Читать книгу Expectations - Brenda Novak - Страница 11

THE BRINY SMELL of the sea wafted through the cracks of the old building, permeating the entire room Jenna used as her studio. She sat staring at a half-finished stained-glass window portraying a small lake surrounded by great willowy trees. Natural light, which flooded the square room through a series of skylights, passed through several of the finished pieces hanging from the rafters and made small rainbows of color on the cement floor. Shortly after she’d moved in, the Durhams had hired their contractor to turn one of the old gardening sheds into a small studio for her, and there wasn’t another place on earth she felt more at home.

Outside, Adam and Ryan were talking and laughing as they tossed a football, but Jenna felt no inclination to join them. She’d fled to her studio as soon as they returned from the store and hadn’t come out since. Though normally she would have spent some of her day with Ryan, working on a school project due next week, he seemed to be occupied well enough without her. That her son already adored Adam, her nemesis, after only one day in his presence annoyed her—even more than Adam catching her trying to purchase a pregnancy test.

Allowing herself a deep heartfelt sigh, she picked up her carbide glass cutter, determined to finish the lake or to sit up all night until she did. She was using antique glass, one of the most delicate and expensive kinds, to make the water, but it varied in thickness by almost three-quarters of an inch. She couldn’t get a clean cut, couldn’t get the feel of her medium. Normally her hands worked almost independently of her mind, somehow sensing just how much pressure to use to score the glass without breaking it, how to tap gently near the cut and separate the two pieces. But not today.

After ruining yet another section that was supposed to be a lapping wave, Jenna slouched onto her stool. At this rate, she would be buried in broken glass by sunset! She couldn’t concentrate. Not with Adam just outside.

Standing again, she skirted the waist-high worktable and walked to the back of the studio where utility cupboards lined the wall. Taking out a large rectangular window she’d finished shortly after returning to Mendocino, she lifted the fabric she’d used to protect it and gazed down at a secluded cove—the stretch of beach where Adam had made love to her the first time.

She kept this piece hidden, as though someone else might guess its history, but really there was no need. With tall black cliffs and a green, tempestuous sea, it could depict almost any part of the Northern California coast. Except for the house she’d put in the background. She’d seen the same house over Adam’s shoulder that day sixteen years ago; she’d gone back to look at it since and had created a perfect likeness.

Closing her eyes, Jenna drifted back in time and felt the sand of the cove radiating heat beneath her naked body, the wind stirring her hair. When she thought of how Adam had touched her, his voice from outside the shed made the memory that much more real. She shivered as she relived it, feeling his hands move over her flesh, raising goose bumps along their path, as they curled around her limbs with the strength of the sea.

Moving in unison with the water that lapped at their feet, he’d covered her body with his, gently coaxing her to succumb to him like the pull of the tide. Let go…let go…

She’d wrapped her arms around him and relinquished control, and soon Adam began to pound into her with the rhythm of the waves against the rocks. Then her nerves tightened and leaped, like the spray flinging itself freely into the air, and she seemed to burst into a million fragments of brilliant light.

Opening her eyes, Jenna stared numbly down at her own representation of that day. It reminded her of what it felt like to be loved.

To be loved by Adam.

“Incredible.”

Jenna jumped and nearly dropped the window, but Adam’s sure hands grabbed hold of it.

“Damn, don’t you believe in knocking?” she snapped.

Adam’s gaze didn’t falter from the stained-glass depiction of the cove. “I did knock. You didn’t answer.”

Jenna’s eyes moved guiltily to his face. Maybe she hadn’t heard him. She’d touched an emotional memory so deep it had eclipsed all else. Like the actual event.

“Does Ryan need me?” Seeing him looking at the cove made Jenna feel as if he was reading her journal. Exposed, she wanted to distract him, but he didn’t answer her question. And he resisted her efforts to pull the window away.

“When did you learn to do stained glass?”

“I started about six years ago when I took a course at a community college. But I’m just an amateur, really. I’ve sold a few pieces to the tourists who come through here, nothing more.”

Did he know what he was looking at? Did he guess Dennis had never been able to replace him?

“Gram told me you were good. But I never imagined anything like this. You’ve definitely got more than your share of talent.”

The space heater that hummed a few feet away was making the place unbearably hot. Jenna yanked out the plug, wishing Adam would stop looking at the cove. “Thanks. There’s more over there if you’d like to see them. This one’s actually not my best,” she lied, relinquishing her own hold on the piece as if it meant nothing to her.

Retrieving a little broom hanging on a hook inside another cupboard, she began to clean up the glass splinters at her worktable.

He circled the room, carrying the window with him, then paused at the partially finished lake. “They’re nice, really nice.” He held the cove up again for closer inspection. “But I like this one best.” He turned to look at her for the first time since he’d made his presence known.

Did he know?

No! How could he? It was sixteen years since they’d been on that beach. And she’d been the one to stare up at the house in a dreamy half doze as he slept facedown on her breast.

Still, Jenna couldn’t meet his eyes. She finished sweeping up the glass chips, then glanced beyond him to the subject of their conversation. “It’s a fairly good rendition of the coast, I guess.”

He studied the window, a thoughtful frown on his face. “I think I’ve been there.”

“Then you know how beautiful it is.”

“I do.” He smiled at her. “In fact, I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

Jenna gave a shaky laugh and stepped back to avoid the scent of his cologne. “Sounds like you need to travel more.”

“Or purchase this window. How much?”

She shook her head. “It’s not for sale. I’m trying to accumulate some inventory for a spring show. Maybe when that’s finished—” or when hell freezes over “—I’ll let you know.”

“Sure.” Carefully setting the stained-glass cove on her table, he turned away. “Gram wanted me to tell you dinner’s ready.”

“Great.” She kept her smile casual, as though Adam hadn’t just reached inside her and cradled her heart in the palm of his hand. “You go on in. I’ll be right there.”

DURING DINNER Adam received a call from his secretary. Though Pop frowned when he got up from the table to accept the receiver from Gram, he ignored his grandfather’s disapproval. He’d promised them he wouldn’t make any calls, and he hadn’t. But he was a big boy now, and if Cheryl needed him, he wasn’t about to turn her down. Though Pop hated the thought of him living and working anywhere other than Mendocino, he had a life in San Francisco and a practice to run.

“Cheryl? What are you doing still at the office? It’s past seven on a Friday night.”

“Adam, I’m so glad I got hold of you! Why haven’t you been checking your voice mail?”

He could hear her popping her gum as she talked, and pictured her leaning on her desk with both elbows, her glasses and her short blond hair falling forward as she stared at the phone. “What’s the emergency? I’ve only been gone one day.”

“That’s all it takes with Mr. Whitehead.”

Recognizing the name of one of his biggest and most difficult clients, Adam took the cordless phone into the living room where he could talk without interrupting the meal. “So what’s new?”

“He’s frantic, that’s what. The DA has subpoenaed his files, and he’s convinced we have to do something to block it right away.”

“Monsoto’s going to get the records because they’re evidence. I’ve already explained all this. There’s no legal way to stop him.”

“I don’t think Whitehead cares about legal. I tried to tell him that, too, but he started swearing and demanded I put him through to Mike.”

“There’s nothing Mike can do.”

“Except make your life miserable. He still owns more of this practice than anyone else and he wants this guy mollified.”

“What does he want me to do? Destroy evidence? Because short of doing that, there’s no way to stop Monsoto, at least no honest way.”

Cheryl’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Honest isn’t in Mike’s vocabulary, you know that. And I get the impression he’s tired of it being in yours. He’s been giving all the questionable stuff to Roger, who’s more than willing to do whatever it takes. Money is God to that guy.”

The loyalty in his secretary’s voice felt good, but not good enough to offset Adam’s anger. “Roger’s going to have to learn his own lessons. Whether Mike makes him a partner or not, I won’t risk my reputation for an ambitious developer who’s bribed half the city council.”

“Don’t you mean allegedly bribed?”

“We both know the answer to that.”

“Then maybe you should turn him over to Mike or Roger.”

“I’ve tried. They want my clean-cut mug to be the one in front of the jury. And I don’t have any problem with that, as long as they let me do things my way.”

“Uh-oh…”

“What?” Already feeling the old tension mounting, Adam stretched his neck. Mike was getting greedy in his old age and was starting to make him uncomfortable. The question was, how far would he go? And how far would he push Adam?

“Mike wants to talk to you.”

The words had scarcely left Cheryl’s lips when Adam heard Mike’s gruff voice.

“Where the hell are you, Adam? We’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

“I’m out of town. Cheryl says we’ve got trouble with Whitehead.”

“Those records will put him behind bars.” Mike paused to blow his nose. “We’ve got to come up with a way to keep the district attorney from getting his hands on them.”

“You mean a legal way, don’t you, Mike?”

Mike cursed. “Adam, you gotta get with the real world, buddy. No one plays fair anymore. You insist on that, you’ll lose every time.”

“My record is pretty good so far.”

“Things are changing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mike grunted. “It means we gotta be flexible. I should fire that secretary of yours for trying to start trouble between us. Look, this is a competitive business. You don’t need me to tell you what’ll happen if you fall from the top. It takes money to live the way we’re accustomed to living.”

“What’s going on, Mike? My stand on this should come as no surprise. I’ve told you before that I’m not willing to bend the rules.”

“Dammit, do you picture yourself wearing a suit of armor and riding a white horse? Everybody’s entitled to a defense. Who are you to say where that responsibility begins and ends?”

Adam sighed and rubbed his temple. “Last check, I was your partner. Listen, we’ve been over this before. I’m no saint, Mike, but I don’t break the law. I’ll give Whitehead the best honest defense there is. You can’t ask me for more than that.”

Angry frustrated silence.

“Mike?”

“Don’t worry about Whitehead, Adam. Roger will take care of it.”

Adam opened his mouth to protest, but the line went dead. He didn’t want the case, but he hated letting Mike make him feel like a schoolboy who couldn’t handle a tough assignment. Things were changing. Mike had been his mentor for years. Only now, the more closely Adam looked at the firm’s senior partner, the less he liked what he saw.

“Is something wrong, dear?” his grandmother called from the dining room.

Adam propped his elbows on his knees and tapped his forehead with the phone. He needed to get back to work. He was losing his edge. The political machinations of the sixteen lawyers who worked at the firm had always provided an exciting challenge for him. He hadn’t minded Roger and others like him, struggling to climb the power ladder, stepping on anyone in their way. Adam had eagerly pitted his wits against theirs and had come out as one of Mike’s three junior partners. But he was getting tired of the grind. Now office politics seemed just another distraction, an irritant.

“It’s nothing,” he replied at last, shoving himself to his feet. Jenna was still in the dining room, drawing him back. When she was around, the last thing he wanted to think about was San Francisco or his career.

“Are we ready for ice cream yet?”

AFTER DINNER, Jenna made Ryan do some reading at the table while Mrs. Durham helped her with the dishes; Adam went to pick up a video. Dinner had been delicious, but she hadn’t been able to eat more than a few bites. The roast beef, carrots and potatoes with gravy she’d swallowed churned in her stomach as a bout of nausea visited her early tonight.

“Mom, what’s this word?”

Jenna took a deep breath and looked down at the book her son held out to her. She helped him sound out familiarity, read the word in context, then kissed his cheek.

“You like Adam, don’t you?” she asked.

“He’s cool. I can see why Dad would hang out with him when they were kids. Adam says they used to go bodysurfing in the ocean all the time.”

All the time before she and Adam got together. After that there was nothing but enmity between the two young men.

“I’m sure you’ll do plenty of that yourself in a few years,” she said.

“So we’re going to stay in one place for a while?”

Jenna mussed his hair. “I’ve told you we’re going to be here until I’m old and gray. What, do you want me to sign a blood oath?” She gave him a reassuring smile. Her son had experienced enough emotional distress in his eight years. She wouldn’t uproot him again. Dennis had moved them five times in the past twenty-four months. Each time he lost his job he dragged them to another Oregon city to “start over.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“It’s no sacrifice, love. I like it here, too.”

Adam returned with the video, and Jenna lost her son to his innate charm, which was surpassed only by the promise of an ice-cream sundae.

“Mom? Do you want one?” Ryan asked, helping Adam dish it out.

The thought of more food, of any kind, was almost enough to send Jenna running for the bathroom. “No, thanks. I ate too much at dinner.”

Adam glanced up and caught her eye, giving her a searching look, but she dried her hands on the towel, hung it under the cupboard and excused herself.

“I’ll spend another hour or so in my studio, then I’ll go to bed early,” she said.

Ryan’s face registered disappointment. “You’re not watching the movie with us?”

“Not tonight, honey.”

“Mom, are you all right? Are you sick or something?”

Jenna shook her head. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“You go and get some rest, Jenna dear,” Mrs. Durham said, carrying a dish of ice cream to her husband, who was already sitting in front of the television. “And don’t worry about getting up early. We have no reservations for tomorrow night. I’ve given Pamela the day off, and Mr. Robertson will be coming in later than usual, just in time to start dinner. I was hoping Adam would take us all for a drive along the highway. It’s been months since I’ve been anywhere fun. Would you like to come along?”

Jenna declined politely. Highway 1 followed the coast and made her carsick even when she wasn’t feeling nauseated to begin with. “It will be nice for you to get out. I’ll look after the place while you’re away. Sorry to miss out on the movie tonight,” she added, and hurried upstairs to get her sweater before going to her studio through the back door. She needed to escape her son’s hero worship of her old boyfriend—and from that same man’s unsettling presence.

A ROILING STOMACH woke Jenna long after everyone else had gone to bed. She darted across the hall, stopping only long enough to lock the door behind her, and bent over the toilet just in time.

Damn. She had to be pregnant. What other reason could there be for this regular sickness?

Remembering the incident at the grocery store earlier, she groaned and smacked her forehead with her palm. She’d been tempted to invent another excuse to get away later in the day, but she feared Adam would guess what she was doing. So she’d made herself wait. He would leave in a day or two, probably on Sunday, and she’d be free to do what she wanted. Certainly she could wait that long.

The shrill ring of the telephone broke the silence, and Jenna stiffened. Dennis! It had to be him. Only he would call so late.

She got to her feet and tried to launch herself from the bathroom before he could wake the whole house, but the ringing stopped before she unlocked the door. She waited, wondering if he’d call back, but heard nothing more. Slumping down to sit on the floor, she stared miserably at the yellow-and-blue-flowered wallpaper with its contrasting border until she felt strong enough to stand again.

Was she safe to leave the bathroom and go back to bed now?

She thought so.

Using the lip of the counter to help her rise, she brushed her teeth and washed her face, taking the time to rub some peach-scented lotion on her arms and legs. Then, switching off the light, she opened the door and headed to her room.

A male voice at her elbow startled her. She tried to scream, but a hand clamped over her mouth, and she felt herself being pulled against a solid chest. “Shh, you’ll wake Gram and Pop. It’s only me.”

“Adam, what are you doing up?” she whispered as soon as he released her.

With a hand on her arm, he propelled Jenna into her room. “Are you the only one with a night-owl permit? Shut the door and turn on the light.”

Confused, Jenna closed the door behind her and did as he asked, belatedly realizing her near nakedness. Crossing her arms in front of the spaghetti-strap tank top that did little to conceal her breasts, she glared at him. “You nearly scared me to death!”

He grinned. “Since I’m not wearing any athletic protection, that could have been very dangerous.”

Jenna’s eyes glided over him. He wasn’t wearing much of anything. A thatch of dark hair covered his broad chest and narrowed down to his navel, disappearing beneath the pajama bottoms that hung low on his hips. His feet were bare. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing?”

He lifted something for her to see. “Don’t look at me like I’m some kind of stalker. I was just trying to give you this. I didn’t think you’d want the whole house to know.”

Jenna’s eyes dropped to the square object he held in one hand. She blinked. It was the First Choice Pregnancy Test she’d tried to buy at the grocery store.