The Winter Lodge (43 page)

Philip paused, cleared his throat. “Daisy told us about…Mariska.”

Jenny found she couldn’t speak, so she nodded. She was overwhelmed—by the danger she’d survived, by worry about Rourke and the shock of learning the truth about her mother. Yet now she realized she wouldn’t have to face these things alone. Her sister and father flanked her with a solidarity she hadn’t expected.

Olivia handed her a cup of strong tea.

“Thank you,” Jenny said, finding her voice at last. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s been…this has been unbelievable.”

“I know.” Philip patted her on the shoulder. Unlike the other times, it didn’t feel awkward but comforting. He said, “I’m so sorry to hear about what happened to your mother. So very sorry.”

Jenny sipped her tea. She kept looking over at the nursing station. “Thank you. I…it wasn

’t exactly a shock. I mean, for her to be gone so long, with no word, eventually, the conclusion that she was dead was inevitable. Still, without concrete proof, I could always imagine she was out there somewhere.”

“I thought so, as well,” Philip said, and his voice sounded rough with emotion, reminding Jenny that he had once loved Mariska, too. He raked a hand through his hair. “I just don’t get it, any of it.”

Olivia and Jenny exchanged a look. “It had nothing to do with you, Dad.”

“She…my mother saw an opportunity,” Jenny said. “I can’t defend what she did, but under the circumstances, I think I understand. She made a deal with Mr. and Mrs. Lightsey, and I suppose she never saw how complicated it could get, or that it might hurt someone besides herself.”

“Grandmother and Grandfather Lightsey should have known better,” Olivia said. “They took advantage of a girl when she was young and scared and pregnant—”

Philip held up a hand to stop her. “When you’re a parent, you’ll do anything to make sure your child gets everything you want her to have. I’m sure they truly believed Pamela and I would find happiness together, and that Mariska would be taken care of by the fortune they gave her.”

Ultimately, the Lightseys had discovered one of the oldest truths in the world—that some things could not be bought with money. They had managed to make Mariska go away; their daughter had married Philip, just the way they’d planned. But it had been a difficult, unhappy marriage. Ultimately, no one had gotten exactly what they wanted.

“What about the diamonds?” Olivia asked. “I was just curious.”

Jenny studied the pattern on the tiled floor. “Um, I doubt we’ll ever see a single one of them.” She explained about her confrontation with Matthew Alger, and the way she’d flung them out onto the lake moments before Rourke had staggered up behind him and disarmed him. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be,” Olivia insisted. “It’s for the best. I suppose, technically, they belonged to Lightsey Gold & Gem, but it wouldn’t seem right to give them back. And anyway, the diamonds aren’t important. What’s important is that you’re all right.”

Jenny took another sip of her tea, only to find that she’d drunk it all.

“I’ll get you a refill.” Philip took her cup and headed for the elevator.

“He’s just glad to have something to do,” Olivia explained. “Not so good at waiting around.”

“Is anybody?” Jenny felt nauseous. Her hand throbbed but she ignored it.

Nina burst through the door, spotted Jenny and rushed over to her, hugging her tight. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she said. “You’re okay?”

“Yes. And Rourke will be all right.” Jenny had to believe it. “Nobody’s been allowed to see him yet.”

“I feel horrible,” Nina said. “Even responsible, in a way. Matthew was stealing the city blind, and I never caught on. That was why he was so desperate for the money. He needed to replace what he’d stolen before the auditor figured out what he was up to.”

“None of that is your fault,” Jenny said.

“I know, but I still feel terrible. I feel terrible for Zach, too.”

“Are you Miss Majesky?” A nurse came over and addressed Olivia.

Olivia shook her head. “That’s my sister, Jenny.”

Jenny tried to read the woman’s expression but couldn’t. No, she thought, please no.

“I’m Jenny Majesky,” she said. “What’s the matter?”

“He’s asking to see you,” the nurse said. “Actually, he’s not asking. More like demanding.”

Jenny swayed against her father, who steadied her. Both he and Olivia walked her to the door of the ICU. She went alone through the door, and the nurse took her to a hand-washing station and helped her don thin paper scrubs.

She didn’t know the stranger in the bed, surrounded by rails and tubes and equipment.

Bags of medicine hung by the bed, and his chest bore a web of wires affixed with stickers. His face looked as if it were cast in colorless wax. Then he blinked and she felt his gaze on her. His eyes were still bluer than blue, and his lips were moving.

“You’ll need to come close,” said the nurse. “He just had a tube removed from his throat, and he can only whisper.”

Jenny hurried to the side of the bed. Smile for him, she told herself. Don’t let him see how worried you are. “Hey,” she said, studying his face. The crescent-shaped scar on his cheekbone, a souvenir of that long-ago summer, stood out starkly against his pale skin. She reached over the rail and tried to take his hand, but there were things clipped to his fingers and tubes running everywhere. Finally she settled on touching his shoulder, feeling the reassuring warmth of him through the palm of her hand. “I’m glad you’re okay. And you have a lot of people waiting outside who’ll be glad, too.”

“Rufus?” he asked.

“An officer took him to the vet. He’s going to be all right.” She hoped she wasn’t lying. A bullet had grazed his flank and the vet had assured her he’d heal.

“And you?”

She took a deep breath. She was ready to risk it all with him—more than ready. And the ultimate risk was to open herself up completely and quit worrying about the consequences. All right, she thought. Go for it. “I love you, and I’m not leaving you, ever. You’d better get used to me.”

His eyes narrowed, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. One of the machines made a rhythmic sucking sound, which echoed loudly in the room. “So here’s the thing.” He paused, coughed a little, and the rest came out in a whisper. “I was going to ask you to marry me. I was thinking maybe in the fall or next winter. But I changed my mind.”

Jenny braced herself. The trouble was, she couldn’t keep that wall in place, the one she’d erected to protect herself from her feelings for Rourke. That didn’t work anymore. She felt everything for him and it wasn’t as if she could pop a Xanax and get over it.

He was trying to smile. She could see that. “I changed my mind,” he said again. “I don’t want to get married next fall or winter. I want to get married
now.
”

“Now?” she whispered.

“Well, as soon as I’m out of here. I said I’d tell you someday how I wanted to end up. I’

m telling you now.”

Now?
Did she dream of being a bride, surrounding herself with friends and family, planning a special day she would never forget? Maybe, but there was a much more powerful dream, and it wasn’t about a single day but about the rest of her life.
Yes.
Her emotions dissolved into a feeling so powerful that it tinged everything in a gauzy haze. Even here in this strange, antiseptic place, with machines pumping and beeping, the world had never looked more beautiful to her.

“I wish I could beg you on my knees,” Rourke said, “but I guess I’ve got to do it flat on my back. I’ve loved you for more than half my life, Jenny Majesky. I want you to marry me and be my wife.”

She gazed down into his face. He was a complicated, difficult man. She’d been hurt by him many times, but that was because he’d worked so hard to stay away from her. Everything was different now.

“I have a feeling you’re not a big fan of diamonds,” he said. “That’s convenient, because I don’t have a ring. I’ll get you one if you want, though. Anything. Rubies and pearls. A giant sapphire, whatever. Just say you’ll marry me. And for God’s sake, stop crying.”

“I’m not crying.” She was, though. She couldn’t help herself. “I’m saying yes, Rourke, forever, yes.”

Food for Thought

by Jenny Majesky

Everyday Celebrations

The perfect ending to every meal has nothing to do with dessert and coffee, and everything to do with the company you keep. Even so, any celebration can be made more enjoyable by food. At the Sky River Bakery, we create cakes for every occasion, and our customers are always bringing us more ideas. Not just weddings, birthdays and anniversaries, but first communions, graduations, retirements, funeral wakes, births and national holidays. My grandmother, Helen Majesky, created this one for Mr. Gordon Dunbar’s hundredth birthday, but it’s appropriate for any happy occasion, if you ask me.

CELEBRATION CAKE

2 cups flour

4 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 sticks pure unsalted butter, melted

2 cups brown sugar

4 eggs

1/2 cup bourbon whiskey

1/4 cup water

1 (6-ounce) package chocolate chips

1 cup chopped pecans

Hot Buttered Whiskey Glaze

Preheat oven to 325°F. Grease and flour a 13 x 9 x 2-inch baking pan. Combine flour, baking powder and salt. Melt butter and add it to flour, along with brown sugar, eggs, whiskey and water. Pour batter into prepared pan. Sprinkle with chocolate chips and pecans. Bake 50-55

minutes or until center of cake is firm and edges begin to pull away from sides of pan. Cool about 15 minutes, then drizzle with glaze.

HOT BUTTERED WHISKEY GLAZE

Melt 1/4 cup butter. Whisk in 2 cups confectioner’s sugar, 1/3 cup bourbon whiskey, 1

teaspoon vanilla and blend well.

“H
old it right there,” Rourke said, tugging Jenny to a halt on the sidewalk. “I just need to look at this for a while.”

Rufus, whom she held on a leash, obediently halted and sat back on his haunches. Jenny turned to check out the display in the window of the Camelot Bookstore. The local shop had devoted an entire window display to her first food memoir and recipe collection,
Food for
Thought: Kitchen Wisdom from a Family Bakery,
by Jenny Majesky McKnight, with photographs by Daisy Bellamy. The beautiful, oversize volume looked as warm and rich as her grandmother’s pies. It had been published a week earlier, and Jenny was floating with happiness.

“It’s a book,” she said, grinning and shaking her head. “I still can’t believe it’s a book.”

The day it was published, there had been a party at the Sky River Bakery. They’d had to have special traffic control because of the crowd. Jenny wasn’t sure if people came for the whiskey cake or for an autographed book, but they came in droves.

“Let’s go in and buy a copy,” said Rourke.

“I have a whole box of them at home.”

“Like that’s going to stop me.” He held the door and they went inside together, bringing the dog along. It was library-quiet in the bookstore, and the clerk behind the counter didn’t recognize Jenny, wrapped up in a wool hat and muffler against the February cold and fat as a kolache with her pregnancy. Rourke paid for the book and grinned at the clerk.

“It’s by my favorite author.”

Jenny practically fled out the door. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

The street was deserted; people were staying in out of the cold. He slipped the book from the bag and opened it to the first page.
Dedication: In loving memory of my grandparents,
Helen and Leopold Majesky.
“Somewhere,” he said, “I have a feeling they’re incredibly proud of you right now.”

She nodded, but without warning, tears threatened, perhaps due to pregnancy hormones, but maybe because it was impossible to think of her grandparents without thinking of her mother.

There had been an autopsy on Mariska’s remains. Her injuries were consistent with a fall from a great height—from Meerskill Bridge. Alger hadn’t lied about that. She’d fallen, but he was so afraid he’d be accused of killing her that—after realizing she didn’t have the diamonds with her—

he’d hidden the body. He was serving time now, and Zach had gone to college. Enough, she thought. Let them rest—Mariska and Joey and her grandparents.

“Hey.” Rourke put the book away and drew her close. “The book is beautiful.” He ran his hand over her rounded belly. “You’re beautiful, and I love you.” He had an uncanny knack for catching her mood. This came as no surprise; he always had.

She caught their reflection in the glass of the shop window, two survivors, soon to be a family, and what she felt, in the middle of winter, was a kind of warmth the cold could never touch.

ISBN: 978-1-55254-843-1

THE WINTER LODGE

Copyright © 2007 by Susan Wiggs.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.