Sweet Talk Page 23

  Val had been listening intently, but hearing the Kingsley name so unexpectedly made her choke on a swallow of wine. “Wait a sec. Back up a bit. There’s another Kingsley? I never heard of a Bridget Kingsley.”

  “She’s Bridget Plum now—for many years, to be accurate—but her maiden name was Kingsley. She talked about a split in the family between her father and Stratton—who were twins, incidentally. But she’s lived in the area all her life. Imagine that.”

  “Yes,” Val murmured. “Imagine that.” What Jinni had said about Guy’s invisibility, which Val had considered more myth than fact since the day she’d heard about it, entered her mind again. Was the whole town crazy? Maybe she wasn’t the only kook living in Rumor. Wouldn’t it be a hoot if the town she had chosen out of many, in which to live quietly and heal her wounds, had been chock-full of loose screws all along?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Reed sat in the dark. At 6:00 p.m. his living room wasn’t completely black, but it was close, as the outside pole lights provided very little illumination inside, and they were the only ones burning anywhere on his property.

  The day had been a total bust. He had awakened with a throbbing headache, not surprising considering the lousy night he’d put in. Instead of bounding out of bed full of energy and eager for the new day, as he normally did, he had dragged his weary bones to the bathroom, taken a couple of headache pills and then stumbled back to bed. He could not remember the last time he’d spent a self-pitying day in bed, or if he’d ever done something so out of character.

  Around eight that morning he’d heard his phone ring four times and then his mother’s voice when the answering machine switched on. “Reed, dear, you haven’t missed morning coffee with us for so long, we’ve become a bit worried. Well, apparently you’re not there, so something must have come up to take you away from home. Call when you can.”

  He had pulled the pillow over his head. There’d been a few other calls, a few other messages, and he’d ignored them, too.

  Now, dressed in old sweats and staring dully into the darkness that felt so much better to his wounded pride and shattered ego than the bright light of day, he knew he had to pull himself together. He wasn’t the first man to be used and abused by a woman, and he wouldn’t be the last. So what if every cell in his body was crying out in agony? So what if he couldn’t stop loving Val, even while telling himself that he never wanted to set eyes on her again?

  A few minutes later the phone rang once more, four times. The answering machine switched on and Reed heard Derek Moore’s voice. “Reed, sorry I missed you. I have the information you wanted and—”

  Reed told himself he didn’t give a damn now about Val’s past, but still he leaped from his chair and made a dive for the telephone. “Derek, I’m here. What did you find out?”

  “Reed, you said Valerie Fairchild was the name of your lady? The one you told me meant so much to you when we had dinner together in Billings?”

  The strained note in Derek’s voice caused Reed’s stomach to lurch. Of course, he hadn’t eaten anything all day, which could account for the discomfort, but instinct told him otherwise.

  “Yes, that’s her name,” he said, speaking quietly, as though he was in full command of his faculties, when it wasn’t true. He hadn’t commanded anything all day and projecting strength he didn’t feel was hard to do. “What’s wrong, Derek?”

  “How did you find out about Jay Johnson?”

  “Never heard the name before. Who is he?”

  “The man who raped your lady.” Reed froze. Derek went on speaking. “He’ll never get out of prison, Reed. Serial rapists are…”

  Reed’s own thoughts were suddenly louder than Derek’s voice. Val had been raped the day that bastard had kept her in the pet shop with a gun in her face for sixteen hours? She hadn’t even hinted at rape when she’d talked about the incident at her cabin on Friday night. Had she intended to and faltered because of something he’d said? Or hadn’t said? Maybe he hadn’t been supportive enough, and maybe support and encouragement were what she’d been seeking.

  Oh, God. A shudder racked his body. Sex wasn’t what she’d needed that night, and he’d let her down by behaving like a horny kid.

  Derek’s voice came through again. “Anyhow, you can see why I hesitated in telling you about it…unless you already knew, of course. Did you?”

  “Uh, yes. She told me, Derek. What I didn’t know was whether the…the, uh, guy was still incarcerated.”

  “He is and always will be. He’s not in an ordinary prison, Reed. He’s in a state institution for the criminally insane. The people I talked to said he would never be released. His brain is mush. From drugs.”

  When the call was over and Reed was back in his chair, once again staring into the darkness of his own living room, tears spilled from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

  He no longer felt sorry for himself. All of his feelings were for Val…and so were the tears.

  An hour later he decided to drive to town and get something to eat that he wouldn’t have to fix himself. He could get that at his folks’ place, but he didn’t consider himself fit company for anyone, least of all his parents. His mother had a way of knowing with one look whether or not something was bothering him.

  And yes, something was bothering him, something serious and painful that felt frighteningly permanent. In truth, he felt as though some alien creature was digging holes in his gut, and he suspected he would never be free of that particular pestilence for the rest of his life.

  He did not foresee great happiness in his future and drove the familiar road to town with tightly drawn lips and a sorrowful heart. It was a cold, dark night and the asphalt was snow-free but icy in spots. He was almost in sight of Rumor when his emergency radio beeped loudly. He recognized the voice. “All volunteers report to the station at once. We have a fire.”

  Reed pushed the gas pedal a little harder.

  Val was abnormally restless. She had felt anxious and nervous since Jinni went home, even during her trip to the kennels to make sure the thermostats were set correctly for the cold night ahead.

  She hadn’t shown Jinni the things she’d purchased in Billings’s best shops. Once they had started talking about Guy’s upcoming release from jail and what had brought it about, there’d been so much to say and think about that the rather trivial subject of new clothes had slipped by the wayside. Jinni was so relieved for Max, Michael, her mother-in-law, and, of course, Guy, although she barely knew him, that she had gone on and on about the Cantrells. Val had understood Jinni’s bubbling happiness for her husband and in-laws, but there was no question that it had underscored Val’s own flat and emotionless life.

  Then Jinni’d left, and shortly afterward Val had suffered the strangest sensation, as if her own house were closing in on her. She’d told herself to stop imagining such ridiculous things, but found it nearly impossible.

  By the time darkness had fallen Val was so unnerved she couldn’t sit still. When she remembered the bags and packages in her bedroom she rushed through the house with a sense of relief; at least putting away her new clothes was something to do.

  But when she turned on the ceiling light and looked at the pile of decorated sacks in all shapes and sizes, and the many garments in plastic bags that covered the bed, her relief turned to aversion. She had needed a few new things, but she’d gone way overboard.

  “What does it matter?” she mumbled as she removed garments from wrappings and hung them in her closet or folded them into dresser drawers. Most of her purchases, she realized unhappily, were things she would probably never wear. Her style had become ultraconservative lately, and a switch to brightly colored, dramatically designed clothing would probably shock the town.

  On the other hand, did people in this town notice Dr. Fairchild enough to see what she wore?

  She sat on the bed, then fell back with her eyes closed and her heart thumping in her chest. She had hoped very much to fit in with the people of R
umor, but she never had, had she?

  Her business was successful because she was a good vet, but she was a square peg in a round hole and couldn’t seem to get beyond the most casual of friendships with any of the townsfolk she met. She had never blamed anyone else for her inability to draw warmth from others; it was a quality she’d once admired about herself and then lost on that dreadful day in the pet shop.

  Val shuddered and sat up. She never let herself dwell on the awful details of that day. Not that she hadn’t talked about them in the past. A number of therapists and psychologists had brought her face-to-face with every segment of that day, and she had gotten very good at rattling off disgusting facts with little emotion.

  That was how she had lived ever since, she thought now, and no one had noticed or cared that she was an emotionless woman. In Rumor she’d been accepted as a capable vet, and possibly, at first, people had discussed her and wondered about her solitary lifestyle and somber demeanor. But the local gossips had become bored with Dr. Fairchild very fast. That, too, might be nothing but a figment of her imagination, Val knew. It was likely that no one in Rumor had ever wondered about her lack of a love life.

  Then she’d come face-to-face with Reed Kingsley and he’d caused the first crack in her self-protective armor. It was just a small crack and she’d told herself to ignore it. It meant nothing as long as she didn’t let it have meaning. That had worked…for a while…and it may have worked forever if she hadn’t found that lump in her breast. That had set off a chain of events she hadn’t been able to control with homemade remedies.

  Was it weird of her to acknowledge that if she hadn’t contracted cancer she would never have really known her sister? That assumption hinted at joy over a disease that could weaken the strongest person, and God knew she truly felt nothing remotely joyful about her ordeal.

  But she had a sister now, and before Jinni had come flying to the rescue, all Val had had was a handful of memories.

  She trembled and felt as though an earthquake was gathering force for a huge explosion within her. She would have to be completely numb not to realize that something odd was happening to her. She wasn’t herself anymore, not the “emotionless self” she’d been since her final therapy session many years ago, at any rate.

  She wasn’t emotionless now, she realized between gasping breaths. Her emotions were shaking her soul, causing a flood of tears, stealing her breath and scaring the daylights out of her. What was going on?

  She couldn’t fight it, whatever it was, and she toppled over on the bed and cried until there were no more tears left in her. She lost track of time, but she finally felt calmer and got off the bed to wash her face. Her eyes were pink and puffy, she saw in the mirror, and she asked her reflection, “Were you crying over Jinni because you have her now or over Reed because you will never have him?”

  Her mirror gave her no answer, nor was there an answer within her heart. Feeling saddened by it all, she went to the dresser and found the card Reed had tucked into the flowers he’d brought her. She read his message about wanting to sweet-talk her, read it again and decided the words didn’t coincide with the man she’d come to know. He was far more intelligent than this silly message implied, so had she confused him so much that he’d been willing to try anything to gain her attention?

  An unusual panic seized her, and she stumbled to the bedroom’s one chair and sank onto it. Her heart was in her throat and she was breathing as though she had run a mile. Her eyes were huge and darting, as though she was seeking relief for the turmoil within herself from some inanimate object in her bedroom.

  And then the truth of her feelings rose up and nearly choked her. I ruined everything. Me. I did it all. I destroyed the one chance for everlasting happiness that fate practically hand-delivered to my front door. For the first time in all my years I am sincerely, genuinely in love, and I chased him off. Poor Reed.

  The telephone rang, jarring Val from the depths of hell that she had driven herself to. She stared at the phone on the bedstand, then sighed and forced herself to her feet.

  “Hello,” she said, sounding every bit as forlorn as she felt.

  But Jinni didn’t notice. “Val, come on over. We’re celebrating Guy’s release and we’d all love to have you here.”

  Val could barely hear her sister. Music and laughter, the sounds of a merry crowd, nearly drowned out Jinni’s voice. “Hmm…I don’t know, Jin. I’m really not in a party mood.”

  “If you were here, you would be. You wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from joining in the fun. Come on, Val. Throw on something pretty and… Say, did you happen to buy something pretty today? I didn’t get to see your new clothes.”

  “I…guess so.”

  “Well, get yourself all dolled up and come over! One of these lawyers having a fine old time with us is single.”

  Val saw Reed’s image in her mind’s eye. As if she would flirt and act silly with a stranger when she was in love with a man of Reed Kingsley’s caliber, she thought with a touch of pathos. Truth was, though, she didn’t have Reed and never would.

  “Val, you get yourself fancied up this very minute and come over here!” Jinni demanded teasingly.

  Why not? Anything is better than sitting here and crying because your life is such an abominable, pathetic mess.

  “All right. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes,” she said.

  “Great! I’ll be watching for you.”

  Val put down the telephone and went to the closet to decide on something to wear. Her heart wasn’t into a party; the very idea turned her off. But so did sitting around this silent house, dissecting herself and wallowing in self-pity. She pulled out a velveteen dress in a luscious shade of blue-green that was very close to the color of her eyes. She had tried it on at the store and knew it fit like a dream. She had high-heel shoes to match, but she would wear her snow boots to get to the Cantrell mansion, and change shoes when she got there.

  Her eyes were still a bit puffy, but she ignored that and quickly put on some makeup. She vigorously brushed her hair into place, fluffing it a bit more than usual, and finished off her outfit with small gold hoops in her ears and a light touch of cologne at her throat and wrists.

  She was getting into her heavy black overcoat when she heard the sound. Her heart jumped into her throat with immediate dread. When the siren on the roof of the fire station called in the volunteers, there was a blaze somewhere in Rumor.

  Val raced to a window at the front of the house. She could see the fire station, and it had come alive. Vehicles were arriving in droves. Drivers and passengers jumped out and hurried into the building.

  And then Val saw the pickup truck Reed had been driving since his SUV got crumpled in the mountains. It skidded around the corner, fishtailed for a moment, then straightened out and finally turned into the parking area of the fire station. He got out and ran to the door of the building.

  Val couldn’t breathe. Just seeing him made her heart beat faster. Whatever it was that had been tearing her apart felt as though it had succeeded. She’d been split into two different women—Dr. Fairchild, who rarely smiled, and Valerie, a woman aching with love for the man across the intersection.

  Val ran from the window to her front door and went outside. A fine snow was falling again, she noticed, but she didn’t give a damn. Turning in a circle, she searched the horizon until she saw the reddish glow in the sky—the fire!

  “Oh, no,” she whispered. The glow was directly over a residential area.

  The huge door of the fire station went up and out came the fire truck, its siren screaming, its numerous red lights flashing.

  Val didn’t stop to think. She ran back inside for her car keys, then raced through the back door to the garage. In seconds she was driving down the icy street, following the fire truck.

  She parked in an out-of-the-way spot. People were gathering. The volunteers all wearing bright yellow jackets, were running, shouting, getting the hose unwound and working. Val knew a family
lived in that house, the Stowes, and there were at least four young children to worry about.

  “They’re out!” someone shouted, and Val saw a woman, a man and the kids running from their burning home. Seconds later, however, the woman shrieked, “Where’s Shannon? She isn’t outside! Shannon! Shannon!” Mrs. Stowe began running back toward the house.

  Her husband caught her and Val saw Reed run over to the couple. He said something to them, grabbed a blanket from someone’s hands and headed for the house himself. Val’s heart nearly stopped. One second his form was silhouetted in stark relief against the flames and the next he was gone, a part of the fire itself.

  “Please God,” she whispered over and over. The crowd had grown larger, and Val could hear everyone talking about Reed and little Shannon, who was only three years old.

  The scene had a surreal quality for Val—the fairy-dust snow falling on her face, the brilliant colors of the fire, the families huddled together, the worried crowd conveying so much hope for the life of a child and a man with unlimited courage.

  And then, without any fanfare whatsoever, Val felt a hundred pounds lighter, as though a crushing burden had flown from her shoulders. “My God,” she whispered, stunned even while recognizing what had taken place. The side of her that had been fighting for dominance all day had overcome the staid, determined-to-be-unhappy personality she had permitted to direct her life for more than ten years.

  Instantly, she knew she wanted what Jinni had—a man who loved her and a happy marriage—and what Mrs. Stowe had—a family. And if you should succeed and the cancer comes back? Val sucked in a breath as her heart skipped a beat. Would Reed love her unconditionally?

  Her mind began racing. Did Reed love her now? He had loved her, or at least he had tried in numerous ways to make her believe that his feelings for her went deeper than sexual attraction. She sighed soulfully and noticed a dull ache in her chest that had to be caused by her heart breaking. Yes, it was all her fault, but she knew now that she had the courage to be honest with Reed. It would, of course, be up to him after that.