Sins of Omission

by Fern Michaels

  NOT QUITE A LADY

  Just how the hell old are you?” Bebe demanded sarcastically. “And for your information, no gentleman ever treats a lady the way you’ve been treating me.”

  “That’s because you aren’t a lady yet. As far as I can tell you’re nothing but a spoiled brat. Is there anything else you want to know?”

  “Yes,” Bebe sneered. “How does it feel to be twenty years old and a gigolo?” The minute she said the words she was sorry. The maniacal look in Reuben’s eyes stopped her in her tracks.

  “What did you say?” he thundered.

  “No…nothing. I’m sorry,” Bebe whined. She’d noticed Reuben’s balled fists. “I said I was sorry.”

  “You ever say that to me again and it will be the last thing that ever comes out of your mouth. Remember that.”

  Daniel stared at Bebe and Reuben, his mouth dropped in surprise. Something fluttered in his chest. He knew something for certain now, you didn’t ever cross Reuben Tarz.

  Books by Fern Michaels

  Sins of the Flesh

  Return to Sender

  Mr. and Miss Anonymous

  Up Close and Personal

  Fool Me Once

  Picture Perfect

  About Face

  The Future Scrolls

  Kentucky Sunrise

  Kentucky Heat

  Kentucky Rich

  Plain Jane

  Charming Lily

  What You Wish For

  The Guest List

  Listen to Your Heart

  Celebration

  Yesterday

  Finders Keepers

  Annie’s Rainbow

  Sara’s Song

  Vegas Sunrise

  Vegas Heat

  Vegas Rich

  Whitefire

  Wish List

  Dear Emily

  The Godmothers Series

  Exclusive

  The Scoop

  The Sisterhood Novels

  Game Over

  Deadly Deals

  Vanishing Act

  Razor Sharp

  Under the Radar

  Final Justice

  Collateral Damage

  Fast Track

  Hokus Pokus

  Hide and Seek

  Free Fall

  Lethal Justice

  Sweet Revenge

  The Jury

  Vendetta

  Payback

  Weekend Warriors

  Anthologies

  Snow Angels

  Silver Bells

  Comfort and Joy

  Sugar and Spice

  Let It Snow

  A Gift of Joy

  Five Golden Rings

  Deck the Halls

  Jingle All the Way

  SINS OF OMISSION

  FERN MICHAELS

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  For my children, Cindy, Suzy, Patty, Mike, and Dave, who over the years have given me their love and their respect and helped me keep things in perspective. For Kelly and Billie, my grandchildren, who share their childlike wisdom and treat me to ice-cream cones as long as I pay. Then there’s Fred and Gus, four-legged creatures to be sure, who make me laugh and keep my feet warm. You’re mine and I love each and every one of you.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Part Two

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Part Three

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  The Academy Awards! The night of the year all Hollywood waited for. Even in his wildest dreams, Reuben had never, ever believed the Motion Picture Academy would single him out for an award, but here he was, backstage, waiting for his name to be announced.

  He paced, he smoked, he jammed his hands into tightly balled fists, the cigarette smoke swirling upward making his eyes water. Talk about being nervous! What must it be like for the nominees who had to wait for the winners to be read before they knew whether or not it was their lucky night? Reuben had known about his special award for weeks, and still he was as nervous as a hungry cat. Earlier that afternoon he had written a speech, but he hated speeches. He preferred spontaneity. Ah, the hell with the speech, he decided abruptly; he’d wing it.

  What would the small statue feel like in his hands? he wondered. Solid, most likely. Would he keep it at home or in the office? An honor, one the Motion Picture Academy said he deserved for all his contributions to the industry throughout the years. If you counted the blood, sweat, and, yes, the tears he’d shed for the business, then he certainly deserved the award. But without his friends, would he be standing here now, waiting for the precious gold statue to be placed into his hand?

  He peeked through the curtain at the cheering audience. There were people out there who thought he had it all—a beautiful wife, handsome children, the presidency of Fairmont Studios, loyal friends who’d die for him. Was that having it all? No, it wasn’t. Reuben realized then, in one split second, that, honor or not, he didn’t care about the award because the one person in the world he really cared about wasn’t there to share in his happiness. No, he didn’t have it all.

  Exhaling, he tossed his cigarette away, watched it fall to the wood floor with a small spatter of sparks. Absently he crushed it out with his shiny black dress shoe. Any minute now they would call his name and he would walk out onto the stage—Reuben Tarz, president of Fairmont Studios. For one crazy moment he knew he would chuck it all, his mansion in Laurel Canyon, his title, the studio, even his family and friends, to be a winemaker in France. His eyes burned as he strode onto the stage the moment his name was called. For some reason he hadn’t prepared himself for the blinding lights. He knew his friends and family were out there in the audience, in the second row just a few yards from the podium where he was standing, but he couldn’t see them. Maybe that was good. He’d stare into the blinding light and say whatever came into his head. A minute and a half, ninety seconds of thanks to those sitting in the second row. She should be here, but she wasn’t. He had to pretend she was.

  “And now for a special award for all his many valuable contributions to this industry. For a man whose list of accomplishments is so long and prestigious he made me promise not to bore you by listing them. Suffice it to say we all know what this man has done for all of us in Movieland…. Here, then, to accept the honorary Oscar for Special Contributions to the Industry…Re
uben Tarz, president of Fairmont Studios!”

  Alice Simpson, resplendent in a swirling silver dress, floated over to him, statue in hand. She kissed him lightly on both cheeks, then handed him the gold statue. Reuben watched as she undulated off stage in a cloud of winking silver.

  Aware then that he was the sole focus of countless pairs of eyes, he cleared his throat and stared out into the audience he couldn’t see. The deep huskiness of his voice surprised him, and he had to clear his throat a second time. Ninety seconds. He began with a wry “This is quite an honor for a guy from Brooklyn….” The audience roared and cheered. When they settled down he continued. “I want to thank the members of the Motion Picture Academy for honoring me this evening. So many people…one in particular…gave me my…”

  Max was sitting next to Daniel and Rajean; at least that’s what Daniel had told him earlier backstage. Jane was there, with one of her gentlemen friends, and then Bebe, Simon, and Dillon.

  “…gave me the encouragement I needed to barge into this business and make it a better place for all of us. If I’ve succeeded”—he held the statue aloft—“and I think someone’s trying to tell me I might have in some way…I want to thank those dearest to my heart, for without them I might be a panhandler in Brooklyn instead of standing here tonight.” Obviously he couldn’t mention Max by name because of his underworld connections, but he had to thank him somehow. Arthur—that was Max’s middle name, thank God he’d remembered it…. “My friend Arthur and his…support gave me the confidence to leap ahead while he watched the road behind me; Daniel Bishop, my lifelong friend, who is more brother than friend, deserves more than just thanks; Jane Perkins, for being there when I needed a friend; and, of course, thanks to my wife, Bebe, for her support. Sol Rosen also deserves my thanks for giving me a chance to prove myself.” Say it now, Reuben, acknowledge Mickey and what she’s done for you. Say the words out loud for the world to hear. Your speech will be printed in all the morning papers, Mickey will see it sooner or later…. Say the words.

  He placed the statue down on the podium but held it tightly before he went on. “There is one other person I have to thank. Without her help, her encouragement, and her love, I don’t know where I would be. She isn’t here tonight, in fact she’s half a world away.” He raised the golden statue again this time, high and proud. His eyes burned brightly with unshed tears. “This sign of my achievement should bear the engraved name of…”

  PART ONE

  Chapter One

  Soissons, France

  October 1918

  Sleet pelted the tall windows of the hospital at Soissons, which sat upon a gentle rise of countryside about fifty kilometers from Paris. Reuben Tarz attempted to disguise his limp as he passed between the neat rows of cots, his watery gaze searching out number twenty-seven, his friend, Daniel. Reuben’s heart gave a sickening lurch when he saw a strange man in Daniel’s assigned bunk. Disoriented and fearful, he spun around, hardly recognizing the savagery of the sound that erupted from his throat. “Daniel.”

  “Can’t get enough of this place, eh?” Daniel’s even, steady voice came from somewhere behind him.

  Reuben whirled at the familiar sound, forcing his eyes to focus on the row of hospital beds beneath the gallery windows. “How did you know it was me?” he asked curiously. “Why did they move you over here?” He tried to keep the anxiousness out of his voice.

  Daniel made a sound deep in his throat, almost as though he were laughing. “Because they’re supposed to take the bandages off my eyes tomorrow. The cast comes off my shoulder, too. I knew it was you because I heard you make the same sound when we were gassed. What are you doing here, Reuben? I figured once they’d patched up that leg of yours, you’d be long gone, back to the front, or to the States. I never expected to see you again.”

  “You aren’t exactly seeing me,” Reuben said wryly. “And why in hell would you think you’d never see me again? Do you think I saved your blasted life so I could take a powder? We’re friends, we’ve been to hell and back. That means something, doesn’t it? Besides, you’re just a dumb kid and someone has to look out for you. I have a plan.” Reuben dropped to his knees to whisper. “Or should I say Marchioness Michelene Fonsard has a plan?” He waited to see if Daniel’s excitement would rise to the level of his own.

  “Madame Mickey? The lady who brought me flowers from her own greenhouse?”

  “The same. She’s come up with a way for both of us to go to her château for some R and R. What that means is that we’re out of this fucking war. We’re going to get fresh eggs, good red meat, and lots of strong red wine. What d’you think?”

  Daniel didn’t answer for a long time, and when he did, Reuben had to bend over to hear him. “What if I’m blind, Reuben? We both came to Soissons at the same time, and you were as blind as me from the gas. You’ve been out for two weeks, but I’m still…here. And what is it we have to give to get all this good country living?”

  “You, my friend, don’t have to give anything. I’ll be doing the giving, or the taking, however the case may be.” Reuben’s grin broadened at Daniel’s expression of awe.

  “You mean…she wants…you’ll do that? Jesus! One of the nurses told me about Madame Mickey. They say she’s old, around forty. That’s twice as old as you!” Daniel flushed a brilliant scarlet, which only added to Reuben’s amusement.

  Reuben changed positions to ease his injured leg. “I look at it this way. Madame Mickey has everything any other woman has, plus a heart as big as all outdoors. If she wants to be our benefactor, why not? We certainly have nothing to lose. You don’t want to go back to the front, do you? I sure as hell don’t. This war can’t go on forever, and I intend to outlast it. I want the same for you. Madame Mickey has some influential friends in the War Office. Did you know that Captain Eddie Rickenbacker stayed at her house in Paris when he had leave?” Reuben watched Daniel’s face at the mention of Rickenbacker, hoping the name would lend credibility to Madame Mickey’s reputation. “And,” he added for emphasis, “guess who’s a personal friend of hers, one so famous he autographed a picture of himself for her, taken while he was in full uniform? ‘My love for you endures,’ it says. Signed J. J. ‘Blackjack’ Pershing himself!”

  “That’s all very fine, Reuben…for you. But where do I fit in?”

  “You’ll be right beside me. Daniel, you have to learn how to be gracious when someone offers you something. Always accept. I’m accepting this for both of us. We’ll mend, get our health back, have a little fun, and then head back to the States. I told you I’d take care of you, and I will. I made a promise to you and to myself. You’re going to be ‘the finest lawyer in the country,’ to use your own words, and I’m going to be…I don’t know yet, but I do know I’ll be wearing silk jackets, walking on thick carpets, serving the best caviar with chilled champagne. I’m going to have a mansion with a whole battalion of servants and money to burn. And if I get in trouble along the way, you’ll be the hotshot lawyer who’ll get me out of it. We made a deal, Daniel.”

  “What if I can’t see when they take the bandages off? Then what? What if I’m blind? B-l-i-n-d! How will I go to law school then? Are you going to lead me around on a string?”

  “Damn you, Daniel, shut up,” Reuben growled. “You aren’t going to be blind. I’m not. I couldn’t see very well for a few days, but my eyesight is almost restored. I still have to have the treatments, so will you. And just for the record, yes, I would lead you around on a string. I’d find a way for you to get to law school if I had to go with you. You got that?”

  The eighteen-year-old soldier sighed. There wasn’t a whole lot left to believe in, but he did believe in Reuben. Reuben was the brother he never had, the uncle he’d always wished for, the father he would have died for. Reuben was his friend. Reuben had saved his life and was willing to believe in his dream of finishing his education and becoming a good lawyer. Reuben believed in him. And if it took the rest of his miserable life, he would repay the debt.

/>   Reuben’s gray eyes sparkled mischievously. “Madame Mickey tells me her cousin’s daughter by marriage is expected shortly after Thanksgiving. Her name is Bebe and her father is a famous moviemaker in California. You’ll have a pretty girl to pal around with. We’ll never have to smell carbolic and dead sweat again. We’ll be civilized, Daniel. Do you know what that means? This…this hell we’ve lived through…we’ve earned this!”

  Daniel was silent, but his head dipped ever so slightly in agreement. Reuben always managed to make sense out of chaos. “I think I’ll be out of here in another couple of days. I’m with you, pal. Tell Madame Mickey I’d be honored to accept her invitation. Did I tell you she brought me flowers from her greenhouse again yesterday?”

  Reuben guffawed. “She calls it her hothouse. I can tell you—”

  “Never mind,” Daniel said hastily.

  Reuben didn’t know why he felt the need to stake out the boundaries of his commitment to Daniel. To take care of Daniel, to watch over him, somehow enabled him to make sense of his own life. Daniel was good, he was honest, and he was honorable, and if Reuben had anything to do with it, he would stay that way. He reached down to tousle Daniel’s pale blond hair.

  “When you’re discharged, Madame Mickey will pick us up in her motorcar. She’s promised to teach me to drive.”

  “How old is this Bebe?” Daniel asked. It grated on him at times that he’d never had a girlfriend, while he knew that Reuben had had scores and had been intimate with all of them. After all, Reuben was a virile man. Bebe was probably ten years old. Reuben still thought of Daniel as a boy. Christ, he’d gone through the war the same as Reuben had; that should qualify him as a man. He waited, holding his breath, for Reuben’s reply. Think of me as a man, he pleaded silently, so I can think of myself the same way.