Water from Stone - a Novel (35 page)

“Yeah, but it was stupid coming here. I just thought I could make it better.”

“Honey, you did,” Mar whispers past the tears in her throat. “I think you did a fine and brave thing.”

“You do?”

Mar nods. “I do. But, let me tell you something very important. If Jack whips your butt over this, I won’t stop him. What you did was also very, very stupid. You put yourself in danger and scared Jack at a time when he doesn’t need more stress.”

“Huh,” DeJon’s shoulders drop as he obviously tries to work out Mar’s mixed message.

Mar shakes her head. “I know. It’s all mixed up for me, too.”

Ninety-Nine

Jack.

The hotel room door opens and Jack looks past Mar into the hallway. “Where is he?” he asked worriedly.

“Hello, Jack,” she tells him pleasantly.

Jack looks down, is hit again by how small she is. And tired. He notes the dark smudges under her eyes, the weight she can’t afford to lose, but has. “I’m sorry, Mar. I just thought DeJon would be with you.”

Mar looks down the hallway. “Could I maybe come in?  There’s at least one reporter behind me. Probably a busload.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.” He moves aside and gestures her into the living area of the suite, over to a sofa. “Can I get you anything? A soda? Some juice?”

Mar shakes her head. “No, nothing,” she says. “Let’s just talk for a few minutes and then I’ll go.”

Jack sits on the edge of a chair and leans toward her, his eyes unconsciously probing her, taking in the hair that won’t stay in place, the paleness of her skin, her long artist’s fingers that are currently shredding a tissue. When she looks up and meets his eyes, he freezes. There is fear there and sadness. He knows he’d put them there and the part of him that remembers the taste of her lips on his wants badly to take them away.

One Hundred

Mar.

Mar notices Jack’s drawn features, the haunted eyes that stand out in such bold relief against his tired skin. Regardless of the threat he poses to her future, her world, a traitorous part of herself wants nothing more than to reach out and pull him close. Mar swallows.

Jack clears his throat. “About DeJon,” he says.

“He’s at the house. We figured that the press would follow me here and so when I leave here, he’ll sneak over to Diane’s and she’ll bring him over. Hopefully they won’t notice.”

“It’s been horrible for you, hasn’t it?”

“It’s been hell.”

“I’m sorry, Mar…”

She cuts him off, “Are you going to change your mind? Let me keep Lizzie?”

Jack freezes. “No, that’s not…”

Mar sits up straighter. “Fine, then let’s talk about DeJon and I’ll be out of here.”

“Mar…”

“No, Jack. I have nothing else to say to you. Obviously, I said way too much to you already,” she says bitterly, referring to the night they’d spent together.

“I didn’t mean that to happen.”

“Which part of it? The talking? My telling you everything about me? About my life, so that you could use it against me? My wine cabinet, Jack? My husband’s death? Lizzie’s accident? That worked really well for you in the press, didn’t it? It made me look like an incompetent mother.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Oh, you didn’t mean that. Then what did you mean? You didn’t mean to kiss me? To hold me? To make love with me? To make me believe something special was happening between us?”

“Jack?” Caroline stands in the doorway to one of the suite’s bedrooms.

“Christ,” Jack swears. “Mar? Caroline. My attorney.”

Caroline nods tersely at Mar. “Mrs. Delgado.”

Mar closes her eyes and counts to three. The woman is a goddess. No wonder Jack had hurried back to New York. But, she is also a bitch.“Miss Carruthers, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. Jack, I told you I didn’t think this was a good idea. We should have met at the office with all attorneys present.”

Mar stands up. “You know what? You’re right. This wasn’t a good idea. I came here because a scared kid ended up on my doorstep and I thought we could discuss him like adults. Obviously, my mistake.”

“Mar, sit down. Please. Caroline, look, this is something separate. I just want to deal with it with Mar.”

“No, Jack, it isn’t separate. Did you see the paper today? There’s a photo of DeJon on her front porch with the headlines screaming that he’s moved over into her camp. Obviously, nothing is separate.”

“Ignore the press.”

“I’m your attorney, remember? Could you just listen to me on this one? Maybe Miss Delgado can get her attorney and we can meet later?”

Mar grimaces. “Sorry, but Mrs. Delgado isn’t interested in wasting any more time with you. I’ve got to get home to take care of my daughter.” She heads for the door.

“Jack!”

“Caroline. Mar. Goddammit! Would you both just back off?”

“Jack,” Caroline hisses under her breath, “if she talks to the press about you and DeJon fighting, she could really screw this up for you. I’ve been telling you that for months.”

Mar stops at the door and turns. “Do you know what? I came here to talk about DeJon, one parent to another. He’s a troubled kid who’s just trying to help.”

“Mar…”

“Unlike you, Miss Carruthers,” she continues as if Jack hadn’t spoken, “I have no interest in talking to the press about him or anything else. My only interest was in trying to help DeJon.”

“Mar, please don’t go.”

“Jack!”

“Caroline, please. Look, Mar, I’m sorry. I know this is a mess and I’m forever apologizing to you, but could you just stay a moment? Please? I’d really like to hear about DJ.”

Mar looks back at Jack, who looks sincere, and at Caroline, who looks like she’d like to rip Mar’s head off with her hundred dollar manicure. She sighs and shakes her head. “Fine,” she agrees, “but anything else out of your ‘attorney’, and I’m out of here.”

“Thank you.”

“Jack.”

“Caroline, please. Do you want to stay?”

Caroline grits her teeth and sits.

“Please tell me,” Jack asks when both he and Mar are again seated. “Why is he here?”

“Because he loves you. He thinks you want Lizzie so much that you don’t want him anymore.”

“That’s not true.”

“He offered to exchange himself for her.”

“What?”

Mar rubs her eyes.
What the hell am I doing here?
“He seems kind of desperate to be wanted and he doesn’t think you want him anymore. He thinks you only want Lizzie. Also, he heard about Max. I guess he thinks I’ll be happy with a kid, any kid, and if I’d let you have who you really want, Lizzie, he could be my consolation prize.”

Jack groans as he drops his head into his hands. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No. I’m very serious. That boy needs some major reassurance.”

“Malcolm said he was scared he was losing me.”

“Who?”

“Nothing. A friend.”

“Well, your friend was right. DeJon loves you so much, he thought he could get you what you wanted, even if it meant losing you.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. Look, apparently he’s had it pretty rough and this whole thing is affecting him, too. Please don’t be too hard on him.”

Jack looks into Mar’s eyes. “Thank you.”

Mar nods and rises to leave. At the door, she turns once more. She can’t stop herself. “For the record? I think what you’re doing is bullshit.”

“She’s my daughter, Mar,” he says quietly. “She belongs with me.”

“No, Jack, no.” She advances on him again. “You can talk about biology and nature all you want, and you know what? I can’t fight you on that. But if you think that’s what makes someone a parent, you’re wrong, you’re very wrong. And, you know the saddest part? The one who’s paying for your mistake is Lizzie.”

“Mar, I know,” he begins.

“No, you don’t know. You don’t know anything. You don’t know her favorite color, her favorite song. You don’t know that she’s allergic to peas. Peas, for Christ’s sake! Or that she punched Grady McMillan in the nose when he teased Jilly Sanders for wearing hand-me-down clothes. You don’t know that when her tummy hurts she likes to curl up with Picasso and eat soft boiled eggs with butter and toast. You think you know, you think your sperm…”

“I’m not saying…”

“But you are,” she insists. “You’re saying that the 30 seconds it took you to put your sperm in your wife’s vagina are more important than the four years I’ve raised her.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jack pulls his hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. “As a matter of fact, I do think that was important. We wanted Lizzie. We wanted her more than anything. My wife died giving birth to her!”

“And, I’m sorry for that, for you. But I didn’t have anything to do with that and I can’t do anything about it now. We’re talking about now. We’re talking about four-year-old-Lizzie, not sperm-and-egg-Lizzie or fetus Lizzie. You’re trying to make this a philosophical question, and it’s not.”

“Jack, I think…”

“Caroline, please,” he cuts her off. “Look, Mar, I don’t doubt you’ve taken good care of her…”

“I’m her mother! Say it, Jack. You and your wife made her and she carried her but, as far as Lizzie is concerned, I’m her mother!”

“And I’m her father.”

“If you cared so much about her, why are you doing this? Why are you tearing her life apart?”

“I want to be with her, Mar. I need to be.”

“But why this way? I would have let you be with her,” she cries. “We could have worked it out.” The tears are streaming down Mar’s face and she wipes at them angrily.

“We consulted a psychologist,” Caroline starts.

“Oh, wonderful. Another really smart man who knows nothing about Lizzie. That was cute, impress the court with his degrees and his articles in famous journals. The man isn’t even a parent. That’s like asking a priest to give you pointers on having sex.”

“He’s the best in his field.”

“He’s never even met Lizzie. She’s just a future article for him.”

“Mrs. Delgado, look, I’m sure this hurts. Losing is never fun, but if you have anything else to say to my client, please do it through your attorney.”

“Dammit, Caroline, I asked you to stay out of this.”

“Jack, this is wrong! She’s just trying to upset you.”

“I’m trying to get through to him.”

“He’s her father! Don’t you think he knows what’s best for her? By dragging this whole thing out, you’re the one hurting her! You’re the one keeping her from her family.”

Mar’s blood turns to ice. “Listen, lady, I’m sure you’re a real nice person when you’re not being such a bitch. And I’m sure you’re a helluva lawyer. But don’t you dare try telling me what’s best for my daughter. Not now, not ever.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“You bet your New York ass I am.”

“Lovely. I’m sure the judge will just love to hear about this.”

“Goddammit, Caroline! Enough!”

“No, Jack, it’s fine. This just goes to show you what kind of a person you’re saving your daughter from.”

Without thinking, Mar launches herself at Caroline, all the months of hurt and fury focused in that one instant.

Jack reaches out and catches her, pins her, holds her tightly as she struggles to get free, to get to Caroline. Caroline, her eyes alight with hatred, stands there, gloating.

“Dammit, Mar, stop it. Caroline, get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Mar? Shit. Caroline? Get the fuck out of here. Now!”

Caroline turns on her heel and strides to the interconnecting door, slams it shut behind her.

“Mar?” Jack pulls her more tightly to him. “Mar? Stop. Shhhhh. Stop.”

Mar is crying. She doesn’t know why. She wants nothing more than to get to Caroline and tear her fucking eyes out. But, she is crying. The fury leaves her suddenly and she is crying, big, heaving tears. And goddamned Jack is holding her. She struggles to push away from him, but he holds on.

“Mar, shhhhhh. Stop.”

“Leave me alone,” she mumbles into his chest.

“Are you going to hit me?”

She can feel the anger coming back. Anger at him, at his stupid attorney. Mostly, at herself. How could she have thought reasoning with him would make a difference? “Let. Me. Go.”

Gingerly, Jack holds Mar away from him. “Mar…”

She looks up at him, her eyes aflame. “You suck, Jack Westfield. You really suck.”

She makes sure to slam the door on her way out.

One-Hundred-One

Mar.

Mar reaches for the pearl earrings and considers them as they lay, weightless as memories, in the palm of her hand. 

Under the microscope of the past three months, everything has taken on new layers of meaning.  Her house, her clothes, her work. Her past.  Her life has been picked apart, analyzed and judged. Now she wonders what the earrings, last worn on her wedding day, will imply about her. That she is competent?  Trustworthy? She closes her eyes and takes a steadying breath. At this point, what does it matter?  She drops the small studs back into the jewelry box that is open on her bathroom counter.

Mar drags her eyes from the box back to the mirror.  It isn’t fair.  But then, she no longer believes in fair. She’d been married once. For all of ten days. She’d had a child, and he’d been murdered. She’d adopted a second child, had played by the rules, had been a good mother. And in less than three hours, that child, too, might be taken from her. No, she doesn’t believe in fair.

Mar’s eyes are bloodshot and puffy. No amount of makeup can hide the pain in them. And even though she’s trowelled on concealer, foundation, powder and blush, her skin still looks gray. Her attorney had insisted on the makeup, the hair, the suit. She is supposed to look confident, composed.

Her eyes fill. A tear slips down her right cheek. Another down her left. Mar leans on the counter and watches as her carefully applied confidence washes down her face. She takes a ragged breath and reaches for a washcloth.

Mar goes to Lizzie’s room. The little girl, exhausted, is finally asleep. Mar sits on the edge of the bed and reaches out to stroke Lizzie’s back. It is not enough. She slips her shoes off and lies down next to her daughter, wrinkles be damned. As the waves of the water bed settle, Mar reaches for Lizzie, pulls herself to her and wraps herself around her. She begins to cry.