Close to Home

by Jenna Bennett

  “Yes,” mother said, “but...”

  “I only slept with him once. Well, until yesterday, anyway. Twice now.”

  “Darling,” mother protested, wincing delicately.

  Right. Too much information. “Sorry. But I want you to understand that I haven’t been carrying on an affair for months and lying about it. It was just the one time, that night when Todd proposed two months ago.”

  Mother looked taken aback. “You went to that man after Todd proposed? Savannah...”

  “I love him,” I said, no doubt shocking mother almost as much as I shocked myself. We were both silent for a while. I don’t know what thoughts were running through my mother’s head, but for myself, I was reeling. I’d fought feeling anything at all for Rafe for months. I had told myself and anyone else who’d listen that we were just friends. Acquaintances, really, since I really didn’t know him well enough for us to be anything more. But then the incident with Perry Fortunato happened, and it’s hard not to develop an attachment to a man who saves your life and gets hurt in the process. I had just about gotten used to the fact that I’d developed a sort of crush on him. I knew I had fallen for him a little; in fact, I thought I might almost be a little bit in love with him.

  Almost and just a little.

  All that was out the window now. I had suspected as much when I thought he was dead and I’d come close to going out of my mind with grief and loss. But I hadn’t been willing to put what I felt into words. Now that I had blurted out the truth without thinking, I had stunned not only my mother, but myself.

  I faced her again. “I’m sorry you don’t care for my behavior. And I’m sorry the man I’ve fallen in love with isn’t good enough for you. I’m sorry I can’t just marry Todd and give you the son-in-law you want. But I’d be miserable married to Todd, and contrary to what he thinks, he wouldn’t be happy, either.”

  Mother opened her mouth, probably to argue, and I shook my head. “I know my own heart, mother. Even when we were dating in high school, it was more to make you and Pauline happy than because I was in love with him.”

  “But Rafael Collier...!” mother moaned, and followed it up with the expected, “what will people say?”

  “I don’t care what anyone says. Not anymore. I cared so much about what people might say that I was afraid to tell him I was pregnant. I thought about having an abortion because I was too afraid of what people would say. He saved my life three months ago, and I was too afraid of what people would say to admit that I was in love with him!”

  Tears were running down my cheeks, probably ruining my makeup, and mother looked acutely uncomfortable. A Southern Belle isn’t supposed to make a spectacle of herself, not even in the privacy of her mother’s front parlor. I was taught to always be proper, controlled, pleasant. Not this sobbing mess.

  “He left knowing I’d been pregnant and hadn’t told him. He probably thinks I didn’t want the baby. He’ll never be able to forgive me. He probably won’t even want to.”

  “Maybe he’s relieved,” mother said, sipping from her sherry. Unlike me, she looked proper and controlled, if not precisely pleasant.

  I blinked away the tears hanging in my eyelashes. “Excuse me?”

  “Maybe he’s relieved that things worked out this way. I’m sure he enjoyed your attention, darling, but he probably knew nothing would come of it in the end.”

  I dried my cheeks. “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” mother said apologetically, “you’re not really from the same social strata, are you?”

  “So?”

  “So are you sure he wasn’t just having some fun? Men do, you know.”

  “Yes,” I said, “I know.”

  “Well, have you ever discussed anything permanent, darling? Or was it all just...” She paused delicately, “physical?”

  I bit my tongue, hard. This was something else I knew I’d have to deal with if I could talk Rafe into forgiving me: the many idiots who’d think that the only thing a woman like me could see in a man like him was the sex. The excitement. The forbidden fruit.

  Rafe was used to that. Every time we went somewhere together, some woman or other made eyes at him. And if it wasn’t a woman, it was Timothy Briggs. It had been like that since high school. Yvonne McCoy hadn’t made any secret of having been curious about what he’d be like in bed, and although poor Elspeth probably thought she was in love with him, the truth was that she hadn’t known him well enough for that.

  Was it possible that he thought that’s all it had been for me too?

  And could I blame him, when I’d done everything I could to hide how I felt? Could I blame him when I hadn’t vehemently denied his facetious statement that I’d marry Todd but think about him every time I had to fake another orgasm?

  Dammit, I’d done everything except tell him straight out that I was only interested in, as mother would say, one thing. So no, I couldn’t blame him at all for thinking I’d bought that damn morning-after pill to avoid getting pregnant. From his point of view, if all I’d wanted was a quick and dirty affair before tying the knot with Todd and settling down to being a proper Southern wife, the last thing I’d want was to risk getting pregnant.

  I pushed it all back down. I’d take it out later and look at it, but not until I was alone. Now I faced mother and did my best to come across calm. “No, we never discussed the future. I didn’t think we had one, and I’m sure neither did he. I have no idea how he feels about me. He told me he wasn’t in a hurry to be fitted with a ball and chain, but...”

  But that had been while we were arguing, and while he thought I’d taken steps to short-circuit any little ‘accidents’ we may have inadvertently caused. He hadn’t meant it.

  Had he?

  “If you say so, darling,” mother said doubtfully. “As it happens, I didn’t intend this conversation to be about Mr. Collier.”

  “Then why did you bring him up?”

  “I didn’t,” mother said. “You did.”

  “No...” But when I looked back on it, I realized she was right. She’d told me she was worried about my behavior, and I’d jumped to the conclusion that the biggest behavioral problem from my mother’s point of view had to be my choice of bed-partner. Apparently I’d been wrong.

  “You’re a grown woman, Savannah,” mother said.

  Nice of her to notice. I’m too well brought-up to actually say that, of course. I just smiled pleasantly.

  “And you’ll do as you want, of course.”

  I fully intended to. I’d already lost too much by not listening to my own heart instead of worrying about what everyone else thought. I didn’t say that, either.

  “But do you really think it’s wise to engage yourself in police matters?”

  I blinked. “You mean, Sheila’s death?”

  Mother nodded.

  “It’s not that I’m engaged, really. Tamara Grimaldi is more than capable of handling the investigation without any help from me. She’s good at what she does. But when I learned that Sheila had been to see Dr. Rushing, at the same hospital where David Flannery was born, and I had a perfect excuse because I was pregnant myself,” I swallowed, “I didn’t think it could hurt to pay a visit. I did it just as much for Rafe and for David as for Sheila.”

  Mother didn’t look convinced.

  “I’ve never looked for trouble, mother. When Walker pulled a gun on me, I was just sitting an open house. He wanted Mrs. Jenkins, and I happened to be in the way. Same thing when Perry Fortunato tried to kill me. It was an open house then too, and I had no idea he’d come home early and find me in his goody closet. It could have happened to anyone. And I can’t help it that Elspeth Caulfield lost her mind. She hadn’t even seen Rafe for twelve years; it’s not like I could foresee that she’d be so possessive of him that she’d try to murder anyone she thought was a threat to her happy ending.”

  “We just don’t want anything to happen to you, darling,” mother murmured. “You’re all the way up there in Nashville, all alone
with no one around you...”

  “I have plenty of people around me. If I’m in danger, Detective Grimaldi will assign me some protection. She has before. And I can usually trust Rafe to protect me from anyone trying to hurt me.” Like Perry Fortunato and Elspeth Caulfield.

  “He’s in Atlanta,” mother said.

  “He’ll be back. He can’t pretend to be Jorge Pena forever. Sooner or later he’ll run into someone who knows who he really is, or someone who knows Jorge. And then he’ll be back.”

  I had to believe that. Had to believe that he’d survive whatever crazy situation they’d put him in, and that he’d return to Nashville at least long enough for me to clear the air and tell him the truth. I had no control over what he did after that, whether he’d want anything to do with me after what happened—whether I’d ever meant more than a feather in his cap or another notch on his bedpost—but for now, at least, I had to hold onto the belief that he’d be back and I’d see him again.

  I got to my feet. “I think I’d like to lie down for a little bit. I still don’t feel very well.”

  “Of course, darling,” mother said and put the sherry glass on the table, a faint wrinkle between her elegant brows. “I’ll help you make the bed.”

  I waved her back down. “I spent eighteen years here; I know where everything is. And the hospital didn’t say I couldn’t do normal chores.”

  They’d told me not to lift anything over ten pounds, and not to have sex again until the bleeding had stopped and I’d been examined by my own gynecologist and given a clean bill of health. I doubted the bedclothes were covered by the ten pound rule, and the only man I’d be interested in having sex with was at least five hours away and probably not interested in having sex with me, so everything was under control. I made up the bed in my old room and crawled in. And lay there in the cool quiet, staring up at the ceiling. My body was insistent about needing rest, but my mind was awhirl with too many thoughts for me to be able to sleep. The medicine made me feel sort of floaty and maybe a little high. I’ve never used illegal drugs, so it’s not like I’d recognize the feeling from anywhere, but whatever the drugs did, they didn’t make me sleepy. There were just too many things on my mind for sleep.

  Was mother right and Rafe really only wanted me in bed? Sure, yes, that was probably all he thought he could have, since I’d never given him any indication that I wanted more. But if he knew that I cared about him, that I—my mind hiccupped—loved him, would he want more? Or had I just been an amusing pastime and now he was done with me? I wasn’t the type of woman he’d normally get involved with.

  Then again, I had no real idea what kind of woman he usually got involved with. The only two women I’d met, who had had any kind of intimate relationship with Rafe, were Elspeth Caulfield and Yvonne McCoy. Both more than twelve years ago, both blonde—all right, Yvonne was more of a redhead—blue-eyed, Caucasian girls. Sure, there was precedent for someone like me. But all they’d been, both of them, were one night stands. I’d hardly been more than that myself.

  Clearly he’d had a lot of practice since high school. Or so I assumed. I didn’t honestly have enough experience to know. But he certainly knew what he was doing, and I doubted he’d been celibate for twelve years. I knew nothing at all about those other women. The one thing I did know, was that whoever they were, they hadn’t lasted. He wouldn’t sleep with me while he had a girlfriend waiting somewhere else.

  Would he?

  I turned and buried my face in the pillow. This kind of thinking was driving me crazy. Yes, he might have a girlfriend in Memphis. He’d spent a lot of time there. Years. My certainty that he wouldn’t sleep with me if he had a girlfriend elsewhere was based on nothing but what I wanted to believe. If he thought our relationship was just about sex, there was no reason why he wouldn’t sleep with me and someone else at the same time.

  He could be with her right now. No doubt leaving her as breathless as he’d left me yesterday afternoon.

  I rolled over, gritting my teeth.

  But he was working, I reminded myself. There might not be another woman. Surely he wouldn’t indulge in gratuitous sex while he was on the job?

  And did it matter?

  Even if there wasn’t anyone else, and even if I could somehow convince him to give me, give us, another chance, was I the kind of woman who could keep his attention for very long?

  Not likely, I figured. We had so little in common apart from enjoying rolling around on a flat surface together. At least I enjoyed rolling around with him. He seemed to have a good time too, but he might have felt the same way after sleeping with Yvonne and Elspeth and all the others. I might be nothing special to him.

  I forced my mind off the subject before I started chewing the hundred-year-old wallpaper. And then promptly went back to thinking about him again.

  Would he be able to remember anything about the missing photograph from Dr. Rushing’s cork-board? He’d been looking for pictures of David, so he might not have noticed much else.

  The photograph of David and the Flannerys was still on the board. Unless there had been two, and both Dr. Rushing and Rafe had missed it, it seemed the missing picture must have been of someone else. But why remove it? We hadn’t asked about anyone else.

  Had someone other than us stopped by later in the day and asked about another child? It seemed fantastically coincidental, but maybe not impossible. If there was something fishy about David’s adoption, Dr. Rushing might have cut a few corners in other cases, as well.

  Or—I remembered Detective Grimaldi’s question—had Rafe headed back to Brentwood after leaving my apartment yesterday afternoon, to take some of his frustrations out on Dr. Rushing? Having an angry Rafe Collier banging on the door would be enough to put the wind up many a man.

  I twisted on the bed and faced the ceiling again.

  Would Detective Grimaldi tell me what Rafe said? Would she tell me if she talked to him? Would she tell me how he was? Whether he said anything about me?

  My cell phone rang, and I lunged for it. “Yeah?”

  “Savannah?” a voice said. Female, somewhat familiar. It took me a second to place it, and by then she had introduced herself. “This is Denise Seaver.”

  “Of course.” Not who I wanted, but better than going another round with my own thoughts. “What can I do for you, doctor?”

  “I just received your file from Skyline Medical Center.”

  She paused to give me time to respond. When I didn’t, she continued, “I’m not quite sure whether what happened came as a relief or not. The file said the miscarriage wasn’t self-induced...?”

  I firmed my voice. “I wanted this baby. I know it didn’t sound like I did, but it was never about want, just about being afraid.”

  “Then you have my condolences. We should set up an appointment for you to come in to my office in a few days. How do you feel right now?”

  I said I felt fine, and was lying down. “My mother insisted on bringing me to Sweetwater. I guess I’ll probably be here a few days.”

  “Any pain?”

  “None at the moment,” I said. “I have pills.”

  “So I see.” She mentioned the name of the medication I was taking; it must be in the file. Would be in the file, I guess. “Be careful not to drink alcohol while you’re taking it. It doesn’t mix well.”

  “I understand.” One thought lead to another, and I added, “Did you hear about Dr. Rushing?”

  Her voice changed, became wary. “What about Dr. Rushing?”

  “He’s dead. Last night.”

  “Dear me,” Dr. Seaver said. “How do you know?”

  “I was there yesterday. My name showed up in the visitor log. There’s a photograph missing from the cork-board.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “When we were there yesterday, the whole board was filled. Now there’s a gap. The doctor must have taken something down.”

  “Interesting,” Dr. Seaver said politely. “Why?”

  “I assume
because he didn’t want anyone to see it. If there was something wrong with David’s adoption, maybe there was something wrong with someone else’s, too.”

  “There wasn’t anything wrong with David’s adoption. Mr. and Mrs. Caulfield agreed to it on behalf of their daughter. She was a minor.” Dr. Seaver’s voice held a hint of impatience.

  “Rafe wasn’t. And he didn’t sign anything.”

  “Rafe Collier is dead, Savannah.”

  “No, he’s not,” I said. Now that my entire family, plus Todd and Sheriff Satterfield, knew the truth, I didn’t care who else found out. “He was with me at St. Jerome’s yesterday. He’s probably telling the police about that missing photograph right now.”

  There was a pause. “I don’t understand,” Dr. Seaver said. “I heard that he’d died. A few months ago.”

  “You heard wrong. He’s very much alive. And upset about David.”

  “Dear me,” Dr. Seaver said again. “Perhaps that’s the reason Emil decided to end it all. If Mr. Collier threatened to sue...” She trailed off.

  “Perhaps. “ Although in my opinion, it would be more likely that Rafe had threatened Dr. Rushing with grave bodily harm. Probably without saying a word, because I didn’t think he’d actually lay a finger on the old man. I was still stuck on that missing photograph, though. What would be Dr. Rushing’s point in getting rid of it if he was planning to kill himself anyway? And where was the photograph now? Hidden? Shredded? In an envelope in the mailroom? Dr. Rushing hadn’t left work, so the photograph had to be around. It couldn’t have walked out of St. Jerome’s on its own.

  “Any word on Sheila’s funeral?” Dr. Seaver interrupted my thoughts. “I’d like to attend. Unless you would prefer for it to be just the family?”

  I pulled my thoughts together before they strayed too far afield. “I think that would be fine. It’s tomorrow at eleven.”

  We exchanged particulars, and the doctor hung up. I lay back down on the bed and closed my eyes, willing my mind to go blank so I could get some sleep.