one of them and tries to cross his legs but can't. "Fuck it," he says, and extends his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his arms. "No one's that damn flexible."
"Mr. Ellit," the other man says. "Room of silence."
"Fuck that room of silence shit! It's my own damn house! If I want to make noise, I'll make fucking noise."
The man mumbles something to himself.
"Who's that?" I ask Jack, keeping my voice down.
"Some meditation guru. My therapist said I needed to meditate to reduce my stress. This guy's supposed to be one of the best. He's from Hollywood. Works with a lot of celebrities." Jack glares at the man, who's sitting up very straight with his eyes closed. "I hate him. He's just making me more stressed."
"Breathe," the man says, as he takes a deep breath.
"I'm not paying you a thousand dollars an hour for you to tell me to fucking breathe! I've been breathing on my own just fine for the past fifty-eight years."
The man clears his throat. "That's what meditation is, Mr. Ellit. You clear your mind and breathe."
"That's it? We're just going to sit here and breathe?" Jack turns onto his hands and knees and pushes himself up to standing. "We're done here. Clean this place up, then get the hell out of here. Pearce, follow me."
I glance over at the guru and hear him swearing under his breath. I don't think he'll be coming back here.
Jack takes me to the hidden room he took me to before. I take a seat at the poker table while he heads to the bar.
"You know why I had to suffer through that just now?"
"Because you're trying to reduce stress."
"Yes, but also because I knew you were coming over and I'm trying to calm myself down so I don't kill you."
"Jack, I know you're upset but I was running out of time."
He pours some whiskey into a glass and drinks it all at once. "Can you believe that?"
"Believe what?"
He fills his glass with more whiskey. "That people actually pay to have someone tell you to goddamn breathe! That's the last time I listen to my therapist."
"I didn't know you had a therapist."
"She's not really my therapist. She's more like a friend with benefits. But she is a certified therapist, so sometimes she feels the need to toss out some advice after one of our…" He smiles. "Private sessions." He swigs his drink, then closes his eyes as the liquor goes down his throat. "Now that's how you relax."
I'm trying not to look at his bare feet because it's not a pleasant sight. It's also unpleasant to look at the chest hair sticking out of his shirt, which is unbuttoned way too far. I glance away.
"Anyway, Jack, as I was saying, I was running out of time. They're getting ready to vote on the rule that would forbid me from being with Rachel."
"I've told you this before, Pearce. There doesn't need to be a goddamn rule." He walks over to the poker table. "You marry who they tell you to marry, and if you don't…well, I don't know what's going to happen. Guess we'll find out on Sunday." He takes a seat across from me. "What the hell were you thinking marrying her like that without even telling me? I said I'd help you, but once again, you didn't listen."
"I hadn't heard anything from you in weeks. I couldn't keep waiting."
"I run an international corporation, Pearce. I also had an assignment to complete. So forgive me for not making time to focus on your love life."
"I'm just saying that I had to figure something out. I couldn't wait."
"Who the hell came up with that asinine plan, anyway?"
"I did."
"No, you didn't." He rips the piece of fabric off his head and tosses it aside. "Running off to Vegas? That doesn't sound like you. Someone else came up with that. It was that idiot Royce Sinclair, wasn't it?"
"Royce had nothing to do with it. I just had him go with me to throw people off track."
"You're lying. You still need to work on your body language and facial expressions. You give too much away." He unbuttons more of his shirt. "God, it's hot in here. Are you hot?"
"No, I'm fine." I focus on the wall behind him. His chest hair was disgusting enough, but now he's exposed his old man skin, wrinkled up from years in the sun.
"Why would you listen to an idiot like Royce?"
Jack knows the truth, so there's no need to continue denying it. "It was a good plan. He actually helped me out for once."
"I can't believe they're considering him for president."
"Who?"
"Who the fuck are we talking about here? Royce Sinclair! Pay attention, Pearce." He gets up and goes back to the bar.
"I thought they were making him a senator, not president. They're seriously considering Royce for president?"
"It won't be for a long time, but yes, they're considering him. And if they want him for the job, they need to start training him soon." Jack belches. "Pardon me."
"Why would they choose Royce?"
"Because he's the best damn liar anyone's ever seen. The man could lie his way out of hell. Even the devil would believe him." He waves his hand at me. "You know, you should take some lessons from Royce. Or maybe he can't teach you. Maybe it's just a natural talent. But you should at least ask. He might be able to give you some pointers."
"So going back to Rachel and me, what do you think's going to happen?"
He exhales a long breath as he reclines back in the chair. "You'll be punished, but I don't know what the punishment will be. What did Holton say? Or is he no longer speaking to you?"
"We spoke last night and this morning. He said he doesn't know what will happen."
"How did he act? Angry or quiet?"
"Both. He was angry last night and quiet this morning."
He nods. "That's bad."
Jack's thinking the same thing I am. My father's outburst last night was good, because it meant he had no other way to deal with what I've done. But now his anger has been replaced by an eerie calmness, which means he's found a way to deal with me. He feels in control again.
"He's planning something," I say to Jack.
He nods again. "Something big. Something fucking huge." He takes a drink.
I point to his glass. "I think I need one of those."
"Help yourself."
I make my way to the bar and pour myself some bourbon.
"He's going to try to harm her," I say, taking a drink.
"That would be my guess. An unfortunate accident."
"I meant he'll try to scare her. He wouldn't kill her, Jack."
He spins his chair around to face me. "Are you sure about that?"
"Of course I am. He wouldn't take it that far."
"He wouldn't do it himself. He'd hire someone, making sure he—"
"Stop it!" I slam my glass down on the bar. "My father would NOT do something like that! Not to an innocent woman, who is also my wife. And his daughter-in-law."
Jack shrugs. "Okay."
I go over to him. "Don't be so damn condescending. I'm not naive. I know what my father is capable of, but he would NOT do that."
"Does Holton think I'm involved?"
"I don't think so. But he thinks you lied about Rachel and me. He thinks you knew I'd been dating her for months. By the way, why didn't you tell me my father hired you to spy on me?"
"What's the point? You already knew I was spying on you."
"Did you tell him anything?"
"Bits and pieces, just so he'd know I was actually doing my job." Jack leans back and clasps his hands behind his head. "So what are you planning to do about this fucked-up mess you got yourself into?"
"All I did was get married. People do it all the time. It shouldn't be a fucked-up mess. I should be allowed to continue on with my life without their interference."
"And I should be able to go an entire night without having to get up and pee fifty times, but we don't live in a fantasy world, Pearce. It is what it is and now you have to deal with it."
I pace the floor,
the drink in my hand. "She needs protection. I don't trust the other members."
"So you're going to surround her with bodyguards? And how are you going to explain that to her?"
"Not that type of protection. I need something bigger."
"Would you stop pacing? You're making me dizzy." He shuts his eyes for a moment, then opens them. "This is what you're going to do. That idiot friend of yours, Royce, has already set this is in motion, so you might as well keep it going."
"Keep what going?"
"The media circus surrounding this wedding of yours. You need to keep it going. Make it an even bigger story than when you married that lesbian. You got a ton of press from that wedding. So do it again, but don't wait. Start right now. Make people fall in love with you two, and more importantly, make them fall in love with Rachel. Do interviews, photo shoots, whatever it takes. The organization won't harm a celebrity. It's too high profile. Too easy for them to get caught."
"Rachel doesn't like the spotlight."
"Well, she needs to get the hell over it. The media will eat this up. Midwest farm girl marries the billionaire bachelor. That's a fairytale story, and everyone loves a fairytale."
"How long would we need to keep it going?"
"At least until the wedding. Maybe longer. I'll keep my ears open and let you know if I hear anything from the other members. As of now, they haven't even mentioned the girl."
"How do you know that?"
"I have inside sources, Pearce."
"Then you know what my punishment will be."
"No. They haven't decided yet." He yawns and stretches his arms out. "I need to get back to work. I'm supposed to be at a meeting that started ten minutes ago." He stands up. "Drink what you want from the bar, then see yourself out."
He disappears out the door.
That went better than expected. At least he didn't spend the entire time lecturing me. But he didn't really help me, other than his idea to make my relationship with Rachel even more public. It's probably a good idea, but I don't think she'll go for it.
The next day Rachel and I leave for Indiana, not arriving there until late afternoon. I've flown over the Midwest many times, but never actually been there. From the air, it looks like a lot of wide open space, with houses few and far between.
When we get off the plane, Rachel's parents are waiting for us.
"Mom! Dad!" She runs up and hugs them both.
Her mother is tall, like Rachel, and has short brown hair. They look similar, but Rachel's eyes look like her dad's. He has the same bright blue eyes. He's almost as tall as me, and has a rugged look, like someone who works outside a lot. His dark brown hair is thinning on top and he's got deep wrinkles around his eyes from the sun. When he smiles, more wrinkles crease around his mouth. Rachel also has his smile. I noticed the similarity right away.
"Mr. Evans, it's nice to finally meet you." I extend my hand and he shakes it, but then pulls me in for a hug.
"You're my future son-in-law." He laughs. "I need more than a handshake." He steps back. "And call me Henry. No need to call me Mr. Evans."
"And call me Beth," Rachel's mother says as she gives me a hug.
Now I know why Rachel hugs everyone. Her parents do the same thing. My parents wouldn't hug someone if you paid them to. My father has never hugged me, not even as a child. He tried to avoid even touching me, which he didn't have to because he had nannies take care of me. And the few hugs my mother has given me have always been distant hugs, with just our shoulders briefly coming together.
Beth stands back and looks at Rachel and me. "You two make a beautiful couple." She winks at Rachel. "You didn't tell me Pearce was so handsome."
Rachel laughs and kisses me on the cheek. "Yes, he's very handsome."
"Let me see the ring." Her mother picks up Rachel's hand. "Oh, my. That's the biggest diamond I've ever seen."
"Yes, he spent too much," Rachel says to me.
I lean down and kiss her. "It was worth every penny."
"He also bought me diamond earrings and a diamond necklace," Rachel tells her mother. "They're so expensive I'm almost afraid to wear them."
Rachel tends to forget how much money I have. If something happened to her jewelry, I'd just buy her more. But she has trouble spending money. She's so used to not having it that it'll take her some time to adjust to being wealthy.
"Should we go?" Henry waves us toward the baggage area. "I'm starving. We need to eat."
Beth shakes her head and says to me, "The man never stops eating. And yet he never gains a pound."
Henry has a lean frame and seems to be in good shape for a man his age. I don't know what farmers do all day, but I'm sure it's a workout, more so than sitting at a desk all day.
Rachel's hometown is a half hour from the airport, and on the drive to her house her parents ask me a million questions. I expected they would since they've never met me, but I didn't think I'd get quizzed the second I arrived. But it's fine. I'm sure if I had a daughter I'd be doing the same thing. I can tell how much they love Rachel and I can already see some of her mother's overprotectiveness. She brought Rachel some gloves and a scarf to wear home from the airport, just in case Rachel forgot to bring them. It's not that cold outside, but Rachel wore them anyway just to appease her mother.
We drive past miles and miles of farmland and finally arrive at the house. It's a simple two-story house that is plenty big enough to live in, but still smaller than my parents' guest house. The inside is very basic and functional with a living room on one side, a dining room on the other, and a kitchen in the back. Three bedrooms are upstairs; Rachel's room, the master for her parents, and a guest room.
"This is where you'll be staying," Beth says as she shows me to the guest room. It has a double bed and a dresser off to the side. "Let us know if you need anything. The bathroom is down the hall. Go ahead and get settled. I need to check on the roast." Her mother goes back down the stairs.
I smile at Rachel. "Separate rooms?"
She smiles back. "They're old-fashioned. And remember, we're not married yet."
I draw her into me. "I don't know if I can go a whole night without you."
"Then don't," she whispers.
I kiss her neck, right by her ear. "I don't think your parents would approve of me sneaking in your bed at night."
"We'll be quiet. And you're not staying the whole night."
My lips move to her mouth and I talk softly over them. "I thought you were a good girl, Miss Evans."
"You thought wrong. And it's Mrs. Kensington."
I kiss her, and keep kissing her, because I haven't done so all day. We've been stuck on a plane, and then in the car with her parents, and I can't wait any longer. I need to kiss her. I need to do more than that but I can't right now, so I back away.
"What time do your parents go to bed?" I ask.
"Usually ten-thirty. But they might want to stay up later tonight so they can talk to you."
"I'll tell them I'm tired and have to get to bed."
"Don't you want to talk to them?" she teases.
"I do, but there's something else I want to do even more." I kiss her again. "Let's go downstairs. I think your parents have a couple thousand more questions to ask me."
She laughs. "They're just making sure you're a good guy. They don't want me marrying just anyone."
"It's fine. I understand."
As we're coming down the stairs, Henry walks in from outside. "Pearce. Would you mind helping me with the firewood?"
Rachel nudges me, signaling me to agree to it.
"Sure," I say. "Just let me grab my coat."
"I have one in the barn you can borrow. That coat of yours is a little too fancy for farm work."
I brought a black wool dress coat. It's the one I always wear, but apparently it's not appropriate for gathering firewood.
Henry takes me out to the barn. Inside it are large pieces of farm machinery and equipment and tools.
"Take that one." He point
s to a dark green coat hanging on a hook. "It's big on me so should fit you just fine."
I go over and put it on, then follow him outside again. "So how do you like farming?"
"I like it. Then again, it's all I know. I grew up here and worked the land with my father and he did the same with his father." He smiles. "You want a farm, Pearce?"
I don't know what he's asking, so I keep quiet.
He pats my back. "I'm just kidding. Part of me hoped Rachel would marry someone who wanted to take over the farm."
I laugh. "That's definitely not me. I don't know the first thing about farming."
"Not many people your age do, even around here. A lot of these farms are being bought out by corporations. I'm sure that's what'll happen to this one." He stops next to a woodpile, which is between the house and the barn. In front of the woodpile are a couple adirondack chairs that face the fields.
"Do you want to sit for a minute?" He lowers himself into one of the chairs.
I take a seat, although I'd rather go inside. It's cold out here, and dark, the only light being the light coming from the porch.
"So you wanted to ask me a question?" Henry's smiling, and I know what he's referring to.
"I assumed you'd want to get to know me better before I asked."
He shakes his head. "No. Go ahead."
"Well, I would just like to say that, although I haven't known your daughter for very long, I do love her very much and I promise to take care of her and do everything possible to give her a good life."
"And what's a good life to you, Pearce?"
That's a tough question. I take a moment to think about it.
"I suppose everyone defines that differently. And before meeting your daughter, I'm not sure I could've given you an answer. My life used to be all about work and nothing else. But after meeting Rachel, I realized there's so much more to life. Rachel has introduced me to a side of myself I didn't even know was there. And now, I can't imagine my life without her. So I guess in response to your question, I'd say a good life is spending it with the person you love."
He nods. "Good answer. I know Rachel would agree. I can tell you two love each other. But I must admit, I do worry about her being with you."
"Why is that?"
Keeping Her Page 6
