Trouble Me: A Rosewood Novel (45 page)

She’d broken things off with Rob, and now he had made it clear that the split was permanent. Though she should have guessed it, at the very least anticipated it,
knowing
that Rob wished to end the affair was devastating. It made her realize how much she’d been hoping that things weren’t truly over between them, that she’d be able to get him back.

But her foolish mistakes had cost her what mattered most.

Rob was on duty when the school nurse contacted him. Hayley had a sore throat and wished to come
home. He swung by the school in his patrol car, collected a wan Hayley, and drove to his parents’ house. Luckily, his mother was free to look after her. While she prepared a small bowl of vanilla ice cream to soothe Hayley’s throat, he carried his little girl upstairs to what had been his old bedroom but was now hers whenever she visited. A large herd of plastic ponies and horses had edged out the baseball figurines that stood on the built-in shelves.

After checking that she was comfortably settled in the twin bed with daisy-print sheets and that she had a book and some pens and drawing paper to occupy her, he brushed his lips over her forehead and got her to promise that she’d let Grammy know immediately if she started to feel worse.

Just as he was bestowing a second kiss, a call came through on his radio for all available units to proceed to a crash site at the edge of town.

He was the first to arrive at a scene marked by shattered glass, twisted and crumpled metal, and death. The horrific accident had been caused by an elderly driver who, perhaps through inattention or perhaps temporarily blinded by the angle of the afternoon sun, hadn’t seen the red light at the intersection he was crossing.

He had run through the light at full speed, straight into the path of an eighteen-wheeler that was cruising through its green light at fifty miles an hour.

Even had the truck driver been able to react, physics was against him. The sheer weight of the truck and its speed made the collision unavoidable. The truck had slammed into the passenger side of the car, killing both passengers: the elderly man’s wife of fifty-five years and his sister-in-law, who’d been seated in the back but was wearing no safety belt. The force of the impact had sent her flying out of the car to land twenty feet away. Her broken body lay in a pool of blood.

The elderly driver, though critically injured, had been conscious but unable to answer basic questions. Given the man’s age and the severity of his injuries, Rob wasn’t sure the driver would survive the ambulance trip. Had the man known about the deaths he’d caused, he probably wouldn’t wish to.

The scene would have been gruesome enough if those were the only casualties. They weren’t. The ambulances had three others to transport to the hospital: the truck driver, and the drivers of two other vehicles that couldn’t avoid colliding with the wreck. At least these others would live to see another day.

The wreckage took hours to clear, by which time rush hour had begun, turning the highway into a massive traffic jam.

As the first officer on the scene, it fell to Rob to file the accident report. Providing as full and detailed a description as possible was laborious but essential, as insurance companies and possibly law courts would be involved.

When at last Rob returned to his parents’, it was past seven. To Rob, it seemed as if days rather than hours had passed since he’d seen his daughter. Exhausted as he was, his spirits lifted when Hayley rushed to greet him with a smile. “Hi, Daddy!”

“Hi, sweetheart.” He hugged her tight. “How’s the throat? Better?”

Hayley nodded.

“Hayley’s definitely feeling perkier, though her throat still looks a little too red for my liking,” his mother told him when he and Hayley went into the kitchen. “We had a nice, quiet afternoon. She read some of her book and drew some pictures for me and a fine one of Dexter that she’s going to give to Scott. Your father played go fish with her. Then we had chicken soup with noodles for dinner.”

“Do you want some, Rob?” his father asked, coming
into the kitchen from the den, where Rob could hear the sound of the TV.

“No, I’m good, thanks. We should head home.”

“Saw the accident on the news. Tragic sight.”

Rob nodded. “Yeah. The husband’s still alive though.”

“You look beat, son.”

At his father’s comment his mother’s gaze sharpened with concern. “Hayley, you run upstairs now and put your things in your school bag. And don’t forget the card you made for Miss Radcliffe. I think you left it on the desk.”

Oh, Jesus
, Rob thought, only then realizing he’d neglected to contact Jade about Hayley missing her riding lesson. The wreck had demanded all his attention.

His first thought was to call her. Just as quickly, he rejected the idea. He didn’t want to talk to her on the phone. He wanted to see her face and those remarkable green eyes that shone with such intelligence. He wanted to see her mouth curve into a smile and feel its warmth penetrate him, banishing the stark horror of the day.

He ached to hold her again.

But his father was right: He was beat, emotionally drained from witnessing such a grisly crash scene and being unable to do more than help load bodies into ambulances and clear the wreckage. He’d wait to see Jade until tomorrow, when the waste and the senselessness of those deaths weren’t weighing him down.

The sound of footsteps rushing about overhead reminded him of yet another reason why he couldn’t see Jade tonight. He wasn’t going to risk Hayley’s throat taking a turn for the worse. She needed a good night’s sleep so her body could fight this thing.

“Rob, I want to tell you something before Hayley comes down. I don’t know whether you heard, but an emergency school-board meeting has been scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.”

He looked at his mother in surprise. “That soon?” The second after he put Hayley to bed, he’d go through the school directory and see who else he could call to get their names onto the petition Maryanne Ferris had drawn up.

“Yes. Word has it Nonie Harrison put the thumbscrews on Ted Guerra. Ellen Petras overheard her crowing about it late this afternoon to one of her friends at Anderson’s Gourmet Shop. Nonie was buying celebratory caviar. Silly, spiteful woman. She could do so much good, and instead this is where she puts her energy.”

His mother would likely have continued in that vein, but Hayley cantered into the kitchen, a folded drawing in her outstretched hand. “Want to see the card I made for Miss Radcliffe, Daddy?”

“You bet.” The folded cover showed brightly colored green grass and horses of all different colors and sizes grazing on it. He smiled. “She’ll like this drawing a lot.”

“And I wrote inside it, telling her that I missed her today. Do you think she’ll be back at school tomorrow, Daddy?”

“Not sure about that, but if she isn’t, do you want to go by Rosewood and give this card to her?”

Hayley’s eyes widened. “Can we?” Her voice was a mix of astonishment and eagerness.

“Yeah, I think we ought to, because it will make her happy.”

“What a lovely idea, Rob,” his mother said, beaming.

Jade had succeeded in keeping it together during the riding lesson. She might not have managed the same feat when the kids were picked up by their parents were it not for Margot and Jordan.

With their usual unerring instinct, her sisters drew the parents’ attention away from Jade by chatting them up. Margot even went the extra mile by talking about her
next modeling gig, a subject of irresistible fascination for many of them. They left with their budding equestrians in tow without Jade having had to answer a single embarrassing question.

Once the ponies were fed and watered, however, whatever can-do spirit she’d mustered during the day evaporated into thin air.

She declined Miriam’s invitation to go to a yoga class. Then Stuart called to invite her to Roxie’s to bowl until her mind was clear. Knowing that might mean she would be bowling until the end of time, Jade gave Stuart a “thanks but no” too.

With his seemingly endless goodwill, Stuart said he understood. Maybe later in the week she’d be feeling up to a match. Before hanging up, he told her that he would be at the big house early in the morning to accompany her, Jordan, and Margot to the family’s cemetery, and she had cringed with self-loathing. She’d managed to forget the anniversary of her parents’ death.

“I can’t believe I forgot the date. Some daughter I am.”

“Jade, stop being so hard on yourself. You didn’t actually forget it,” Margot said.

“It’s not as if you don’t have a lot on your mind right now,” Jordan added. She and Margot had invited themselves for a sisters’ night at the cottage, acting as if this was some long-standing tradition of theirs.

Jade couldn’t exactly kick them out. First, she knew they would simply ignore her, and second, Jordan had brought over a roast chicken and a huge bowlful of mashed potatoes—the ultimate in comfort food. Even Margot was eating—with far more relish than Jade was.

They’d opted to sit in the living room around the coffee table because, as Margot pointed out, it was easier for Jade to curl up in a ball of misery on the sofa than at the table. A comment that had Jade glaring at her. So much for sisterly compassion.

Watching Margot gobble her mashed potatoes with the enthusiasm of a lumberjack was darned irritating too. Jade put her own plate down on the coffee table and barely resisted curling up in a ball of misery.

With a baleful glance at her sisters, she said, as if apropos of nothing, “I’m thinking of asking Travis for Steve Sheppard’s number in Long Island, so I can call him and find out if he knows of anyone up there who’s looking for a professional rider.”

Margot took her time drawing her fork from her mouth. “Interesting,” she said mildly. “Why would you want to find that out from Steve? These potatoes are unbelievable, Jordan.”

“It’s the butter. She uses sticks and sticks of it,” Jade said sadistically. “And I’d like to know because I’ve decided I’d enjoy working up there. Long Island’s cool.” And no one knew her there.

Margot’s eyes had narrowed at her crack about the butter, but surprisingly her tone remained mild. “I suppose you could ask, but it’d be kind of sad to go away precisely when so much is coming up with Miriam’s wedding.”

“Jade, how will you organize her bridal shower? As her maid of honor you have a key role that will only grow as the big day approaches,” Jordan pointed out.

“Fine, forget it,” she muttered. Of course she couldn’t abandon her best friend at this crucial time. She’d leave after Miriam and Andy’s wedding. “I’d simply like to be someplace where the name Jade Radcliffe means absolutely nothing.”

Because she might start crying, she didn’t add that even more she longed to be miles away from the man with whom she’d fallen in love and who didn’t love her back. She drew her knees up and hugged them to her chest—a defiant ball of misery.

“How about you wait until after tomorrow’s meeting before you start gassing up the car, sweetie?”

“Easy for you to say, Margot. Your name’s not being dragged through the mud.” Being the bitch of the century was a great way to keep the tears at bay, she decided.

Her sisters exchanged a quick glance—probably one of silent commiseration at having opted to spend an evening with their dismal shrew of a sister.

“Things might turn out better than you think.” At Jade’s raised brows, Margot shrugged. “Just saying.”

“Yes, you never know how these school-board meetings will go,” Jordan said. “I would stop worrying so much.”

How could they be so incredibly casual about this? she thought, glowering at them. “I can’t help thinking that you two aren’t nearly as concerned as you might be about this situation. When both of you were having major life crises, I was a whole lot nicer to you—”

Margot snorted. Loudly and inelegantly. “Oh, please!”

“Well, maybe not to
you
, but I was really nice to Jordan!”

She didn’t know what triggered it—Margot’s amused look, Jordan’s raised brows, or the outraged pitch of her own voice—but all of a sudden the three of them were laughing. Great whooping guffaws of laughter. Then, as if a switch had been flicked, her laughter turned to wrenching sobs. Just as quickly, Margot and Jordan were there, wrapping their arms about her.

“God, how could I have screwed things up with Rob so badly?”

“Jade, honey, you have to have faith. Faith in yourself and faith in Rob.”

“Did you, Jordan? Did you believe things would work out between you and Owen?” she asked.

“Well, not always,” Jordan admitted.

“Everyone has doubts at times,” Margot said.

“But that’s where the all-important faith comes into play,” Jordan continued. “You have to believe in the goodness and authenticity of the person you love. I’ve never regretted putting my trust in Owen.”

She’d blown it already, Jade realized. Instead of relying on faith and trust and telling Rob about having hired Greg Hammond to find TM, she’d made him think she didn’t care about their relationship, that she was a quitter, crying off at the first obstacle they encountered.

And she was different from her sisters. With Rob and her, it wasn’t so much a question of whether she possessed that precious faith in him but whether he could see any good in her.

“No,” she said, answering the question out loud. “I’ve missed my chance with him. It’s over.”

Jordan shook her head. “No, it’s not. Rob’s a good man. He’s—”

Jade couldn’t bear to hear anymore. “Thanks, Jordan, but I already know how great he is, and, frankly, it only serves to reinforce my argument,” she said wearily. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Rob left Hayley snug in her bed upstairs, her arm curled about a plush teddy bear and her lids already heavy with sleep, and went downstairs to the kitchen. The red light on the answering machine was flashing. Pressing the
PLAY
button, he grabbed a beer and the two remaining slices of pizza from the fridge and, placing the pizza in the microwave to zap it, listened as the first message came on.

“Rob? Maryanne here. I’ve got fifty signatures so far from parents. I’m going to the bookstore and the supermarket tomorrow and should be able to round up quite a few more. Call me so we can figure out who else we should approach.”