Without a Past (23 page)

“Son, are you sure you don't want to see a doctor?”

“No,” Jonathan said. The pulsing beat was lessening. “Weird. My usual kind of headache, but I wasn't thinking about the past. Not my past, anyway. Andi's. And then the dog.”

Andrew made a short, gasping sound. Jonathan partially opened one eye. “What?”

“The dog. Andi. The wreck. Your mind has probably gotten them all mixed up.”

Jonathan would have shaken his head but he didn't want to risk it. “What are you talking about?”

His father clicked on the bedside lamp then turned off
the overhead light. He brought Jonathan a glass of water and sat in the chair across from him.

“Do you remember Snoop?”

“Who?” The pain intensified like a wave crashing in his head.

“Your dog, Snoop. He was a beagle puppy. Your mother bought him for your tenth birthday.”

An image came into his mind. The same one he'd seen earlier. “Mom said it would be plagiarism to copy Charles Schultz, so we dropped the Y when we named him. She and I went to the kennel to pick him out right after he was born. And she took me there after school to visit every day until he was old enough to come home with us.”

His father's face showed sympathy and understanding.

“He died, didn't he?” Jonathan asked, but the answer was there in his mind. Behind the wall of pain.

“Yes, son. He was in the car with you. When it rolled over.”

A blinding flash of insight made him sit up straight. “No, Dad. Mom and Snoop didn't die,” he said as the truth hit him. “They
left.
”

“I don't understand.”

Memories long stifled crossed the transom between hemispheres. He saw the scene as clearly as if he were standing outside his ten-year-old body. “I was knocked unconscious. But when I woke up, the paramedics had me on the ground beside the car. I could see Mom sitting, sort of slumped over the steering wheel. There was a trickle of blood on her forehead, but she didn't look dead. She looked asleep. And Snoop had been in the back seat. I didn't see him at all.

“They put me in an ambulance, and I assumed Mom was coming after me, but later at the hospital, you told me, ‘She's gone, son. And Snoop, too.'”

Andrew closed his eyes as if in pain. “Oh, Jon. I'm so
sorry. I didn't handle Jacki's death well. I was in too much pain. And shock. I was so angry.”

“At the funeral, the casket was closed.”

Andrew nodded. “My family didn't believe in open caskets. Jacki's family was all gone, so I didn't fight it. I couldn't bear to look at her and I figured you were too young to see a dead body and understand.”

Jonathan felt the medication working. His pain was easing. His shoulders began to release the tension they'd been holding. “You buried Snoop in the backyard before I came home from the hospital, didn't you?”

Andrew reached out, but his hand fell to his lap. “I didn't want you to suffer more.”

Neither man spoke for several minutes, then Andrew said, “Jon, people didn't talk about
closure
back then. I'd never heard of survivor's guilt or abandonment issues. But I've done some reading on both subjects, and I think that your mother's death and the way I handled things probably played a big role in how you lived your life. The choice of career. Always on the move. Restless. Homeless. Maybe at some level you figured that you'd cheated death and if you stayed in one place too long, it would find you. Or possibly you decided the best way to avoid being abandoned again was to always leave first.”

Jonathan closed his eyes—willing the last of his tension to dissipate. He needed time and distance to examine his father's theory. “Sounds plausible,” he said, hoping Andrew would leave. “Tired now.”

His father rose and walked to the side of the bed. “I'm not surprised. This is just a guess, but I don't think you got much sleep last night.” His tone was teasing, but not unkind.

Jonathan would have protested, but he lacked the ability to be coy. “How can you tell?”

“Because I know you, Jon, even though we have grown apart over the years. This is the first time I've ever seen you let yourself become this vulnerable. And that, son, is love.”

Jonathan rolled to his side, calling up the memory of Andi in his arms. He cradled the extra pillow to his chest. “You're right. Now all I have to do is convince her.”

Andrew squeezed his shoulder supportively. “Not a problem. Remind me to tell you how I persuaded Gwen to take a chance on a man old enough to be her fath…uncle.”

Jonathan heard a soft snicker. He would have smiled, too, but before he could muster the muscles, the world disappeared from view, taking him with it.

“W
HAT A GREAT DAY
for a wedding,” Jonathan said as he left his motel room. He leaned on the second-floor railing and looked around. The air was crisp with dew; the clouds from the storm were nothing but a memory. The sky was so bright a blue it almost hurt his eyes.

“And we've got a lot to accomplish in a short time,” his father said, joining him. Andrew had just gotten off the phone with his wife and daughters.

Jonathan had overheard bits and pieces of the conversation, and it was obvious his father missed his family. He took a breath, filling his lungs with clean, fresh air. “Dad, don't take this the wrong way, but why don't you go home?”

Andrew froze, his hand on the doorknob. “Excuse me?”

Jonathan cleared the distance between them. “I'm a big boy, Dad. You don't have to stay for my sake. Your family needs you.”

The older man's shoulders visibly relaxed. “For a minute there, you sounded like the old Jonathan.” Andrew's face flushed. “Not that there was anything wrong with the way you used to be, but—”

“I was an arrogant jerk.”

“You were an intensely focused professional with no time for nonsense. You were serious. I used to worry that you'd have a stroke before you were forty. But you did
some truly fine work, Jon. You can always be proud of that.”

Jonathan smiled. “I can't remember the exact wording, but isn't there a saying that no man on his deathbed regrets not spending more time at the office?” His father chortled. “It took amnesia for me to understand that, Dad. You retired early for a reason—to be with your wife and daughters. You don't have to hold my hand.”

Andrew closed the door. “That's not what I'm doing. I'm going with you because I want to be there to see my son fulfill his destiny.”

The words hung in the air a minute. Jonathan recalled hearing the phrase another time. Spoken with grave disappointment. He didn't have a clear image of the circumstances, but he understood that this transaction was important to them both. “Then, let's go buy a newspaper.”

Andrew nodded and they walked side by side to the car. “But, I might take you up on that offer to leave for home once we have the negotiations sealed,” he said. “I am kinda missing my girls. Will you give my regrets to Sam and Jenny?”

Jonathan got in and unlocked his father's door. “Of course. And you'll see them again. When you come back for my wedding.”

Andrew looked startled. “When will that be?”

Jonathan started the car. “I have no idea. I haven't even asked her, but I have an engagement ring that's just sitting idle,” he said, keeping his tone light. He'd awakened in the middle of the night with a yearning so intense he'd thought he was suffering from another headache. It took a few minutes to figure out that he missed Andi. He needed her by his side, and he planned to rectify the situation as soon as possible.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Andrew said, “Um,
son, I don't want to give advice where it's not wanted, but about that ring in your pocket…”

Jonathan had placed the ring in the motel room's safe and had needed to get the key from his father earlier to retrieve it. “What about it?”

“Well…my wife made it very clear when I proposed that she wasn't interested in wearing another woman's hand-me-down, if you get my drift. Maybe Andi is different. Maybe she'd be content with the ring you bought for Miranda, but I wouldn't risk it if I were you.”

“I was only kidding about using that ring. I want something extra special for Andi. When I'm at the jeweler's this morning picking up Sam's ring, I'll look around.”

Andrew smiled broadly. “There's another possibility.” Jonathan glanced at him and saw a twinkle in his father's eyes. “We'll discuss it before I leave.”

Jonathan felt a profound sense of accord. Whatever differences they'd had in the past—and it sounded as though theirs had been a tumultuous relationship—they'd forged a new path. One they could travel as friends.

 

“C
AN
I
TAKE
your picture, ladies?” Lois Murdock asked.

“Not if you want to live to see the actual ceremony,” Andi groused. The mousse Jenny had lent her was stiff and sticky. Her hair looked as if she'd just poked her finger in an electrical outlet.

Lois wasn't easily put off. She was a transplant from the Bay Area; her husband had taken a huge cut in pay to manage the new auto parts store in Gold Creek. A decision, she'd told Andi, they'd made in order to raise their daughters in a small town.

“Oh, honey, trust me. These candid shots are the ones your sister will treasure the most. Now, scrunch together, girls. You all look so cute in your skivvies.”

Andi glanced down as her sisters obediently crowded on either side of her. The bathroom counter behind them looked like a scene from a Vegas showgirl's dressing room. And in bras, panties and silky slips, she and her sisters could probably have gone onstage.

“Say, ‘Weddings,'” the woman said, holding a large black camera to her eye.

Andi faked a smile. She just wanted this to be over. And the actual ceremony was less than an hour off. She wanted to talk to Jonathan and find out how his meeting had gone. She wanted to hear from Donnie about how the murder investigation was going. Mostly, she didn't want to put on the dress her sister had picked out for her to wear.

“I'm going to track down those adorable babies now,” the photographer said. “I'll be back when you're dressed.”

Andi sighed with relief. She perused the jumbled mess of makeup on the counter. “Is there any mascara? That's the stuff that makes your lashes darker, right?”

Jenny made a loud groaning sound. “I'm going to dry my hair. You help her, Kris.” She gave Andi a sour look. “I had no idea you were so femininely challenged.”

Andi stuck her tongue out at Jenny's back as she left the room. “So I'm not into makeup. I can load an M–16.”

Kristin giggled. “Now, there's a trick that will come in handy around here.”

She pawed through the mess, producing a slim cylinder that resembled a pen. After unscrewing the lid, she pulled forth a wand with a tiny brush on the end. “Yeah,” Andi said. “I have one of those. Somewhere.”

“Well, if you've had it longer than six months, throw it out. They go bad.”

The reference to use-by dates made Andi remember her concern about Lars's supply of condoms. Her cheeks warmed.

“What?” Kris asked.

“I was thinking about Jonathan. I'd hoped to hear something from him by now. His meeting was an hour ago.”

Kristin hesitated. “Why don't you let me apply your eye shadow then you do the mascara? I haven't done anyone else's makeup since high school. Remember how we'd take three hours to get ready for a dance?”

Andi snorted. “You and Jenny, maybe. I'd be in the playroom, listening to you.”

Kris selected a small plastic rectangle and flipped open the lid. “You'd let us dress you up, too.” Andi closed her eyes so Kris could apply the color. “When you wanted to impress a boy. Like when you went to the winter formal with Tyler,” she said.

Andi couldn't keep from flinching. Tyler was a sore subject—one they had avoided for nearly eleven years.

“Can we talk about the night of our party, Andi?”

“No,” she said vehemently. Andi couldn't discuss it, not without admitting her own guilt in the matter.

“I need to, Andi. I need to make you understand how sorry I am that it happened.”

Well, here goes nothing.
“I won't talk about it if you insist on apologizing,” she said.

“Why?”

“Yeah, why shouldn't she apologize?” Jenny asked, joining them. “Kristin slept with your boyfriend. I think apologies are long overdue.”

Andi took a deep breath. “Do we really have to do this
today?
It's your wedding, Jen. Wouldn't you rather wait—”

“Andrea, you're stalling. I can always tell when you've got a guilty conscience. Spill it.”

Andi looked at the mirror to avoid facing either of her sisters. “I broke up with Ty shortly after the party started,”
she said with a resigned sigh. “He'd been drinking, and I decided he wasn't my type.”

In the mirror she saw her sisters look at each other. “No way,” Jenny exclaimed. “I distinctly remember you carrying on about how Kristin stole your boyfriend. The potential love of your life.”

Andi used her arm to push aside the makeup and hopped up to sit on the counter. “Okay. Confession time. Just remember that we're sisters and all of this garbage happened a long time ago. We were young and stupid and we bought into the idea that boys were the answer to every question.”

“You mean they're not?” Jenny said jokingly. “Tucker will be so sad to learn that.”

Andi smiled briefly, then said, “The night of our party I was in a snit. I liked Ty a lot. But he didn't seem to care about anything or anybody, except his stupid motorcycle. So I decided to break up with him. To see his reaction.”

She rolled her eyes. “Big mistake. Turned out he couldn't care less. And, believe me, that didn't do anything for my ego.

“Then, not five minutes later, I find out that Kristin's driven off with him in Rosemarie.” She looked at her sisters. “It hurt that he didn't want me, but when he went off with Kris, I felt both of them had betrayed me.”

When nobody spoke, Andi continued. “Besides, it wasn't as if Kris
knew
we'd broken up. I asked her—later, after the police brought her home—what Tyler had said about me. And she said, ‘We didn't talk about you, Andi.'” Andi was aware that her voice sounded like a seventeen-year-old girl's. “Remember?”

Kristin shook her head. “The only thing I remember about that night was wanting to get as far away from the party as possible,” she said. “I was mad at Donnie. Heart-broken, actually. He'd broken up with me and I'd heard he
was dating Sandy Grossman. She'd always been after him. Ty was convenient. He had a bottle. We went to the dam. I doubt we said more than six words to each other.”

Jenny looked toward the hallway. “Well, you may not have spoken much, but your
actions
had a long-lasting consequence. A consequence who inherited his father's eyes and the same monumental chip on his shoulder.”

Andi added, “And sooner or later people are going to notice the resemblance.”

“If they haven't already,” Jenny said under her breath. “I wasn't going to say anything about this until after the ceremony, but Sam told me they saw Tyler at the Golden Corral last night. He's back in town.”

Kristin got a panicky look on her face. “Zach and I should leave. I knew this would happen, but I thought I'd have time to prepare. To make plans. To—”

Andi hopped off the counter and blocked the door. “Kris, you can't hide forever. It isn't fair to Zach. Or Ida. Or you.”

“Or us,” Jenny said, trying for a little humor. “We're here for you, Kristin. We always have been—even if we got a little screwed up for a while.”

Jenny put her arms around both Andi and Kristin. “We've cleared the air. We've discovered—here's a news flash for ‘Glory's World'—the Sullivan sisters aren't perfect. Now, can we get on with my wedding?”

Andi felt as though a weight had been removed from her shoulders. For nearly eleven years she'd blamed herself for Kristin's estrangement. Now she knew that while her anger might have made things worse, there'd been more to her sister's story than Andi had known.

After they hastily completed their makeup, the sisters moved into Jenny's room to dress. The photographer snapped them in various stages of undress. Diane, Sam's mother, joined them for a couple of pictures of her zipping
up the back of Jenny's dress, then she hurried back to help Greta with Lara and Tucker.

At seven months, the twins were chubby, happy babies who could roll over and make fabulous spit bubbles. Tucker was trying his best to crawl. Andi could hardly be around them without wanting one of her own.

Knowing she couldn't put it off any longer, Andi picked up the bridesmaid dress. She struggled to keep the layers of gauzy material from choking her as she pulled it over her head. “I need some help,” she said.

Kristin went to her aid. Within seconds the tea-length dress of pale sage with an over-dress of sheer nylon imprinted with a muted design of leaves and flowers hugged her trim body. Kris wore the same dress in peach. “That's pretty. Look, Jen, isn't she beautiful?”

Andi felt a blush coming on.

“Jonathan won't be able to keep his eyes off her,” Jenny said. “Last night at the party, he told Sam he loved her.”

Andi almost dropped the hairbrush she'd picked up. “I beg your pardon? Jonathan told Sam about his feelings for me?”

Jenny, who was hunting for her shoes, looked over her shoulder. “Yes. Men talk, Andi. They say they don't but they gossip just like women.”

“He sounds pretty serious,” Kristin said. “Does this mean we might have a second wedding this year?”

Andi sat down on the bed. “I love him, guys, but I'm afraid,” she said in a small voice.

“Fearless Andi Sullivan?” Kris asked. “Impossible.”

“Oh, honey,” Jenny said, joining her on the bed. “We're all afraid. I'm getting married in thirty minutes, and after that, the whole town of Gold Creek is showing up on my doorstep for a party. You think I'm not terrified?”

Kristin knelt in front of her. “And I have to tell my son's
father that he
is
a father. Surprise, surprise. Tell me what you've got to fear that beats that?”

Andi felt a swift arc of pain. “I know this doesn't make sense, but I've managed to fall in love with a man who's turned out to be somebody else.” Her sisters waited expectantly. “So do I now assume that I'm in love with the new Harley…I mean, Jonathan?”