RiverTime

by Rae Renzi

  She dropped the grocery bags on the steps to her apartment to dig out her key and open the door. Stepping over the bags, she tossed her purse onto the hall table, kicked off her shoes, and turned around to bring in the bags…and froze in place.

  Jack stood framed in the doorway. The backlighting caught the gold in his hair and outlined his perfect form—the wide shoulders and narrow hips, the long legs and beautiful hands. He looked like an earthbound god.

  “Breathe, Casey,” she said aloud. “Just breathe and everything will be fine.”

  Jack gave her a complicated look, then scooped up the bags before sliding through the door and levering it closed with his foot. The noise of the city went away, replaced by the abnormally loud thumping of her heart. He set the bags on the table and turned back to her, all very ordinary, nothing unusual, as if he didn’t hold her beating heart in his hand.

  She couldn’t tear her eyes from his and, try as she might, she couldn’t make them do that cold-and-flat look that was such an effective barrier against emotional chaos. In fact, whatever her face revealed made him move toward her with purpose, his eyes like molten chocolate. Casey moved back, her eyes locked onto his.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Do you love me?” He took a step toward her.

  “Jack?” She stepped back.

  “Do you love me?” Insistent. He stepped toward her again.

  “What does it matter?” She took another step back.

  “It matters.” A longer step toward her.

  Casey bumped into the wall.

  “Just tell me, Casey. There’s no wrong answer, but I need to know.”

  Casey looked down at the floor for a heartbeat. “Jack, do you remember the last time you asked me this question?”

  Jack’s gaze turned inward. “On the river, the last day.”

  “And do you remember my answer?” Today, tomorrow, it doesn’t matter. I love you, and I don’t think that’s going to change in this world or any other.

  Jack looked down at her. “Every word.”

  “Well, then.”

  Jack moved so close, she could feel his breath like a zephyr across her face. He pinned her to the wall, and his lips found hers.

  Casey melted into him and without thinking returned his kiss. She couldn’t get close enough. All the reasons she should stay away from Jack sifted from her mind like so many grains of sand. She was keenly aware of the warmth of his body against hers, the silky-smooth touch of his hands on her back, the humming tension between them. It was so obvious to her now how perfectly they fit together.

  Except she was still married. The thought was like an ice-water bath.

  Casey pushed him away. “Jack, I can’t.”

  “I know.” His voice sounded sad, resigned. “I’ll leave, but I had to see you first.” He reached into his jacket to pull out a thick envelope, stared at it for a moment as if it were a precious object, a treasure, then extended it to her.

  “What is it, Jack?”

  “It’s the past and the future. You decide what to do with it.”

  “But what—”

  “You do what’s best.” He kissed the tip of her nose and ran his thumb across her lips. With one last complex look, he spun off into the dusk, closing the door behind him.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Reed rinsed his razor in the sink and patted on aftershave. He scrutinized his face in the full-sized mirror, alert for any missed spots. The lighting was perfect, as was everything else about his hotel room, which made attending to his appearance so much easier than in the trashy apartment he and Casey shared. Living with his parents for a few days had reminded him how much he’d given up for her. And how did she show her gratitude? By asking for a divorce.

  It was because of Dylan Raines—anyone could see that. Reed irritably snatched up the daily newspaper, already folded back to the entertainment section. Speculation about the Flash Flood Mystery Woman had sparked up again after Raines’s jet had blown up, and every day there was a different theory as to her identity. All of them wrong, of course.

  Casey was smitten, harboring an infantile crush, like a teenage girl. But she was his wife, and he wouldn’t let some two-bit actor steal her away. She wasn’t thinking clearly, that was obvious, and needed to be reminded of the realities of life.

  He glanced at his watch as he strapped it on. The reception for the new ambassador to Belize would begin in an hour, but he had some things to do first.

  His plan would have to be timed perfectly. Not too early, because she would hole up in the apartment. Not too late, because she would escape. He briefly considered swooping in to rescue her in the last moment, but decided against it. Let her feel what life would be like without him to protect her. Let her be forced to call him for help. That would bring her around.

  Twenty minutes later he sat at the mahogany desk with a list of phone numbers. He checked his watch once again and dialed the first number.

  Casey stood with a piece of paper in each hand, looking from one to the other, Jack’s words echoing in her ears. She dropped her hands to her sides and stared into space. A creeping numbness settled over her. Jack had just handed her the key to happiness, but she’d have to wade through an alligator-infested swamp to get to it.

  “I can’t do it,” she whispered to herself. “I can’t.”

  She collapsed onto the sofa and closed her eyes, the hated memories flooding back. The blinding flash of the cameras, the jeering of the crowd as she and her mother were driven away from the prom. She relived the scouring mortification of seeing her tear-streaked face on the front page, the article detailing in horrific detail the day she was remanded into custody of the state, pending her mother’s trial.

  No, she wouldn’t go through that again—the very thought made her nauseated. She stood and carefully placed the envelope in the top drawer of her desk just as her phone rang. She looked at the caller ID. Reed. She picked it up.

  “Casey. Listen, I had a last-minute assignment, so I’m here in D.C. I thought we might get together and talk about this situation. Can you meet me around seven at Jilly’s?”

  Relief flooded through Casey. Maybe he’d come to his senses. Maybe he’d agree to the divorce. Maybe the papers in her desk would be proven irrelevant and she wouldn’t have to think about them again. She could shove her fears and failed hopes back into the psychic shoebox under the bed.

  “Yes. We really need to talk. I’ll see you then.”

  Casey gave the mirror a quick glance, ran a brush through her hair and crossed her fingers. If she believed in omens she’d be walking on a cloud, because for Reed to call to arrange a talk about the situation minutes after Jack left could only be interpreted as a positive sign. Had he finally realized there was no going back?

  She slipped her jacket over her shoulders, flipped on the porch light and stepped out, absently noting a lot of activity across the street. She’d just stuck the key in the door to lock it when she heard “There she is!” and the first camera flash went off.

  She whirled around to face a handful of reporters racing up the sidewalk toward her. Floodlights came on, saturating the doorstep where she stood with cold, bright light. She was assailed by shouts. “Ms. Lord, are you the Mystery Woman? Ms. Lord, tell us what it was like!”

  She shrank back against the door. Her throat constricted and her stomach rolled like a cement truck. Sweat broke out on her palms as she tried to unlock the door and get back into the house.

  “Aww, c’mon, Casey. We just want to know what happened.” A young freckle-faced reporter stood in the bushes and peeked around the side of the stairs, his face beseeching.

  Casey froze, wanting to say something, anything, but the best she could do was to give the reporter a quick grimace. “F-forgot something. Be right back.”

  She stumbled inside and closed the door. Her heart hammered and sweat trickled down under her sweater. She’d always assumed it was only a matter of time before someone put the pieces to
gether—but the timing… Why now? Why here?

  She turned her racing thoughts to what to do next. If she hid away in the apartment, it would fan the flames of curiosity and she’d be labeled a coward or a recluse. If she pushed through the crowd to the car and made a getaway, they would follow her or tag her as rude and arrogant.

  Should she call Reed? She took deep breaths to slow her speeding mind. Reed could handle them, no doubt. He would happily take her under his wing and deflect all questions, as he had before. But did she want him in her life simply because it was easier, less scary for her? Did she want to hide behind him?

  The commotion outside the door abated a little, but she had no doubt they were still there. Pushing off the door, she went into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Other than a few red splotches on her neck, she looked normal. Her eyes looked calm, her smile, when she tried it, looked reasonably sincere. “My name is Casey Lord,” she told herself, listening carefully for any warbles or wobbles. A little quaver, but she didn’t sound too bad. She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out, then sucked in again. “You can do this, Casey. They aren’t going to attack you or ridicule you. They just want information. It’s like giving a science lecture. Just stick to the facts. You can do this.”

  She rolled her neck, pushed back her shoulders and went out to face the wolf pack. She noticed a live news truck parked on the street and several video cameras in the crowd.

  The first few seconds were bad. When the cameras started snapping, she almost ran back into the house. But the young freckled reporter made eye contact with her and asked with a smile, “We just want to know if you’re the so-called Mystery Woman who was stranded with Dylan Raines in the flash flood?”

  She nodded before she found her voice. “Yes, I guess so.” Her voice cracked and she laughed. “Sorry. I’m nervous. I’ve never done this before. I’ll answer your questions if I can, but if we do this in a civilized way, it will probably go better.”

  This got some chuckles out of the press and had a decided disarming effect on them, though the questions started flying and they moved in closer.

  “Rumor has it that Dylan Raines saved you from the flash flood. Is it true?”

  “He did not! I pulled him out of the river, in fact.” Her indignation got her through the nervousness and put smiles on the reporters’ faces.

  “So you’re the hero, this time, not Dylan Raines?”

  She laughed again, finding it surprisingly easy to answer. “Only in the beginning. It evened out when he saved me from falling off a cliff as we were trying to find a way out of the canyon.”

  “What was he like?”

  “Honestly? He was a pain. At least until we came to a working agreement.” A few snickers.

  “Did you become close?”

  She had known this was coming, and was ready. “Oh, I know things about Dylan Raines that you’d never guess.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like he’s a darn good fisherman, thank heavens. We might not have survived otherwise. Food was an issue, and we had to scrabble a bit.” Deflection. She was proud of that one, and it worked—the next few questions were about their survival.

  “You were gone two weeks—what did you do in all that time?” This was the freckled guy, but all the reporters perked up.

  She was tempted to say “we made mad, passionate love 24/7,” knowing that was what they really wanted. Restraint prevailed. “You’d be surprised how much work there is in surviving day to day when there isn’t a grocery market on the corner, no plumbing, no microwave, and your only neighbors are scorpions, lizards and snakes.”

  “Did you know he was married?”

  The question caught her off guard, and a shot of anxiety raced through her but, to her surprise, the perfect answer rolled off her lips. “I didn’t even know he was Dylan Raines—he called himself by a different name. I’m a scientist, so not really up on the entertainment world, you know?”

  “Are you and Dylan still close?”

  “I’ve spoken to him a couple of times since then.” She shrugged dismissively. “Our daily realities are pretty different.” She smothered a smile, tickled that she’d ducked another one. She was really starting to get the hang of this—answer with a fact that didn’t actually answer the question.

  Casey fielded a few more questions and then bowed out, giving them a friendly wave and stepping back into the apartment. The door was nice and solid behind her back when she leaned against it and blew out a huge gusty breath. She examined herself mentally, testing her state, searching for signs of an imminent breakdown, but she found nothing but ordinary relief. A lot of it, but ordinary nonetheless. A slow grin spread across her face. She’d slain the dragon. St. George couldn’t have been more pleased.

  The savoring of her victory lasted only until she realized there was no possibility of getting to Jilly’s on time to meet Reed. She had a sneaking suspicion that he knew that.

  When she called him, he answered on the first ring. “Reed—can you come to the apartment right away?” She contrived to sound nervous—not that hard since she still had an adrenaline rush going.

  “I’ll be right there,” he replied, without even asking why.

  Casey peeked through the curtains to watch Reed park the car and climb out. He looked up and down the dark street, seeming confused. A scowl was still on his face when she opened the door. He was handsome and dashing as ever, like James Bond come to save the damsel in distress. Except the damsel held the gun.

  “They’re gone, Reed. So sorry you missed them.”

  “Who’s—”

  “Oh, please. I’m not stupid.”

  They stared at each other for a moment. Reed finally looked away. “I thought it would be good for you.”

  She smiled sweetly. “So considerate of you. I guess I should thank you, because, in fact, it was good for me. It was kind of like—” a moment on the river flashed through her mind, “—jumping off a cliff into a pool of cold water. Terrifying at first, but after I caught my breath, I almost enjoyed it. Would you like some coffee or tea before we get down to business?” She led the way into the living room.

  A deep frown marred Reed’s face as he followed her. “What business?”

  “Um, you called me to say we should discuss the situation. I took that to mean you’re considering signing the divorce papers, after all.”

  “Absolutely not. I—”

  Urgent knocking on the front door interrupted Reed’s reply.

  “Maybe the press wants another sound bite,” she said blithely as she waltzed by him. She thought she heard him growl.

  When she swung open the door Jack stood on the doorstep looking as though he didn’t know whether to be concerned or pleased. “Casey, I saw the live news feed—you were brilliant, but are you okay? I thought…I didn’t know what to think, actually.”

  “What are you doing here?” Casey blurted out.

  Jack looked down at his feet. “Misplaced hope, I guess. I couldn’t make myself leave town just yet. But I will if you want me to.”

  “Reed’s here.”

  Jack nodded slowly, his shoulders slumped. His face was a mask. “Yeah. Okay.” He started to turn away.

  “Wait.” Another sudden memory popped into her mind, of Jack holding her to his chest on the cliff ledge after he’d saved her from toppling over the side. It was time to return the favor. “Come on in. I think we’re all in this together.”

  Reed was where she’d left him. When he saw Jack he uttered a string of invectives and snarled, “What the hell do you think you’re doing in here, Raines? This doesn’t concern you. Get out.”

  Jack smiled wolfishly. “I’ve been invited to stay, thanks.”

  Casey stepped between them. “Reed, I want a divorce. I’ve made that clear. I don’t want anything of yours, so there’s nothing to argue over. We could each start over and you can find the person you need. It’s not me—somewhere deep inside you know that.”

  “I
don’t have time for this, and why you feel the need to involve this two-bit actor is beyond me. But let’s get this straight—you’re in this marriage, period.” Reed started to push past Jack and Casey.

  “Am I?” Casey walked over to the desk drawer and took out the thick envelope. “Perhaps I should mention that divorce isn’t the only issue here.” She opened the envelope and flipped open a document. “This is a motion to annul because of an impediment to our marriage. It hasn’t actually been filed yet, but…”

  “Impediment to the marriage? What impediment?” Reed demanded.

  “Me.” Jack smiled a smile that had nothing in common with a dog’s wagging tail and everything in common with a cat sporting feathers on its whiskers.

  Casey added, “I have documentation here that indicates we’ve—or, rather, I’ve—been perpetrating bigamy.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake. This is moronic,” Reed said.

  “Parts of it, without a doubt.” Casey removed a second sheet of paper from the package and offered it to Reed. “This is a copy of a de facto marriage contract. It’s dated June 16 of this year. Well before our marriage ceremony.”

  Reed, wary now, reached for the document and sat at the desk.

  Casey continued. “As you’ll see, the signatures are mine and Jack D—as in Dylan—Raines’s. We were both, as it turns out, single at the time, with no impediments to the marriage, since his divorce was finalized on—” she pulled one more sheet of paper from the envelope and perused it, “—let’s see…oh, yes…June 6, ten days earlier. We both signed the document and we exchanged rings as a token of the commitment.”

  She held up her hand to display Jack’s ring, and Jack, looking like he was enjoying this very much, held up his.

  “Which means either your marriage to Casey was not valid, or she’s a bigamist,” Jack supplied.

  Reed finished examining the document and tossed it aside. He snorted derisively. “This is garbage. It won’t hold up in court.”

  Jack said casually, “You know, that may be true. However, my legal counsel—who is, by the way, one of the foremost experts on complicated divorce situations—tells me it isn’t easily dismissed on any grounds he can think of. Still, it might be invalid, or it might not. Imagine the fun we’ll have trying to determine that in open court.”