Freefall (52 page)

“Is that why they named you Gentry?”

She raised her brows. “My mother abhors common names. My sisters are Tapestry and Giselle. As something of a pet to all of them, I’m glad I didn’t get Princess or Queenie.”

“Now, there’s a thought.”

“Don’t you dare. I’m already Doll to Dave.”

“Who’s Dave?”

“Dave Brock, my agent.”

“Am I worried?”

She laughed. “Only if you’re threatened by gruff, growly, grandfather types.”

“Hmm.” He brushed her hand with his fingers.

She sobered. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“I told you I would.”

“Before everything I told you.”

He set their glasses on a display table—seriously
kapu
in a real museum—but he needed contact. He took her hands in his and said soberly, “I couldn’t let Rob down.”

She searched his face. “I kept it simple with Mom and Dad in case that’s the only reason you came.”

Had she really thought he’d walk away? No wonder she’d kept the introductions impersonal.

“It’s better if they don’t have their expectations raised. They’re not sure what to do with disappointment.” She shook her head. “They put a bright face on the whole thing with Daniel. Dad said it was a good thing he showed his colors before I got too attached. Mom called it a sign of greater things to come. But I think it hurt them more than me.”

“Daniel’s the almost fiancé?”

She nodded.

“What happened?”

“Steel.”
Her forced detachment suggested it hadn’t been as easy a separation as she wanted him to think.

“You’ve given up a lot to pursue your passion.”

“Thank you for putting it that way. It’s been called selfish and sinful.”

He admired her withholding attribution but suspected her shortsighted Daniel had made the remarks, a wound only someone who mattered could inflict. Couldn’t the man tell she wanted to honor God?

“I believed the opportunity came straight from heaven, that I was called for a purpose, like Esther, to use my talent to make a difference. He thought it was a temptation from hell.”

“What do you think now?”

“It’s both.”

Her honesty floored him again. After the mirage that was Myra, Gentry was almost too transparent. How could anyone doubt her authenticity? “Every opportunity has pitfalls. You have to work with what you’re given.”

She looked into his face. “Can you really say that? After last night?”

“Especially after last night.” He told her about standing in the ocean and giving up the fight. Talking to Myra. To Nica. “I almost called, but I knew I’d see you today.”

“You told me on Kauai you wished I wasn’t a film star.”

He nodded. “It would be easier.”

“But you’re not making me choose.”

As if he could. “No, I’m not.” He didn’t presume to know what path her life should take. Besides, no one with her talent and momentum would give it up. Not after the battles she’d survived.

Her lucky star hadn’t neared its zenith.

Allegra hit the brakes when she noticed the person at the curb. She powered down the window as he came around. “I can’t talk, Curt. I’m late already.”

“Late?” He held a bottle of wine.

“For a party. Welcoming Rob home.” She didn’t know what he would make of that; probably he’d want to go inside and talk it over.

But he did a slow nod. “Good. I think that’s important. There’s no need for animosity. We’re all adults.”

It astonished her how little she cared what he thought, and how inane his remark sounded. It was as though she’d been in a deep fog and suddenly broken out. “I really have to go.”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll see you later.”

In answer she powered the window up and eased onto the street. She didn’t know what impelled her. Maybe nothing more than it was expected. But as she drove to Rob’s house—her house—where she hadn’t stepped foot for almost two years, something crumbled inside. This would end it once he knew. Then she’d be free to let go. Of everything.

Cars lined the street. Rob had so many friends; her friends, too, by association. Not the gaggle of discontents she’d picked up at the patio community, but people who had looked at her and Rob with envy and longing. The perfect couple. She parked and checked herself in the mirror. Except for the ancient eyes, she looked passable.

Inside that face there used to be someone who wanted to make it, who believed she could; someone who’d refused to follow the pattern of ignorance and booze. Inside there had been dreams and gumption, confidence and hope. Step by step she had remade herself into someone worthy.

Now her steps had undone it all, as with the filth on her wedding gown that she had dreamed. There was a certain relief that came with the thought of coming clean. An easing of the tensions that had strung her tight for so long. The moment while drowning in which you simply breathe.

Light-headed from days without food, she let herself into the house—smile set, carriage regal, though inside she was shaking. Pleasantries dropped from her lips as she glided through the assembly and outside to the pool. And then she saw Rob, standing strong and tall. No broken, needing man, but one who’d made his new beginning.

FORTY-ONE

Curt seethed. After Allegra drove off
without another look, he had cocked back and fired the wine across the street, smashing the bottle on the opposite driveway. Who did she think she was, treating him in that condescending manner? He’d nearly pulled the door off his new Dodge Charger.

Okay, so she had to make a show of it at the party. He understood. He was reasonable. In fact, he needed her to be cordial, to keep any suspicion off her and reflectively off him. He didn’t want any talk of divorce. Not anymore. Things had gone past that now. He needed it all.

But Allegra had dismissed him as though he were nothing. What if she went back with her husband? His foot jerked off the accelerator. Could she?

Maybe that was why she’d been so terse. He got cold. All the way through. He’d put too much time in. She had to pay off—or he was a dead man. If she changed her mind, thought she could dis him that way …

He swung the car around, the ESP system keeping it from skidding loose. Where was it the husband lived? He’d checked it out a while back, imagined living there with the grieving widow. Oh yeah. He remembered. He’d have a look, make sure it wasn’t a private party, the one-on-one kind.

If it was wild enough, he’d give himself an invitation. He’d love to see Allegra’s face when he walked in. If there was enough of a crowd … and if there wasn’t, he had to know.

She walked out to the deck, looking so poised and natural Rob thought for a moment he’d concocted her from equal parts fatigue and longing. If he wasn’t medication free, he’d think he was hallucinating. But the tugging inside of knotted hope was too painful to be imaginary.

“Allegra.”

“Welcome home, Rob.” Her voice belied the silken calm of her expression.

“Thank you.” He made no attempt at hiding his emotion as he extended his hand.

She laid her palm atop. “Are you … in pain?”

Oh yes
. He covered her hand with his other. “Tired. Julie means well, but I’m way over my tolerance.”

“Why don’t you sit?”

He could, but the up and down was too awkward to manage each time someone greeted him, and to sit while his guests bent over him felt … humiliating.
I hear you, Lord
. “Would you help me?”

A flicker of fear went through her eyes into his heart.

“Just be close in case I lose my balance.”

“All right.”

“Let’s get out of the thick of it.” Their favorite spot in the yard had been the iron bench by the fountain pond. Maybe she’d sit with him; maybe she wouldn’t. He pushed away the hurt of every day she hadn’t called, hadn’t come. She was there now. It might be his only chance to say what he had to.

A co-worker on the satellite GPS project was on the bench, chatting with one of the neighbors. She noticed his graceless trajectory and stood up. “Getting back to work anytime soon, Fox?”

“Been working. It’s all done in my head.”

“It’s been done in your head since I met you.” She grinned.

“Lots of people agree.” He waited until the two women wandered off, then positioned himself before the bench. He should have grabbed a cane for up and down.

Allegra took his arm. She’d never been nurturing. Sweet and beautiful, intelligent and classy, but not motherly in any way, as though tying her tubes had severed the instinct. He landed on the bench without embarrassment, God satisfied for the moment with the humble state of his soul. “Will you sit?”

She did, dismay etching her features.

“I’m sorry if this …” He waved a hand over the artificial limb, clothed in Dockers.

She shook her head. “It’s not that.”

If his injury wasn’t causing her discomfort, there was so much more it could be. For two years he’d met her financial needs and begged her to reconsider. If she would change
her
mind, see things
his
way, they could go on. The depth and ugliness of his pride sickened him. He wouldn’t blame her if she’d come to finally break it off.

“Rob—”

“May I tell you something first?”

She nodded.

“Through all this, I’ve realized a few things. First, that it might be impossible for you to see me this way.” The smallest pucker between her brows was all the response he got. “And I understand that. But mostly I need your forgiveness for being a hardheaded, selfrighteous dope. For not listening, not understanding, expecting you to jump in where I was without …” He spread his hands and dropped them in his lap. “Anyway, can you forgive me, Allegra?”

She looked shocked and dismayed, more transparent than he’d ever seen her. “Rob, I …” She started, then turned with a gasp, staring hard across the pool. She half rose, stifling a cry, and collapsed.

At her Aunt’s soft cry, Gentry turned from her conversation with Paul. She rushed over as Uncle Rob barely kept her aunt from striking the ground. Paul and Cameron reached them at the same time, easing her onto the lawn.

Others crowded around. “Should we call 911?”

Gentry chewed her lip. She’d never known her aunt to faint. Maybe something physical had kept her from attending Uncle Rob, but Paul said, “I think she’s all right. She’s breathing normally.”

Bruce Watson, a neighbor who was an osteopath, felt her pulse and agreed. “Probably stress or anxiety, or the sun. Let’s get her inside. You okay, Rob?”

Her uncle nodded, but he looked grayer than she’d seen him yet. What had happened? She’d been glad Aunt Allegra had actually come, but maybe a public venue wasn’t the best place for restored communications.

Cameron lifted her aunt, and Uncle Rob suggested the chaise in the atrium just off the pool deck.

Uncle Rob’s legs jerked when he walked, as though he couldn’t quite get the rhythm he’d managed before. She ached for him, for them both. People should go home. She scanned the crowd for her mother to make the suggestion, then jerked with a bolt of recognition.

Where had she seen that man? Her mind rushed with images—bamboo bar, Malakua coming over to say he had something mo bettah, the blond man on the stool, looking over his shoulder, watching them, his expression hard, not curious or alluring.