Swept Away (19 page)

“Weren't you ever tempted?”

“Of course, darling. But I knew myself too well. I couldn't be tied down.”

* * *

Rose poured more wine and began on her story. As a young woman, Rose was determined to be discovered as a great dancer. There was but one small problem. She wasn't.

She was a fairly
good
dancer, though. She shook the dust of Nebraska off her heels when she was eighteen and headed for New York City. She could hold her own in a chorus line and she had the impossible delusion that she was going to be a star. It didn't take long for her to come to her senses. The only jobs she could hold in New York were backup dancer or chorus-line member on short runs, and she couldn't afford to live in the city. She borrowed some money and made her way to Los Angeles, where anyone could be a star.

Anyone but Rose, it would seem.

At the ripe old age of twenty-three she took a trip to Las Vegas, which at the time was just a little oasis in the desert with a few nightclubs and casinos. Most of the town and virtually all of the gambling was being run by the mob. Rose had become frustrated with New York and Los Angeles, but it had never occurred to her to relocate until she saw an ad for a hostess at the Sands Hotel. She checked it out and learned that all that was required of her was that she dress in glittery clothing and greet people. She took the job.

Jennifer said nothing—but she was stunned to hear that their beginnings were so similar. They were hostesses.

Over the next several years Rose did a variety of things in Las Vegas, from dancing to managing young dancers. She found that the less she wore, the more money she made.

“Rose, you were a stripper!”

“Well, from time to time. But we did a much better job of it then. We never got completely naked. And if a man so much as suggested that I sit on his lap, he'd be removed from the club. It's quite a bit different now.”

She met a lot of celebrities and dated rich men who were fond of throwing their winnings around. It was customary to give the woman at your side, who brought you luck at the tables, a nice cash tip. Rose was far from famous, but she was definitely living the high life.

Of all the men she kept company with when she was in her twenties, only one really captured her heart. He was an air force pilot stationed at Nellis Air Force Base at the edge of the city. He was sweet and handsome and asked her to marry him. He wanted to go home to Wisconsin to the family farm, settle in the same small town he'd grown up in, surrounded by aunts, uncles and cousins, and breed up a flock of kids.

“I still think about him sometimes,” Rose confessed to Jennifer.

“You said no?”

“I did. I said no.”

“But you loved him!”

“Yes, but I didn't think I could live the life he was describing. I was a kid during the Depression. I grew up in a house with squabbling parents who had nothing, never could seem to scrape together enough money for even a decent pair of shoes, and I was bound and determined to live better than that.”

“Maybe he was a rich farmer,” Jennifer suggested.

Rose's eyes glanced upward as if remembering. “I was young, but for the first time in my life I was wearing fine, fancy clothing, going to parties with rich people and celebrities. I bought a car—a convertible—and rented a house with a swimming pool. I just couldn't imagine wearing overalls and going out to the chicken coop to gather up eggs for our breakfast.”

Jennifer bit her lip and said nothing.

“I couldn't convince him to give up the idea of that simple life and stay with me in Las Vegas, a booming town. He hated it here. And although I cried when he left, it wasn't long before I had another man in my life—a rich and generous one. I was respected, well paid, never lonely. I moved to Boulder City when I was only forty, though I continued to work in the city. I might not have a pension, but I have a nice little nest egg. I did well for myself.”

“Do you ever regret your decision?”

“Do I ever! Do you know what that rat bastard did? He spent about six months on the farm and then got a job with United Airlines. Do you know how much money airline pilots make? Especially the older ones who started flying way back when? I might've lived with the many of my dreams, not on a farm but in high style, and had six children to boot!”

Children.

“Did you want children?”

“Doris, I think every woman wants a child, even if that want is stored in the back of her mind. And a child with the right man? Well, no use crying over spilled milk. I had a lot of nice suitors over the years, but that rat bastard was the only one I would have ever considered marrying.”

Rose's lips curved in a knowing smile. “I recognize that look,” she said to Jennifer. “The shocked and stricken look on your face. You haven't even allowed for the possibility of living happily ever after. Of finding true love and having a family. Have you, Doris?”

“I... Ah...”

“You're almost thirty, Doris. What have you been doing up till now?”

“Well... Let's just say that the two of us have more in common than you might think.”

“There is one major difference,” Rose said. “I can't go back to being thirty. You still have time for a course correction.”

* * *

When Jennifer got home, she went directly to the computer. It was her intention to email Louise about the story Rose had told her, but while she was trying to think of what she might say, she went through her routine of checking the internet for any news of the Nobles.

In the Living section of the
West Palm Beach News,
along with the anniversary and charity-event announcements, was a small item with a picture. Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas Noble off on a three-week cruise. There they were, waving from the deck of the ship, all smiles. Everything would seem to be in order except for one small thing. It was a newspaper file photo. Jennifer had seen it many times before. It was years old, perhaps a honeymoon photo.

He was getting away with it, she thought in sheer dread.

* * *

Alex was tied up on a case but called her four times to tell her he would be coming by after work, if that was all right. She hoped he couldn't hear the trepidation in her voice. It was there because she was thinking she might have to give in and tell him about Nick. About what she was running from.

Normally she would have fallen asleep before ten, but the tension of mulling this over and waiting for Alex was keeping her alert. When there was a knock at the door a few minutes after ten, she jumped up and threw the door open without even asking who was there.

There stood Hedda, Joey over one shoulder and her backpack over the other. “I'm sorry,” she said.

“Don't be,” Jennifer said. “I'm happy to see you. Go put Joey in the bed and let's have a diet cola before you turn in.”

“Okay.” She dropped the backpack and started through the living room. She turned back and said, “Doris, I don't know what I'd do without you.”

While she was tucking in her little brother, Jennifer made a couple of colas on ice and brought them to the living room. She put them on the coffee table and curled up on one end of the couch. Hedda came back and claimed the other end of the couch.

“I've tried not to pry, but maybe you'd better tell me what's going on at your house.”

Hedda shrugged, grabbed her drink and took a sip. “We're in the way. Again.”

“What do you mean? Exactly,” Jennifer pushed. Even as she did so, she remembered how impossible it would have been to get her to talk about her mother when she was a teenager. And how much it might have helped if she had.

“My mom has had pretty rotten luck with men,” she said. “My dad left her before I was a year old. My first stepdad didn't hang around long, either. And Joey's dad... A couple of years.”

“What about Roger?”

“Roger?” she asked with a short laugh. “Who's Roger?”

So maybe the kids didn't know about that night. Or early morning.

“Does she have a lot of boyfriends?”

“I wouldn't say a lot. But sometimes she drinks a little too much. She says she just wants to enjoy life a little, it's tough enough. But sometimes she enjoys life a little too much, you know? She's usually real good. I mean, too tired from work to drink too much. She might have a couple when she gets home, which is really late, but... But sometimes she might stop at a bar with some of her waitress friends. Sometimes she might have too much.”

“And tonight was one of those nights?”

“Yeah. So Joey and I took the pullout couch, except we didn't really. I just stuffed some school clothes in the backpack for him and we were good to go.”

“Hedda, did it ever occur to you that maybe you and Joey should be in a foster home?”

“Oh, man, we tried that once,” she said, shaking her head. “We weren't together and both of us were in awful places. My foster father could drink my mother under the table. No, I just have to make it one more year.”

“And?”

“And I'll take care of Joey and Sylvia can do whatever she wants.”

“You ever think maybe she should consider something like AA?”

“She went once.” She shrugged. “She said she just didn't have the problem those people had. I mean, she can sometimes drink a little too much, but it's not like every day.”

“Every week?”

“Not even.”

“But pretty often. Too often.”

“Sometimes it's too often. But, Doris? Except for the times she brings someone home, which isn't all that often really, I like her a lot better when she's had a couple of cocktails. At least she's not so frickin'
mad.
”

It was awful to think there was absolutely nothing she could do to help. Jennifer couldn't be a foster parent. She wasn't even sure she'd be in Boulder City in another six months. And here was this sixteen-year-old holding it together for her little brother.

But holding it together really well, as a matter of fact.

“Joey's dad is about ten times as screwed up as my mom, but he has really nice grandparents in Tucson. They try to see him, when my mom will let them. They even try to make me feel like I can come anytime, but I've tried that and it's not too cool. While they fuss over Joey, I am completely invisible. I'm better off with Sylvia for now.

“It's not the greatest—but we're going to get past this. You know?” Hedda asked.

“I know,” Jennifer said. “My mom heard voices sometimes.”

“She did?”

“Totally mentally ill,” she said. “I didn't bring friends around because she might be having a conversation with a couch pillow.”

“Wow.”

“So, I do know how you feel.”

There was a soft knock at the door and Jennifer said, “Alex. He said he was going to stop by after work.” She went to the door, opened it enough so that Alex could see Hedda sitting on the couch. “Hi,” she said. “I can't play. I'm having a sleepover.”

* * *

Jennifer wished she hadn't seen the picture of the Nobles waving from the deck of the ship. She was haunted by the knowledge that Nick was successfully creating little scenarios of Barbara being away, traveling, vacationing, when in fact she was dead. It was just like reliving that day at the MGM.

She'd have to go to Alex. Of all the people she was growing to trust, he was the only one she could think of who might actually be able to help her. After a quick walk around the park with Alice, she saw Alex's car was in his open garage. It was nearly dark when she knocked at his door.

“Hey!” he said happily when he saw her. “Was the sleepover a success?”

“Raging. I was just getting back from a walk,” she said. She heard the nervousness in her own voice. She was feeling both desperate and afraid. “Alex, did you ever wish you could turn back the clock?”

He held the door open for her to come inside with Alice. “Did I do something I shouldn't have?”

“I didn't mean about the other night. I meant... I mean in general. Wish you could go back in time and do things differently?”

He put his arms out to her, pulling her against him gently. Comfortingly. She lay her head against his chest and let him just hold her for a minute. “Everyone wishes that at some point in their lives,” he said. “Everyone.”

“Alex, I am such a screwup.”

“Naw, I don't believe that.”

“Oh, believe it. And you're the unlucky doofus who drew the short straw because I can't think of anyone else to dump this on.”

His smile was tender. He lifted her chin with a finger, placed a sweet kiss on her lips and said, “Go ahead. Tell me Jennifer's life story.”

She jumped back a foot, out of his arms. Alice skittered at the surprise movement. Jennifer wore a look of shock on her face that actually brought a half smile to his lips. “You
knew?
”

“Hey, I'm trained to know these things.”

“How many other people know?” she asked, still backing away.

He shrugged. “No one around here, as far as I know.”

“Around
here?
”

“I was forced to tell Paula. But believe me—it's better that she knows what I know than to have her guessing. Now, why don't we just...”

“Wait! Wait!” She shook her head in disbelief. How long had he known? Since the first time they saw the bighorns? Had he just been playing her, trying to trick her into trusting him enough to spill her guts? “I have to think about this.” She turned away from him to leave.

“Hey, Jennifer—don't overthink this,” he said. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, but she snatched it away. “I just want to help.”

“You lied to me!”

“I didn't lie—”

“You lied! Every time you called me Doris, it was a lie. You knew who I was and what I was hiding from!”