Where There's Smoke (74 page)

In the last few days there'd been visible signs of improvement.

She claimed to feel better and had more energy.
 
She'd been alert and hadn't fussed when it came time to take her medication.
 
She'd even cut back to two packs of cigarettes a day.
 
Yesterday she'd resumed her standing appointment at the beauty shop.

Janellen doubted it was coincidental that Jody had begun perking up on the day they learned that Key had left Montesangre.
 
Despite their frequent quarrels, her mother and brother cared deeply for each other.

"Hello, Jody."

His tone was reserved, cautious.
 
He was remembering the hurtful, thoughtless things Jody had said to him before he left.
 
Jody too must have been remembering her searing words.
 
Her thin lips twitched once, as though she experienced an uncomfortable twinge.

"I see you made it back in one piece."

"More or less."

Janellen's eyes darted between them, wanting desperately to keep this unspoken truce in force.
 
"Let's go inside and have a drink together before dinner."

Jody preceded them into the parlor.
 
She declined a drink but lit a cigarette.
 
"I read that the rebel army confiscated your airplane."

She aimed a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.

"That's right.
 
Thanks, sis."
 
He took the scotch over rocks his sister had poured for him.
 
"Doesn't matter.
 
The guy who rented it to us was hoping we'd crash or that something catastrophic would happen so he could collect the insurance.
 
He needed the cash more than the airplane."

"I figured it was something like that.
 
You deal with such unscrupulous characters."

"Speaking of unscrupulous characters," Janellen said, trying to avoid any nastiness, "Darcy Winston was at the Curl Up and Dye the day I got my perm.
 
She was going on about her daughter Heather and how she and Tanner Hoskins can't keep their hands off each other.
 
She said before it was over, she might have to turn the garden hose on them."

Key laughed.
 
Janellen looked at him with perplexity.
 
"Everyone else laughed when she said that.
 
I don't get it."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Janellen," Jody said impatiently.

"What?"

"Never mind," Key said.
 
"Go on.
 
What else did Mrs. Winston have to say?"

"When the news bulletin about you and Dr. Mallory came on, she elbowed everybody else out of the way and hogged the TV.

When they announced that Mr. Porter wasn t dead after all, she made a spectacle of herself."

"In what way?"
 
Key was no longer smiling.

"By laughing.
 
No one else thought it was funny.
 
She crowed.

Honestly, that woman gives tacky' a bad name."

"She's a hot little tramp," Jody said as she flicked ashes into the ashtray.
 
"Fergus thought that marrying a white-trash slut would automatically make her respectable.
 
It didn't, of course.
 
Underneath her fancy designer clothes, she's still trash.
 
Fergus has always been a fool."

Maydale called them to supper and served Key his favorite foods: chicken-fried steaks and roast beef with all the trimmings.
 
For dessert there were two pies one peach, one pecan-and homemade vanilla ice cream.

Janellen expected him to wolf down the banquet she'd ordered for him, but he ate sparingly.
 
He smiled when talking to her and answered all her questions, but with little elaboration.
 
He was polite to Jody and said nothing to goad or provoke her.
 
For a man who had narrowly escaped death at the hands of guerrilla rebels, he was abnormally subdued.

During lapses in conversation, he stared broodingly into space and had to be forcibly drawn back into the present when talk resumed.

Following the meal, Jody excused herself to go upstairs to watch TV in her room.
 
Before she left the dining room, she looked at him and said,

"I'm glad you're all right."

He stared after her thoughtfully.

"She means it, you know," Janellen said quietly.
 
"I think she was more worried about you than I was, and I was crazy with it.
 
She had a real turnaround the day we heard that you were alive and on your way home."

"She looks better than when I left."

"You noticed!"
 
she exclaimed.
 
"I think so, too.
 
l think she's getting well."

He reached out and stroked her cheek, but his smile was sad.

"There's something else, Key.
 
Something about Mama.
 
Yesterday when I came home from work, I couldn't find her and went looking through the house.
 
Guess where she was.
 
In Clark's room, going through his things."

No longer distracted, he was suddenly alert and interested.

"To my knowledge she hasn't been in that bedroom since we picked out his burial suit.
 
What possessed her to go in there now?"

"She was going through his things?"

She nodded.
 
"Papers, certificates of merit, yearbooks, memorabilia, memos he'd written while he was a senator.
 
And she was crying.
 
She didn't even cry when he was buried."

"I know.
 
I remember."

It struck her then that Key looked very much now as he had at their brother's grave site.
 
Although his actions and verbal responses appeared normal, she got the sense that he was only going through the expected motions, just as he had following Clark's death.
 
He wore a shattered and lost look, as though something incomprehensible had happened.

During the days following their brother's funeral, she'd been too engulfed in her own sorrow to deal with Key's, although even if she'd tried, he probably would have rebuffed her.
 
Besides, she would have felt inadequate.
 
She still did.
 
Nevertheless, she laid her hand on his arm and pressed it compassionately.

"I read a book on bereavement to help me get through Clark's death.

According to the author, who's a psychologist, grief can be a delayed reaction.
 
Sometimes a person can deny it for years.
 
Then one day it hits them, and they let it all out.
 
Do you think that's what happened with Mama?"

Key remained thoughtful and didn't say anything.

"I think it's a breakthrough," Janellen said.
 
"Maybe she's finally come to grips with losing him.
 
Now that she's sorted out her feelings, maybe she won't be so angry anymore.
 
You two got along well at dinner.

Did you notice the difference in her attitude?"

Key smiled at her affectionately.
 
"You're the eternal optimist, aren't you?"

"Don't make fun of me," she said, wounded.

"I'm not making fun of you, Janellen.
 
It was an observation meant to compliment.
 
If everyone were as guileless as you, the world wouldn't suck nearly as bad as it does."

He playfully tugged on one of her new curls, but his grin was superficial.
 
"Who knows what compelled Jody to pick through Clark's things?
 
It could mean anything or nothing.
 
Don't expect too much from her.
 
Things don't change that drastically, that quickly.

Some things never change.
 
You're in love.
 
You're happy and want everybody else to be."

She laid her head on his chest and hugged him tightly.
 
"It's true, Key.
 
I'm happier than I've been in my entire life.
 
Happier than I believed possible."

"It shows, and I'm damned glad for you.

"But I feel guilty."

Roughly he pushed her away.
 
"Don't," he said angrily.
 
"Milk it for all it's worth.
 
Squeeze every single drop of pleasure from it.
 
You deserve it.
 
You've put up with shit from her, from me, from everybody for years.
 
For chrissake, Janellen, don't apologize for finding happiness.
 
Promise me you won't."

Stunned by his vehemence, she bobbed her head.
 
"All right.
 
I promise."

He pressed a hard kiss on her forehead, then set her away from him again.
 
"I gotta go."

"Go?
 
Where?
 
I thought you'd want to stay home tonight and get some rest."

"I'm rested."
 
He fished in his jeans pocket for his car keys.
 
"I've got a lot of catching up to do."

"Catching up on what?"
 
He shot her a telling look and headed for the door.
 
"Key, wait!
 
You mean like drinking?"

"For starters."

"Women?"

"Okay."

She intercepted him at the front door and forced him to look her in the eye.
 
"I haven't asked because I figured it was your private business."

"Asked me what?"

"About Lara Mallory."

"What about her?"

"Well, I thought, you know, that the two of you might .

"You thought I might take Clark's place in her bed?"

"You make it sound so ugly."

"It was ugly."

"Key!"

"I gotta go.
 
Don't wait up.

Before she opened the door, Lara peered through the blinds to see who had rung the bell, then hastily undid the locks.
 
"Janellen!
 
I'm so glad to see you.
 
Come in."
 
She stood aside and ushered her unexpected guest into the waiting room.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you.
 
I always seem to drop in without calling first.
 
I acted on impulse again."

"Even if you'd called, you wouldn't have been able to get through.

I took my phone off the hook.
 
Some reporters don't take no' for an answer.

"They've been calling Key, too."

Hearing his name was like getting an arrow through her heart.

Trying to ignore the pain, she removed a box of books from the seat of a chair.
 
"Sit down, please.
 
Would you like something to drink?

I'm not sure what's in the house-" "I don't care for anything, thank you."
 
Janellen glanced around at the disarray.
 
"What's all this?"

"This is a mess," Lara said with a wry smile as she sat down on a crate.
 
Wearily, she pushed back a loose strand of hair.
 
Since her return, even involuntary motions seemed to require a tremendous amount of energy.
 
"I'm packing."

"What for?"

"I'm leaving Eden Pass."

Janellen was possibly the only person in town who didn't welcome the news.
 
Her expression was a mix of dismay and despair.
 
"Why?"

"That should be obvious."
 
There was a bitterness in Lara's voice that she couldn't mask.
 
"Things didn't work out here as I had hoped.