Objection Overruled (16 page)

“I may as well have been.” His voice was low and choked, and his grip on her hand became clammy and constricting.

Her chest tightened. “What are you talking about? Are you saying this has something to do with the Ashe case?” This time she looked him directly in the eyes, demanding the truth.

“You know it does. And, if I hadn’t let Rob strong-arm me into being his expert, none of this would be happening. Not again. Not like this.” He got up and turned from her and pounded his fist on the wall. “It’s all my fault. Again.”

Jackie reached out toward him, desperate to maintain a connection with him. “Brandon, I filed this lawsuit against Ashe’s company over a year ago. You have nothing to do with my adversarial relationship. I’m a big girl. I can handle this.”

He looked at her, his fists balled. “That’s how it is with you, isn’t it? You can handle it all. All on your own too, right? And, what if you can’t this time? What are you willing to sacrifice? Your job? Your life? Or maybe just your capacity to feel?”

A large knot developed in her chest. “What the hell do you know about my feelings?”

Brandon returned to her bedside and again enclosed her hand in his. “What do I know about your feelings? This.” He wrapped his calloused palms around her trembling hand. With tenderness he stroked her bruised fingers and kissed each one. His rough lips ignited every nerve in each of her fingertips. He turned her hand over and pressed her palm to the side of his face, then grazed his lips over the inside of her wrist.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Her body tingled. She wanted him. Wanted his touch, his arms around her, his protection. If she let herself go…

No. Too dangerous.

She pulled her hand away, but his strong grip held her.

“Stone’s right. You’ve got some big decisions. Maybe you should listen to him.” With a final kiss barely brushing her forehead, he let go and walked out of the room.

Days of frustration, agony, and now pain surged within her. Tears stung but didn’t flow. Jackie looked up at Marilyn, who stood quietly against the wall.

“Marilyn,” Jackie started, her voice shaky.

Marilyn took Jackie into her arms and held her, stroking her hair softly. “Oh, my sweet dear. It will all work out. You’ll see.”

The arms enfolding her were gentle. Although the comforting reassurance was foreign to her, it was exactly what Jackie dreamed it would be like to be mothered. After an awkward moment of resistance, Jackie gave in. Holding it together had become physically impossible. Pushing aside shame and embarrassment, Jackie relented to the rush of ragged sobs.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” said Marilyn as she smoothed Jackie’s hair back from her face and tucked a tissue into her hand.

Jackie laid her head on Marilyn’s shoulder. She was still confused, still afraid, but not alone, at least not for tonight.

Chapter Fourteen

After leaving Jackie in the hospital, Brandon drove back to his office in DC in a daze. His gut told him that Ashe knew something about his relationship with Jackie. But what was his relationship with her? They weren’t lovers. She wasn’t his girlfriend, or even what he’d call a friend. Yet she mattered to him. She had the purest heart he’d ever encountered and the kind of scruples he envied. She didn’t seem to have any issues with the truth either.

In all those ways, she did remind him of his first love, Brynn, except Brynn would never have cut it as an attorney. Brynn had never been shy, but she was never assertive, like Jackie. And Brynn had always felt comfortable in a crowd. A pack of friends or admirers had followed her everywhere.

Jackie was a lone wolf. She wore it on her sleeve like a badge of honor. Her insistent independence impressed him. It also bugged the hell out of him. Would she ever allow another person into her life? Even if she did, would she choose him? As much as he wanted it, he pulled away from that desire. He considered himself lucky to have survived emotionally these last ten years after Brynn’s death. Would he end up like his father if he loved and lost again?

Knowing he’d be completely useless, he didn’t bother going into the office. Instead, he went home, poured himself a glass of single malt scotch, and sifted through his e-mails and phone messages to get caught up. A client had left him two reminders that he was supposed to attend one of the various “disease balls” he’d agreed to sponsor.

He groaned. A social appearance was the last thing he needed right now. On second thought, a date with someone other than Jackie was the last thing he needed. Thank God he could depend on the competence of his associate and office assistant to keep the office operating over the last few days. He wanted his old life back.

Right?

Emotionally drained and relaxed by the scotch, he fell asleep early but slept fitfully. He dreamed of Brynn, or was it Jackie? His mother came to him in his sleep too. She was still young and pretty, like she was before she got sick. She was at his Boy Scout camp trying to teach him to start a fire. Everyone else could do it. When she held his hands in her own to show him how to use the flint and steel, it burned. His hands were icy and melted in hers. She kept telling him to let go of the ice cubes. What ice cubes was she talking about? He woke up confused and determined. He had a visit to make. A phone call to Brynn’s parents confirmed they would be home.

The drive west to Leesburg, Virginia from his DC home flew by. At this early hour, most of the rush-hour traffic was moving east toward the city. He kept checking the clock on the dash. He’d be there early and didn’t want to intrude before the appointed meeting time. He found a coffee shop and tried to distract himself reading the
Wall Street Journal.

Finally, the clock read nine. He left the coffee shop and arrived in five minutes at the stone Cape Cod. It was as gorgeous as he remembered, though small compared to the new McMansions which had sprouted up all around the county. Every detail of the house exuded charm. Only the For Sale sign in the yard intruded upon the storybook-cottage vision.

He turned the car off and wiped his sweaty palms on his khakis more than necessary. He wanted so badly to be in the house, but what he’d find there terrified him. Before he could get up the nerve to get out of the car, a petite woman in Bermuda shorts and a T-shirt came around the back of the house and waved to him.

She tapped on his window. He rolled it down.

With a warm smile he could never forget, she said, “Brandon, what are you doing in your car? Get yourself out and come on it. Jim just finished the weeding, so he’s cleaning up, but he’ll be right along.”

A knot formed in the back of his throat. Brandon had forgotten how much Brynn had looked and acted like her mother. Although years had passed since his last visit, Janine Rouvalis acted as familiar as when he’d come up monthly in college with Brynn. He followed her around the back of the house through the screened porch into the spotless white country kitchen.

“Do you want some coffee or iced tea?”

“Just water, please.” Brandon needed something to wet his mouth. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was here, other than he knew there was something unfinished between him and Brynn’s parents.

They sat at the kitchen table, and Janine asked him about his job and then commented about how crowded Leesburg had gotten in the last ten years. He sensed that she too was nervous and eager to get beyond the social chitchat, but neither seemed able to talk about the elephant in the room.

Jim Rouvalis entered the room. The career navy man hadn’t lost his stature. Brandon stood. Shakiness in his legs compounded the knot in his throat.

He shook Brandon’s hand as firmly as he always had. “So, what brings you out to Leesburg?” Jim had never feared cutting through the shit. Brandon remembered the first time he had met Brynn’s parents and Jim gave him “the interrogation,” as Brynn called it.

“Jim, Janine, I don’t know exactly why I had to see you, but I have to say I’m sorry.”

Janine took his hand in hers. “You’ve said you’re sorry so many times before. We know you’re sorry. We don’t blame you for what happened.”

Brandon looked between them. “But I blame myself. If I had never loved Brynn, she would still be here. She would have found someone better than me, someone who could have protected her.”

Janine shot a nervous glance at Jim, who gave her the slightest nod. She got up and retrieved a box from the kitchen counter and placed it in front of Brandon. “It was really odd that you called this morning. We’ve been thinking of you this last week. Brynn was our baby. Losing her was the most painful thing we’ve had to live through. For so long, I didn’t know how I would survive with my baby girl gone.” Janine started to tear up, and Jim reached across the table to hold her hand.

Jim picked up where she left off. “Were we angry? Hell yeah. Were we angry with you? That’s a hell yeah, too. But, son, that’s faded. We’re ready to move on with our lives, and have decided that it’s time to let go of this house because of its memories. Going through Brynn’s room was very difficult. We put it off for years. When we went through the box of stuff that we packed up from her room in Charlottesville, we found this memory box. Did you know she kept a journal?”

“A diary? I had no idea.” How could he have missed that? He spent almost every hour with her for months. This glaring omission in his perceived level of intimacy maddened him. If he had been that mistaken about how well he knew Brynn, what the hell was he doing assuming he knew Jackie North? A wave of panic spread through him.

Janine wiped her eyes and pulled the lid off the box and removed a flowered fabric-covered book. “This was her journal from the time period right before she died. We’d like for you to have it. She loved you, Brandon. She wanted to spend her life with you.”

The words “I love you” had come easily to both him and Brynn as love-struck college kids, but they’d never discussed the future. Brandon’s eyes burned. He fought back the tears, but they came against his will. Jim’s strong hand rested reassuringly on his shoulder.

Jim said, “Son, the love you shared with Brynn brought her more happiness than any of us would have imagined. Even though you two were just kids, you were connected. She was more herself around you than anyone I’d ever seen. The way you could get her to laugh and swim in a lake in her clothes—for all I know, without clothes.” He squeezed Brandon’s shoulder and gave a little laugh. “Don’t tell me any details. My point is that I don’t want you to ever regret having loved her.”

Brandon took in a lungful of air and blew it out. “Easier said than done.”

“This is really difficult for me to say, but Brynn had a secret that she never shared with her mother or me, and I’m not sure if you knew either. Robert Ashe raped her. She was pregnant with his child when she died.”

The air was knocked out of Brandon’s lungs. “What? Are you sure?”

Janine nodded. “The details are all in her journal. I’m not sure why she never went to the police. It seems like she thought she could fix it all on her own. I don’t think Ashe was very cooperative. I can’t help but wonder if he had something to do with the accident.”

Janine wept into her hands. Jim got up and cradled her in his arms. “Shhh, honey. It’ll be okay.”

After letting Janine compose herself, Brandon asked, “Have you gone to the police?”

Jim frowned. “I called a friend in the force down in Charlottesville. He took the information, but with no physical evidence and just a girl’s diary entry, he wasn’t optimistic.”

Part of Brandon wanted everything to be Ashe’s fault, but deep down he knew his irresponsibility had cost Brynn her life. He’d never forgive Ashe for what he’d done, but would he ever forgive himself?

He spent the rest of the morning with the Rouvalises going through Brynn’s room and her things. Dredging up the old memories was both painful and cathartic. He realized he’d never said good-bye to her and this was his way. He might finally be free of her ghost, but could he risk loving like that?

Could he survive the pain a loss would bring?

He said his good-byes after lunch, promising to keep in touch. Jim gave him a hug, something he’d never done before. “Son, for the sake of Brynn’s memory, promise me you will not shut yourself off from the world. I am sure she would want you to be happy.”

He swallowed hard. “Yes, sir, I’ll try.”

* * * *

Jackie snuggled deep into the lightweight down comforter tucked around her, seeking its protection. Every muscle screamed at the slightest movement.

A slit of brilliant sunlight broke through the floor-length chintz draperies, sending a thin line of sun into the darkened room. Another scorcher? The artificially cool air of the room kept that concern at bay.

By the time they’d gotten to Marilyn’s house, it had been well past midnight, and the pain pills had worked their magic. She vaguely remembered red brick and white columns but had no recollection of getting into this gigantic canopied bed. She peeked under the covers. She also didn’t remember getting into the white cotton nightgown covered with tiny pink rosebuds. It was the nightgown of her childhood dreams. The gown she’d never had. The gown she would never be caught dead in now.

Scanning the room, she caught sight of a clock on the mantel. It was past nine o’clock already. The case! She had to get to work.

She flipped the covers off and sat up. Pain bolted through her head. “Ow!” She closed her eyes and took in some deep breaths.

Once she subdued the waves of nausea mingled with the pounding in her head, she eased off the bed. Her feet sank into a sumptuous, cream-colored carpet that covered the entire room. “Welcome to Tara.”

Shaky, Jackie steadied herself next to the bed’s post. She turned in a circle, taking in the huge room. The ceiling reached maybe thirteen feet with an ornate crystal chandelier. The king-size, four-poster, canopy bed dominated the space, but oddly didn’t overwhelm it as everything else in the room was supersize too—the fireplace, chairs, and even the dresser. The opposite wall had a door open to another room, presumably a bathroom by the look of the white marble tile.