Loving Memories Page 6

  “Well, depending on how long I’m here, maybe we should do that? It would be fun.” Lola grinned, and Jenny’s heart lurched ever so slightly as twin dimples appeared on the little girl’s cheeks. If only she were more normal.

  A flash of memory, in all its unwelcome glory, flicked through her brain, and Jenny shook her head, chasing it away.

  Lola was watching her steadily.

  Jenny hunched down to the child’s level. “When I was your age, I had to share my room with my little brother. Yuck!”

  Lola grinned for a second before the emotion disappeared.

  “Well, Miss Lola. Thank you for showing me your room. It’s lovely. Would you like a drink?”

  The little girl nodded and shyly held out her hand. The simple act, artless and without the weighing up she’d done before, spoke volumes to Jenny. Together they meandered down to the kitchen, but still Jenny couldn’t help wondering about Lola.

  She must have a family, parents who were worried sick about her. Lola was far too young to be so alone. That made Lola even more special to her.

  Chapter 9

  Jenny watched as they lowered Cara’s casket into the grave. Her chest ached, and her eyes screamed with pain. God, it seemed so very wrong to be standing there watching the scene unfold before her. She’d wept during the brief graveside service, paroxysms of grief tearing at her, and felt Steve sitting upright beside her the whole time. Cold and aloof, stiff and hollow as the celebrant said the final words before the pallbearers, arranged by the funeral home, stood and hefted the wooden box containing Cara’s remains from the stand and onto their shoulders. The walk to the open maw of her grave was mere feet, but the action seemed to take forever. Then they placed the casket on the straps, waiting.

  I should leave. I don’t belong here with them. Lola had grabbed her hand, and she was grateful the child needed her support. That someone needed her gave her a modicum of comfort right now. It helped her control the anguish that battled deep inside her.

  Roiling emotions battered and buffeted her as surely as a rock in the middle of the wild ocean. She was scared she’d cave in, give in to depression again, so she bit her lip and worked at beating down the wild storm brewing.

  The flight reflex urged her to leave while she was still able to. But she couldn’t. She’d given her word, and it was the very last thing Cara had asked of her.

  Cara had stayed by her side when she most needed a friend, during her psychiatric treatments. Cara had been the one who’d rung the ambulance after finding her on the floor of the bathroom that fateful day while ribbons of scarlet blood had decorated the tiles. She had remained in the hospital as Jenny lay sedated and alone.

  Now her best friend lay cold and lifeless in that box. Jenny watched as the pallbearers took up the long, white straps and lowered the casket into the ground. The rubbing sound of the webbing slipping through gloved hands grated loudly to her super-sensitive hearing. She barely noticed the beating of the hot sun, only the misery that clouded her mind.

  Cara’s death was wrong on so many fronts, and Jenny felt the injustice of it keenly.

  The undertaker reached for a clod of dirt and threw it onto the box. It hit with a thud. “From the earth we rose, and to the earth we’ll return.” His voice was quiet.

  Steve stepped forward. He urged the child to do the same, and Jenny heard the twin sounds of earth hitting wood. It was real. It was now. It was time to say goodbye.

  Her chest wound tighter than it had ever been before as she stepped forward and leaned down. Felt the dirt in her fingers, catching under her fingernails while tears tracked down her face. The finality of the act nearly overwhelmed her, and she let the dirt dribble through the fingers she held over the gaping hole.

  “Goodbye, Cara,” she whispered as her vision clouded.

  Then she turned and walked away. It was the hardest thing she’d done in her life. She stumbled along until a hand gripped her shoulder.

  “Come on.” Steve’s tight voice echoed in her mind.

  The pain and anguish inside her was so real she wanted to cry out at the injustice of it. It should have been her in the box. Then Cara, Steve, and Lola could be a family. It was wrong— she felt that to the marrow of her bones—but she couldn’t turn back time. She couldn’t give away the pain that ripped through her or Steve, or even little Lola, who burrowed into the skirts of Jenny’s ugly, black dress.

  Unable to go any further, she stopped and opened her mouth to protest. Steve’s arms wound around her. Jenny sank into them, needing the comfort and desperate to return what she could.

  She didn’t care if anyone saw them or there were any repercussions. Steve and Lola needed support too, and she wouldn’t let either of them down. She’d already made one mistake, and she’d be damned if she’d make another.

  They stood like that for endless moments. Alone and lost in their private grief. She registered dimly that people walked by, some touching Steve on the shoulder, showing their understanding of his pain. Others gave them a wide berth, probably not knowing what to say.

  She raised her head, stepped away, and scrubbed at her face. Clearing her throat was difficult because it ached viciously, as did her brain. “We should head to the wake.”

  He nodded and gazed at her. She felt the loss of his warmth. Lola though stayed plastered to her side, and she kept her arm around the shivering child. They walked away from the quiet enclosure, past monuments to those lost, leaving Cara in her cold bed. Jenny didn’t look back...couldn’t look back, because she knew if she did the pain would overtake her. Right now she needed her equilibrium to get through the rest of today. One day at a time was all she could ask for.

  Steve took Jenny’s hand, wrapped it around his arm, and led her to his car, waiting beyond the gates of the cemetery.

  “I should go home.”

  He glanced in her direction, his gaze narrowing. “What?” The chill in his voice cut through her.

  “Well, you and Lola should have time alone—”

  “Don’t, Jenny. You need closure as much as we do. Please, I would—” He swallowed. “Look, even if you don’t come for you, come for Lola. Please?”

  He needed her there, she realized. In that instant she knew, no matter how much she ached, she’d stay.

  They climbed into the car, and as Steve pulled away a cold, prickling sensation seeped through Jenny’s bones. “Steve...” She touched his hand.

  He nodded. “I know. We need to get out of here.”

  Even as he spoke a large black van loomed. Steve drove the car forward, the engine whining through gear changes, wheels spinning in the dirt before gaining traction on the asphalt. The van veered across to cut off their exit.

  Jenny moved instinctively, throwing her arm out across the gap between the seats. Lola cried out from the back seat. The van came so close she could almost see within it, and again it veered. This time metal screamed as it scraped against the vehicle, and the car fishtailed. Jenny lurched against the restraint of her seatbelt. Steve swore loudly while the car jerked then shot out of the parking area. Car horns blared as they punched their way onto the road.

  “Steve?” A quick glance in the mirror showed the black van halted on the side of the road. Adrenalin pulsed wildly through Jenny as she turned to Lola, fearing the child was hurt, but though Lola had hooked her fingers through the seatbelts and clutched them in tiny, white- knuckled hands, and her eyes were wide with fright, she seemed intact. “Are you okay, Lola?”

  The child nodded, and Jenny closed her eyes, giving a tiny prayer of thanks that someone was looking out for them.

  Steve swore as the car slewed into the traffic. He held the wheel and said a silent prayer for help. He heard Jenny’s shriek, but couldn’t react to it. Not yet. Dimly, he knew that Jenny had been ready to save the child. He thanked heaven for her and her quick reaction.

  “We can’t stop here,” he said. “We need to get somewhere safe.”

  Jenny stared at him, her face white wit
h terror. “What do you plan to do?”

  “It’s time to call in a favor.” He punched a button on the console, and the sound of dialing filled the air. Relief filled him when the call was answered promptly. At least something was going to plan.

  “Dave here.”

  “It’s Steve. They came at us as we left the cemetery.” His gaze scanned the rearview mirror, looking for a sign they were being followed. He couldn’t see anything, but his stomach roiled at the thought of the close shave. The woman in the seat next to him sat ramrod straight, her lips pulled thin.

  “Shit! Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” He let loose a short, mirthless laugh. His training had saved them again. He wondered idly if his past could be blamed for all that had gone wrong in his life too.

  “Where are you?”

  He heard a rustle. Dave was no doubt fishing around in his pocket for a notepad and pen. “Heading north on the motorway. We’ll go to the wake, make an appearance, and leave.

  Can you arrange an escort to meet us there? We’ll head directly home after.”

  He felt rather than saw Jenny’s nod, and the bands around his chest loosened a bit. She understood, and that made him feel a little more comfortable. She hadn’t fallen apart in the face of what was—no doubt for her—a scary and unfamiliar experience. It was another big plus for the woman.

  “We’ll be waiting outside,” Dave replied.

  Steve slowed the car and indicated to enter the grounds of the small cafe where he’d organized a reception in celebration of Cara’s life. Dave stood outside, along with some of his other police buddies. He pulled the car into the nearest empty spot and stopped the engine. He sat still for a moment, letting the adrenaline wash from his system. Now he simply felt drained and exhausted.

  His eyes closed, but like an old reel-to-reel, the entire incident replayed in his mind. His gut churned, and his head felt like it might explode.

  “You did well.” Jenny’s quiet words soothed the raging anger that filled him.

  He could have died...Lola too. Or Jenny. Sharp fingers of pain gripped at his heart, squeezing even tighter than before.

  “I got us out in one piece, but they mean business. We have to treat this seriously.” He opened his eyes, pinning her with his gaze. She smiled. It was wobbly but beautiful. The trust in her eyes warmed him through.

  “You’re right, but we did survive. You did what you had to, and because of that, all three of us are sitting here alive.” She looked over his shoulder. Clearly something had caught her attention. “Your friends are heading this way.”

  He heard the click and rasp of her seatbelt, then she opened the door and headed to Lola’s door.

  The little girl all but leapt into Jenny’s arms. Lola burrowed into the embrace, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and he had a vision of the three of them, hand in hand, walking down a beach when this was over. He thrust the thought away. It didn’t belong there. Not now, and certainly not today. Today was for Cara and the memories he cherished. His breathing turned ragged. He hadn’t seen those daydreams with Cara, and surely to God he shouldn’t see them with Jenny. He’d loved Cara. Hadn’t he?

  The thought pierced him. Had he really loved Cara or the life she had represented? He shied away from the thought. It was wrong to think like this on the day he had buried her. But it remained, a seed of doubt at the back of his mind, gnawing away at him.

  His friends gathered around the car while Dave inspected the damage. He fought to contain his frustration. His mind whirled madly at the questions, and he looked over Dave’s head, seeing how Jenny protectively cradled Lola in her arms.

  He answered the questions the men fired at him as honestly as he could. Dave clapped his shoulder. “Mate, we’re looking into the situation with Lola and the threats. But with Cara gone... well, we don’t have a lot of leads.”

  He knew what that meant. They weren’t even supposed to be investigating it since the murder took place interstate. “I could—”

  “Don’t go getting involved, Steve. You’re not official anymore.”

  He pulled away, wanting to yell that the answer was there, staring them in the face. All he needed was a hint. They just weren’t looking in the right place, he knew it deep down. They were doing everything they could, but were bound by conventions and rules. He no longer was though. He had connections and money.

  “Dave, just leave it for the moment. I can’t deal with this right now.” He shook his head. He needed them to think it was grief talking and making him act strangely, otherwise they’d question him further, wonder at what he was doing and maybe connect his behavior to the past. He couldn’t afford for them to work out that he had no intention of letting this go. He stepped away from the vehicle.

  His friend shot him a look of disbelief. They’d known each other too long for Dave to believe he’d just drop it, but this wasn’t the time or place to discuss it.

  Steve gazed at Jenny. “Let’s go inside.”

  Jenny nodded, as did his friends, and they trooped inside. People sat in small groups of threes and fours while the buzz of hushed conversations filled the air. He wandered between the chairs as people stood and hugged him, laid soft hands on his arm and shoulder.

  Jenny had veered off to the other side of the room, found an empty seat, and sat down with Lola in her lap. He saw the way her fingers gently pushed the strands of hair away from Lola’s face and his mind stopped. Her caring attitude toward Lola had turned his mind to mush.

  Over the months he and Cara had been looking after the little girl, he’d started to think of her as his. His daughter. His child. She might not be biologically his, but the bond had been forged. Deep and rich. Powerful.

  He’d lost his quicksilver fairy, Cara. He couldn’t lose Lola too. He’d do whatever it took to keep her. A plan formulated in his mind. It made his belly churn. It was calculated, and he’d get the benefits along with Lola. He shied away from the thought that Jenny would be the loser in the equation.

  His parents had left him what others might call a fortune, so he was more than comfortable financially. He could afford not to work and keep Lola happy and well cared for. At least until she had settled into a routine and started school. Or until he found a wife.

  Steve made a mental note to discuss the situation with Jenny. Watching the way she interacted with Lola, he was sure that she would agree.

  He smiled. It was perfect. He ignored the voice in the back of his head that called him a liar. The one that whispered that he was using the opportunity to keep Jenny around. Steve felt quite satisfied.

  Chapter 10

  The trip home from the wake was silent. They arrived early enough that the sun still shone in the sky, and Lola retreated to the backyard, like any normal five or six year old, the swing set squeaking in the quiet housing estate. The surreal atmosphere left Jenny’s senses reeling.

  It also seemed odd that there were no other kids around, Jenny thought, listening to the solitary sounds of the little girl playing.

  In the kitchen Steve puttered around, pouring them coffee after checking the mailbox outside. She padded to the island in the middle of the room.

  “Steve?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Why doesn’t Lola have any friends? She’s playing alone in the backyard.”

  He placed the thick wad of envelopes on the bar, no doubt to deal with later. She had a sneaking suspicion more than a few were sympathy cards.

  “Well, the psychologist thought it would place less stress on her. I lived here before I met Cara. I just—”

  “But she should have friends. Children need someone to rely on, apart from the adults in her life. At the very least, an animal companion would be a start.”

  He frowned. “I didn’t... It never occurred to me.”

  Steve turned to the fridge and started removing vegetables from the crisper then turned back to the drawers in the island bench and pulled out the vegetable peeler.

  He concentrated on dealing wi
th the veggies for a moment before he put the peeler down with a clatter. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

  The whole situation felt like a daytime soap opera where the guy made dinner for the heroine right before he threw her out on her ear. The cup of coffee in front of her was cooling, and she shivered, knowing she had to make plans to leave...before he told her to go.

  “Steve?”

  He glanced at her with a questioning expression on his face. “I need to make plans to leave. I’ve imposed long enough.”

  He shook his head. “Actually, I want to talk to you about that. Later, after Lola goes to bed.”

  She looked at him steadily. “You know, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  She didn’t want a replay of two nights ago. The guilt still gnawed at her gut even now.

  Her fingers rubbed absently on a spot on the granite benchtop, helping her relieve the pressure that wound tightly within her.

  Then he smiled and her stomach quivered in reaction. It took every ounce of control to tell her body he wasn’t smiling at her...or at least not like that. He was just being friendly. Heat coiled inside her, and she felt her limbs loosening. Her nipples budded beneath the black dress, and she knew her panties had dampened in some kind of sick readiness for him.

  For God’s sake, Jenny! Don’t be stupid. You’re just horny after the excellent sex you had the other day. Don’t go imagining fairytales though, because you know you’re fat and frumpy. There is nothing about you he would want, except your skills as a psychologist.

  She wanted to cry at her inner voice, but the brutal truth needed to be said, even if it was just in her mind. And yet, nothing could wipe away the memory of their bodies entwined.

  The heat that had burned through her when he’d touched her had made her feel whole again. When he’d filled her to the hilt, stretched her most secret places even as he’d surged within, she’d felt beautiful and desired. Her breath caught again as her heart pounded hard against her rib cage.