Starcrossed Hearts

by Star Crossed Hearts (lit)

  Dane’s forehead was wrapped in a bandage; below it, one eye was swollen shut and the other bore a gash from the outside corner through his eyebrow, now neatly stitched closed. His cheeks were bruised, his lips split and swollen. A large, square bandage covered some injury to his neck. His left arm was in a cast, and she could see another white dressing wrapped around the middle of his chest; his knuckles were also swollen and abraded. She could only imagine what atrocities had been committed to his lower body, now covered with a clean white sheet.

  Jessica nearly fainted. Hot tears filled her eyes and a lump rose in her throat that threatened to strangle her; weakly she groped for the chair next to his bed. He was still unconscious. An IV tube dripped steadily into his right arm, and another tube was extended into his nose.

  The slow, steady beeping of an electrocardiograph monitored his heartbeat. Jessica took a ragged breath. With quivering fingers, she reached out and touched his cheek, trying to get a sense that this mess of a man was really Dane. Beloved Dane Pierce, megastar and heart-throb of ten million women worldwide.

  "Oh, Dane…what have you done? You’ve certainly gotten yourself into trouble this time," Jessica murmured softly.

  She had sat silently watching him for ten minutes or so when Tom joined her. He grimaced at the sight of Dane’s condition, and pulled up a chair.

  "I got the story." Tom sighed, assessing Jessica’s tolerance for what he had learned. "Seems our boy was found carousing with the wrong woman."

  Jessica’s face fell, a sad frown distorting her features. Dane would never learn. Never.

  "Peter took Alexander home the day before this happened. Dane decided it wasn’t safe here and sent them back. Best I can tell, they don’t even know about this." Tom paused, looking at Dane with regret. "He has some serious internal injuries, and his left leg is pretty messed up."

  Tom left her after a time to seek a hotel room for them, and to call Roxanne as promised. Jessica remained at Dane’s side throughout the night, and the following day as well. Try as he might, Tom could not persuade her to leave until the following night when she finally agreed to go to the hotel to freshen up. He promised to stay with Dane until she returned.

  In the hotel room she collapsed from exhaustion.

  This time she did not wake up in a hospital herself. She awoke, alone with the dawn, the child within her violently pummeling her insides. She was achy from having slept awkwardly, fully clothed, on the bed, but she was rested. Finding her suitcase stowed in the closet, she quickly showered and changed, then summoned a bellman to get her transportation back to the hospital. She remembered her pre-natal vitamins and paused to gulp them down with some bottled water Tom had left her. Just before leaving the room, the phone on the nightstand purred an alien sound. She nearly ignored it, assuming the caller had misdialed; but habit prevailed and instead she reached for the receiver.

  "Hello?"

  "Jess?"

  Jessica sat down on the bed. The last voice she’d expected to hear was Mac’s, and she suddenly felt warm all over.

  "Yes, it’s me," she replied softly, waiting for him to speak again.

  "I just thought I’d check…how’s Dane?"

  "He’s…well, there’s been no change. He’s in a coma, Mac. He’s half-dead." The image of Dane’s pathetic figure lying in the hospital rose in her mind. "If he comes out of it, there’s no telling how long…it may take months of rehabilitation. He was beaten, Mac, they beat him so badly, they ran him over with a car…"

  "I’m…I’m sorry to hear it. Whatever he is, whatever he’s done, I’m sure he didn’t deserve that." Mac coughed, and Jessica knew it was forced. "Jessie?"

  "Yes, I’m here," she managed softly, her voice choked with emotion.

  "Are you all right?"

  "Of course I am," she lied, her stamina wavering.

  "You sound upset."

  "I’m weary, Mac. I’m tired of…everything," she confessed, beginning to sob. "I want Dane to get well. I want to go home, and have this baby, and I want you to come back and be with me." She paused to cry a little, then continued speaking before she lost her nerve; or perhaps it was just the end of her patience.

  "I’m sorry I--I--I know you don’t want to hear this, Mac, so, go back to your life, and I’ll go back to mine. Only, you might as well know something else, too." She again paused, now gaining back control and sniffing. "I’m not leaving here until I can either take Dane home or bury him. And it better be soon because I don’t want to have the baby here. I will, though, if I have to, so if you truly want to be around when your child is born, be prepared to fly into Singapore." She hurried on before he could respond. "And Mac, I would give anything, anything if I could change what happened, I love you with all my heart, and I’m hanging up now because I am not strong enough to hear you rave at me. Good night, darling."

  ~ * ~

  Mac’s eyebrows were high with astonishment and he stared at the dead phone in his hand. Was that really Jessica? Gently he put the receiver down and lay back on his hotel bed. Absently he tugged at his mustache, his eyes randomly examining the various imperfections in the ceiling. Maybe things were going to be okay. Maybe…but she was still with Dane.

  Part Eight: Healing Souls

  Seventeen

  Dane’s Good Deed

  October 15th dawned in Singapore just as the 14th had and the 16th undoubtedly would. Jessica had kept her vigil at Dane’s bedside for two weeks, and while his wounds seemed to be healing, he had yet to regain consciousness. The doctors explained that the nature of his concussion prevented air transport, but that the swelling was diminishing and they expected to see some change soon.

  "Soon…" Jessica muttered, playing her fingers across her bulging stomach. "Soon, Dane," she said aloud. "I’ve only got ten weeks left. We have to go home, dear." She stood up and leaned across him, peering into his face. The tube had been removed, he was breathing easy now. The intra-venous drip remained, and a therapist had begun exercising his muscles daily. The cuts to his face were beginning to heal, although his right eye was still swollen; and she was told his internal injuries were improving.

  "You are one big, fat, pain in the ass, Dane Pierce," she said to him, placing her hand on his cheek lovingly. "You and your damned sexual appetite. Jesus! Can’t keep your hands to yourself, ever! You’ve got a lot of nerve making me come all the way over here to tend you." On she railed, now pacing the room, her voice elevating and echoing off of the sterile white walls. Amidst her frustration her vocabulary became as raw as her nerves, and she surprised herself at the profanity she uttered; yet she continued to shout the words into his face in pain and fury. Somehow it seemed fitting to swear at Dane.

  "I…love it when…you…talk…dirty."

  She looked at him in shock; the whispered, dry-throated words had come from Dane’s parched lips. Speechless, she leaned closer to his face in wonderment.

  "If I promise…to wake up…and go home with you…will you stop shouting…and…kiss…me?" His voice was a harsh whisper.

  "Oh, Dane…Dane…" Jessica rushed her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Tenderly she kissed his forehead, his eyes, his cheek, then gently pressed her soft, moist lips to his taut, dry, healing ones. Weakly he attempted to bring his right arm around her, and he struggled to open his eyes.

  Dane squinted at her in the sunlight, and she quickly turned to draw the shade. He stared at her swollen belly.

  "Holy shit--I must have taken…one helluva nap." His slow, broken speech was hoarse and raspy, but typically Dane.

  "Oh, Dane. Thank God! I’m getting you out of here right away. I’m taking you home, Dane." Tears glistened on her pink cheeks.

  "The film…"

  "The film can wait, are you crazy? You almost died, you fool!" Jessica pressed the call button to summon a nurse.

  With the nurse came Tom Jarrick, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Dane’s lucidity.

  "Tom! He’s okay! We’ve got to make arrangements to g
et him home. Let’s get him transferred as soon as possible!"

  "Whoa, lady, settle down. We’d better talk to his doctors first, don’t you think?"

  Despite his improvement, Jessica refused to leave Dane, helping him to begin some solid food and painstakingly attending to his needs. The nurses weren’t taking near good enough care of him, she proclaimed to Tom in the cafeteria. She learned how to change some of his dressings and to sponge down his battered body as he lay helpless in the bed.

  "This is a switch," he teased her as she ran the cool, damp sponge down his good arm. "You working on me."

  "Be quiet," she warned. "I might break it."

  "Tom get off okay?"

  "Yes, he left this morning. Roxie’s going nuts at home alone."

  "What day is it?"

  "October 21st. Why do you ask?"

  "My son, Alex. His birthday is the 30th. I want to be home."

  "You will be, darling. I’m fighting every day to get you out of here."

  Dane gently rested his hand on her tummy. "When does this happen?"

  "I’m due January 7th. But babies seem impatient in my family. Could be as soon as Christmas."

  "You should be home, with your husband, sweetie." The green eyes had regained their sparkle.

  "You’re right, Dane. I should be home, with Mac. But since Mac isn’t there, I’d just as soon be here with you."

  "What do you mean Mac isn’t there? Where the hell is he?"

  Jessica cleared her throat. It still hurt, badly. "New Zealand. Doing a film."

  "You mean that son-of-a-bitch left you alone? Why didn’t you tell me?"

  She didn’t have an answer.

  "This is still about me, isn’t it?"

  "I’m not sure anymore. We’ve been separated since…since that day. I haven’t seen Mac since you have, Dane."

  Dane looked away, his grief and anger evident. She could feel his pulse quicken beneath her fingers as she continued bathing him. Finally, he turned the emerald eyes back on hers. He reached up, wincing at the pain he suffered in nearly every part of his body, and touched her cheek tenderly with his aching fingers.

  "Sometimes I wish I’d just left you alone." He smiled that smile, telling her that he was crying inside. "I think I’ve caused you a lot of grief."

  Jessica smiled back, accepting his humility with gratitude. He really had put her through hell; still, she knew she had allowed him to do so.

  "But I’m going to tell you something about that husband of yours…" he continued, slowly shaking his head. "We may both love you, honey, but that’s where the similarity ends. He’s a worse fool than I am."

  "Dane, please--"

  "Now wait, I know you hate it when I talk about Mac. But you’ve got to understand, for all his wonderful, straight-arrow bullshit, he doesn’t know you as well as I do. If I had known about this, I would have gone to New Zealand myself and dragged him back, and he’d have been flying his damned fists at me the whole time. I should have never left without pinning him down and making him understand."

  "You tried, Dane. You even delayed your trip."

  "He’s a hard-headed asshole. If you were my wife, you think I’d let you go running off to Timbuktu to nurse my worst enemy back to health? Not on your life, Jessica."

  "He didn’t have a choice. I told him I was going. He knows he couldn’t stop me."

  "Oh, he knows that, does he? Bull. Is that what you wanted, for him to say, ‘Oh, okay, honey, run along’? You know what I would have said?"

  "No. What would you have said, Dane?" she humored him, knowing he was going to get this all off his chest one way or another.

  "I wouldn’t have been in fucking New Zealand to begin with. And I would have told you that Dane Pierce can take care of himself. And I would have tied you to the damned bedposts, if necessary…And then--"

  "I get the picture."

  "Do you, really? Look, I’m not saying he doesn’t love you. Hell, he’s been ga-ga over you since the first. He’s just…screwed up. He doesn’t really know how to handle you."

  "And you do."

  "Damned right I do," he said softly, painfully extending his hand to her head again, this time grasping her hair and pulling it, coaxing her toward his face.

  She kissed him freely, without regret, and then tenderly pressed her cheek against his as he whispered in her ear

  "Go get him, sweetie. Beat him up a little, like you do me. He’s waiting. He doesn’t know it, but he’s waiting for you. He needs you, Jessica. More than I do."

  Wearily she stretched out in the hotel room bed, the cool, crisp sheets caressing her tired limbs. The baby was quiet right now, and she massaged her tummy lovingly. She thought over what had passed between her and Dane that afternoon, thought hard about her feelings and what Dane had tried to tell her.

  Jessica turned to grab the small framed photo from the nightstand. She lovingly traced the outline of Mac’s face on the glass, smiling slightly to herself. Dane, in his infinite wisdom, had once again shown her the truth.

  Oh, how her heart ached! She ached for Dane; would he ever find the kind of love she’d found? Sure, she loved Dane, she would always love him, for somewhere along the way their souls had meshed and had never quite divided on parting. She’d always carry part of him, and he part of her.

  But her heart, her entire life, belonged to Cory Lee MacKendall.

  ~ * ~

  "Why does this keep happening to me?" Mac muttered glumly, dropping the phone back into its cradle in frustration. "My life is a God-damned broken record."

  When the Raffles Hotel in Singapore told him Jessica had checked out, he couldn’t believe his ears. He looked at his watch, checking the date. It was October 26th; they said she’d left the 24th, but there was no answer at their house or at any other number he’d tried back home. Where was she?

  Wound up, he went for a walk. It was dusk, and the filming was over for another day. He was actually enjoying the film; it was the first time in seven years he’d played anything besides Doctor Jim, and the freedom was awesome. The professional side of his ego was as high as his emotional side was low.

  They were ahead of schedule, and it was hoped the filming would be wrapped up by Thanksgiving, another month away. Sal had candidly told him that an alternative plan could be worked out if he was unable to finish out the location shooting; there was a Southern California locale that might be suitable for some scenes, and these were reserved for later just in case.

  Ah, Jessica. Where are you? He stopped and stared at the sun setting on the water, breathing the salt air deeply into his lungs.

  "I miss you," he said aloud. "God, I miss you."

  He continued walking about the town until dark, when he dejectedly turned back toward the Plaza. He’d come to the realization that he’d made a bad situation worse by tearing off the way he had. He wouldn’t listen to her, wouldn’t give her a chance to explain…explain what? Why she was kissing another man in their own home? Not just another man; Dane Pierce. Dane was in love with Jessica, that was evident. But Dane didn’t want Jessica, not in a possessive sense. He just…loved her.

  Mac shook his head to clear it. Nothing made sense. But one thing was for sure: he’d reacted exactly the way he’d taught her not to. The way someone else would have. "Learn to trust me," he had said, so self-righteously. And had promptly blown it.

  She’d said on the phone that she was staying with Dane, and that she loved Mac with all her heart. Was it possible for her to care for Dane and still love him?

  He entered his room more emotionally exhausted than ever. Wearily he went back to the phone and began dialing again. This time he tried the number given him for Valley Hospital, where the Alexandra in Singapore had supposedly transferred Dane. He was nervous, yet relieved, when they found a room registered to Dane Pierce and rang his phone. He half expected Jessica’s voice when Dane himself answered.

  "So the gods saw fit to spare you, Pierce."

  "Mac! Well, son of a gun. N
ever thought I’d hear your voice again."

  "Nor I yours. How are you, Dane?"

  "I’m a level three jigsaw puzzle, Mac. I think a couple of pieces got left in some alley back in Singapore. And you? Down under, I hear?"

  "More down than under, I’m afraid."

  "Sorry to hear it."

  Mac cleared his throat. "So, you sound pretty good. Jessie tells me you’ve made a great comeback."

  "You and Jessie talking?"

  "Of course," Mac responded, a little too quickly.

  "You know, you were doing pretty good, don’t start bull-shitting me now, Mac."

  The phone was silent for several seconds while Mac absorbed Dane’s barb.

  "Okay. Let me talk to her."

  "To whom? Jessica?"

  "My wife, of course. Is she there or isn’t she?"

  "Well, let’s see…" Dane stalled. Mac closed his eyes in frustration. How much of Dane’s inane prattle could he endure?

  "She was there at the airport when they rolled me onto the plane…hmmm…you should have seen this damn thing they put me on, Mac. It was incredible…"

  "Dane? Please? Just tell me where she is?"

  "Mac, I don’t know. She didn’t come back with me."

  "What? You left her in Singapore?"

  "I didn’t have a lot of choice. I’m more of a beggar than a chooser right now, you know? She insisted on taking a later flight. The one I took was specially equipped…for basket cases like me. And you know Jessie when she has her mind set."

  Mac had again fallen silent. His wife had indeed developed a stubborn streak. But where was she?

  "Dane. I’m asking you nice, man. Where is Jessie?"

  "I guess you don’t have a helluva lot of faith in me, Mac, but I’m telling you the truth. Far as I know, she was supposed to be on the ten o’clock flight Wednesday. Now you’ve got me worried."

  "I can’t believe you just left her there." Mac’s voice was edged with contempt.

  "And I can’t fucking believe you left her in L.A., pal. If you’d have just pulled your cement head out of the sand for five minutes and listened for once…" Dane had finally been provoked. He took a deep, painful breath. "Look, Mac, I’m sure she’s fine. She’ll be on the phone with…one of us soon. She’s tough, you know that."