Phoenix Falling (9 page)

"There hasn't been time to think of such things."

Rainey thought of a New York surgeon friend. He owed her a favor. "Would you mind if I called in a neurosurgeon that I know?"

Virginia shrugged, not agreeing, but not denying.

"I'll call him then."

"I hear you're getting divorced from that movie star husband of yours."

Rainey winced. "Yes. It's uncontested, so there won't be any lurid headlines."

"Hollywood actors shouldn't be allowed to marry. Especially not to each other. Drinking, drugs, orgies." Virginia shook her head grimly. "Though I suppose that's what you're used to."

Biting back anger, Rainey said, "Kenzie is British, and they tend to be less crazy than American stars. Neither of us do drugs or drink more than socially. Once at a party I stumbled into what would probably be considered an orgy. I left." On that subject, she couldn't speak for Kenzie, though if she had to guess, she'd say that orgies weren't his style. "We're people, not stereotypes."

"No drugs?' Her grandmother looked disbelieving.

"My mother died of an overdose. I've never so much as smoked marijuana."

"If that's true, you're wise." Virginia swallowed the last of her tea. "I have to get back to William."

"Is there anything I can do, Gram?'

Her grandmother shrugged again. "We've gotten along without you very well. We don't need anything now."

Stung, Rainey blurted out, "Why do you both dislike me so much? I tried so hard not to be a burden. To... to make you proud of me for my grades and school activities. But no matter how well I did, I still knew you didn't want me. Was it because you thought the sins of the mother should be visited on the child?'

For the first time, her grandmother's gaze focused on her. "We didn't dislike you, and it certainly wouldn't be fair to blame you for Clementine's behavior. But it's true we didn't want you with us. We both felt too old to cope with a child." She hesitated, then added painfully, "You were a reminder of the worst failure of our lives."

Startled by the candid answer, Rainey asked hesitantly, "Clementine?"

Virginia nodded. "She was born late, after we'd given up hope of having a child. She... she was like a flame, all burning life, and just as impossible to handle. We tried so hard to raise her as she needed, but we failed. When she left college to join a rock band, I knew she was doomed. Maybe not right away, but eventually."

Rainey swallowed, her throat tight. "That self-destructive streak was part of her, I think. I doubt anyone could have cured it."

"It's the duty of parents to raise their children right!" Anguish showed in the faded blue eyes. "But we didn't, and she died not even thirty years old."

Rainey had never seen such powerful emotion in her grandmother. On the verge of tears, she asked, "Why didn't you show me how much you cared about her? She was my mother. We... we could have mourned together."

"You looked just enough like Clementine to be painful, yet you were also a little stranger, with traits that were totally alien. And so we failed again."

Painful though the conversation was, for the first time ever they were actually talking to each other. "You didn't fail entirely. I'm not self-destructive like my mother."

"But you're still a stranger."

Rainey was unable to control her bitterness. "Whose fault was that?"

"Ours." Virginia's face was bleak in the harsh cafeteria light. "By the time you arrived in Baltimore, we had nothing left to give."

"What about today? Are you sorry I came here?"

"You're William's only grandchild. It was right for you to come." She stood, pushing her chair back from the table. "I must go back to him now. You might as well leave. The nurse said he won't wake up for hours."

A hint that heavy was impossible to overlook. Suppressing a sigh, Rainey got to her feet. "I'll stop by in the morning before I go."

Chapter 6

On the way to Val's house, Rainey used her cell phone to call Dr. Darrell Jackson in New York. Luckily, he was home and answered his private line. When she heard his deep voice, she said, "Hi, Darrell. It's Raine Marlowe. How are Sarah and the kids?"

"Raine! Great to hear from you. They're fine. Bobby's grown six inches since you saw him last. How's my favorite actress?"

"I'm afraid I have a big favor to ask."

"If I can do it, you've got it." His voice softened. "I'll never forget how you came to visit my mother. She died with a smile on her face because of you."

"That smile was because she was so proud of her children and grandchildren." Angie Jackson had worked hard as a domestic to raise her children. All had gone to college on scholarships with her encouragement. She'd deserved to live until she was ninety, pampered by her adoring family, but fate hadn't been kind.

Angie had been dying when Darrell contacted Rainey's office and said that Raine Marlowe was his mother's favorite actress, and would she consider visiting? Since Rainey was shooting a movie in New York City, it had been easy to fulfill the request.

Her first visit had been from altruism. The half dozen other visits she'd made had been because it was impossible not to love Angie Jackson. If only William and Virginia Marlowe had possessed a tenth of Angie's warmth.

"What's your problem, Raine?"

Tersely she described her grandfather's injuries and the aneurysm. "I don't know if you'll be able to help, but maybe what's inoperable to the average, garden variety brain surgeon is something you can pull off."

"I'm not God, but if you have the CAT scans sent up, I'll take a look."

"Thanks. If you can't help, nobody can."

"You didn't listen when I said I'm not God. We'll see."

After signing off, Rainey called Emmy in California to make arrangements to get the CAT scans from Baltimore to the neurosurgeon. How had she survived before the invention of the cell phone?

She leaned back in the seat, drained. The ringing of the phone jerked her up again. Retracting her prior kindly thoughts about cell phones, she opened it. "Hello?"

"How are you doing?" Kenzie asked. "I had to call Emmy, and she told me about your grandfather's accident. I'm sorry. Hard for him, and very bad timing for you."

As always, his rich, beautifully modulated voice soothed her. "I don't know quite why I'm here in Baltimore, given that he always wished I'd disappear."

"No matter how difficult your relationship with your grandparents, you're connected to them," he said quietly. "Connections are what keep us anchored in life."

"True. Plus my friend Val guilted me into making the trip. I'm glad I came, actually. I was just at the hospital, and my grandmother and I had the closest thing we've ever had to a real conversation. That was worth flying cross-country for."

"Indeed."

Was that wistfulness in his voice? Kenzie had a hundred colorful tales about his father, the colonel, or perhaps the viscount, and his mother, who'd been debutante of the year, or maybe a big game huntress in Kenya. But if he had any real relatives, Rainey had never met them. He was a man without a past. It was something they had in common—she had only half a past herself.

"Sometimes I wonder about my father, and what family I have on that side," she said slowly. "I probably have cousins, maybe even half-brothers and -sisters. Would I like any of them if we met? If I needed a bone marrow transplant, would one of them be a match? But I don't know. I'll never know."

"Have you ever thought of hiring a private investigator to find your father?"

She stared out the window of the car at the dark streets, still familiar more than a dozen years after she'd left. "I doubt that even my mother knew who he was. She lived one of those very liberated '70s rock-and-roll lifestyles. There must be plenty of candidates for the sperm donor who absent-mindedly created me." Had her mother been glad to have a baby? Rainey didn't know that, either.

"She may have had several lovers around the time you were conceived, but the number is finite. Five? Ten? Twenty? Not beyond investigation. If you find a likely candidate—well, these days DNA testing can verify who a father is."

"I never thought about searching." Knowing her mother's promiscuity, seeking her father had seemed like a waste of time. Kenzie was right, though—the number of candidates couldn't be that large. Even if she found her father, it would be unrealistic to expect a warm embrace from a man who probably didn't know she existed. And yet..."I'd probably regret it if I tried."

"At least you might be able to satisfy your curiosity."

Deciding she'd think about it, she switched the subject to business. "Are you set to start shooting?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," he said without enthusiasm.

"Do the script changes I made help any?"

"A little."

If only he cared about this movie. He was too much a professional to give a bad performance, but he might give one that was without heart, and that would be almost as bad. Well, it was a director's job to coax, threaten, bully, or do whatever was necessary to get the best possible performance from her actors. By the end of
Centurion
, she'd know how good a director she was. "I'll see you next week in New Mexico, then."

"Maybe I'll come down a day or two before you start shooting my part. We've wrapped on my currently untitled opus."

And Kenzie hated not being busy. "If you decide to come early, just let me or Emmy know so we'll have your suite ready."

He thanked her and signed off. It had been thoughtful of him to call. How could a man so sensitive in many ways be such an unacceptable husband?

Foolish question. She'd known from the beginning the marriage wouldn't last. The mistake was hers for saying yes when he asked her to marry him. They should have stayed with a grand affair, then gone their separate ways with only a pang or two.

But maybe he had a point about trying to identify her father. Her marriage was over, she was embarking on a new venture that could change her career. She'd even had a real conversation with her grandmother. Maybe it was time to see if she could find her father. The trail was cold after so many years, but it would only get colder. If she was successful—well, as Kenzie said, at least she'd satisfy her curiosity.

The car pulled up in front of Val's attractive old brick row-house near Johns Hopkins University. It was a peaceful neighborhood of mature trees and carefully tended yards. Welcoming. Seconds after ringing the bell, she was being greeted with a rib-crunching hug. "I'm so glad to see you," Val said warmly. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired." Rainey slung an arm around her friend's shoulders and they entered the house. "Since you're wearing a navy suit and your hair is forcibly restrained, I assume you just got home."

"I walked in the back door about thirty seconds before you rang the bell." Val peeled off her tailored jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair, then yanked out some pins and freed her hair into a curling red frenzy. "What will it be—wine or ice cream?"

"Ice cream, with as many extra calories as you can pile on."

"I'll make you the Sinner's Special." Val shook her head. "How does an ice-cream addict like you stay so slender?"

"Remember that I was unfashionably skinny when I was a kid—all bones and eyes. I just got lucky that skinny is now trendy."

"Slim, yes. Skinny, no." Val disappeared into her kitchen.

As Rainey sat down, Val's black cat jumped onto her lap and began to purr. As she scratched the sleek, furry head, her nerves began to unknot. A cat was better than a psychotherapist.

Coffee ice cream, hot fudge, nuts, and whipped cream helped even more as she described her visit to the hospital. "Here's hoping Darrell Jackson can help my grandfather. I wouldn't miss him much if he dies, but Gram certainly would."

"To success, or a miracle, whichever is required." Val savored a spoonful of ice cream and fudge sauce. "Was Mrs. Marlowe impressed that you're on a first-name basis with one of the most famous brain surgeons in America?"

"We didn't get into that." Rainey doubted that Virginia Marlowe would have been impressed even if her granddaughter
was
the famous neurosurgeon rather than a vulgar actress. "How are things going for you?"