Loving Memories Page 5

  “Oh God...”

  “Yeah, so get dressed. I’ll make us both a coffee.” He leaned toward her, as if clearing away her distress was the most important thing on his mind. “You do drink coffee, don’t you?”

  Jenny nodded slowly, realizing he was hoping to calm the recriminations that whirled around inside her head. If only it were so easy to overcome what she’d done. What they’d both done.

  “Then I’ll see you in the kitchen in a few minutes.” He left the room, holding his shirt in his hands.

  Chapter 6

  Steve shook with anger and self-loathing as he wandered into the kitchen. A glance at the clock told him it was early, barely five o’clock, and he checked on Lola as his memories surged.

  The child was still asleep, lying soft and innocent in her bed. His gut churned. He’d just had sex with Jenny, Cara’s best friend, down the hall from the sleeping girl. What’s more, if the state of his head was anything to go by, he also had a serious headache to contend with. Cara hadn’t even been buried yet and he was tomcatting on her. He shook his head, heartily sickened by his behavior.

  How in hell had that happened? But he knew the ugly truth. The alcohol, loneliness, and a warm body had been irresistible in his weakened emotional state. He barked a laugh at the thought. Yeah, his weakened emotional state was a cop-out. He’d chosen to have sex, no matter how inebriated he was.

  He banged around in the kitchen, readying cups and coffee. Each move jarred his fragile head, but he wasn’t complaining. He deserved a whole heap more ass-kicking before he could chalk this up to experience.

  The smell of brewing coffee filled the air, and he grabbed sugar and milk, slammed them to the counter, then reached for a teaspoon. “How could you do that?” He wanted to snarl aloud but kept his recriminations to quiet, anguished murmurs instead. It wouldn’t do to wake Lola until he and Jenny had talked this through.

  Memories of Jenny’s body beneath his exploded through him. Soft skin and warm touches... He forced the memory back. In its place came her look of horror and shock, and then the brittle dignity she’d clad herself in when she’d offered to leave.

  She’d clearly accepted full responsibility, and expected to be sent out into the world to fend for herself. That stung his manly pride too.

  He was one half of the situation, and he’d take his lumps like a man.

  Jenny entered the kitchen, her face pale. He read pure anguish in her eyes at their actions. Her pupils had dilated, and the whites of her eyes were pink from crying. It pulled him up hard, and he sighed.

  “Dammit...”

  “No, Steve. It’s my fault. I really should leave.” Her voice was so quiet he had to strain to hear it. Her bottom lip quivered, and he felt even worse than before. “I don’t think I should go to the funeral.”

  The words stopped him dead. The funeral. Today he would finalize all the plans and tomorrow...they’d be burying Cara. He had to face the truth that less than two days before he buried the woman he’d loved, he’d sunk himself hilt deep into her best friend. What kind of person did that make him? Self-loathing rode hard on him and nausea rose, but he breathed through it. I’m an animal, not a man. No gentleman would do something as vile as this. For the first time he was pleased his parents didn’t live to see what he’d become.

  He shook his head, pouring the hot water over the instant coffee in the cups. “You can’t leave. They’ve already worked out you’re involved somehow in this whole mess. They got a photo of us at the airport, and they messaged it to me, which means they know my number.” He looked up and saw the hurt and bewildered look in her eyes. It stopped him in his tracks.

  “But...don’t you know who it was that sent it? Can’t you trace it somehow?”

  He shook his head. “No. I tried, but it’s a blocked number.”

  “I... It feels wrong though, for me to be here. After...” She moistened her lips, and his heart ached.

  “I know what you mean.”

  Jenny shook her head. “No, you don’t...you can’t.”

  A frisson of apprehension filled him. A recollection of Cara sitting at this very bench just days before she’d left, talking about her friend who happened to be a psychologist. It was the first he’d heard of Jenny’s existence.

  “My friend’s a psychologist. Really good at what she does. She’s had it rough and still struggles with her own issues. She understands what her patients are dealing with, and that makes her fantastic at her job, but she’s brittle and easily broken. I worry about her.”

  Realization bloomed; now he understood what Cara had told him about how broken Jenny was.

  Jenny looked at him. “Trust me, it’s better for everyone if I leave.”

  He heard the desperation in her words. “How could it be better for everyone? If they find you, they’ll kill you...just like they did Cara.” His voice was harsh as he bent toward her. “Look, we both did something stupid. It’s not as if either of us is incapable of dealing with reality.”

  She reared back, and he wondered what on earth he’d said now.

  “Yeah, well, while you’re making those assumptions, tell me how I got these then?” her waspish voice demanded as she thrust both wrists forward. He saw the white lines crisscrossing her wrists.

  His stomach soured. Then he remembered his words. Jesus, this just went from bad to worse. Slash marks faded to white, but never left. Telltale scars that told of deep pain that left people thinking there could be no future.

  “Oh God. Jenny... I don’t know what to say.”

  She shoved away from the bench, and he reached out to grab her.

  “Let me go!” She twisted in his arms, fighting to free herself, but something deep inside told him to keep her close.

  “No.” He sucked down a gulp of air, her fragrance filling his head. “You’re staying. I can’t and won’t let you go out there. It’s too dangerous.”

  She stilled in his arms. “Look, I get that you were a policeman. I understand your need to protect. But who will protect you from me? And...” She shuddered and shook her head as if unwilling to say anything further.

  He closed his eyes for a second, knowing that his actions had brought her down to this level of emotional turmoil. He’d heard the defeat in her tone and a chink in his heart opened. “Don’t go...not yet. Help me find out what’s wrong with Lola and what happened to Cara.” He whispered the words into her fragrant hair.

  She stood for a long moment. Perhaps she was considering her options? Her shoulders slumped. His stomach jittered at the knowledge that he’d caused her further pain. “It may not be that simple.”

  The husky tone of her voice told him she was still overcome by her emotions, but some of the tension released from his muscles.

  “I know, but I think Lola knows the secret.” The words slipped out.

  Jenny pulled away. “I’ll stay a few days longer. For Lola, because that’s what Cara would want me to do.” She blinked. “Give me a minute to grab my laptop, and then you can tell me what you know.”

  She turned and left him standing in the kitchen looking at the blank wall.

  Chapter 7

  Jenny watched as the trees whipped by. Sitting beside Steve in the car was torturous. They were close enough to touch, but the air surrounding them chilled her to the bone. What was yet to come would no doubt stretch her to her limits.

  At the funeral home, she wrapped her arms around herself as the undertaker accepted the bag of clothing she’d brought. He was around sixty, with gray hair and faded blue eyes. The lines on his face reminded her he’d seen it all before. His demeanor was restful, and she was thankful Cara would be attended to by a caring man like him.

  “It was her favorite dress. I thought...” Jenny said, her words trailing off.

  “That’s fine, Miss Douglas. We’ll make sure she looks peaceful and happy. Our handlers are highly skilled at their jobs.” He turned in Steve’s direction. “There are just a few things we need to deal with.” The man’s v
oice was soothing, but the pain that wrought its way through Jenny grew and bloomed.

  They took a seat at the desk, and the undertaker stashed the bag of clothing on the table behind him.

  “You stated you didn’t want a viewing, or at least a public one, Mr. Davies. Is that correct?”

  “I... No. I’d like the opportunity to say goodbye, but...”

  It was clear Steve was struggling and—even though she still felt unfaithful—she stretched out her hand, gripped his, and exhaled relief when he squeezed it. She wouldn’t look. He needed his dignity intact, and after last night... She gulped, the guilt burying her once more.

  “Of course, since she has no immediate family, it makes sense to have a private viewing. We can arrange that for later today or first thing tomorrow morning...whatever suits your needs.”

  He choked beside Jenny, and that squeezed her heart even harder. She turned and the tears gathering in his eyes as he implored her to answer gave her the strength she needed. She looked at the undertaker. “We need to discuss when would be best, as there is Lola to consider too. Can we...can we get back to you later today?”

  The man nodded. “Of course. Now, as to the actual ceremony, you’ve indicated she was a non-believer?”

  Jenny was on solid ground here, because they’d discussed this several times as they grew up together. Cara had many times raised her disdain for anything religious, to the point that Jenny had stopped attending organized youth associations in her early teens, rather than lose Cara as her friend.

  “Yes,” Jenny replied. “She believed there was nothing afterward, so any ceremony should be non-religious.”

  Steve shifted beside her as if surprised by her assertion. “That’s not...that’s not what she told me.”

  Jenny frowned and glanced quickly toward him. “She used to tell me that believing in an after-life was nonsense.” She bit her lip. What if Cara’s beliefs had changed sometime after Jenny had left for Melbourne? “Of course she could have changed her mind.”

  “I don’t know. I mean, she came to church with me once or twice, but now that you say that, she didn’t seem comfortable or to know much about...” His face shuttered. “I think it would be best to go with the non-denominational option.”

  It felt strange that Steve didn’t know what Cara believed in, but she tucked that away for consideration later. Right now, they needed to focus on giving Cara the send-off she deserved.

  “That’s fine. We need a list of maybe two or three songs that were important to her, of most importance are the ones for the entry of the casket and the internment, since there will only be the graveside ceremony.” The undertaker steepled his fingers. “Is there any way of guessing the number of attendees?”

  Steve shook his head and shrugged, clearly at a loss, so Jenny cleared her throat. “She has no family, and there was really only her and me in the last few years. It would just be how many from Steve’s friends.”

  She waited for him to speak. “A dozen perhaps, maybe two,” he said.

  “So we’ll work on a small and intimate number then.” The undertaker nodded his understanding.

  At that, a sob escaped Jenny. It was real. All of it. The bubble of pain inside her grew again, expanding so that it squashed her lungs. She tried to subdue the wracking sound, needed to stifle it, but another aching wail emerged. Biting her knuckle didn’t stop it, and this time it was Steve who was there. He sheltered her in his arms and held her close as she dealt with the awful reality that Cara, her best friend, was gone.

  In the car on the way home, Steve examined the meeting in his mind. They’d both been through an emotional wringer, and tears had threatened at times, but it was Jenny who’d tried so hard to be strong that she had finally caved in when they started dealing with the details of the service.

  Cara had never let on that she didn’t believe in a hereafter. He’d taken that for granted. It felt like maybe he didn’t know her as well as he’d thought he did, but dammit...they’d been so close! He’d never felt for any other woman the way he had about her.

  Then again, he’d never felt for another woman the way he did for Jenny. His stomach dipped.

  She was silent, curled into herself in the seat beside him with her eyes closed. At the traffic lights, he allowed himself a moment of quiet contemplation. She was different—an enigma. It was clear she’d had a hard life. That showed in the scars on her wrists and the guarded way she interacted with others. In fact, the only person she didn’t hold up a barrier to was Lola.

  Lola. She hadn’t spoken a word since he’d known her, but he felt sure that she knew something important, and whatever it was, it was likely the key to her mutism. “Look, about Lola. Do you think there’s anything...”

  Jenny opened her eyes and gazed in his direction. “It really depends on the underlying reasons behind her mutism. She has to be ready to talk and have someone she feels comfortable with before anything there can be resolved.”

  “But she seems...I don’t know...comfortable with you.”

  She barked out a laugh. “It’s my job. I deal with pediatric patients and those with extreme reactions on a daily basis.”

  The words left him feeling hollow. Did she really believe that? “No. You’ve got this touch. It’s soothing and...” When she sighed he frowned. “You disagree?”

  “I’m as confused as anyone else, Steve. I’m not a miracle worker, nor do I have all the answers, so don’t expect me to magically whip up something that will cure Lola’s mutism. It’s never that simple.”

  Her self-deprecation ate at him. For the first time in his life, he felt at sea with a woman. When his stomach rumbled, he took it as a sign not to examine the situation any further. “Okay then, let’s change the subject and grab some lunch.”

  That caught her attention and she turned back in his direction. “Lunch?”

  He couldn’t suppress a laugh. “Yes. It’s something you do in the middle of the day when you’re hungry.”

  “But I look like...I’m a mess.” Jenny dragged her fingers through the long, black hair he knew from experience felt like silk.

  “There’s nothing wrong with the way you look. Besides, it’s been an emotional morning.

  It’s okay to not look our best.” Heaven knew his own eyes were pink, but as much as he ached with Cara’s loss, his stomach continued to rumble. “There’s this little pizzeria down by the pier. It’s never busy at this time of day, and Gino...he knew Cara too. It seems like the right place to go.”

  Jenny shrugged, her eyes signaling she was more than a little disbelieving that Cara had visited a pizza place. Clearly, the Cara she’d known was all about the diet and the looks, and that confused him. After all, a person could change, right?

  “Sure. Since it was yours and Cara’s place, it seems right.”

  Instead of accepting his assertion, though, her brow remained deeply furrowed, highlighting the dark bruises beneath her eyes while she radiated her ‘I’m not sure about what you’ve told me’ attitude.

  With a deep, heaving sigh, Steve clicked on the car’s indicator.

  Chapter 8

  When they arrived home, Steve thanked the babysitter. The woman assured him she was happy to help, and after bidding a quick goodbye to Lola, she was on her way.

  Lola gifted Jenny with a shy smile, and Jenny smiled back. Jenny realized the need to be careful and not crowd the young girl. Could she possibly find the underlying cause of Lola’s issues in a few days? She itched to grab her psychology texts, but they were in Melbourne. All she had was her computer, and the cursory research she’d done offered no help or solutions. She would need to delve deeper to find out what caused the child to withdraw totally.

  “Hey, Lola, would you like to show me your room?” As an opening went, it wasn’t the best, but right now she needed to form some kind of connection with the little girl.

  Lola focused on Jenny, her brown eyes assessing the woman in front of her as if weighing up whether she was friend or
foe. The guarded response reinforced for Jenny that some trauma had made the girl wary and untrusting of adults. It was the direct opposite to how most five and six year olds would react. During training, they’d had to work with socially adjusted children in an effort to work out what was considered within the norms of behavior. She’d noted that they tended to be sunny, welcoming, and likely gregarious, all of which were the opposite of the child in front of her.

  When Lola held out her hand, Jenny smiled, feeling as if she’d passed some important test.

  On the way to the bedroom, she noted the fine tremors in Lola’s grasp. But the grip was tight, as if she were desperate for someone to trust. Then and there, Jenny made a silent vow to do anything she could to protect the child from any further harm. Lola settled down on the bed and rubbed her eyes.

  On the fluffy, pink bed sat a stuffed dog. Jenny smiled. “When I was a little girl, I had a stuffed dog too. His name was Alfie. I wonder if your dog has a name.”

  The girl shook her head and hugged it close to her side.

  “He made me feel safe. I’d sleep with him on my pillow, and I’m sure he told me more than once I was his best friend.” Jenny continued to chatter to the little girl.

  Lola smiled faintly, and Jenny grinned. “Can I sit down?”

  Lola nodded and patted the bed to indicate Jenny could sit next to her.

  She moved carefully, ensuring nothing she did would scare the child. “Do you have a favorite book? Mine was about a bunny that had lots of children and wanted to be the Easter Bunny.”

  She waited as Lola scampered off the bed, tugged a book from the small bookshelf by the closet, and brought it over.

  She smiled seeing the title of the book. “I like that book too. Caterpillars are lots of fun. Have you ever made a caterpillar out of cupcakes?”

  The little girl’s eyes grew round, and she shook her head.