Valentine's Child (23 page)

Sand squeaked protestingly beneath his running shoes — a rhythmic, familiar noise that normally blended with the dull roar of the waves and the plaintive cries of the gulls. Today, however, he was so self-absorbed he heard nothing but the echo of Sherry’s shocking announcements.

I was pregnant, J.J. With your baby.

He called his sister, Heather, at four o’clock in the morning, as soon as he’d woken, which was a laugh because he’d never fallen asleep. Sherry’s words hadn’t really penetrated for what had felt like eons. He could visualize her flushed face, the sparkle of unshed tears in her eyes, the rosy blush of her exposed flesh — the las remnants of their lovemaking.

He’d backed away. He’d been doused with ice water. He hadn’t heard right. It was a joke. A cosmic prank.

He’d spent so much time congratulating himself on not “knocking up” Sherry Sterling, as his friends so eloquently put it. And he’d been so proud of the fact that he wasn’t like his father — Rex, with his philandering ways and lack of responsibility; Rex, who’d cared only about football and himself, and not necessarily in that order…

Heather had been surprisingly empathetic. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. Take it from here and now. But you’d better ask yourself what she wants.”

“What do you mean?” His head crashed as if he were recovering from an alcoholic binge.

“Well, everyone’s got a personal agenda. It must not be money, or she would’ve hit you for that when she found out she was pregnant. How old is this child? Did you say it was a girl?”

“A daughter. She’s fourteen. Just had a birthday.”

Valentine’s Day.

His mouth was dry. His breathing rasped. He could hardly think. All the information about Mandy had come tumbling past Sherry’s lips, a torrent that had nearly drowned him. Truth was, he couldn’t recall much of anything she’d said except the basic, salient points.

“Why did Sherry come and tell you now?” Heather asked him.

“Because — because Mandy wants to meet her father,” he answered her thickly, sounding like a stranger to himself. He was a stranger. The Jake Beckett he’d lived with for thirty-three years didn’t really exist. Gone in the light of one incredible revelation.

“So, meet her.”

“I can’t,” he answered with painful honesty. “I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

He had no answer. He just knew he couldn’t. His feelings were a jumble. He wasn’t prepared to be a father. He didn’t feel like a father.

Somewhere during last night he roared as much at Sherry:
I don’t want to be a father!
She’d flinched as if he’d hit her. He was so furious, so consumed with outrage, that he’d lost his mind for a few moments. He’d awakened, as if from some deep sleep, minutes later to stare down at hands clenched so hard they still ached today. Sherry had stood shivering before him, her own hands covering her nakedness, too destroyed herself to reach for the clothes they’d so heedlessly tossed on the floor, heated moments earlier.

He wasn’t proud of it, but his initial reaction had been pure horror. The explanation fit so perfectly he didn’t doubt it for an instant. She left because she was pregnant. And he believed it was his child. He could sense it in some inner part of himself that grabbed hold of what she was saying and knew it as truth.

She’d wanted comfort — or at least, understanding. As she slowly dressed, her movements heavy with exhaustion, he’d known that all he had to do was reach out and touch her and everything would be okay. Okay? No. Nothing would be okay, but Sherry would’ve felt better.

She’d left within a half-hour of dropping her bomb, stumbling away although he insisted he would call her a taxi. She’d refused. His condo was within walking distane of most of Oceantides, and she’d headed south down the beach to the motel room — part of Beckett Enterprises — where she was staying. Before she disappeared she had said something that made him realize much later that Mandy, the child in the picture she’d given him, hadn’t been living with Sherry all these years. In the heat of the announcement, she had somehow forgotten to convey that to him, and he had to admit part of his fury had been that she’d carried off such a deception for so long without a thought to his feelings.

But after he’d sorted through the words again, his gaze focused squarely out the window on her footsteps that were rapidly being eaten away by the greedy waves, the echo of her meaning finally reached his dulled brain.

“She told me she wanted to meet her father,” Sherry had said in a choked voice. “She wanted a picture of you, but I didn’t have one. I’d made sure there was nothing from those years. I never dreamed she would show up one day and ask for something about you!”

It was only when her footsteps were completely washed away that he’s realized Sherry had been through the same shock he was feeling now. She’d obviously given Mandy up for adoption, and Mandy must have looked her up only recently. Her deception had been self-protective, but not completely without regard for his feelings. She’d come to him with the truth after Mandy had come to her. And she’d been too upset tonight to realize she hadn’t made the situation clear.

If he’d known she hadn’t raised Mandy herself he might’ve shown more compassion. He would’ve believed her decision to keep him in the dark had been more altruistic; made for their daughter’s benefit, so that she could have a life with two loving parents — not a pair of mismatched teenagers. But all he’d seen was the fact that Sherry had run away with her secret and taken away his choice.

I might never have known,
he thought with an internal shiver.

But did he want to know now?

Jake raked his fingers through his hair. How could he be a father?

His lungs burned from exertion. His legs were like water. His arms hurt. How long had he been running? An hour? Two?

“God …” With an expellation of air that was almost a sob, he flung himself onto the wet sand, sweat pouring from him. The internal shiver hadn’t stopped and he trembled as if from palsy.

Heather had spoken to him slowly and clearly, as if he were half-deaf, which, in his distraction, wasn’t that far from the truth. “Take a deep breath. Take a run on the beach. Take a few days off work. Get yourself together and then sit down and talk it over rationally. This is an opportunity, J.J.,” she added kindly. “It’s not your fault you didn’t know.”

Jake rolled onto his back and stared up at the low, thick gray sky. Mist from the ocean dampened his face, cool against his overheated flesh. He would probably die of exposure, he thought, his mouth twisting ironically. No Sherry to save him this time.

Sherry… Sherry, baby…

If he were honest with himself he could admit he’d reacted like a child. He’d practically stuck his fingers in his ears and screamed and stomped his feet. Well, not literally, perhaps, but he’d certainly closed himself off to everything but his own emotional outrage, cocooning himself against Sherry’s own pain and torture to protect himself.

“You bastard,” he whispered to the stiff breeze.

Feeling a hundred years old, he climbed to his feet and staggered back up the beach toward home.

It would be nice to take Heather’s advice but he couldn’t afford the time. He had to see Sherry and learn more about his — their — fourteen-year-old child…

“Thank you for coming back today. You’re the best thing that happened to this place!” Gerald enthused heartily.

“I’m just saying goodbye,” Sherry reminded him.

“Ha! You are an angel!”

Sherry smiled wanly. She’d stepped in to smooth the feathers of a customer who was infuriated that she hadn’t gotten her dish the way she wanted it after asking them to change the recipe until the garlic-dusted scallops had been smothered in sherry and cheese and ended up with about a thousand calories more than normal.

“There ought to be a law,” Jennifer sniffed, casting a glare over her shoulder at the disgruntled woman.

“It’s unimportant,” Sherry answered indifferently. She’d been an automaton since the evening before, when J.J. had taken her to the peak of ecstasy before dropping her into a chasm of despair.

He’d hated her for delivering the truth. He’d hated her for lying to him. He just hated her.

She’d known that’s what would happen but it hurt like hell. So much so, that she’d had to relearn how to breathe, since every intake of breath sounded like a sob and choked her swollen throat.

She hadn’t cried. She’d gone past that into some strange state of nothingness where her feelings were deadened. Of course, they’d come screaming back sometime in the middle of the night, a night so pain-filled she’d curled into a ball and rocked herself to sleep like a newborn babe.

Her sleep had been a walk through nightmares. She’d awakened to the knowledge that Mandy might not be able to meet her father because Mandy’s father wasn’t interested in being one.

It had ripped her heart in two.

So, why was she at Crawfish Delish? Because sitting alone with her thoughts for company was the purest form of torture. She didn’t know what to do now.

“You okay?” Gerald asked as Sherry sank down on one of the stools in the kitchen.

“Fine.”

“So, the wedding was beautiful, huh?” Jennifer asked. She’d hinted around about it all afternoon, ever since Sherry had shown up. It was so pathetic, Jennifer’s desire still to run with the popular crowd of Oceantides High — a crowd that had been forced to accept Sherry by virtue of J.J.’s attraction to her. Sherry remembered her own subsequent disinterest in everything associated with popularity and social status.

It was so pathetic and small it was almost funny, but Sherry had never felt less like laughing. “Beautiful,” she agreed with a sigh. “A beautiful wedding.”

“Leave her alone,” Gerald scolded. Jennifer darted him a black look, then shrugged and returned to her duties. Gerald laid a thick, reassuring palm on Sherry’s shoulder, and it was all she could do to keep from weeping. One tear did escape from the corner of her eye and Gerald whispered softly in her ear, “Go home. Whatever it is will be better tomorrow.”

She should have taken his advice, but once outside Crawfish Delish, she beelined towards Bernie’s Pizza as if it were a magnet. As she pushed through the doors, the familiar scents of pasta and tomato sauce, Italian spices and pepperoni and just everything of comfort swirled around her, enveloping her.

And as if he’d known she needed him, Bernie himself was behind the counter, his face splitting into a grin at the sight of her.

The tears she’d fought poured out like a tidal wave.

“Sherry,
bella!
” Bernie cried, throwing open the counter and coming to her with comforting flour-dusted arms. He embraced her warmly, hugging her hard.

“I’m so sorry,” she muttered through her sobs.

“No, no. Get it all out.” He patted her back.

Knowing she was making a spectacle of herself, Sherry struggled to pull herself together, eventually managing to slip free of Bernie’s arms, but not of his concern.

“What’s the matter, honey?” His normally jovial face was creased with worry. “You are so unhappy.”

“It’s been an unhappy kind of day,” Sherry admitted.

“Ryan said you were in town. I said, ‘When does she come see me?’ And he says that you have important things to do.”

“They’re done,” Sherry said.

“Ah… Did they turn out badly?” he asked kindly.

“Something like that.”

“Want a root beer?”

She laughed, swiping away her tears. “I’d love a root beer.”

“Want to tell Bern your troubles?” he asked, as he headed for the soft drink machine and poured her a foamy glassful.

She shook her head. “Not especially. But it’s great seeing you,” she added, warmly.

“Then let me tell you about me …”

As Sherry positioned herself at a nearby table, Bernie launched into tales of his grandchildren. Sherry let the warm words soak into her skin, as if Bernie’s love for his family was a tonic for her, as well.

“You never tied the knot, then, huh?” he asked when he came to a slight break in his stories.

“Not even a serious relationship.

“I know nobody appreciates advice, but you should give it a try. A girl like you is going to want children sooner or later. Tick, tick, tick. That’s the biological clock, and sooner or later you’re going to hear it, eh?” He pointed a finger at her nose, grinning.

Sherry smiled faintly. What could she say?

Bernie suddenly glanced up, his brows lifting at something he saw through the glass doors behind her. “It’s Jay Beckett,” he said in wonder. “He hasn’t showed up here in years.”

The hair on Sherry’s arms rose in tandem with her suddenly galloping heart. She twisted around. Sure enough, J.J. was coming across Bernie’s parking lot in a straight line from Crawfish Delish’s front door. His head was bent against a spate of rain, his black hair lopping over his eyes and obscuring his face.

He knows I’m here,
she thought half-hysterically, her eyes desperately searching the room for escape.

“You don’t want to see him.” Bernie eyed her thoughtfully, wiping his hands on his apron even though they were clean.