Читать книгу Secrets Of The A-List Complete Collection, Episodes 1-12 - Cat Schield - Страница 26

Chapter Five

The tangle of nerves in her stomach was jangling louder and louder. Each step she took down the tiled corridor of the clinic filled her with a wave of nauseating anxiety. Not that you’d know it by looking at Mariella. She was a study in chic cool, even under these circumstances. But behind her dark sunglasses, her eyes were awash with emotion.

The business at the Polo Club had upset her. Even the hour-long drive to the isolated clinic in Malibu hadn’t cooled her temper.

First Gabe’s call revealing the news about media reports of a bedside interview, and then Veronica Waterhouse’s suggestion that the accident had been anything but. Why couldn’t people just leave them alone?

She compressed her bright red lips, pausing midway down the long hall to stare out the window. The gardens in the foreground were some of the most beautiful in the world, but she didn’t appreciate their beauty. She looked beyond them to the distant ocean. She tried to orient herself, to find the familiar landmarks of the coastline that she knew so well.

And failed.

Nothing was familiar. It was as though the milestones of her life, all the anchor points she counted on, had shifted during the night. Was it possible for earthquakes to be localized to one person?

She gripped the railing, a shining gold, highly polished, perhaps used by patients at Whispering Oaks who were not easily able to move about. Her knuckles glowed white.

She couldn’t put it off any longer. Her husband was around the corner. She straightened her spine, pulled her imported Italian shawl around her shoulders, and resumed her walk, her heels clicking efficiently against the tiled floor.

The corridors were hauntingly deserted. She saw not a soul as she got closer to Harrison’s room, but eventually she heard muted tones of conversation.

He wasn’t alone.

She pushed the door inward, and her eyes were drawn to her husband immediately. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath, hoping, wondering, believing in some small part that he might have recovered. That he might have given an interview after all! If anyone was capable of defying the odds, it had to be him.

But, alas.

Not this time.

Harrison lay in the bed, pale and flaccid, his handsome face almost unrecognizable. His injuries had swollen more overnight. The marks on his face that had been red and abraded the day before were now bright purple and dark blue. Angry marks of accusation and blame.

A wave of grief burst through her; she pressed her hand against the door frame, taking strength, needing support.

“Mariella.” Joe was the first to realize she was there. He stood, scraping his chair back so that it squealed against the floor, making them wince.

She didn’t look in his direction. She couldn’t. Her husband, so unmoving, stirred love within her, and suddenly, it was hard to think of anything but him. The strange relationship with the Fixer, the fortune in his private account, the possibility that his crash had been orchestrated, the mystery about his supposed interview—it was all irrelevant. All that mattered was him. His body, so strong and capable, had been reduced to a weak, wounded shell. She stared at him, and their thirty-two years of marriage flashed through her, filling her with an almost paralyzing emotion.

“Harrison,” she murmured, lifting her fingers to her lips. The machines in the room gave a low moan. A constant droning sound punctuated by intermittent beeps.

“Mom.” Elana, on the other side of the bed from Joe, smiled weakly. Her hand was resting on Harrison’s, but she dropped it to move to her mother. “I need to speak to you. It’s urgent.”

Mariella lifted her eyes to her daughter’s face. Dark emotions were flitting behind Elana’s eyes. How were her children coping with this? It had been a nightmare for Mariella, but this was their hero lying in a hospital. Guilt that she hadn’t really thought about their feelings since the accident added to her emotional tangle.

She wanted to stay with Harrison, to study him, to come to grips with his condition, but Elana obviously needed her. Besides, Harrison wasn’t going anywhere, she thought with a macabre desperation.

Her attention moved to Joe. Dependable Joe, always so capable and reliable. “Is there any...”

“No change,” he said quietly, his handsome face lined with a worry that matched Mariella’s.

Mariella nodded and stepped out of the room. Elana was right behind her.

“Mom.” Elana reached for her mother’s hands, gripping them in her own.

“How are you?” Mariella asked, reaching up and removing her glasses so that she could see her daughter properly.

“I’m... Mom? It’s about my wedding.”

The statement caught Mariella off guard. It was the last thing she’d expected.

Capitalizing on her mother’s stunned silence, Elana continued. “I don’t think I can go through with it.”

Mariella heard the words from beyond a veil. “Your wedding?” she repeated, a frown forming a line between her brows. “Your wedding to Thom.”

“Of course to Thom,” Elana responded waspishly and then shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

In the midst of everything, Mariella had practically forgotten about the looming event. Strange that only a week earlier it had been the focus of her thoughts and now it was incidental. An irrelevancy that had become background noise.

“Darling, it’s normal to have cold feet.”

“This isn’t cold feet, Mom,” Elana whispered.

“So? What is it?” Too sharp. Mariella scolded herself inwardly. Berating Elana had never achieved more than rebellion. If she wasn’t careful, Elana would throw the entire wedding away and go to Ibiza. The next thing Mariella would know, Elana would be all over the news in a state of drunken undress. Her wedding had to go ahead. Marriage to someone like Thom was the only way to keep Elana out of trouble for any stretch of time.

“Do you honestly think it’s the time to be planning a wedding when Dad is lying in a hospital bed? We don’t know yet whether he’ll live or die, and I’m expected to go for gown fittings?”

Mariella narrowed her eyes. Elana was many things. A clever liar wasn’t one of them. Oh, of course she was worried about Harrison! But there was something else. Something lurking beneath Elana’s appearance of concern.

Another reason for wanting to put off the wedding.

And because Mariella had come to expect the worst of that day, her mind went to the most unpalatable reason she could imagine for Elana’s reluctance.

Was it possible that her daughter was still involved with that lecherous Jarrod Jones? Wanting Elana to settle down and calm her wild ways had been a huge part of why Mariella and Harrison had encouraged the engagement to Thom. Her ill-thought-out affair with the married film producer was another.

That business had high-profile scandal written all over it.

Besides which, Jarrod was hardly known for his discretion. Elana was too shortsighted to see the dangers that lurked in her involvement with that man.

No, she needed to be married. And Thom was the perfect husband. Staid, sensible, kind, and his family was an excellent match. He might not be the man Elana would have chosen, but that was definitely for the best. The thought of waking up one day with a man like Jarrod Jones as her son-in-law chilled Mariella to the core.

“The wedding is planned. Everyone will expect it to go ahead.”

“People would understand,” Elana objected, shaking her head so that her hair flicked around her face. “My dad is in a coma. I can’t get married without him! Who would walk me down the aisle? I can’t imagine it. I can’t.”

“Elana.” Mariella snapped her daughter’s name and then softened it with a smile. “Your father would want you to get married.”

Elana startled, becoming perfectly still. “Even without him there?”

“Absolutely,” Mariella said, nodding. She would not have the wedding added to the scrap pile of disasters she was currently navigating. “Do you know something?” She leaned closer to Elana, lifting a hand and cupping her daughter’s cheek.

“What, Mom?” Elana was whispering now, her eyes just enormous puddles of dark brown confusion.

“One of the last conversations your father and I had was about your wedding. He was so thrilled for you and Thom.” Mariella could see Elana’s reactions, and for a moment she felt a little bad for the fib. But the ends justified the means, and Harrison would have agreed with the sentiment. “He actually said that if he were to die, he would go happy, knowing that you’d married Thom.”

Elana sucked in a harsh breath. The words swirled around them like little pinpoints of reality. Her face fell, and she nodded slowly, her dark hair curtaining her face as she looked down.

“You love Thom, don’t you?” Mariella asked, pressing a finger beneath her daughter’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet.

“Yes, of course I do.” Elana bit down on her full lower lip. “I was only thinking about Daddy.”

Mariella’s smile was overbright. “Then you do what he would want, hmm? The wedding will go ahead. It must. For your father.”

Elana nodded again, the fight evaporating from her. “Okay, yeah. You’re right.” Elana looked as though she was on the verge of saying something else, but the sound of footsteps forestalled her. They spun as one to see Luc striding down the corridor, his expression intent.

“How’s Dad?”

Mariella frowned. “The same.” She looked over her shoulder at the hospital room. “Listen, Luc?”

Elana listened, too—any chance to hear her perfect older brother get his share of a Mariella lecture.

“I know I said this yesterday, but this is a time for us to stick together. We are family, yes? Family. All of us. What happened to your father is awful. But what would he say if he were standing here? What would he tell you?” She looked from one to the other, her eyes enormous, and then she made a clicking sound and moved to the door. “Rafe? Gabe? Come here.”

Her middle child, so elegant despite the worry he wore about his shoulders, sauntered out of the room, followed closely by Gabe. At the sight of Luc, Rafe stiffened visibly, and Mariella almost wish she could box them about the ears. “Stop that,” she snapped. “Here, now.” She pointed to the spot beside Elana, and Rafe knew enough of his mother’s demands to comply. He took the position and Gabe stood beside him, though a little apart, too. As though he didn’t really belong to the triptych.

Mariella moved to the wall opposite and paced several feet in one direction and then spun, retracing her steps. After a few moments, she stopped walking abruptly and looked at the four of them.

“I don’t care what you feel.” She straightened her shoulders, and her eyes took an intense glare. “I don’t care if you’re annoyed with one another. If you need to settle a dispute, you do it behind closed doors in a private room. Away from servants, staff, guests, anyone. And, obviously, away from nosy nobodies with cell phones set to record. We are a family, and now we are a family that needs to watch ourselves very carefully. We do not need to invite the kind of speculation you are flirting with. Elana is to marry Thom, and you boys are to carry on as always.”

“But it’s not business as usual,” Rafe pointed out. “How can it be?”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Mariella demanded fiercely. She lifted a finger and rubbed her temple, her mind swimming. “So far as everyone is aware, though, we are the Marshalls, and we are fine.”

Rafe shook his head, his disapproval obvious. But Luc was nodding. “You’re right. We shouldn’t have fought like that. It won’t happen again.”

Rafe rolled his eyes, and Mariella caught Elana reaching down and grabbing his hand. She understood their alliance and she’d always tolerated it, but she couldn’t be bothered with it in that moment. Her eyes met Gabe’s, and she saw resounding support staring back at her. It strengthened her, and she thanked the Lord for the nephew she’d been given to raise. What a blessing he’d been. “Have I made myself clear?” she asked, hands on hips.

“Yes, Mom,” Luc said with a nod.

“Yes, Mom,” Elana mimicked, but at Mariella’s furious stare, she bit down on her lip and nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. We’ll behave.”

“Good. Now.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you know about this interview your father is supposed to have conducted?”

Luc lifted his brows. “I hadn’t heard anything about it,” he said.

Gabe shook his head. “Nothing more than I told you on the phone. Just that one is alleged to have taken place.”

“Apparently Dad gave an in-depth interview earlier today,” Elana said, shrugging. “It was on the radio in the car.”

“What was?” Gabe asked insistently.

“Not the interview, obviously,” she said with a flick of her hair. “But the anchorman who spoke to Dad...”

“No one spoke to him,” Mariella interrupted.

“Right.” Elana nodded. “You know what I mean.”

“The guy who’s claiming to have seen Harrison. What did he say?” Gabe asked.

“It was just a teaser,” Rafe cut in. “A few seconds to get you to watch. ‘Yes, I’ve seen him. He’s alive.’”

Mariella squeezed her eyes shut on a slow exhalation of breath. “Fuck.”

Elana’s mouth opened on an oh of surprise at the unexpected curse coming from her mother.

“The media has no conscience,” Luc muttered. “Don’t worry about it.”

“How can I not worry? Has this man been to Whispering Oaks? Does that mean staff here have sold your father’s location?”

“It’s a bullshit story made up to satisfy the public’s macabre interest in this. That’s all,” Rafe interjected logically. “You know what happens in cases like this. Someone who worked for you guys seventeen years ago is going to see gold pots at the end of the rainbow and sell their story to whatever rag will buy it. There’s going to be a lot of crap printed about us in the coming days.”

“All the more reason not to fuel the fire,” Mariella responded coolly.

“Yes, Mom,” Rafe said, barely suppressing his frustration. “Message heard, loud and clear.”

Mariella nodded, but the mystery of this interview continued to plague her. “I mean, how can a station promote an exclusive interview with a man who’s not capable of speech?”

“CGI?” Elana made the joke in poor taste, then shook her head, lifting her hands in apology. The situation had riled her, and she wasn’t thinking straight.

“It’s just a ratings bid,” Luc said. “Nothing more.”

“But what if it’s not? What if someone’s been here? Touched him? Taken photographs of him?” A shudder of revulsion traveled the length of her spine.

“It’s not possible,” Luc rushed to reassure Mariella. “This place has great security, and no one knows where he is.”

She snorted. “Except this television reporter.”

Luc frowned. “I don’t know what the story is there. I can tell you one thing, though. I’m not going to let anything happen to Dad. Got it?” He moved closer, and there was such a look of Harrison in his determined face that her heart squeezed.

A dawning of something like realization ignited inside her. Faced with the four of them, only one seemed to be calm under pressure.

Only one seemed to be facing these events as they unfolded with an air of preparedness that wasn’t possible. Not given the magnitude of what they’d been forced to confront.

Luc was too calm. Too mature. Where was his worry? Where was his nerve?

But he was a surgeon. He lived and died by his ability to cope with stress. Was she jumping to conclusions again? Had her worry over Harrison given birth to a fully fledged paranoia?

“You’d better get in here,” Joe stood at the door, his face grim. He stepped back again instantly, his neck bent toward the large flat screen on the wall. Mariella burst into the room first followed by the children.

“It was an intense ten minutes. I was in the room with greatness and I felt it. Despite his injuries, make no mistake, Harrison Marshall was in fine form. We spoke at length about Marshall International, his family, his hopes for the future.”

Mariella, her mouth open wide, looked from the screen to the bed where her husband was lying comatose.

“Elana Marshall’s wedding is just around the corner, and Harrison was full of determination to be there for her special day.”

A woman Mariella vaguely recognized from another prime-time news show leaned forward, her beautiful face made up to within an inch of its life. “And what of his injuries?”

Jim Avon didn’t miss a beat. This was his show and, aware of the audience they’d pulled in, he was going to milk it. “Oh, substantial,” he said, nodding.

Beside her, Gabe stiffened, and Mariella put a hand down for his. She couldn’t have said if she was seeking or giving comfort, but only that their sense of outrage and indignation matched.

“But Harrison Marshall is no ordinary man. Though his body is broken, I have no doubt he’ll be back to his old self soon.”

The woman’s smile was like a red scarf blowing in the breeze. “I imagine his family is very worried?”

“Of course!” Jim was really warming to the subject now. “Who wouldn’t be? But if you could have seen him, he was a picture of determination. He’s running Marshall International from bed, still combing over the minutiae of his business with the kind of precision he’s renowned for. He’s a remarkable man, Shauna. Remarkable.”

“Turn it off,” Mariella said quietly. When no one responded, she said, more loudly, “Turn the damned thing off.” Joe reached for the remote control at the same time as Rafe and then dropped his hand to allow Mariella’s son to silence the buffoon.

“This is ridiculous,” Mariella said with barely contained fury. “Get me that network’s number. I am not going to take this lying down!”

“Mom,” Elana said, reaching across and putting a hand on Mariella’s shoulder. She was shivering from shock, and Elana moved closer. All of a sudden, Luc was speaking, and Rafe, too. Joe tried to grab Mariella’s attention, but she was standing in the room surrounded by noise and hearing none of it.

She shook her head from side to side. How was this possible? She moved closer to Harrison. His chest was moving up and down. He was alive. Was he hearing this commotion?

Luc made a whistling sound and lifted his hands in the air. Silence fell, save for the buzzing of Harrison’s machines.

“Has it occurred to anyone that this guy has actually done us a favor?”

“What are you talking about?” Elana spat, shaking her head, and Rafe joined in, denying the assertion outright. Gabe was quiet, watching the siblings, rubbing his jaw as though Humpty Dumpty was tumbling off the wall in front of him and he didn’t have a clue how to stop the eventual damage.

“At the very least,” Luc continued, raising his voice above everyone else’s, “he’s bought us some time to figure out what to do.”

“That’s irrelevant,” Mariella said with quiet insistence. “Though you may be right.” She looked into Joe’s eyes, then Gabe’s, then Elana’s, and finally at her two sons. “Has this man been here? And if so, how? Why? How could he possibly go on air with such a blatantly false story, knowing we could easily refute it?”

The room absorbed this for a moment. It was Rafe who spoke first. “Obviously he knew it wouldn’t be refuted.”

“But how?” Elana said. “Why would he think that? I’m tempted to call CNN right now...”

“No,” Gabe said with a sigh. “Rafe’s right. This guy can say what he wants because we want everyone to believe it.”

“For the business,” Mariella said, the taste of acid in her mouth.

Luc nodded. “Yes, exactly what I was saying. This buys us time. This guy is making shit up out of thin air, but it’s not a bad thing for us.”

“Fine,” Mariella said, moving past this unpalatable idea. “But he doesn’t know that. This Jim Avon...he has no idea what our business is and what we need at this precise moment...”

“Unless he does,” Joe said, moving deeper into the family huddle. “Unless someone told him. Asked him to do the story.”

“Asked him?” Mariella was incensed. “Who would do such a thing?”

And the words seemed to whisper through their group, as though a mysterious other had said them, rather than what actually happened: a realization that swept through them simultaneously. Comprehension dawned as though a light had flashed.

“The Fixer,” Mariella whispered, looking at Joe. She saw recognition in his features. A tightening of his mask, and an understanding lodged between them.

“You mean the Fixer did this?” Elana murmured, staring at her family in confusion.

“Who else?” Mariella didn’t look away from Joe. “Isn’t that what you told us this person does? Orchestrate circumstances to benefit his clients?”

Joe dipped his head forward in silent acknowledgment.

“I see.” She took a small step backward, putting some space between herself and the rest of them. She looked from one to the other, waiting for her sense of shock to subside.

“Well?” she asked after a charged moment had passed. “Does anyone have anything to say?”

The people she was closest to in the world continued to stare at her. They were doing an excellent job of looking confused, but she didn’t buy it. Mariella had been trusting for too long.

“Do you think I am stupid?” she asked, her eyebrows knitting together with angry disbelief. “Do you think I was born yesterday?”

Only Joe was capable of speech. “Mariella? What are you talking about?”

“I’ve figured it out, Joe, that’s what.”

“Figured what out?” Luc prompted, looking from Joe to his mother.

“I know.” She looked at them all, her eyes laced with hurt. “I know who it is. The Fixer is here in the room with us right now.”

* * * * *