She stood and met her friend, holding her even when her legs buckled. Clay was on his feet, helping ease Wanda into a chair, but she was unstable. Dizzy from the shock. When she was seated between them, she leaned forward, clearly trying to fight what must've been a consuming panic. “How is he? Can I see him?”
Clay gave her the update, and when he got to the part about his chances, Wanda broke down, weeping, clinging to both of them.
“I … I waited too long!” She could barely breathe for the sobs. “I can't … lose him now.” She looked at Jamie, her expression frozen in regret. “I love him, Jamie. I love him.”
They stayed that way most of the night, long after the other detectives reported that the suspects had been arrested, along with four other men—all part of the drug ring responsible for the murder in the alley, as well as a host of other unsolved crimes. Once they'd delivered that news, the other detectives said their good-byes and their condolences.
And still the three of them stayed, Jamie and Clay on either side of Wanda, taking turns holding her while she cried, comforting her and listening to her talk about Joe and how much she'd missed him and how come she couldn't have told him so sooner.
“Pride, that's what it was.” She came up with this conclusion sometime around four in the morning. “I would've called him back the day he left if it weren't for my cursed pride.”
Jamie shot a look at Clay as relief made its way through her. Thank You, God … that it's not ten years from now and me saying those words about Clay.
The night wore on, and twice doctors reported no change. Joe was still in critical condition, still on life support, his body trying to adjust to the massive blood loss and internal injuries. Jamie was exhausted, but they had to hold on. News could come at any minute.
The group grew quiet, lost in their own prayers and thoughts. Sometime around seven that morning, Clay was pacing along the window area, and Wanda had her face in her hands when a doctor entered the waiting room.
He was grinning.
All three of them were on their feet, meeting the doctor. Only Clay could find the words to speak. “How is he?”
“I'm amazed, really. A half hour ago his vital signs had a sudden improvement. We took him off life support, and he's doing well.” The doctor gave a shake of his head. “Very well. Almost as if someone breathed life into him.”
“Oh my …” Wanda lifted her fingers slowly to her mouth. Her eyes found Clay's and then Jamie's. “For the past hour I changed my prayer. I told God if he'd let Joe live, I'd spend the rest of my days by that man's side, following the Lord together, the way we should have from the beginning.”
Chills ran down Jamie's arms.
The doctor gave Wanda a knowing nod. “I've seen this kind of thing too often to doubt it. God still works miracles today; I'm convinced.” He paused. “You've been here all night. You can come in and see him if you'd like. He's trying to come around.”
“Oh, thank God!” Wanda hugged the doctor. “He's giving me one more chance!”
Jamie rubbed her arms to ward off another series of chills. How was it possible? Two hours ago Joe barely clung to life, and now he was breathing on his own, waking up? The power of God at work in their presence was enough to drop her to her knees.
Instead she took Clay's hand and the three of them followed the doctor to Joe's room. He was hooked to half a dozen machines, and he had tubes running into his nose and arms. But otherwise he looked well. His midsection was bandaged and a light sheet covered him to his waist.
Wanda looked at the doctor. “Can I … can I touch him?”
Joe moved his lips and made a weak attempt at clearing his throat. “Doc …” His voice was scratchy. “That's my Wanda.” He struggled, wincing from the pain. “You better … tell her yes.”
“Joe!” She framed his face with her hands and kissed him square on the mouth. “I'm sorry! It wasn't all your fault, it was mine.” She was crying again, crying and smiling and holding on to Joe the same way Jamie had hung on to Clay hours earlier. Her words spilled out almost too fast to understand. “I should've gone after you when Jimmy died, and instead I made a stupid mistake and lost you. I lost you, but it was my pride.” She took a quick breath. “My pride, I tell you. It kept me from calling when I should've, and now it almost kept me from telling you the most important thing, because Joe Reynolds, I have pride something fierce! But guess what?”
He blinked and his eyes opened just enough to see her. “You won … the speed-talking award?”
She stopped and sat a bit straighter. Then her eyes lit up, and she looked at Jamie and Clay. “He's gonna be fine! If he's got his humor, he's gonna be just fine.”
The slits in Joe's eyes grew wider. He looked around the room, wincing again as he shifted himself higher on his pillow. “Michaels?”
“I'm here.” Clay took a step forward.
“Tell me they got those punks.” His words were slow, but he was coming back a little more every few minutes.
Clay smiled and Jamie moved in beside him. “Got 'em good, buddy. Real good.”
“Attempted murder?” He managed a weak smile.
Jamie understood. Attempted murder, because Joe had every intention of surviving the shooting. She felt something warm work its way through her, and she knew what it was. Blessed assurance. The certainty that God had indeed worked not just one miracle in their midst by bringing her to the understanding that she could see Clay again. But He'd worked the miracle of Joe's life as well.
Clay took another step closer and put his hand on Joe's knee. “More than that.” He looked at Jamie. “The guys were wanted for a bunch of drug deals and one other murder. They were part of a ring.”
“Scary.” Jamie felt the blood leave her face.
“Yeah.” Clay gave her a look that told her he'd known this information all night, but hadn't wanted to share it until now.
Jamie looked at the floor near her feet, too shocked to speak. Fear tap-danced around Jamie but didn't touch her. It could have been Clay just as easily. She met his eyes and looped her arm through his. “I'm so glad they caught them.”
Joe gave a slow nod and looked at Jamie. He shifted his gaze to Clay. “What else they get 'em for?”
“Besides attempted murder?” Clay grinned at his friend. “Homicide in the alley killing and a number of drug charges.”
Joe lifted his head a few inches off the pillow. “They were the killers?”
“Not sure which one was the shooter, but the police think one of 'em is their guy.”
“Okay, then ask the doc … when I can leave.” His voice was still scratchy, his words still slow. He smiled at Wanda. “That news calls for a party.”
“No parties.” Wanda kissed him on the cheek. The mood changed as she grew quiet, searching his eyes. “You have to get better, Joe. And when you go back to L.A. you have to take me and the kids with you.” Her voice was softer, not the hysterical weeping or giddy excitement from earlier, but a deep warmth that filled the room. “I love you, Joe Reynolds. God gave me the chance to tell you. This time I'm not going to miss it.”
Clay shifted and pulled Jamie into another embrace. Not as desperate as the one they'd shared when she first arrived at the hospital, but one of joy and contentment.
He whispered close to her ear. “I think we should leave them alone.”
“Me too.” Jamie stifled a giggle and let herself get lost in Clay's eyes. “Besides, you have a call to make.”
“I do?” He nuzzled his nose against hers.
“Yes.” Now that Joe was doing better, she allowed herself to be lost in the feelings he stirred in her. She wanted to kiss him, wanted it as much as she wanted her next breath. But they had other details to take care of first.
“Okay, Miss Jamie.” He held her closer, a lazy smile hanging on his lips, his eyes filled with desire. “Who do I have to call?”
“Your brother, so you can tell him the news. Sierra and I are coming for Thanksgiving.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Jamie was nervous.
Whatever she told herself or Clay or Sue or anyone else, her stomach was tight and her heart raced even when she was sitting still. For three years she had accepted she would never see Eric Michaels again, and now, in a few days, she was about to do just that. The level of anxiety over the matter hit her again the Wednesday morning before Thanksgiving. She was about to have dinner with Eric and his wife; the idea still seemed like something from a dream.
Or a nightmare.
The flight took forever, and Jamie tried not to think about Eric. There were more pressing matters. How fast the plane could fly, for instance. Only two days had passed since she'd been with Clay, but she couldn't wait to see him. It seemed forever before the plane finally circled over Burbank and came in for a smooth landing.
“I'm excited, Mommy. I've never seen California.” Sierra squeezed Jamie's hand as they stepped off the plane and onto the jetway.
“I think you'll like it.” Jamie grinned at her. They held hands as they headed down the concourse toward security. She spotted Clay just as his eyes found her through the crowd.
“Look!” Sierra let go of her hand and did a few jumps. “It's Clay! Can I go see him?”
Jamie laughed, her eyes still locked on his. “Just don't knock anyone down.”
She took off toward Clay, her red backpack bouncing, and when she reached him, she threw her arms around his waist. He stooped down and handed her a long-stemmed white rose. Then he gave her a red one and nodded toward Jamie.
“Mommy!” Sierra ran the few feet that separated them and handed the flower over. “Here! It's from Clay.”
Jamie stopped and took the rose. She looked at Clay and thanked him with her eyes. A few seconds later she and Sierra were at his side. He leaned close and kissed Jamie. “I missed you.” He spoke the words low, near her ear. “Two days felt like forever.”
“I know.” Her cheeks burned, but she didn't chide herself. So what if she felt like a schoolgirl in Clay's presence? She refused to feel guilty or ashamed. God had brought him into her life, everything about him was a blessing from God. The feelings he stirred in her heart were something everyone should be so blessed to feel.
The three of them went to the baggage area, where they found Jamie's suitcase and Sierra's duffel bag, then they headed for Clay's Jeep. As they walked, Sierra rattled on about Wrinkles staying with the neighbor and how she'd explained the trip to the cat so the cat wouldn't worry about her.
“But did you take the dress-up clothes to the neighbor's house?” Clay tried to look serious. “What will Wrinkles do without his fancy socks for a whole week?”
Sierra giggled and skipped along between them. “You're silly, Clay.”
“Only with my jester hat.”
By the time Jamie and Sierra checked in to their hotel, and the three of them found lunch, the day was almost over. They spent the afternoon touring Hollywood and Malibu Beach.
Every hour or so Jamie remembered that the meeting with Eric was coming. But for the most part her anxiety didn't interfere with the day.
They had dinner at Gladstone's on the beach and were back at the hotel by nine o'clock. Clay walked them to their door and made sure they got inside safely. Sierra was digging through her duffel bag looking for her nightgown when Clay bid them good-bye.
Before he left, Jamie stepped just into the hallway, pulled the door partially shut behind her, and smiled at him. “I can't believe we had dinner on the beach in November.”
“I told you.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “California's not too bad.” His arms circled her waist and drew her close.
“Mmmm.” She looked deep into his eyes. “I'm beginning to see that.”
He searched her face, and it was clear what he was thinking before he said it. “Are you okay? About tomorrow?”
“Yes.” Her smile eased. It was the truth. She was nervous, yes. But not enough to stop her from going ahead with the meeting. “I'm fine.”
“Good.” He took one hand from her waist and slid his fingers along the side of her face. “I'm so glad you came, Jamie.”
“Me too.” He was going to kiss her, and she could hardly wait. But just as he moved closer, a split second before his lips touched hers, Sierra opened the door.
“Hey, guys!” She had her nightgown in her hands. At the sight of the two of them, she giggled.
Jamie exhaled her frustration, then shook her head with a laugh. “Did you need something, dear?”
She giggled again. “My toothbrush.”
“On that note …” Clay took a step back and chuckled. “Guess I better get going.” He winked at Sierra and gave Jamie a look that would make it hard to fall asleep later. “I had a wonderful day.”
“Me too.” Sierra grinned at him, clearly happy that the two of them had been hugging.
“I think we all did.” Jamie hoped he could read her eyes, that given the chance she would've spent as long as he liked kissing him in the hallway. But once again the moment would have to wait.
Clay left, and Sierra was asleep in fifteen minutes. But not Jamie. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, half the time wondering what she was doing, the other half wishing morning would come.
She wasn't sure when she drifted to sleep, but when she woke the next morning, she sat straight up, overcome by a burst of anxiety that made her head spin and left her sick to her stomach. Once as a young girl she visited Six Flags with her parents on a day when there were no lines. Ten rides on the giant wooden roller coaster and she wasn't sure she'd ever feel normal again.
That's how she felt now.
She looked at Sierra, sleeping in the other bed. Maybe they shouldn't have come; she hadn't told Sierra the truth about Eric, that he was Clay's brother. Now it might feel rushed, forced. She wasn't sure why she'd waited so long. Maybe because the news would be difficult for Sierra; maybe because it would be too difficult for herself.
She glanced at her suitcase. She could still do it. Grab her clothes, stuff them inside, wake Sierra, and catch a cab to the airport. It wasn't too late.
The air in the hotel room was stuffy. Jamie stood, went to the window, and opened the drapes. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass and realized she was holding her breath. No wonder the air felt stuffy; she wasn't getting any of it.
She exhaled.
As she did so, she found a point of balance again. She was here because she wanted to be, because the strength of her feelings for Clay Michaels wouldn't be denied. Maybe they would wind up friends, Internet pen pals who kept in touch from opposite sides of the country. Or maybe one day they'd be something much more.
But Eric?
She took in a slow breath and stared at the already busy Ventura Boulevard, just beyond the parking lot. Eric was a nice man with an uncanny resemblance to Jake. But Eric wasn't Jake, nor was he some ex-lover she needed to avoid. He'd never belonged to her, not even when she thought she was married to him.
So what was the problem? Why the nervous stomach and—
“Mommy?”
Jamie spun around and found a quick smile. “Good morning, honey.” She crossed the room and sat on the edge of Sierra's bed. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
She rubbed her eyes and gave Jamie a sleepy grin. “What time is Clay coming?”
“In a few hours.”
It was time to tell Sierra the truth. Jamie brushed her daughter's bangs with her fingertips and felt a lump in her throat. Sierra had been just four when the terrorist attacks hit. Chances were she wouldn't recognize Eric if they passed on the street.
“I like when you play with my hair, Mommy.” Sierra leaned back into the pillow, a dreamy look on her face.
“I like it too.”
Jamie studied her daughter. No, Sierra might not recognize Eric, but what if something serious did come of Jamie's relationship with Clay? One day she would have to know the truth. The same way she'd needed the truth about Eric not being Jake. Sierra deserved to know w
ho Eric was.
Jamie cleared her throat. “Honey, I have something to tell you.” She brushed her knuckles against Sierra's cheek. “Something about Clay's brother.”
Sierra made a face. “Clay's brother? We're having dinner at his place today, right?”
“Yes.” Fear was making a logjam of her throat. Jamie swallowed hard. “Sweetie, this is sort of a strange thing.” She uttered a soft laugh. “I don't really believe it myself, but here's the deal. Remember the man who looked like Daddy? The one in your picture on your dresser?”
Sierra leaned up on her elbows, more interested than before. “My second daddy, the one with his own family.”
“Right, well—” she pursed her lips, searching for the words—“that man is Clay's brother.” She hesitated. “Isn't that strange?”
“Clay's brother is Mr. Michaels, the man we thought was Daddy?” Sierra sat all the way up now, her eyes wide.
“Yes.” Jamie slumped. Clearly Sierra thought about Eric; otherwise she wouldn't have remembered his name. She clenched her fists. “I'm sorry, honey. I didn't know about this when I met Clay that day on the ferryboat. I just found out a little while ago.”
“They're brothers?” Sierra looked toward the window, eyes distant.
“Yes.” Jamie braced herself for what was ahead. Sierra might break down and cry, even be afraid to see the man again. Or maybe she would be confused, unwilling to go to the Thanksgiving dinner.
Instead Sierra turned her eyes back to Jamie and clapped her hands. “So I get to see Clay and Mr. Michaels, all in one day?”
Once again Jamie couldn't draw a breath. She was too intent on her daughter, waiting for the bad reaction she'd been dreading. “You're … you're not upset?”
“No.” Sierra's eyes danced. “Remember, Mommy? I told you I wanted to see him again, the man I thought was my daddy.” She grinned. “Now I get to.” Her feet slid over the edge of the bed and she hopped onto the floor. “It's going to be the bestest Thanksgiving Day ever.”
“But he's not your daddy.” Jamie searched her daughter's eyes. “You understand that, right?”
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