by Nita Wick
God, she hurt. Having her suspicions confirmed burned like acid, eating away her heart, her soul. This is what Michael had thought she needed? This unbearable pain? This was supposed to heal her? Give her closure? The overbearing, know-it-all architect should have killed her instead. Death would have been so much more merciful.
Shaking, Haley fished her key from her purse and unlocked the security gate. She hurried up the stairs as quickly as she could without tripping on her dress, opened her apartment door, and rushed to her bathroom. A short time later, she brushed her teeth and gargled with mouthwash in an effort to banish the lingering taste of bile. Fortunately, she’d made it to the sink before losing the contents of her stomach.
Her apartment phone rang again, the third time in fifteen minutes. As she’d been indisposed when the first two calls came in, she’d had no choice but to let the answering machine take care of them. This time she made a conscious decision to ignore the call. Talking to anyone at the moment was not a good idea. Her tattered emotions already threatened to engulf her.
The machine clicked on. “Haley, it’s Meg. Please call Michael as soon as you get this. He’s called your apartment and your cell phone at least a dozen times. He wants to call the police. He’s worried, Haley. I am, too. Please let us know you made it home safely.”
Haley swallowed hard. How could she speak to either of them right now? They had deceived her. Michael was the reason it hurt to breathe. He’d purposely hidden the knowledge of Keith’s invitation. Suspicions filled her mind. Had he been the one to suggest it be sent? If so, not only had he forced her to see and talk to Keith again, he’d arranged it so that she would have to do it in public.
She closed her eyes, struggling to keep the tears at bay. She could only imagine the photographs that would be splattered across every tabloid cover, every newspaper, every celebrity gossip magazine in the country. She’d done her best to maintain composure, but cameras had a way of revealing one’s inner thoughts. If even a single flash had managed to permeate the façade she’d erected the moment Keith entered, the emotions captured would be bared for all the world to see.
She clenched her fists. It had been a mistake to agree to the fundraiser in the first place. Michael had accused her of hiding. Damned right, she’d been hiding. But if he or Meg or anyone else had been stalked by the press the way she’d been after the scandal of her cancelled wedding and Keith’s infidelity, they would have hidden, too. If one hid long enough, the public would forget.
Where would she hide now?
Haley grabbed her clutch from the bed and pulled out her cell phone. She pressed the power button. Though she’d taken it with her, she’d left it turned off. Punching up the message menu, she entered a text. “I’m safe. Keith is gone. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now. I need to be alone for a while.” Haley selected the numbers for both Meg and Michael and hit the send key.
She sat down on the bed, her mind racing. Michael would likely be here within minutes of receiving the message. He had a key and pass code. She wouldn’t even be able to keep him from getting in.
Haley dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, tossed some clothes in a suitcase, and made a hasty escape. The answer was obvious. Her lawyer, her accountant, and several others had been hounding her for weeks. They all needed to see her for one reason or another. She’d do what the press least expected. She would hide in plain sight. By plane, New York was only a few hours away.
* * * *
Michael paced his office. She’d been gone over a week now. He’d arrived at her apartment only twenty minutes after receiving the text message. Dresser drawers hung open, and empty space in her closet announced her departure. The evening gown she’d been wearing lay in a heap on the bathroom floor.
She’d run. Again.
After leaving several voice mail messages on her cell phone, he’d finally received another text. She’d be in New York until all the legal and financial business she’d been avoiding was settled.
That’s the last he’d heard from her.
Over a week and still he hadn’t spoken to her. She hadn’t returned his calls. At first he’d been angry, frustrated. Yes, he’d made a mistake. But damn it all to hell! Didn’t she know he’d only meant to help her? Didn’t she realize he hadn’t done it to hurt her?
He sank into the chair and held his aching head in his hands. He’d managed to learn the name of the hotel where she was staying, a five-star, high security place frequented by celebrities. If he flew to New York, would security send him away at the door as they had Keith and Sheila? Would she deny him the chance to apologize as she’d done them?
“You look like road kill.”
Michael met his sister’s gaze. She stood in the doorway of his office, a scowl of disapproval on her face, her hand on her hip.
“What are you doing here?” he grumbled. Great. Just what he needed.
Meg strode across the room, set her purse down, and settled one hip on the corner of his desk. She crossed her arms and stared down at him. “I’m disappointed in you, bro.”
“Join the club.”
“I’m serious.” The look she gave him reminded him of their mother when he’d come home late or brought home a less than satisfactory report card. “Why haven’t you gone after her?”
Michael sighed. “I told you. I won’t even be able to get close to her.”
“You don’t know that. Maybe she’ll tell security to let you in.”
He leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. The headache he’d had for days intensified every time he argued with his sister. “She won’t even answer my calls. Do you really think I should fly to New York so I can leave a message with the concierge?”
Meg’s stern expression softened. “What if you were almost certain you would have chance to speak to her? Would you go then?”
He leaned forward and flattened his palms against the desk. “I would have been there a week ago if I thought I had a chance in hell of getting close enough to her to talk.”
His sister nodded. “Good. Just wanted to make sure I didn’t call in all these favors for nothing.” She opened her purse, pulled out a small white envelope, and tossed it on the desk in front of him.
“What’s this?” He opened the flap to retrieve the contents.
“My sources say Haley sent her RSVP to a ritzy annual charity ball. She pointed at the slip of paper Michael now held. “That’s your golden ticket to see her. The address is on the back. Penthouse suite.”
Michael stood, scanning the date and time. “It’s tomorrow night.”
She retrieved her purse. “You’d better pick your tux up from the cleaners on the way to the airport. You’re going to need it.”
Michael’s thoughts turned hopeful for the first time in days. He moved around the desk and hugged her. “Thanks, sis. I owe you big time.”
“And don’t think for second I’m going to let you forget it.”
He chuckled and released her.
“Good to hear you laugh again. I need to get back to work. And you need to get out of here.” She strode toward the door and waved. “Bring her home. I’m tired of you moping around like a lost puppy.”
Chapter Sixteen
Haley stood in front of the double doors of Manhattan’s most prominent and reportedly most successful psychiatric and drug rehab clinic. Ever since Keith had told her of Sheila’s attempted suicide, guilt had plagued Haley. Had she driven Sheila to it?
The flight to New York had seemed longer than ever before. The added blow to her battered heart had hurt more than she’d thought possible. But surprisingly enough, the pain had begun to ease already, leaving only guilt in its place.
“Why should I feel guilty?” she’d argued with herself as she lay in her hotel bed, unable to sleep. She hadn’t been the one who cheated and lied. She hadn’t betrayed her best friend. Still...If Sheila had tried to kill herself, the woman must have been suffering the same kind of emotional emptiness, hopelessness, a
nd misery Haley had endured. Maybe Sheila had deserved it.
But Haley had recovered. Sheila apparently hadn’t.
Gathering her courage, she pushed through the doors and approached the desk. “Can you direct me to the room of Sheila Jennings, please?”
“Let me check the doctor’s orders regarding visitation for Ms. Jennings,” the middle-aged woman replied in a nasally New Jersey accent. Haley missed the soft, lazy southern drawls of Tennessee. The lady punched a few keys on her keyboard and used the scroll ball on the wireless mouse of her computer. “May I have your name, please?”
“Haley Preston.”
“Hmm…You’re not on the list. We’ll have to get approval from the doctor on duty. One moment, please.” She stood, walked to a door behind the reception desk, and disappeared into what appeared to be a hall lined with several offices.
Haley scanned the lobby as she waited. Though decorated in warm, inviting colors, the room could not be mistaken for anything other than what it was—a sterile waiting room in a mental hospital. Dread formed a heavy knot in the pit of her stomach. The longer she waited, the stronger the temptation to leave grew. Why was she here anyway?
She strode toward the exit to make her escape, but not soon enough.
“Ms. Preston, wait! Please.” A woman in a powder pink lab coat rounded the reception desk.
Haley sighed with regret and faced the woman.
She offered her hand. “I’m Dr. Hansen.”
“Pleased to meet you, Doctor,” Haley replied. She grasped the lady’s hand and prayed the other woman wouldn’t notice how badly hers trembled.
“I’m not going to beat around the bush. I need to know why you’re here.” The doctor shoved her hands into the oversized pockets on the lab coat.
“I…” What could she say? She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
The woman cocked her head to one side, studying Haley. “I think you do.”
Haley’s brow furrowed, a touch of irritation pricked her frayed nerves. “No. I just…I learned last week that Sheila tried to…That she…” She couldn’t even say the words.
“That Sheila tried to commit suicide?” Dr. Hansen supplied.
“Yes.” Haley swallowed hard.
“Did you come to finish the job for her?”
Shock coursed through her. “No! God, no.” Haley rubbed her forehead. The promise of a severe headache formed behind her eyes and near her temples. “I…”
“Go on,” the doctor prompted in coaxing, pleasant tone.
Haley ground her teeth together. She was not a patient here. At least not yet. “Look. I can’t deny that I wanted Sheila to hurt like I did. I wanted her to feel the same pain she caused me.” She met the doctor’s gaze. “But I never wished her dead, okay? Never.”
Dr. Hansen smiled and nodded. “Good. That’s what I needed to hear. I think Sheila needs to hear it, too.” She moved to press her palm to Haley’s back. “Come on. I believe you need this visit as much as Sheila does.”
Haley resisted for a moment, but the doctor ignored the obvious reluctance. Feeling a bit like a condemned prisoner on her way to the guillotine, she surrendered with grim acceptance.
Just as most of the others, the door to Sheila’s room stood ajar, providing a modicum of privacy without giving the patient a covert hiding place. Haley’s heart alternated between a racing flutter of nervousness and an unsteady, staccato thud of uncertainty and fear.
The doctor knocked as she pushed the door open. “Sheila, you have a visitor.”
Haley wiped her sweating palms against her fitted linen slacks and stared at the young woman sitting in a chair angled toward the single window of the room. Sheila looked like a virtual stranger, not at all as Haley had always known her. Her once flawlessly highlighted, conditioned, and tinted blonde hair now sported dark roots at least three inches long. The profile visible held splotches of red unconcealed by her once ever-present makeup. Chipped and uneven nail polish on the hands folded in her lap completed the transformation of the once classy, cosmopolitan sophisticate to a shabby, guileless lost soul.
The doctor tried again. “Sheila, honey. There’s someone here who’d like to talk to you.”
Sheila turned her head slowly, her gaze settling on Dr. Hansen for a moment before sliding to Haley. She stared for an instant then stood and stepped forward.
“Haley,” she whispered. Her arms lifted as if she wished to embrace Haley but dropped as a look of guilt and shame filled her eyes.
The doctor broke the awkward silence between them. “Ms. Preston, why don’t you have a seat here?” She pulled Haley toward the matching chair adjacent to the one Sheila had been sitting in.
Haley took a shaky breath and sank into the chair.
Sheila returned to her seat.
Again, an uneasy silence hung between them.
“Sheila, I know there is something you’ve been wanting to say to Haley,” Dr. Hansen encouraged.
Sheila nodded, her gaze never leaving Haley. “I’m so sorry.” Tears filled her eyes.
Haley couldn’t stop the words. “How could you do that to me?” She bit her lip and clenched her fists until her nails dug into her palms. She shouldn’t have asked. It had sounded more like an accusation—or a condemnation—than it did a question.
Her former friend sniffed and wiped away a tear. “I was jealous of you. I’ve envied you for years. You have everything. Money. Fame. A great career, and…” A sob stopped her words.
“Yeah, well, I warned you not to major in accounting,” Haley said, trying to ease the tension.
A grin flitted across Sheila’s face, followed by a soft chuckle. “Yes. You did.” The smile disappeared. “I don’t know…Don’t remember exactly when the jealousy started. Our senior year of college maybe? I was so…dissatisfied with my life. I wanted a life like yours. I wanted what you had. I wanted to be you.”
“If that’s the truth, then why the drugs? I never did drugs.” Suddenly Haley wanted to understand, wanted to make sense of the disaster that had torn them apart.
Sheila shrugged. “Ecstasy, cocaine—I used any of it, all of it, for a temporary escape. Made me forget how unhappy I was. At least for a little while.”
Guilt washed over Haley. Why hadn’t she ever noticed Sheila’s sadness? This woman had been her closest friend, like a sister, for fifteen years. “I never knew. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Sheila’s hands shook as she pushed her hair away from her face. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to admit it. I was jealous of my best friend. How juvenile is that?” She didn’t wait for answer. “I didn’t want you to think bad of me. I couldn’t tell you. But then you got engaged to Keith, and I just…It was more than I could bear. Not only was I jealous you were going to marry this unbelievably handsome guy, but I was afraid I was going to lose you. I’d felt like the third wheel ever since you started dating him, but the engagement was the clincher. I freaked.”
“You should have said something.”
“And spoil your happiness? I couldn’t.”
Haley frowned. “And you sleeping with my fiancé wouldn’t spoil anything?”
“Not if you didn’t find out.” More tears accompanied a heavy sigh. “Whenever you were out of town, I pretended to be you. I’d convince Keith to go with me to a party somewhere. We’d get wasted and end up at his apartment.”
Bile rose in Haley’s throat. She’d accepted that the deed had happened more than once, but hearing it confirmed again still cut her.
“I’m sorry,” Sheila whispered. “I shouldn’t have told you that. I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have. I never meant to hurt you.”
“I already knew.”
Her eyes widened. “You knew? How?”
“Keith told me.”
“You’ve talked to him? He told me the security guards wouldn’t let him in to see you at your office and apartment building. They wouldn’t let me in either. You changed your phone number. We tried to call you.”
Haley took a deep breath in an effort to calm her churning stomach. “I saw him last week and tricked him into telling the truth. He was invited to fundraiser I was sponsoring.”
“Invited?” Outrage stole across Sheila’s face. “Who would invite him to your fundraiser? Surely they knew your history with him.”
“Actually it was…Well, the guy I’m dating. My boyfriend. It was his idea.” Haley wondered if she should still be referring to Michael as her boyfriend. He’d been so angry with her when she’d left the last time. Would he forgive her for running away again?
“Your…” Sheila shook her head, confusion and disbelief written in her features. “Why? Did the jerk just want to make sure you didn’t still have feelings for Keith? Is he that insecure? He doesn’t deserve you.”
“No, it’s not like that. He’s not a jerk.” Haley reacted instantly and realized just as quickly that she was defending Michael. Acceptance and forgiveness flowed through her. “He thought I needed to talk to Keith. Said I needed closure.”
“Sounds like your dad. Like the time he made us go rappelling with him because you were afraid of heights.”
Haley nodded. “Dad said I’d never get over my fear if I didn’t face it head on.”
“He was right. I was there, remember? I thought you were going to throw up at first. You were white as a sheet and shaking in your brand new hiking boots. But by the time we got halfway down, you were fine.”
“I always hated it when Daddy was right.”
“Was your boyfriend right?” Sheila asked.
Haley stood and stepped to the window, rubbing her arms to chase away the chills she’d had ever since stepping into Sheila’s room. “Maybe,” she admitted. “It hurt so much to hear Keith admit that he’d slept with you more than that one time and that there had been other women.” She stared out the window, not really seeing anything. “But the pain only lasted a little while, and now…” How did she feel now? With a start, she realized the truth. “Now it doesn’t matter.”
