His 1-800 Wife (21 page)

The crunch of metal from the two trucks colliding made her open her eyes and look up. Then she buried her head in Jarrod's shoulder.

"Are you all right?" he whispered, his voice parched and breathless.

"I think so," she responded, not wanting to tell him how badly her shoulder hurt. In seconds there was a crowd around them. Several voices asked ques­tions. Catherine was embarrassed at so many prying eyes. She'd been thinking of Jarrod instead of paying attention. This was a building site. She worked at a place where they built boats. She knew the safety rules. She knew better than to lose track of her sur­roundings, especially with all the movement going on around her.

"Better get her to the infirmary," someone said.

"Can you stand up?" Jarrod asked. Paleness she wouldn't have thought possible underlined his face. Catherine hugged him with her right arm. Her left was still pinned to the ground.

She nodded.

"I'm sorry, miss. I kept blowing the horn for you to move." This must be one of the truck drivers, she thought. "I thought for sure you'd hear it."

"It's not your fault," Catherine admitted.

Jarrod got to his feet. The crowd moved back a little. He took both her hands to help her up. The moment the extension reached her shoulder. She screamed. A fresh batch of tears sprang to her eyes and spilled down her face. Jarrod was immediately beside her.

"Get a stretcher." Catherine recognized the voice as the builder's, whom Jarrod had spoken to earlier.

"What's wrong, Catherine?"

"I fell on my shoulder. It's a little sore. I'm all right, really." She tried to make light of it.

"We'll wait for the stretcher."

It was there almost before he finished the sentence. A petite blonde nurse in a white uniform who looked so out of place among these beefy men bent toward her. She didn't bother giving her name. The small identification tag on her uniform read
IRENE.

With her fingers, she lifted Catherine's eyelids and looked in her eyes. She checked her pulse and her fingernails, and pressed her thumbs into Catherine's palms.

"Where are you hurt?"

"Her shoulder," Jarrod answered for her.

"The left one," Catherine supplied. The nurse moved to her side. Jarrod was forced to let her have room. Gingerly, she touched Catherine's shoulder. Catherine tried not to wince, but the pain was immediate. The concern on Jarrod's face alarmed her. He'd just told her that he was responsible for every­thing that happened here. That meant he was respon­sible for safety too. But this was
her
fault.

The nurse prodded and probed for several minutes, then said she should be lifted onto the stretcher and taken to the infirmary. Jarrod and the builder lifted her, taking care not to jar her shoulder. When the detail of men carrying her stretcher started across
the yard, she heard the builder say, "Come on, you two. We've got plenty of paperwork to fill out."

"Jarrod, I'm so sorry," she told him.

He took her hand. "Don't worry about it. Just tell me you're all right."

They spent the afternoon in the emergency room of Providence Memorial Hospital. Jarrod refused to leave her side or to let go of her hand for anything except the X-ray.

"She's going to be sore for a few days," the doctor told them when all the test results were in. "There's nothing broken, but there will be swelling and bruis­ing, mainly from the fall. I've given her a prescription for the pain. She should be fine in a couple of days."

The emergency room doctor released her, telling her to see her regular doctor when she returned home. They left the hospital looking like two chimney sweeps, dirty and walking slowly, but all right. Some of the color was back in Jarrod's face, and his eyes, still filled with concern, no longer appeared forlorn.

"Do you want to lie down in the back?" Jarrod asked when they reached the car.

"I can sit. The medication is working. I'm not in nearly as much pain as I was when we fell."

Jarrod opened the door on the passenger side. She slid into the seat, moving gingerly. He took her good arm. "I should never have asked you to come. This wouldn't have happened."

"Jarrod, it was an accident. I wasn't paying atten­tion, and I know better than to daydream at a con­struction site." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Please don't blame anyone. It was an accident and nothing serious happened."

"Enough about this." He put his arm around her waist. "Why don't we just get a room and spend the night here? We can head home in the morning when you're feeling better."

"That sounds good." Catherine shook her head as she spoke. She stopped when a twinge of pain reminded her of her fragile state. She would like nothing better than to go to a room and lie down for a while. "But Audrey invited us to dinner tonight. I told her I'd check with you, but she didn't give me a choice. You know my sister. I called to tell you." She paused, remembering their conversation, and the underlying lace of it, as if it was thin layers ready to savor. "Things got compli­cated. We ended up here and I forgot." Her finish was weak in relation to the high-tension images that raced through her mind from their morning conver­sation.

"I rather enjoyed this morning too," he said, smil­ing for the first time in hours. Catherine knew he meant the phone call. It was playful and sexy. She liked it too.

Jarrod leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth. She gripped the car door tightly, ignoring any pain in her shoulder. Then he walked around the car and got in beside her.

"We'll call Audrey as soon as we're home and can­cel dinner."

"No," Catherine said. Turning around was a prob­lem, but she did it without wincing. "We'd have to explain why we weren't coming, and then Audrey would call my mother. My mother would call yours, and before we knew it, the entire family and a myriad of friends would descend on us to make sure my sore shoulder was all right. We'll go but excuse ourselves early."

“We'll talk about this when we get home. It depends on how much pain you're in. If necessary, I'll stand guard at your door to keep them out."

Catherine's smile was wavy as she thought of Jarrod, the Viking, protecting her from Audrey and her family.

***

They barely had time to wash the dust away before it was time to leave. It was plain from the driveway that ran fifty feet from the street that this was not just a meal with Catherine's sister and her husband. The entire society of Newport appeared to have dropped in tonight. Jarrod recognized his parents' Lexus, his best friend Robert's Corvette and Cather­ine's parents' Lincoln. There were also BMWs, Jag­uars, a Rolls and a vintage Lotus. This could be the lot for previously owned luxury cars or the house of the owners of castoffs from the rich. Or the parking lot of one of Robert's dealerships.

Jarrod parked his Jeep on the street. It was covered in red dust from the trip to the building site and didn't fit in with the parking lot of fine vehicles.

"It looks like this is a command performance," Jarrod said when he felt Catherine's trembling hand take his arm. He put his hand over hers. "Keep your chin up and smile."

She offered him one of her best.

"Well, Alice," he teased, as they started to cross the street, "you're a little battered, but I guess it's time for the Mad Hatter's tea party."

"Stay close and don't leave my side."

"Are you in pain?" he asked.

"Only a twinge."

Jarrod thought differently. She had taken the medication, but he could tell she was stiff in places.

They went inside. The family waited in the reception room. In a normal-size house, Jarrod would have called this the family room, but in Audrey's house it was too large and held none of the computers, high-definition televisions and lounging chairs of a typical family. It had plenty of furniture arranged in small groupings. The inhabitants were mostly standing, talking to each other. They all seemed to quiet at once when Jarrod and Catherine walked in.

Jarrod had the feeling Audrey had asked everyone else to arrive half an hour earlier than she'd told Catherine. This way they'd made a grand entrance, and he felt like a cherry on a spit.

"Hello." Audrey came forward, her arms open wide.

He stepped in front of Catherine and hugged her.

"Thank you for the reception," Catherine mur­mured as Audrey hugged her too, though less fervently, since Jarrod had defused some of her strength. Catherine's voice was only loud enough for the three of them to hear.

"Oh, darling, we've all been dying to hear about your honeymoon. I hope you brought pictures."

She moved back. "Sorry, Sis," she said. "We thought we were here to eat, not be put on display."

In Audrey's usual fashion, she heard none of the censure in her sister's voice. Audrey continued to smile and, taking both their hands, she pulled them to the center of the room. Seeing they had no choice, they went about greeting everyone, accepting a before-dinner drink and talking. Catherine didn't drink her wine. She exchanged it for tonic water. Jarrod approved her choice since alcohol could mask her pain and interfere with the medication she'd taken.

Jarrod kept an eye on Catherine. She showed only small outward signs that anything was wrong. Only someone looking for it could tell she had a bruise down the left side of her body that went from her shoulder to her thighs. He'd nearly lost his mind when he saw her between the two trucks. The noise in the yard caught his attention and he looked around. She was between the trucks and unaware of the danger. He shouted her name, everyone in the yard called, but Catherine hadn't heard any of them until it was nearly too late.

He wondered what she'd been thinking. What could arrest her attention so thoroughly that she didn't hear the racket in the yard? Then he'd tackled her. It was his fault she'd been hurt. She took the full brunt of his weight, but he'd had no choice. It was him or the trucks.

"Well, Jarrod, you already look like a changed man." Robert stood in front of him, a wineglass in his hand. Jarrod knew it held only sparkling water; Robert didn't drink. "I suppose marriage agrees with you?"

Jarrod glanced at Catherine again. She was talking to his mother. They were both laughing at something Catherine said.

"So far, so good," Jarrod answered in a noncommit­tal manner.

"I suppose you have no need for that number any­more."

"What number?"

"1-800-WIFE."

"She's probably found a husband by now," Jarrod said. He knew she'd found a husband. He knew everything about that number, the woman who owned it, the man who'd married her and why.

Before Robert could respond, dinner was announced. Jarrod found himself with Catherine after their being separated for most of the past half hour. "If she has throne chairs for us in there, it'll be the final straw," he whispered to Catherine.

"I agree," she said. "I wish we'd gone to that hotel in Providence and left Audrey holding the bag."

"She'd have hunt us down and brought this party with her."

Catherine laughed, then turned into Jarrod's side to disguise the pain in her shoulder.

***

Thankfully, they were spared the throne chairs. Catherine wasn't clothed in sequins. She wore a sim­ple turtle-neck black dress with long sleeves and the necklace Jarrod had given her as a wedding gift. She knew that Audrey's dinners weren't come-as-you-are affairs, but she hadn't expected a large gathering. She was grate­ful she'd had time to bathe and change out of her soiled suit. Jenny had applied the salve and dressing to the raw areas of her back. The maid was upset by the bruises. She calmed down when Catherine told her the story of Jarrod's rescue. Catherine needed help getting into her dress and for the first time silently thanked Audrey for sending Jenny to her, even if she initially hadn't wanted a maid.

As Catherine circled the room, speaking to every­one and avoiding hugs if she could, no one noticed how stiff she appeared. The pain in her shoulder had temporarily eased. She found it hard to move both her neck and her arm. She wished she had listened to Jarrod and canceled, but it was too late now. It would be so much better to be home lying in bed, rather than about to eat a heavy meal in the open theater of family and friends.

She'd talked to all these people since she'd re­turned from Montana and constantly ran into them during her daily routine. Why Audrey thought to assemble them here had yet to be revealed.

Robert held her chair as Catherine sat down. He took the seat next to her. Elizabeth was sitting next to Jarrod on the opposite side of the table. Catherine looked down the row of beautifully appointed plates and fragrant centerpieces. She saw the makeup of chairs and guests. Audrey hadn't lined them up as they had been at the wedding, bridesmaids on one side, groomsmen on the other. She had dotted them in the boy-girl, boy-girl pattern, yet the line-up was unmistakable.

"Audrey, this is a first for me," Robert said when they were all seated and the staff of waiters, hired for the evening, began their dance of service to the queen.

"Dinner?" Elizabeth teased. "Robert, I'm sure I've seen you have dinner before."