The 90 Day Rule (12 page)

Miserably, I nodded. Of course he wouldn’t wait forever. I had no intention of making him to do that.

He needs to be free. Cut him loose, now. Don’t give him hope when you have none. Idiot. Selfish bitch. Just do it.

“You don’t get it, Jes,” he hissed. “When I say I’m not waiting forever, that means I’m coming for you, wherever you are, whatever your situation. So you get yourself ready, do you understand?”

I managed a sigh that came out as a yes. A blossom of hope swelled briefly in my chest.

“I liked being your first, baby. No, not liked … loved it. I plan on being your first for everything from now on.”

He held the door for me. As I squeezed past he muttered, “And I plan on being the last one you’ll ever have.”

Chazz answered the door, his expression unreadable.

“Coach, thanks for bringing, um, Mrs. McMahon.” He moved just enough out of the way to let me scoot under his arm, the rest of the mountain stood blocking Jack’s entrance. This was so not the pissing contest anyone needed right now.

Even though my attention was focused on the tableau in front of me I could hear low rumblings behind me as Chazz and Jack established territorial rights.

Jack won and came up behind me, inches away but not touching.

Robert McMahon, the Right Honorable Judge McMahon held our daughter in a tentative embrace. She was still sobbing.

Robert stared through me, clearly finding the situation distasteful at best. For some reason that gave me a modicum of courage.

I broke the ice first.

“How is she?”

“Still in intensive care. I spoke with the night nurse right after I talked with you,” and, God, how that ‘you’ came out as a sneer, “so all I know is she’s stable at this point.”

I wanted to scream, “What the fuck did you do to her? She’s your mother for crying out loud!” but held back. Loretta was in enough distress worrying about Tonia dying.

The small space between the man at my back and the bastard in front of me was a zone of détente. For now. I would respect that, no matter the cost to me.

Chazz moved around us and made the introductions. Robert glared at Jack, then dismissed him as being of no consequence with a slight nod of the head. Neither man offered to shake hands.

Robert stood and directed Loretta to pack a valise. He eyed the duffel bag Jack still carried and asked, “Do you have a change of clothes in there?” Oily, smooth and accusatory.

I tensed but held onto my temper. Without a word I followed our daughter into the bedroom, praying that Chazz could intimidate both men into behaving like civilized beings. Robert could slice you open with a few well-chosen phrases. Jack would take a less subtle approach.

The last thing I needed was blood on my hands. I already had a shit load of guilt over Tonia’s heart attack. That she was in her seventies did little to ameliorate the conviction that had I not acted so precipitously just mere days before, that none of this would ever have happened.

I could have
not
gone through the door into our bedroom, I could have backed away graciously and agreed to whatever largesse the bastard’s underactive sense of remorse might have conjured. And then I’d have spent the rest of my life in a cell of my husband’s design. Concessions in my favor would never be part of that plea bargain arrangement. He was too savvy, too clever, too experienced for that.

But in the end, no one other than me would have suffered. Not my daughter, not Chazz. Tonia would be ensconced in all her regal bearing on boards of directors, allocating resources with the flick of her gold-plated pen.

I’d never have met Coach Bryant or any of the young men I was helping to train, not my classmates or the teachers. Jack Ryan would have remained an image on the screen during basketball games, viewed tangentially if at all.

The problem was …freedom, once tasted, was difficult to relinquish.

Love … even the promise of it was nearly impossible to let go.

From the false premise of no choices, my life faced several, all bad but some less onerous than others. I knew what I had to do.

Etty hugged me and pulled me into the living room, announcing to her father we were ready to go. She was about to go to Chazz but the young man flicked his head and scowled, warning her off.

My heart swelled with pride. He had a good head on his shoulders. That was one choice I would fight to the death over. He and Loretta would be together and anyone who said otherwise better be prepared to walk through the bowels of hell.

Jack came up behind me before I could exit into the hallway.

In low tones he said, “Remember. I’m coming for you. One way or the other.” Gripping my left hand, he pressed the wedding ring into the knuckle. “And the next time we’re together, this will be gone.”

On autopilot I followed my husband and my daughter down the stairs. Robert’s driver pulled in front of the building and we slid onto the leather seats, Loretta and I in the back, Robert in front.

“Robert?”

“What?” He turned and glared at me.

“I forgot to ask. Where is Tonia staying?”

“Pittsburgh General.”

Three hours of silence, give or take. Loretta dozed off while I kept vigil and prayed. For what, I didn’t know.

Did he have a rule? A rule about how long to wait?

When should I begin the countdown, when should I stop? At what point would hope desert me and despair fill the balance of my inner sanctum?

Muttering ‘eighty’ I let the tune play out, sub-vocal, like the clack of rosary beads in endless supplication for forgiveness, in an infinite spiral of anticipation and dread.

Chapter 10: Face-Off

Hospitals, ICUs in particular, weren’t my favorite things. Loretta had spent far too much time in one when she was barely four, a vacation ski trip gone horribly wrong. After days and endless nights, even a good outcome never entirely removed the stink of fear and uncertainty.

Both of us hesitated outside the unit, both squirrelly, probably for different reasons. My daughter loved her grandmother, admired her, respected her. My feelings were more … complicated. Yet, no matter my history with the woman hooked up to tubes and machines, she was still a human being verging on…

Mercy, I couldn’t even
think
the word.

Me, screeching at my own mother. Loretta stamping her tiny foot. Countless confrontations.

I wish you were dead. I wish you were dead.

Loretta girded her loins first and went through the door leaving me to ponder the steel in her spine.

When had she become the adult in this family? When had she passed the
I want to die
phase of teenage self-loathing and despair and blossomed into a lovely woman of worth and substance?

When had she morphed into someone I would want to emulate?

“Are you going in?” Robert’s voice dripped with disdain. “They only allow two at a time.”

“Uh, go ahead in.” I moved out of his way and tucked myself into a corner. I’d do the last rites with Tonia alone. There were things to say, even if the words stayed silent in my head.

As if.

Although, without Jack-the-Mindreader, maybe I had a small chance in Hades of actually keeping vagrant thoughts to myself.

And I so did not need to think of him now, not today, not tomorrow, not even next week.

Seventy-nine days and counting.

The nurse came over and patted my arm. “You can go in now.” So very kind.

Robert growled, low enough so only I would hear, “She’s awake. Don’t upset her.”

Etty said, “Dad,” as if she knew. “Let’s go down to the gift shop.” My daughter glanced at me with understanding and continued, “They’ll be moving her to a private room. I want her to have flowers.”

God bless.

 Tonia Hillman McMahon had always been a towering figure packaged in a diminutive body.  A restrained dynamo, a passionate woman with iron-clad will and an icy exterior. I’d never chipped through the façade to discover the woman beneath.

“Well, are you coming in or not? And stop staring. You look like you’re measuring me for a coffin.”

Did everyone know what I was thinking?

Pulling the chair away from the wall to make room for my long legs, I used the diversion to consider what I wanted to say. Strangely enough, the urge to say
thank you
settled on my shoulders, an unusual burden for me when it came to dealing with
that woman
.

“Shut the door.” Watery grey eyes hardened slightly. “There are things to say and we do not need an audience, wouldn’t you agree?”

Doing as she requested, knowing she’d once more taken the offensive position and put me categorically back on my heels, set me squarely back in the safe zone. The doormat Jessamine zone.

What would Coach Jack Ryan do? What would the man say to me if he knew…?

“Jessamine?”

She said my name … kindly. With concern.

The least I could do was inquire as to her health, make small talk, and avoid what was coming at all costs. So I did. For a microsecond.

“I want you to stop, dearest.”

Dearest?

“Stop talking, stop thinking. And just listen.”

She had my full undivided attention.

“I am not about to apologize for my actions. Not before. Not after.”

Ah, yes, good old Tonia. Back in fine form.  What more did I exp—

“I said, be quiet. Please.”

She patted my hand. How it got onto the bed, close enough for her to reach it was a conundrum for another day.

“He is my son. And I will do what is necessary to protect him.” She glared at my
tell me something I don’t already know
face but went on. “However, I also cannot condone his behavior. It was immature and…”

She sucked air and something off to our left beeped and chittered. One heartbeat, two… It settled back down to a pleasant hum.

You may redirect, counselor.

With the cloak of epiphany guiding my thoughts, I said, “It wasn’t the first time, was it?”

She sighed. “I thought you knew. I assumed you were aware of Robert’s … indiscretions and chose to remain silent for the sake of our Loretta.”

Great. Because I was a clueless idiot, the woman was going to despise me for not knowing and not measuring up as a paragon of suffering virtue for the sake of God, family and the precious McMahon good name.

She withdrew into herself briefly, developing some internal calculus as I twitched in my seat, ill at ease at the prospect of going to the woodshed in a wholly creative way.

Lacking the joint weapons of checkbook and ball point pen, Tonia still had psychological thumbscrews to apply. For the last twenty-two plus years, they’d worked every time.

At least they had … until Jack.

Seventy-eight tomorrow.

Resigned to the same old litany, I hunkered down for the gospel according to Tonia. The woman was dying. If sending me through one more gate along the path of diminishing self-esteem eased her journey, who was I to say otherwise?

“For your information, Jes, I do not plan to die. Not today.”

Damn.

Other than pulling plugs, I had no Plan B.

Tonia grinned. Yes, a movement that bared even white teeth, meticulously capped and maintained by a fleet of dental experts. Anomalously white against parchment skin. Skin that crinkled with age.

Tonia did not do botox. A bit of honesty in a dishonest universe.

“I’m getting tired so let me cut to the chase.” Unsaid was
I’ll use small words so even you can understand.
“You will return to campus with Loretta. She must not be distracted from her studies.”

“Tonia, no. I can’t. You don’t understand…”

“This is not a discussion, girl. Listen carefully. Here is what will happen. Robert will not contest the divorce but…”

Uh-oh, here it comes.

“…you will agree to certain concessions. The election is on November 4
^th
. Until that time, you will assist Robert in executing his campaign. You will appear with him at limited engagements and I will require your co-operation in preparing the next rounds of televised ads.”

Bitterness and bile colored my voice with spiteful, sharp tones. “That means pretending to be his loving wife.”

“That means
being
his wife. Once the election is over, then you may re-file for divorce with my blessing. Until then, as time and your studies permit, you will present the
proper
image.”

The air slowly drained from my lungs, leaving a burning sensation and a frisson of hope. The election was two months and change away.