by Sandra Brown
"But you would," she hissed accusingly.
"I did." He came off the bed and walked toward her. "You asked me to hold you, Jenny."
"I asked Hal!"
"But Hal wasn't there, was he?" Cage shouted, his own ire rising. "He was downstairs talking about visions and callings and causes, when he should have been ministering to his own fiancée."
"I made love with Hal!" she cried in one last frantic attempt to deny what he was telling her.
"You were upset. You had been crying. Hal and I were close enough in build for you to mistake me for him. We were dressed alike in jeans and shirts. I didn't say anything so you couldn't distinguish my voice."
"But I would know the difference."
"Who could you compare me to? You'd had no other lover."
She tried to forget how anxiously she had enticed that "lover" to hold her and kiss her, just as she tried to forget the sleeping pills she had taken that night. Hadn't she been sedated, her mind foggy? Hadn't she thought afterward that it almost could have been her imagination? Hadn't it all seemed dreamlike?
"You weren't looking for me," Cage said. "You were looking for Hal. It simply never occurred to you that it could be anyone else."
"Which is as good as admitting what a deceitful creep you are."
His eyes narrowed perceptibly. "You didn't seem to think I was a creep that night. You didn't seem to mind me at all."
"Stop it. Don't—"
"You lapped me up like a bear does honey."
"Shut up."
"Admit it, Jenny, you'd never been kissed like that before. Hal never kissed you like that, did he?"
"I—"
"Admit it!"
"I'll do no such thing!"
"Well, you can deny it to yourself all you want, but you know I'm right. I touched you and we both went off like rockets."
Jenny squeezed her eyes shut. "I didn't know it was you."
"It wouldn't have mattered."
Her eyes popped open. "That's a lie!"
"No, it's not, and what's more, you know it's not."
She mashed her fingers against her lips. "How could you be so low? How could you deceive me like that? How could you…" She choked on the rest of it.
Cage dropped to his knees in front of her. His anger had diminished and his voice trembled with earnestness. "Because I loved you."
She stared back at him wordlessly.
"Because I needed to be enveloped in you as much as you needed a man's love. I had wanted you for years, Jenny. Lust, yes, but more, much more than that. That night, you were there, in bed, naked and warm and sweet and aroused. At first I thought I'd only hold you, kiss you a few times before I identified myself. But once I'd held you, tasted you, felt your tongue against mine, touched your breasts"—he shrugged helplessly—"there was just no stopping the avalanche.
"I was surprised that you were a virgin. But even discovering that wasn't enough to stop me. Everything I am went into loving you that night. All I thought about was relieving your pain with my loving. It was the first time in my life I felt like I was doing something good. It was clean and right, Jenny. You've told me that yourself."
"I thought I was talking about Hal."
"But you weren't. I was your lover. Think back on that night and compare it to tonight. You know I'm not lying."
He stood up again and began pacing the stretch of carpet between bed and window. "Once I had made love to you, I couldn't give you up. I wanted to win you over slowly. I planned on courting you so that by the time Hal got home you'd be willing to break your engagement with him as painlessly as possible and come to me."
He stopped his pacing and smiled down at her. "The day you told me you were pregnant, I could barely keep still. I wanted to jump up, take you in my arms, and waltz you around that drugstore. Tonight when you told me the baby had moved, I felt the same way."
With the reminder of what had transpired only minutes ago, Jenny glanced toward the bed. It was terrible. Horrible. But she believed him. It all made sense. Why she hadn't seen it before she didn't know. It was obvious now. So damnably obvious. But as he had said, she hadn't been looking for it.
Or had she? Had she known? In the secret-most part of herself, had she known? No. God, please, no!
"Why didn't you tell me, Cage? I made love to one man thinking it was another! Why didn't you tell me?"
"At first because I thought you still loved Hal. It would have destroyed you to think you'd been unfaithful to him."
"I was."
"You weren't, dammit. If anyone was, I was!"
Her breasts heaved with emotion as she struggled to her feet. "Months have gone by. Why haven't you told me?"
"I didn't want to hurt you."
"You don't think I'm hurting now?"
"You shouldn't be. You're free of it. It was my sin, Jenny, not yours. You were innocent and I was trying to spare you."
"Why?"
"Because you have a masochistic penchant for taking the responsibility for other people's failures. You hold yourself accountable for everyone's shortcomings. My parents, Hal, me."
He sighed deeply. "But that's not the only reason." He bored into her eyes with his. "I wanted to do the right thing. I felt as if I owed it to Hal not to tell you. While I was out raising hell, drinking and womanizing, he had devoted his life to doing good. I took something that rightfully belonged to him … although I could argue that, because I had loved you for so long."
He stepped closer to her. "I wanted you to be a part of my life, but I knew the price I would have to pay for you would be high. Hellions like me don't get rewarded without paying a premium."
"What are you talking about, Cage? It seems to me that until tonight you've gotten off scot-free. What kind of dues have you paid?"
"One of them was having you cry out my brother's name the moment you climaxed for the first time." She ducked her head. "Another was having you think all this time that it was Hal who had first introduced you to ecstasy. Another was the night in Monterico when I could hold you while you slept, but still couldn't express my love. The highest price was having you think that my child, my child, had been fathered by anyone other than me."
She almost forgave him then. She almost succumbed to the tremor in his voice and the fierce possession in his eyes. She almost walked into his arms and claimed his love.
But she couldn't. What he had done had been dreadful, and a sin of that magnitude couldn't be lightly dismissed. "So why tell me now?"
"Because you're blaming yourself for Hal's death. I can't have that, Jenny. He left on his mission with a pure body and a pure conscience. His death had nothing to do with you. There was no way you could have prevented it. I won't let you go through the rest of your life blaming yourself for it and thinking that you're even remotely responsible for making your child an orphan."
He reached for her hand. It lay cold and lifeless in his. "I love you, Jenny."
She snatched her hand away. "Love isn't built on deception and lies, Cage. You've been lying to me for months. What do you want me to do?"
"Love me back."
"You made a fool of me!"
"I made a woman of you!" He spun away from her, making an effort to control his temper. "If you'd stop sifting everything through your filter of propriety and conscience and guilt, you'd see things clearly. That night was the best thing that had ever happened to either of us. It freed us both."
"Free?" she cried. "Free? I'll have to bear the burden of that night the rest of my life."
"Are you referring to my baby as a burden?"
"No, not the baby," she ground out. "The guilt. Of making love to one brother while being engaged to another."
"Oh…" He blistered the walls with his expletive. "Are we back to that again?"
"Yes. And I'm weary of it. Take me home."
"Not a chance. Not until we've thrashed this thing out."
"Take me home," she said adamantly. "If you don't, I'll steal the keys to on
e of your automobiles and drive myself."
"You're staying here or I'll—"
"Don't threaten me. I'm not afraid of you anymore. Your threats are empty anyway. What could you possibly do to me that would be worse than what you've already done?"
His jaw bunched with fury. She watched his eyes fill with hot rage, then just as quickly harden coldly. Abruptly he turned away from her. Going to the closet, he ripped a shirt from a hanger and picked up a pair of boots. "Get dressed," he said tersely through barely moving lips. "I'll come back for you in five minutes."
When he did, she was ready. She preceded him downstairs and through the front door. It was dark as they crossed the yard to the garage. He opened the door of the Lincoln and she got inside.
They were silent during the entire trip into town. His hands gripped the steering wheel as though he'd like to tear it from its mounting. He drove fast. When he braked outside her apartment, she rocked forward with the impact. Leaning across her, he opened the door and shoved it open. She stepped out.
"Jenny?" He was leaning across the seat. "I've done some terrible things. Mostly out of pure meanness. But this is one time I tried to do the right thing. I wanted to do right by my folks, you, and my baby." He laughed mirthlessly. "Even when I try to do what's right, it gets shot to hell. Maybe it's true what people have always said about Cage Hendren. He's just no damn good." He reached for the door and slammed it closed.
Then with a grinding of gears and a shower of gravel, the car shot forward and out of the parking lot.
Jenny let herself into the apartment. She felt drained, listless. Had it only been last night that she and Cage had shared the candlelight dinner? Yes, there were their ice-cream bowls and coffee cups still on the coffee table, forgotten there when they had left to drive Roxy and Gary to El Paso. It could have happened in another lifetime.
She left the lamps unlit as she went through the apartment toward her bedroom. It seemed dark, cold, empty, unlike the bedroom at Cage's house.
No, she wouldn't think of that.
But she did and there was no stopping the memories that rushed to her mind. Every touch, every kiss, every word.
She remembered the bleak expression in his eyes just before he had left. Had he been trying to do the right thing by holding his silence?
He certainly hadn't acted smug the morning Hal left. She remembered the attention he had paid her. He had been tense and watchful, but not cocky or obnoxious as he could have been. If it had only been a cruel trick he'd played, he certainly hadn't gloated over it afterward.
Did he love her? He had been willing to forfeit claiming his child. Wasn't such a sacrifice the ultimate testimony of love?
And if he loved her, what was she really upset about?
Cage had been her only lover. Didn't that give her a warm, glowing feeling inside? The enchantment of that night had been hers and Cage's. She should have known! She had never felt that way in her life before or since … until last night.
When he was inside her, hadn't his body felt familiar, like an extension of hers? Both times, hadn't she felt complete? Hadn't the addition of his body to hers brought together all the pieces of the complex puzzle that was Jenny Fletcher and made it whole?
Was she accusing Cage of deceit only to alleviate her own conscience? Because for years she had been deceitful to Hal, to the Hendrens, to the town. She had gone along with their marriage plans, knowing full well that the love she bore Hal wasn't the kind to base a marriage on.
There had been no sympathetic cord struck between them as there was with her and Cage. Hal hadn't satisfied the restless hunger of her spirit. With him she would have gone on suppressing that spirit and living under constant restraints. Cage dared her to be herself.
Couldn't she forgive Cage for keeping his secret all these months? She had been prepared to keep hers for the remainder of her life. If Cage hadn't made love to her that night, if Hal hadn't died, she would have married her fiancé. And no matter how unhappy it had made her, she would have stuck it out. Before her relationship with Cage, she wouldn't have had the courage to seek her own happiness, but would have continued letting others do it for her.
Cage had taught her to make her own future. Wasn't that alone reason enough to love him?
Tomorrow she would think about it some more. Maybe she would call Cage, apologize for her intolerance tonight, and together they would sort it all out
Wearily she stripped off her clothes, pulled on a nightgown, and slipped into bed. But she couldn't sleep. She had slept most of the day, and the world seemed to be against her getting the peaceful rest she needed. Sirens screamed through the streets of town, and just when she had rubbed Cage from her mind enough to fall asleep, her telephone jangled loudly.
* * *
Chapter 13
«^»
Thinking it might be Cage, she weighed the wisdom of answering. Was she ready to talk to him yet? The phone was on its sixth ring before she gave in and reached for the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Miss Fletcher?"
It wasn't Cage and she felt a momentary pang of disappointment. "Yes."
"Is this the Jenny Fletcher who used to live with Reverend Hendren?"
"Yes. Who is this, please?"
"Deputy Sheriff Rawlins," the caller identified himself. "You wouldn't happen to know where we can locate the Hendrens, would you?"
"Have you checked the church and the parsonage?"
"Sure have."
"Then I'm sorry, I don't know where they are. Can I help you?"
"We really need to find them," the deputy said, conveying urgency. "Their son's been in an accident."
Jenny went cold. Nausea churned in her stomach. Yellow sunbursts exploded against a field of black when she closed her eyes. By an act of will she fought off fainting. "Their son?" she asked in a high, reedy voice.
"Yeah, Cage."
"But he was just… I just saw him."
"It happened a few minutes ago."
"Is he … was it … fatal?"
"I don't know yet, Miss Fletcher. The ambulance is rushing him to the hospital now. It's bad, all right. A train hit his car." Jenny stifled her outcry with a bloodless hand. A train! "That's why we need to find his next of kin."
Lord, what an awful official expression. "Next of kin," the phrase reserved in police jargon for those who have to be notified when someone they love dies in an accident away from home.
"Miss Fletcher?"
Several moments of silence had ticked by while Jenny tried to absorb the tragic enormity of this telephone call. "I don't know where Bob and Sarah are. But I'll be at the hospital in a few minutes. Good-bye. I have to hurry."
She hung up the phone before giving the deputy a chance to say anything more. Her knees buckled beneath her when she lunged off the bed. She stumbled to the closet, where she pulled out the first garment her hands fell on.
She had to get to Cage. Now. Hurry. She had to tell him she loved him before—
No, no. He wouldn't die. She wouldn't even think of his dying.
Oh, God, Cage, why did you do it?
Ever since the deputy had told her about the accident, Jenny had questioned whether it was an accident or not. What was the last thing Cage had said to her? "I'm just no damn good." Had her rejection of his love been the last rejection he could stand? Was this "accident" an attempt to win approval by ridding the world of Cage Hendren?
"No!"
She didn't realize she had screamed the word aloud until it echoed off the silent walls of her apartment. She ran through the darkened rooms on her way to the front door. Tears were streaming down her face and her fingers shook so badly, she could barely insert the key in the ignition of the car.
She saw the scene of the accident from several blocks away. A wrecker had pulled Cage's car off the tracks, but police still had the area cordoned off with flares to discourage curious onlookers.
The silver Lincoln looked like a piece of aluminum foil
a petulant giant had balled up in his fist and thrown away. Jenny's chest compressed painfully. Nothing could have come out of that mangled mess of metal alive. Her arms were too weak to steer the car, but she forced herself to keep going. She had to reach the hospital in time.
When she arrived, she parked and dashed toward the emergency room doors. Don't die, don't die, don't die, her heart chanted with each footfall. This kind of emotional upheaval and physical exertion weren't good for the baby, but Cage was first in her thoughts now.
"Cage Hendren?" she gasped breathlessly, slapping her hands on top of the nurses' station desk.
The on-duty nurse looked up. "He's already gone up for surgery."
"Surgery?"
"Yes. Dr. Mabry."
If they were operating on him, he was still alive. Thank you, God, thank you. Jenny gulped for breath. "What floor?"
"Three."
"Thank you." She ran for the elevator.
"Miss?" Jenny turned around. "He might be in there for a long time."
The nurse was diplomatically cautioning her not to hold out much hope. "I'll wait, no matter how long it takes."
On the third floor the woman at the nurses' station confirmed that Cage was in surgery. "Are you a relative?" the R.N. inquired politely.
"I … I grew up with him. His parents adopted me when I was orphaned."
"I see. We haven't been able to contact his parents, but we're still trying."
"I'm sure they're just out for the evening and will return soon." Jenny couldn't believe she was capable of making casual conversation. She felt like screaming the walls down. She wanted to fall to the floor and keen while she tore at her hair.
"There's a policeman waiting at the house to bring them here."
Jenny bit her lower lip. "They'll be frightened. They lost their youngest son only a few months ago."
The nurse made a clucking sound of regret. "Why don't you sit down over there to wait," she said, indicating a waiting room. "I'm sure we'll hear something about Mr. Hendren's condition soon."
Like an automaton, Jenny moved to the waiting room and sat down on the sofa. She should go to the parsonage herself, be there to break the news of Cage's accident when the Hendrens came home. But she couldn't leave him. She couldn't! She had to stay right here telegraphing her love and encouragement through the walls into the operating room where he precariously clung to life.
