From the Heart (15 page)

“I'm not going to tolerate you under my roof any longer. Your influence on Alison will take months to repair.”

“A lifetime, I hope.” Kasey rose. She had to get out of that room. “You're never going to fit her into that mold again. She's outgrown it.”

“Jordan has custody of Alison.”

It was the tone, not the words, that halted Kasey. She felt a quick thrill of fear. “Yes.”

Beatrice turned a bit in her chair so she might face Kasey directly. “If you don't leave today, this afternoon, I'll be forced, for Alison's sake, to sue him for custody of her.”

“That's absurd.” The fear came back, doubled in force. She felt the cold hit her skin. “No court would give you custody over Jordan.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not.” Beatrice moved her shoulders elegantly. “But you know how distressing a court battle can be, particularly when there's a child involved. Suing on the grounds of immoral conduct would make it particularly unpleasant.”

“He's your son.” The words came out as barely a whisper. “You couldn't do that to him. To Alison. Jordan's done nothing to hurt her; he never would.”

“Alison requires protection.” She gave Kasey a cool glance. “So does Jordan.”

“Protection? You mean manipulation, don't you?” She crossed back to Beatrice. She had to be dreaming. But not even her nightmare hurt this acutely. “You wouldn't do this to them. You couldn't. She's just a child. She loves him.” She wouldn't cry in front of this woman. “You don't have anything to gain from this. You don't love Alison the way Jordan does. You don't need her. If you could understand what it's like to be fought over this way, you wouldn't do it.”

Beatrice took a small breath. “The choice is up to you.”

It was incredible, impossible, but Kasey saw she meant every word she said. “I was going tomorrow,” she said quietly. “I'm not worth it, Mrs. Taylor.”

“Today, before Jordan returns. You're to say nothing of this to him.”

“Today,” Kasey agreed. There were tears in her voice; she couldn't prevent them. She struggled to keep them from her eyes. “Today, because I'm capable of something you're not. Of loving them both enough to give them what they need. Each other.”

Beatrice turned her back again. “Millicent will have your bags packed by now, and Charles will drive you wherever you'd like to go.” She opened her checkbook. “I'm willing to compensate you for your discretion and for your inconvenience, Miss Wyatt—”

Kasey's hand slammed down on the checkbook and cut her off. Beatrice looked up in surprise.

“Don't press your luck,” Kasey whispered. “I gave you my word. It's free.” She lifted her hand slowly and straightened. “There'll come a time when you'll have to deal with what you did today. You've lost more than I ever had, Mrs. Taylor.”

She made it out the door, then nearly doubled over with the pain. She needed time, a few moments, to pull herself back together. She still had to see Alison. She wouldn't leave without saying good-bye to her.
Let me find the right words.
Kasey moved down the hall like a sleepwalker.
Don't let me cry in front of Alison.

The sharp flash of pain had left her numb. She reached for the knob of Alison's door with nerveless fingers.

“Kasey!” Alison glanced up. The puppy was curled on the bedspread while Alison sat with him plucking at her guitar. “I learned a new song. Shall I play it for you?”

“Alison.” Kasey came to sit beside her.

“What's wrong?” The child's forehead creased as she studied Kasey. “You look funny.”

“Alison. You remember I told you that someday I'd have to go.” She saw the look in the child's eyes and touched her cheek. “It's someday, Alison.”

“No.” She set the guitar aside and grabbed Kasey's hand. “You don't have to. You could stay.”

“I explained it to you before. Remember? About my job?”

“You don't want to stay?” The tears were starting. Kasey felt a moment of panic.

“Alison, it's not a matter of wanting. I can't.”

“You could. You could if you wanted to.”

“Alison, look at me.” Kasey was on the edge and knew it. But there was no leaving her this way. “Sometimes people can't do exactly what they want. I love you, Alison, but I have to go.”

“What will I do?” It was almost a wail as she threw her arms around Kasey's neck.

“You have Jordan. And I'll write you, I promise. Maybe in the summer you can visit. Like we talked about before.”

“The summer's months and months away.”

Kasey hugged her tight, then drew her back. “Sometimes time goes quickly.” She slipped the gold band from her finger and pressed it into Alison's hand. “This is for you. Whenever you think I don't love you anymore, you can look at it and remember I do.” Rising, she walked to the doorway. The pain was festering, and her time was running out.

“Alison . . .” She turned back with her hand on the knob. “Tell Jordan I . . .” She shook her head and opened the door. “Just take care of him for me.”

 

There was only one small light on in her hotel room, but even that hurt her eyes. Kasey couldn't summon the energy to walk over and switch it off. The weeping had drained her, left her sick and empty. She could hear the sounds of celebration from other rooms.

It was nearly midnight.

I should be with him now, Kasey thought. I should have had this one last night. What did he think when he came back and found me gone? Gone without a word. He'll never understand. He can't ever understand, she reminded herself. Will he be hurt or just angry? She shook her head. It was no use speculating. It was over.

She heard the rattle of a key and turned. When Jordan walked in, she said nothing. Her thoughts were drowned in pain and shock.

“You should use a chain when you want to shut someone out, Kasey.” He tossed the key onto a table. “Keys are easy enough to come by. Twenty dollars and a good story buys one. You know all about good stories.”

She sat exactly where she was. Beatrice's threat cut off her impulse to run into his arms. “How did you find me?”

“Charles.” He turned and fastened on the chain. “Though I had to visit a few bars to find him. He had the night off.”

“You seem to have put the time to good use.” He'd been drinking, she noted, if not heavily, enough to show. She had to keep calm. Her hands were beginning to shake, and she curled her fingers around the edge of the dresser behind her.

Jordan glanced around the small hotel room. “You didn't choose the Hyatt, I see.”

“No.” There were going to be angry words, hard words. Kasey rose and reached for a cigarette. “Isn't that ridiculous? Hotels are always leaving matches everywhere, and I can't find one.” She caught her breath when he gripped her arms and spun her around.

“Why did you leave?”

“I had to leave sometime, Jordan.” Her voice tightened with pain as his fingers dug into her skin. “We both know the research was finished.”

“Research?” If he didn't keep his fingers tight, he was afraid he'd strike her. She'd hurt him more than he had known he could be hurt. She had opened him up for the pain. He gave her a savage shake. “Is that all there is between us?”

She was beginning to tremble all over, but he didn't seem to notice. She had never seen him like this—brutal, furious. She wished he would hit her if that would bring a quick end to it.

“Damn you.” He shook her again, nearly lifting her off her feet. “Couldn't you at least have faced me with it? Did you have to leave behind my back, without a word?”

Kasey gripped the dresser edge again. The sickness was rising back to her throat. “It's better this way, Jordan. I—”

“Better?”
The word exploded from him. Kasey jumped. “For whom? If you didn't have the decency to think of me, what about Alison?”

That was almost too much to bear. Kasey closed her eyes a moment. “I thought of Alison, Jordan. You must believe I thought of Alison.”

“How can I believe anything you say? She was devastated. Look at me.” He took her hair and pulled her head back. “I
spent an hour holding her while she cried trying to make her understand what I couldn't.”

“I did what I had to do.” Her head was beginning to spin. She had to make him leave, and quickly. “Jordan, you've had too much to drink.” Her voice was amazingly calm now. “And you're hurting me. I want you to go.”

“You said you loved me.”

Kasey swallowed and straightened. “I changed my mind.” She watched the color drain from his face.

“Changed your mind?” The words came slowly, with no understanding.

“That's right. Now go and leave me alone. I've a plane to catch in the morning.”

“Bitch.” He whispered the word as he dragged her against him. “I'll go when I'm finished. We still have a date.”

“No.” She struggled against him in quick panic. “No, Jordan.”

“We'll finish what you started,” he told her. “Here. Now.”

And his mouth was on hers, cutting off her protest. Kasey pushed against him, wild with fear. Would even this be taken from her—the memories of the joy of loving him, being loved by him. He was dragging her toward the bed, and she fought, but he was strong and senseless with rage.
What are we doing to each other?
Her mind dimmed as he ripped the shirt from her shoulders. His hands were everywhere, pulling, tearing her clothes as she struggled against him.

The memory of Beatrice's calm, cool face floated behind her eyes.
I won't let you do this to us.

Kasey stopped struggling. Under Jordan's mouth, hers softened and surrendered.
I can give you this,
she told him silently and felt her panic subside.
One last night.
She hasn't taken it from us, after all. She stopped thinking and let herself love.

K
asey awoke to full, blinding light. She moaned in automatic protest and rolled over. Her hand touched the emptiness beside her. She opened her eyes. He was gone. She struggled to sit up, scanning the room quickly for some sign of Jordan. When she laid her hand on the pillow beside hers, she found it cool.

When had he gone? She remembered only that they had loved each other again and again in the night, in desperation and in silence. She thought he had slept, was certain they had had a few hours of total peace together. She needed to know they had.

No one could take those last hours from her. If there hadn't been tenderness, there had been need. He won't hurt anymore. Her last hope was that the night would have purged the pain from him, if not his anger. She doubted Jordan would ever forgive her for her method of ending it. Kasey rose from the bed. She still had a plane to catch.

When she saw the note on the dresser, she stared at it. It might be better not to read it, to pretend she hadn't seen it. What could he say to her now that wouldn't bring the pain flooding back? But she reached for it before she could stop herself. She opened it and read:

Kasey,

An apology for last night would mean little, but I have nothing else to offer. Anger is no excuse for what
happened. I can only tell you I regret it more than anything I've ever done.

I'm leaving you a check for your services of the last month. I hope you realize what you've given me, because I don't have the words to tell you.

Jordan

Kasey read the letter through once, then again. She'd been right to think it would bring pain. She crumpled it in her hand, then dropped it on the floor.
Regret it,
she thought and slowly picked up the check that had been laid beneath the note. She was cold now. She had little emotion left to spend. Briskly she scanned the amount and gave a quick laugh.

“Generous, Jordan. You're a generous man.” She tore the check methodically into tiny pieces and let them drift to the floor. “That ought to drive your accountant crazy.” She wasn't going to cry again. There weren't any tears left. With a shuddering sigh, Kasey reached for a cigarette.

“Montana,” she decided all at once. “Montana will have six feet of snow and be cold as hell.” Now wasn't the time to go home, she thought. It would be too easy to fall apart at home. Dashing to the phone, Kasey prepared to change her plans.

 

Dr. Edward Brennan switched off the ignition on his old Pontiac. The sun was beginning to set, and he'd put in a full day. His back let him know it.
Getting old,
he mused as he sat. There'd been a day when he could have delivered three babies, plucked out a pair of tonsils, set a broken tibia and inoculated three families against flu before lunch without slackening speed. But he was seventy and thinking it was time to slow down.

Maybe it was time to take on an associate, someone young with fresh ideas. Dr. Brennan liked fresh ideas. He smiled a moment and watched the sunset. Too bad Kasey hadn't taken to medicine. She'd have made a hell of a doctor. What a bedside manner she would have had.

There were orange streaks shooting through the trees on his mountain. He was very proprietary about his little section of
land. His mountain, his sunset. He felt that way when he sat alone. It was a good feeling and kept him going.

Opening the car door, he lifted out the bundle of homemade bread and preserves that Mrs. Oates had pressed on him when he had treated her boy for chicken pox. He would enjoy his fee with a cup of coffee. After, he thought as he stretched his tired back, he might just have a glass of the illegal whiskey Mr. Oates had slipped him before he had left. Oates had the best still on the east side of the mountain.

The door to his house was never locked, and he pushed it open, already tasting the bread.

“Hello, Pop.”

Dr. Brennan jolted, then stared at the woman seated behind his kitchen table.
“Kasey!”
He was stunned to find her and surprised that she hadn't jumped up to rush to him for a fierce hug and noisy kiss. It was her traditional way of greeting him, whether they had been parted for a day or a year. “I thought you were still in Tennessee.”

“Nope, I'm right here.” She smiled at him, then glanced at the bundle he carried. “Smells like fresh bread. Part of your fee?”

“Mrs. Oates,” he answered, crossing the room to set the bundle on the table.

“Ah.” Kasey grinned up at him. “Then you'll have something a little more lively from Mr. Oates, I imagine. How's your stomach lining?”

“Sturdy enough for a glass or two.”

She laid a hand on his. “How are you, Pop?”

“Fine, Kasey.” He was studying her face carefully with a mixture of affection and professionalism. Something was not quite right. He squeezed her hand in return. She'd tell him when she was ready, in her own way. He'd known her too long to expect anything else. “What about you? What have you been up to? I haven't had one of your six-page letters in nearly a month.”

“Not too much.” She gave a half shrug. “I spent a couple of weeks in Montana. I got a terrific coat there; it would keep you warm in the Aleutians. I joined the Phiefer team for a while in Utah. Molly Phiefer's just as tough as ever. She celebrated her sixty-eighth birthday in camp. I did a two-part
lecture in St. Paul and fished for trout in Tennessee. And I quit smoking.” Her eyes darkened. She drew in her breath. “Pop . . . I'm pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” His eyes shot open. “What do you mean, pregnant?”

“Pop.” Kasey reached for his hand. “You're a doctor. You know what pregnant means.”

“Kasey.” Dr. Brennan discovered he had to sit down. “How did it happen?”

“The traditional way,” she said, attempting a smile. “Even modern methods aren't always reliable,” she added, anticipating the inevitable question.

He'd let that pass for now. “How far along are you?”

“What's today?”

He was used to her casual indifference to the passing of time. “May seventeenth.”

“Four months and seventeen days.”

“Very specific,” he noted with a nod of his head.

“I'm sure.” She laced and unlaced her hands.

Observing the nervous move, he switched to professionalism. “Have you seen a doctor? Are you having any discomfort, any side effects?”

“Yes, I've seen a doctor.” She smiled again, soothed by the objective questions. “No, I'm not having any discomfort, and after an unfortunate month of morning sickness, I haven't any side effects. We're disgustingly healthy.”

“And the father?”

She laced her hands again. “I'm sure he's very healthy, too.”

“Kasey.” He cupped his hand over her fingers to stop their movement. “What are his plans about the baby? Obviously, you've decided to complete the pregnancy. You and the baby's father must have come to terms of some kind.”

“No, we haven't come to terms of any kind.” She looked at him directly, and some of the vulnerability seeped through. “I haven't told him.”

“Haven't told him?” He was more shocked by this than anything else. It simply wasn't like her. “When do you plan to?”

“I plan not to.” She reached for a cigarette and began to tear it into small pieces.

“Kasey, he has a right to know. It's his baby.”

“No.” Her eyes shot up again. “It's my baby. The baby has rights, I have rights. Jordan can take care of himself.”

“That's not like you, Kasey,” he said quietly.

“Please.” She shook her head and crushed the remains of the cigarette in her hand. “Don't. I didn't make this decision overnight. I've thought about it for months. I know it's the right thing to do. My baby isn't going to be pulled apart because his father and I made mistakes. I know what would happen if I told Jordan.”

Her voice was beginning to shake, and she took a moment to steady it. “He'd offer to marry me. He's an honorable man. I'd refuse because I couldn't bear . . .” Her voice broke again, and she shook her head impatiently. “I couldn't bear to have him ask me out of obligation. Then he'd want to set me up some kind of financial support. I don't need it. My baby doesn't need it. There'd have to be structured visitation rights with the baby bouncing from coast to coast, never knowing where he belonged. It's not fair. I won't have it. The baby belongs to me.”

He took her hands again and gave her a long look. “Do you love the father?”

He watched her crumple before his eyes. “Oh, God, yes.” Kasey laid her head on the table and wept.

Her grandfather let her cry it out. He hadn't seen this sort of grief from her since she had been a child. He kept her hands in his and waited. What sort of man was this Jordan, whose baby she carried? If she loved him, why was she weeping here alone instead of sharing the joy of impending parenthood with him?

He tried to remember the patches of information from her letters. He knew who Jordan was—the writer she had worked with during late fall and early winter of the last year. Dr. Brennan had admired his work. Kasey's letters had been enthusiastic and confusing. But he was used to both from her.

Why hadn't he read between the lines? And now, for months, she had been dealing with the most important decision in her life alone. He hated to see her this way—lost,
weeping. Once he had had to send her away from him. She had been lost and weeping then, too. He had thought his own decision had been right for her, and when the dust had settled, it had been. But the time in between had had its effect on her. He was intuitive enough to know that part of her present decision stemmed from her own experiences. All he could offer her was time and support and his love. He hoped it would be enough.

Her weeping had stopped. Kasey kept her head down on the table while she rested from it. She hadn't given into tears for months. Slowly she straightened and began to speak again.

“I loved him—I do love him. That's one of the reasons I'm handling it this way.” She sighed. She had needed to talk to someone since she had walked out of Beatrice's sitting room four months before. “Let me explain things to you, and maybe you'll understand.”

Her voice was quiet now, without emotion, and she detailed the circumstances in the Taylor household. When she spoke of Alison, he saw the parallel immediately and kept his silence. Only when she told him of her final encounter with Beatrice did he explode.

“Are you telling me she threatened you?” He had sprung up, forgetting the strain in his back. He was ready to fight.

“Not me.” Kasey reached for his hand and drew herself to her feet. “Jordan, Alison. There was nothing she could do to me, nothing that would have mattered.”

“It was blackmail, Kasey. Simple, ugly blackmail.” His voice was rough with temper. “You should have gone straight to Jordan and told him.”

“Do you know what he would have done?” Kasey took his arm. “He would have stormed in there, just as you'd like to do right now. It would have been a horrible scene with Alison right in the middle of it. Do you think I could take a chance on there being a court battle? She's just a little girl. I know how she'd feel seeing her name and picture splashed in the papers, listening to the whispering.” Her eyes were eloquent, and her tears had dried. “Put yourself in my place, Pop. You were very close to it once. If you had to change what you did all those years ago, would you?”

He sighed and drew her into his arms. “Kasey, I never thought you'd have to go through something like this again.”

She had needed to come home, to feel his big, strong arms and gentle hands. She had needed a rock and had never known a sturdier one. “I love you, Pop.”

“I love you, Kasey.” He held her for a moment and said nothing. It struck him suddenly that she was no longer willow slim. He could feel the roundness as she pressed against him. Unprofessionally, he was shocked by the change. She wasn't his baby anymore but a woman carrying one of her own. “It just occurs to me,” he said softly. “I'm going to be a great-grandfather.”

“You've always been a great grandfather,” Kasey murmured. “The best.”

“You'll stay until the baby comes.”

Kasey sighed and relaxed against him. “I'll stay.”

He drew her away. “Are you taking vitamins?”

“Yes, doctor.” She grinned and kissed his cheek.

“And drinking your milk?”

She kissed his other cheek. “What do you think of Bryan?” she asked him. “It could work whether the baby's a boy or a girl. I think Bryan Wyatt has a nice sound. Dignified but not stuffy.”

He lifted his brows. “I can see my work's cut out for me.”

“Or there's Paul,” she went on as he walked to the refrigerator. “Of course, I'd have to have a boy, then.” Kasey watched as he poured a tall glass of milk. “Are we going to have some of Mrs. Oates's goodies now?” She opened the bundle. “Are these damson preserves?” she asked as she held up a Mason jar. “I love damson preserves.”

“Good.” Dr. Brennan handed her the glass of milk and smiled. “You can have some with your milk before I examine you.”