by Peggy Webb
"You hush talking like that." Gwendolyn adjusted her cowboy. She wore it everywhere, sometimes even to church. "I thought you and Jake Townsend would never get together, and look how all that turned out."
With her heart-shaped lips and her blue eyes, Sarah looked almost as young as her firstborn. Jake Townsend was her hero. Always had been and always would be.
"You're right, Gwendolyn." Sarah blew her nose on a pink tissue. "How silly of me to worry so."
o0o
Claude Sullivan hadn't expected a warm reception from his son, but he'd expected better than he was getting. Daniel's eyes were pure ice, and if faces could start wars, his would.
"There's no need for this animosity, Daniel. I'm merely offering advice."
"I didn't ask for your advice. If that's why you came all the way from Virginia, you wasted your time."
Daniel didn't even call him Father. Claude hadn't realized how that hurt until now. Maybe he was getting old, too old to try and make his wayward son see the truth.
"Okay. I admit I was wrong about your choice of career." Daniel's silence was more damning than words. "But I'm not wrong about this."
The source of all the trouble lay on Daniel's desk, a copy of the Alexandria Beacon. The now-famous photograph of Daniel and Jenny exchanging a kiss at the grand opening of his store in Raleigh stared up at them.
Daniel didn't even bother to read the article. He could guess what it said. In spite of Jenny's remarkable accomplishments, the press chose to focus on only one thing—her limitations.
With swift movements Daniel tore the news article to shreds and dropped them into his wastebasket.
"I'll drive you back to your hotel," he said, standing up.
Defeat didn't sit well with Claude. Besides that, he'd lost Daniel years ago. Now he had nothing left to lose.
"I won't be dismissed like one of your hired hands." When Claude stood up, he was as tall as his son. They had the same square jaw and the same probing black eyes. Time had whitened Claude's hair and lined his face, but it hadn't moderated his temper nor cooled his determination. "I came to have my say, and I plan to say it."
"Have your say, but it will change nothing."
"How can you be so cavalier about something this important? By all the saints, Daniel, your future is at stake here." Claude jerked up the wastebasket and dumped it on Daniel's desk. Pawing through the torn bits of newspaper, he came up with a piece that showed Jenny's face. "Just look at her, son. Is she worth losing your children over? Do you think Jenny can give you children? Or has that ever crossed your mind?"
"You've said enough." Daniel was fighting hard for control.
"I haven't said nearly enough." Claude was shaking now, but he wasn't about to let that stop him. "She'll be an embarrassment to you, Daniel. She's already made you a laughingstock coast to coast."
"Leave!"
"No, not until I finish."
"You're already finished."
"If you marry her, you'll be no son of mine."
"I stopped being a son of yours the day Michael died."
The old pain rose up in Claude like a red cloud, obscuring everything except his rage.
"You chose a slut the first time around, Daniel. Did you do any better this time?"
Daniel hit him. Bone slammed against bone, and Claude felt the shock all the way to his toes. For a moment he thought he would go under, but he battled against it.
Silence screamed around them. Daniel's face was a hard, cold mask. Only his eyes were alive. They were bright with stubborn pride and anger and ... Was that regret?
Claude waited, waited for an apology he knew would never come. Finally he left the office, not with his head bowed like a defeated old man, but with his back held rigid and his chin held high.
The door slammed shut behind him.
Daniel slumped into his chair and stared at the wreckage on his desk.
"What have I done?"
o0o
Jenny tried to make herself invisible. Crunched in a doorway watching Daniel's father leave, she wrapped her arms tightly around herself so she wouldn't shake. She'd die before she'd face him.
His footsteps echoed down the hallway. When she heard the elevator door close, she started running, running toward the stairs. She had no plan, no place to go. All she knew was that she had to leave.
She was still shaking when she got into her car. The car Daniel had given her. Daniel who would never have any more children because of her. Daniel who would be embarrassed because of her. Daniel who was the laughingstock of the country because of her.
The engine purred to life the instant she turned the key. Fighting the tears that blinded her, she drove through Florence and across the Tennessee River. Somewhere far behind her, Daniel would be sitting at his desk in Sullivan Enterprises.
Would he miss her when she was gone?
o0o
Daniel wasn't aware of time. All he knew was pain.
The sun was setting when he finally left his chair. Soon it would be time to go home, time to see his children, time to talk with Jenny.
Jenny.
His knuckles smarted. He held his hand up and studied it as if it didn't even belong to him. There was blood where he'd broken his skin. A little water would wash the blood away.
But what would wash away the guilt?
The hallway outside his office was quiet. Had everybody gone home?
As Daniel strode toward the water fountain he saw the box, a large white dressmaker's box. Fancy Fashions, the label proclaimed. It wasn't like Helen to leave things lying around. Where the devil was she?
Daniel picked up the box, and out spilled the gown. His heart slammed against his ribs. The dress was white satin encrusted with pearls. A wedding dress.
His hand trembled as he touched the cool satin. A bill slipped out of the folds of the gown and fluttered to the floor. The name at the top was Jenny Love-Townsend.
She'd been here. She'd heard it all.
"JEN-NY Y!"
Helen rushed down the hall, her hand over her heart.
"Daniel?" He was standing with a wedding gown in his hand and his head bowed. "Mercy, you scared me to death."
"Was Jenny here?" Foolish question. He was holding her wedding gown.
"Yes. I thought she was with you." Helen took the dress from him and carefully arranged it in the box. "I can't imagine why she left her dress. She wanted to show it to you."
"What time did she come?" Give me a miracle, God, Daniel prayed.
"While your father was here."
Daniel died inside. In loving Jenny, he'd destroyed her.
"Did she say where she was going?"
"No. I didn't even see her leave. I told her she could wait in my office, but she said she'd go on down and surprise you. I thought you might like her to meet your father." Helen put her hand back over her heart. "I hope I didn't do anything wrong."
"No, Helen, you didn't do anything wrong."
He was the one who had done wrong. He'd dragged a total innocent into the mess that was his life and exposed her to public ridicule.
There was nothing he could do to make everything all right, nothing he could say to take back the hateful words that had been said against her. The only thing he could do was apologize and give her a chance to pull out of a very bad bargain. But first he had to find her.
Chapter Twelve
Daniel didn't know where to start looking. Would Jenny go home, or would she go to his house and wait for him? She might even go to her parents.
He drove to Jenny's first, looking for her car. It wasn't in the driveway. Every nerve ending in his body was screaming. Gripping his steering wheel, he stared at her empty driveway and tried not to panic.
Jenny could be anywhere. Shopping, perhaps. Or eating ice cream. Jenny loved ice cream.
Maybe she hadn't overheard the conversation in his office. Maybe she'd suddenly remembered an errand she had to do and had forgotten to take her wedding gown with her.
Fool. He'd k
nown the truth the minute he saw the wedding gown.
Jenny's house mocked him. So safe. So serene.
So empty. Even her house was no longer a haven for her. He'd taken that away too.
He broke all the laws as he raced toward his house. One thought was in his mind—find Jenny.
o0o
Jenny sat under the oak tree, looking out over the river. It was the tree where she and Daniel had picnicked. She touched the tree's rough bark and its glossy leaves. She gazed upward remembering how the sun had looked filtering through the leaves. Someday she would paint the tree, paint it exactly as it had looked the day she'd received her first kiss.
Jenny touched her lips. Daniel would never kiss her again, never touch her, never make love to her. There would be no more picnics, no more movies, no more laughter.
She put her hand over her heart to stop the hurting. The sun vanished and darkness crept over the land. She was silly to be sitting under a tree in the dark. She might not even be safe.
Hurrying, she got behind the wheel of her car. She didn't have a plan; all she knew was that she had to get away. When she got where she was going, she'd write letters to everybody. Maybe Gwendolyn would come and join her. They'd set up another studio far away from Daniel.
Someday he'd forget her. But she would never forget him. Never.
o0o
Daniel had looked in all the places she might be: his house, her parents' house, the ice cream parlor, the park. He'd even gone to the river where they had had their first picnic.
Fighting against his rising fear and the sense of defeat that threatened to swamp him, Daniel paused to formulate a plan. There was no need to alarm anyone, not yet. She couldn't have gone far. First he'd comb every square inch of Florence. If her car was still in town, he'd find it.
o0o
On the outskirts of Florence, Jenny came to her senses. After all her brave talk to Daniel, here she was running away like a scared rabbit. Oh, she was selfish to the core, thinking only of herself. The words she'd overheard had hurt her. But what about Daniel? Had she even considered how he must feel?
And what about the children?
Jenny pulled into a fast-food place and sank into a corner booth.
"Take your order, hon?"
She wasn't hungry, but she didn't want to hurt the woman's feelings. "A hamburger, no onion."
The waitress slipped away on her spindly shoes, chewing her gum and humming.
Jenny remembered when she'd hummed. Daniel made her hum ... and his children, and all their animals. Goodness gracious, she was so selfish, she'd left her animals behind.
"A pretty pickle you're in, Jenny Love-Townsend."
"What's that, hon?" The waitress slid the hamburger onto the Formica tabletop.
"I was just talking to myself."
"We all do it sometimes." Lou Eva, her name tag said. "If it'll help any, you can talk to me."
"I don't want to take up your time."
"Nothing much goin' on around here." Lou Eva slid into the opposite side of the booth, then wrapped her gum in a paper napkin. Southern from the tips of her painted red fingernails to the soles of her spike-heeled shoes, she loved nothing more than a good thorny problem—as long as it belonged to somebody else. "This town is dead as a doornail. I'm thinking about going to Birmingham myself. I hear they got some action down there."
"I'm leaving town too."
"You don't look too happy about it, hon."
"I'm not."
"Then don't go."
How simple that sounded. Don't go.
"Listen, hon." Lou Eva leaned across the table and took Jenny's hand. "We women gotta stick together. You just tell old Lou Eva what's botherin' you, and I'll try to help you out. I been around the track a time or two. There ain't nothin' I haven't seen and nothin' I can't fix."
Jenny knew she was seeing true courage. For all her bragging to Daniel about being brave, she'd turned and run at the first sign of trouble. She was a coward and a deserter... no better than Claire. And like Claire, she was abandoning Megan and Patrick.
How would that look to a judge? It was something that had never crossed her mind. She'd also never considered the fact that she barely knew her way around Florence, let alone the rest of the state. What judge was going to put Megan and Patrick in the hands of a woman who flitted off at the first sign of trouble and didn't even bother to take a map?
If she wanted a judge to call her fit, she had to act fit.
"You know what?" She leaned toward her new friend. "I think I can fix things, too, Loeva."
"Lou Eva, hon. But don't fret about it. I been called worse."
"Sometimes I don't get things right the first time. But I get them right the second." Jenny stood up and hugged the waitress. "Thanks, Lou Eva."
"All in a day's work, hon." She lightly punched Jenny's arm. "Go get 'em, tiger."
When Jenny left the fast-food place, she had a plan. Confront the enemy. It didn't take her long to find him, for Florence wasn't blessed with places to stay and Helen had told her his name.
She called him from the lobby of his hotel.
"This is Jenny Love-Townsend."
There was a dreadful silence at the other end of the line. Jenny squeezed her eyes shut, hoping as hard as she could that he wouldn't say no.
"I have nothing to say to you, young woman."
"I don't mean to be pushy, but I'd love to meet you."
"I'll give you five minutes. That's all."
Claude Sullivan looked so much like Daniel, she could have picked him out in a crowd. But he had none of Daniel's warmth, none of his charm, none of his humor.
He didn't offer her a chair, nor did he apologize for making her meet him in his room. She stood beside the door, trying to look more confident than she felt.
"Mr. Sullivan, I'm Jenny."
"I know who you are. You're just like your picture. Beautiful women have always been Daniel's downfall."
"Daniel values character more than beauty."
"Bosh!"
They were not off to a good start. Jenny found herself casting about for the right words to say what she wanted.
"Well... I thought you came to talk." Claude Sullivan stalked to a chair. He didn't move like an old man, but he sat down like one, loose-jointed and heavy. "Talk." He glared at her from under his heavy brows.
Jenny began to talk, not with eloquent words and dramatic gestures but from the heart. She told how she and Daniel had met, how he had worn a yellow rose in his lapel and how she had known he was her hero. She told about their jog and their dance in the moonlight and their picnic. She even told about their first kiss.
Daniel's father sat very still. Not one single movement or facial expression betrayed his thoughts. There was nothing Jenny could do except hope.
"He didn't see me as other people do, Mr. Sullivan. He saw me with his heart, and I saw him with mine."
Claude Sullivan was unmoved. Jenny trembled near the doorway, torn between flight and fight.
She made one last overture of peace.
"We are going to be a family, and I hope you will be a part of it." Guided by instinct, Jenny crossed to Daniel's father, knelt beside his chair, and took one of his hands. "I know I'm different, Mr. Sullivan. I don't talk well and I don't walk well. But I can love. I can love as well as anybody in the whole world. I love Daniel and the children, and I hope you will let me love you, too."
Claude Sullivan sat in stony silence. There was absolutely no indication that he had even heard Jenny, let alone heeded her. She held his hand a while longer, then gently she laid it back in his lap.
The space between the chair and door seemed as vast as a scorching desert in Egypt. Leaning down, she kissed Daniel's father on the cheek, then she crossed that endless desert... alone.
After the door closed behind her, Claude continued sitting in his chair. It was getting dark, but he didn't bother to turn on the lights. He reached for the remote control and switched on the television. It
didn't matter what was playing, as long as it made noise.
Groucho Marx and his brothers cavorted across the screen. Canned laughter echoed in the room. The glow from the television screen fell across Claude's face and illuminated his tears.
o0o
Daniel was near panic. He'd been driving for hours, and there was no sign of Jenny's car anywhere. Weary, he turned toward home.
It was getting late. The children would be ready for bed, and he wanted to be there to tuck them in. Then he'd have to call Jake Townsend. It would be one of the hardest phone calls he'd ever made.
Jenny was watching out the window for Daniel's car. When she saw the headlights, she waited for him at the front door.
She heard his key turning in the lock, and suddenly he was there, frozen in the doorway, holding her white satin wedding gown, a dozen emotions crossing his face. Jenny saw them all— relief, joy, pain, and then something she'd never expected, a sorrowful resignation.
Oh, Daniel, say something, her heart cried out.
He watched her, as still as his father had been. Only his eyes were alive.
The clock in the hallway chimed the hour, and outside the cicadas sang their summer song. Miss Williams tiptoed down the stairs and into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. There was a muffled sound upstairs as the bodyguards positioned themselves for their night watch over Daniel's children.
Daniel's muscles bunched into tight knots, and he clenched his jaw so hard, he almost broke teeth. Every fiber in his body was crying out for Jenny. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and pretend that nothing had happened.
But he could no longer be the instrument of Jenny's destruction.
"Jenny, I know what happened this afternoon. I'm so sorry." He laid the gown across the Queen Anne chair.
"It's all right."
"No. It's not all right." Nothing would ever be all right again. "Let's go into my study so we can talk."
Why didn't he touch her? Forlorn and uncertain, Jenny followed him into the book-lined room. Daniel closed the door.
"Can I get you anything, Jenny?"
How polite. Like a stranger.
"No, thank you." She sat in a deep leather chair. "Are you mad at me, Daniel?"
"Mad at you?" He knelt beside her chair and pressed her hand, palm up, to his lips. His kiss was soft, oh so soft. Jenny closed her eyes. "I could never be mad at you."
