Never Too Late (31 page)

Jamie frowned as Sheryl lifted containers out of the bag and pulled plates from the cabinet as if it were just another night. Who was this woman who was happy when she got what she wanted and distant when she didn’t? Who didn’t understand what had happened to her this afternoon? Who wouldn’t stay home with her? She stepped back and let her arms fall to her sides as her world tilted for the second time today.

“Oh, and thanks for the flowers. Everyone teased me about having a secret boyfriend.”

Loneliness hit hard and fast, and Jamie sucked in a breath. She wrapped her arms around herself. “Can you drop me at my office on your way? I left my car there.” She couldn’t stay here in an empty house. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow things would look different.

“Sure. I need to leave in half an hour.” Sheryl put a plate in the microwave.

Jamie tucked the white tank top into her jeans and pulled a black V-neck sweater over her head. Squeezing the pendant around her neck she whispered, “I hope you didn’t know, Mom.” Tears filled her eyes. Sheryl was hollering for her to hurry as she finger combed her hair.

Maybe she’d go up to the Castro. That’s where she and Penni had always headed to blow off steam. She felt reckless. She felt released from obligations she’d never wanted. She didn’t owe her father a goddamned fucking thing and felt like a fool for having been the loyal, responsible daughter all these years, while the other daughter got a free ride on her dime.

She rifled through her clothes until she found her old brown leather bomber jacket in the back of the closet. Yanking it off the hanger she stalked out.
Yeah, I can have some fun tonight.

Sheryl kissed Jamie on the cheek. “I’m glad your problems are over.”

Jamie nodded but didn’t move. Wasn’t there more to say? The country song ended and silence filled the Lexus.

“Sheryl—”

“Do you want me to wait while you get your keys?” Sheryl’s finger tapped the steering wheel and she looked at Jamie. Was there love in her eyes?

Jamie got out. They’d get past this somehow but not tonight. Maybe she was right—the important thing was that it was over.

The last of the sunset was fading to the dull gray of twilight as Sheryl drove away. Loneliness welled up as Jamie faced the clinic. She zipped her jacket and tugged the collar up. She couldn’t get warm. Inhaling the smell of the leather she detected traces of smoke from the many bars she’d been in back when it was her official “cruising babes” jacket. She gripped the doorknob for a long time, wishing her car keys weren’t sitting in her desk drawer. How could she walk back in knowing what she knew? Finally, she took a deep breath and shoved the door open.

She walked slowly through the clinic, seeing it with new eyes. She’d had little say in any of the decisions about it. He and Mary had chosen the location, designed the layout, and Mary had decorated it. Now it made sense. He’d even had the nerve to let Marjorie work for him. His own separate little family.

Jamie’s stomach clenched and her head spun as things she’d rarely admitted oozed into her awareness, let loose as if his betrayal had split her open. She’d never wanted this clinic. It was his dream. She’d agreed because she loved him and thought he needed her help. She spit out a bitter laugh. After his death she kept it going because she felt responsible for keeping his dream alive. A hot rush of rage filled her as the truth came tumbling out. He wasn’t worthy of any of her sacrifices.

She stood in the reception area, hands in her jacket pockets, clenching and unclenching them. Her eyes wandered from the new furniture to the new watercolors to the fresh bouquet on the front counter. Carla. She’d decorated her clinic the way Mary—Jamie banished the memory of yesterday’s kiss. She’d fire her tomorrow.

Walking into her office and turning on the light, she lost the struggle not to cry as anger and outrage gave way to overwhelming sadness.
Oh, Mom, what am I going to do?
Tears flowed faster and she ached for her mom’s reassuring arms around her. Carla had eradicated every trace of him from this office. Gratitude mixed with regret, but she didn’t have a choice. Carla had to go. Her phone rang, piercing the silence—Penni’s ring. Support she could count on. She sat on the edge of the desk and answered.

“Why didn’t you return my calls? How’d it go?”

“Not so good.”

“I’m sorry, Jamie. Damn that woman. How could she get away with it?”

“She’s not.”

“Then why isn’t it good news?”

Jamie glared at the couch. Had he and Mary done it on the old couch? Had she sat on the very spot where he’d fucked her? She was being crude and didn’t care. What he’d done was crude, and if he were here she’d stand up to him and not back down this time. “My father was fucking Mary. Marjorie is his daughter.” Jamie had never heard such a long silence from Penni.

“What? Did you say—”

Jamie said it again. The words lashed the inside of her mouth.

“How do you know? Travis, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“His name’s on her birth certificate.”

“Oh, my God, Jamie. Are you all right?”

Jamie closed her eyes and clutched the phone as if she could drink in the understanding in Penni’s voice. “I don’t know. I’m kind of ragged.”

“Where are you?”

“My office.”

“Is Sheryl with you?”

Jamie hesitated, pressing her palm against the desk. “She dropped me off.”

“Dropped you off?” Jamie held the phone away from her ear as Penni spewed out a stream of incredulity. She didn’t interrupt—she refused to defend Sheryl this time. “Why the hell isn’t she taking care of you? No, don’t tell me. Where’s Carla?”

“Home, I imagine.”

“Call her.”

Carla was the last person she wanted to see. “I’m going up to the city like the old days.”

“Jamie…that’s not such a good idea. Stay where you are. I’ll be right there. It’s Jamie, honey. I need to go—”

“No.” Jamie laughed as she fiddled with the zipper on her jacket, pulling it up and down. She should want to be with Penni, but there was something appealing about brooding in solitude. “Um, you’re probably right.” She laughed again. “I’ll just go home. Sheryl said she’d be right back.”

“I’ll come over.”

“No.”

“You shouldn’t be alone.”

She choked back a sob. “I’ll be okay.” She picked at a small rip in her jeans. “Am I overreacting, Penni? I mean…” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s not a big deal, right?”

“Who told you that? No, never mind. Listen to me, Jamie. There is no overreacting to something like this. It rewrites your whole life. If it were me I’d be spitting mad and in shock and crying my eyes out all over Lori’s shoulder.”

Why didn’t she have a shoulder to cry on? Jamie tugged the zipper all the way up her throat. It felt good to be encased in the tight jacket.

“I’ll be there in twenty—”

“No. I’ll be okay.” Jamie heard muffled voices, Penni’s and Lori’s, but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“I’ll call you later and check on you. We love you. Call Carla. She phoned twice to ask if I’d heard from you.”

Jamie ended the call. Fatigue glued her to the desk and she clutched the edge as her bravado faded. What was she thinking? She wasn’t twenty-something anymore, and dashing off to San Francisco for a night of drinking didn’t seem like that much fun all of a sudden. Besides, a hangover tomorrow with a full day of patients would be miserable. Like it or not, she had responsibilities. She’d go home and curl up with a movie to distract her until Sheryl got home.

She was halfway to the door when she stopped. There was one thing left that hadn’t been eradicated from his office. “My office, goddamn it.” She yanked open the door to the credenza behind her desk. Anger surged again as she grabbed the bottle of Glenlivet. How dare he leave her to clean up his mess? How dare he put her in the position of losing everything she’d worked for?

The bag of cookies and card she’d shoved in there this morning fell to the floor. She set the cookies on the desk and held the yellow envelope with her name in purple on her open palm, staring at it. Closing her hand around the card she crushed it until her hand cramped, and then she let it fall to the floor.

She started for the door, strangling the neck of the bottle. She’d pour his fucking Scotch down the drain. She’d wipe every trace of him from her life. From the clinic. Her clinic, goddamn it.

She stopped, letting a smirk curl her lip. Why not toast to dear old Dad first? Grabbing his picture she set it in front of her on the desk. She poured a healthy dose of the Scotch and held it up in a mock salute, staring at the ugly brown liquid as she swirled it in the heavy tumbler. His Scotch. His tumbler. She’d cherished the connection with him. Choking back a sob, she downed it in one angry swallow that burned down her throat. Then she slammed her fist into the photo, driving it into the desk as glass shattered. “You fucking coward!”

*

Carla was steps from Jamie’s office when she heard Jamie scream a curse and then the sound of breaking glass. She’d almost driven on by the clinic as she had several times since leaving the office with no word from Jamie. She’d left half a dozen messages, the last two begging Jamie to let her know she was all right. Seeing the light from Jamie’s office, she’d done an illegal U-turn and run over the curb as she jerked her car into the parking lot.

“Jamie!” Ripping her sweater off her shoulders, Carla wrapped it around Jamie’s right hand. The glazed look in Jamie’s eyes scared her as much as the blood. She gripped Jamie’s arm and dragged her to the break room, where she elbowed the faucet on and held Jamie’s hand under the stream of water, looking for the source of the blood that was leaving a pink trail in the sink. She found several cuts on the outside. Wrapping a towel around her hand, she squeezed tight as she held it up by Jamie’s head. “Sit,” she ordered, backing Jamie toward a chair she kicked away from the table.

Jamie wrenched away and bolted from the room, Carla a step behind as she lurched into the bathroom and vomited. Carla laid her hand on Jamie’s neck as she retched again. Her skin was cold and clammy. She cupped Jamie’s elbow and helped her up. “Rinse.” Carla handed Jamie a paper cup of water.

“Sit,” Carla said, as she closed the toilet lid. She wrapped a fresh towel around Jamie’s hand, and held it up.

“I’m sorry.” Jamie’s voice was raspy.

“Hush. Let’s get you back to your office. I need to look at your hand more carefully and see if we need to take you to the ER. Stand up.” Carla wrapped her arm around Jamie’s waist as she helped her to her office. The leather jacket was soft and smelled of Jamie, and the tight jeans would have been sexy under different circumstances.

Carla settled Jamie on the couch, then pulled the blanket off the back and draped it over her shoulders. She was pale and trembling and wouldn’t meet Carla’s eyes. What had happened? She unwound the towel and inspected Jamie’s hand, cradling it in hers, pressing gently around the cuts. They looked superficial, but the amount of blood scared her and this hand was special. “We’re going to the ER.”

Jamie rubbed her forehead, her breathing ragged. “Please…just a few minutes,” she said, in a shaky voice, as she unzipped her jacket.

“Jamie—”

“Please.”

When Jamie’s eyes met hers she almost gasped. They were so pained, so…lost. What had hurt her so badly she’d hurt herself? “Tell me what happened.”

“I got my why,” Jamie said, in a whisper, her arm wrapped across her stomach. She looked like she might be sick again.

“It was personal, wasn’t it? Marjorie had a grudge against you personally.”

Jamie’s eyes met hers, bruised, dark with a terrible hurt Carla wanted to take away.

“How did you know?”

“Never mind that now. Tell me the rest.”

Jamie took a shuddering breath and the story poured out of her as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Carla listened, cradling Jamie’s hand against her stomach because it was the only comfort she dared offer. Everything in Jamie’s eyes said to take her in her arms and hold her. Every part of her wanted to do just that. But they were already in ambiguous territory from yesterday’s kiss. She hoped the card had returned them to the safe confines of friendship.

“How awful for you to find out that way. You must feel so overwhelmed. Tell me how I can make it better.”

Jamie looked up and her expression went from lost to startled before she straightened. “I’m all right.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Carla’s voice exposed all her frustration and she tightened her grip on Jamie’s hand. “You’ve just had your life ripped apart and you’re sitting here bleeding, and you tell me you’re all right? I want to help you through this.”

“I don’t need your help. I don’t want—” Jamie got partway up and then leaned over, steadying herself on the coffee table.

Carla reached for her hand—the towel was coming loose. Jamie pulled away and she understood. “This is about yesterday, isn’t it? And about your father.”

Jamie’s head snapped up, eyes filled with anger and hurt and confusion. “I can’t—”

“It’s all right, Jamie.” Defeat landed hard on Carla’s shoulders and tears filled her eyes. The card hadn’t mattered. She heaved herself off the couch, wobbling as exhaustion hit her from too little sleep and too much worry. She was going to lose Jamie and there was nothing she could do. All the innocent people that man had hurt. She forced herself to keep breathing as her heart broke. “Come on. We’re going to the ER. Call your partner and have her meet us at Good Sam. I’ll leave as soon as she gets there.”

Jamie shook her head slowly but didn’t move.

“Never mind. What’s her number? I’ll call her.”

“No.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I know why you don’t want me to take care of you but—”

“She’s not home.” Jamie’s voice was barely audible.

“What do you mean she’s not home? You mean she doesn’t know either? What’s wrong with you that you won’t let anyone take care of you? Isn’t that what you do for people all day long? How bad does it have to get before you—”

“She knows,” Jamie blurted out.

“She…knows? Then why isn’t she here holding…?” They both looked at Jamie’s hand.