Chapter 12
By the time we reached St. John’s Hospital, Jonathan had filled me in on as much of the story as he knew. As Rich suspected, Steven had come looking for Annie at my apartment. When he found only Rich there, he became violent and set to beating her whereabouts out of my half-asleep brother.
Jonathan said when he walked into the apartment, Rich was sitting on the floor with Steven standing over him, waiting for an answer and drinking the last can of Budweiser left in the fridge.
“Steven didn’t have a scratch on him, Becka. I found that very odd.” He looked over as it dawned on me just exactly what Rich was up to.
“Odd, indeed.” My worry turned to irritation. “What happened after you got there?”
Without sounding too much like the knight-in-shining-armor that he’d proven himself to be time and again, Jonathan simply said he put a stop to it and called the police.
We parked the car near the entrance to the emergency room and walked inside, me out-pacing him by a good six inches with each step.
“Rich just kept repeating the words, now he can’t get Annie, over and over again.” Jonathan took my hand to steady it as we walked down the corridor.
“Why do I have to keep coming to this place?” I whispered to no one in particular. Jonathan brought his arm over my shoulder for comfort and held me tight as we reached Rich’s room.
“Let’s not tell my darling brother that we’re on to his little scheme. I want to see what he has to say for himself.” Jonathan nodded, unwilling to get in the middle of a family squabble.
First, I peeked around the corner, trying to prepare myself for the slight disfigurement of Rich’s face that Jonathan had warned me about. When I heard my brother’s flirtatious voice sounding more joyous than groggy, I felt relief, even though I wanted to be angry with him. He was speaking with the same handsome young doctor who’d tended Silvy when she’d been brought to the hospital.
When Jonathan attempted to step a foot further to gain entrance to the room, I blocked him with my outstretched arm. “Let’s give the little Romeo a second. It doesn’t sound like he’s dying in there. I need to calm down.”
I sat on the hallway bench composing myself, wiping the saltiness from my skin and feeling foolish for crying tears for a man who was perfectly capable of nurturing his love life, even in the emergency room.
“Thank God he didn’t get really hurt,” I said to Jonathan. “He took a big chance.” I got up then, deciding my brother had had enough time to make the necessary moves on Dr. Michaels.
I cleared my throat first to give the doctor a chance to gain some professional composure, and then proceeded directly to my black-eyed, bloody-nosed, busted-lipped brother. At first I felt sick to my stomach when I saw how badly he’d let himself get beaten, but then I recognized something in his eyes. It was something akin to triumph. I asked the kind doctor if my brother was going to survive, and he assured me Rich would be back to full speed in a week or so. Then, I asked for a private moment with Rich, which he and Jonathan gladly granted. Jonathan said he’d catch up with me in the cafeteria, so I could take my time.
With the swish of the door closing, I sat at the edge of his bed. “Just what the hell did you think you were doing? I know you could beat the shit out of him any day of the week.”
He didn’t answer.
“Richard Clemmons,” I warned. “Do not make something up. Just tell me what you were thinking.”
“He fell for it so easily, Becka. All I had to do was coax him inside. Then, he’d violated the restraining order. Once he committed assault and battery on an officer of the court, I had him dead to rights.”
“You set him up, then? I knew it!” I couldn’t believe how pleased he was with himself.
“I want that bastard to rot. I figure he’ll get at least a couple of years with my testimony. That should give Annie and the baby plenty of time to get established.” He tried to smile, but the pain in his lip made him pucker his lips instead.
“You let that bastard beat the shit out of you, so he’d go to prison? What if Jonathan hadn’t shown up when he did?” I dabbed Rich’s bleeding lip with a damp cloth from the side table.
“It was the only thing I could think of. Ouch! Shit! Easy.”
My dabbing was a little rough, but I couldn’t help it. His intentions were great, but his method pissed me off.
“I was about to call 9-1-1 when Jonathan got there.”
“So, you think Steven would’ve just let you get up and call the police? I don’t think so,” I said, dabbing more gently. “You’re lucky he didn’t do permanent damage. You should have told us what you were planning.”
“I had my cell phone in my pocket. 9-1-1 is set on my speed dial.”
“You’re still lucky. You could’ve passed out.”
“Well I didn’t, so stop creating demons. I’m just glad that idiot was stupid enough to fall for it. Oh, by the way,” he said, his voice quieting. “Could you stay with Jonathan for a few days? I’d rather you not see your place until it’s clean.”
“What the hell?”
“There’s a little blood. It wasn’t all my fault, though. I tried not to get any on the expensive stuff. Jonathan caused most of the mess.”
I stopped fiddling with the bloody, wet rag and looked into my brother’s swollen face. “What?”
“Jonathan asked Steven very politely to rethink what he was about to do and back the hell off, but he wouldn’t listen. When Steven came after him, Jonathan jumped straight up in the air and kicked him right in the face. Busted his nose like a watermelon. You should’ve seen it. It was so cool.” Rich laughed then with pursed lips, trying to avoid making his mouth bleed again. “He only hit him once, but that’s all it took. Splat!”
I held up my hand to make him stop the play-by-play. “I’ll stay away. I’m not real interested in seeing that. If you guys ruined Daddy’s rug, I’ll kill all of you myself.”
“Becka, could you dial the cabin for me? I wanna tell Annie about all this before she hears about it from someone else.”
“You’re gonna tell her everything?”
“Nah, I think I’ll stick with the story I told the police. I don’t want her feeling sorry for him, even a little. He doesn’t deserve that.”
I dialed the phone and handed it to my brother, and then I left the room, heading to the cafeteria where Jonathan sat waiting with my cup of coffee in hand.
~ ~ ~
“So, he did do it on purpose. Your brother’s got some guts.” Jonathan had suspected Richie’s plan before we ever left him.
“Yeah, the stupid shit. Steven could’ve really hurt him. That was a stupid thing to do.” I took a sip of coffee then pulled back to see what the revolting liquid swirling around the cup really was. There was no way it was coffee.
“He did it for all the right reasons, though.”
“I suppose you’d have done the same thing?” I sat the cup down and poured in three creamers from the bowl at the end of the table, hoping to make it palatable enough for me to get some caffeine in my system.
He shuffled in his seat, drawing my gaze to his for the first time since this whole thing started. “I’d do whatever it took to protect the woman I love.” He looked tired, and his whiskers were in need of that fancy razor he had at home. Speckles of blood on his forearms and on the front of his pants fanned out over his T-shirt, bringing the bloody vision of Steven’s broken nose to full view. Jonathan watched as I moved my eyes over him, checking him for possible injuries or other clues to how he’d put a stop to the assault. He waited patiently for some kind of response to his words.
“Rich tells me you saved him.” I tried another sip, this time more milk than coffee, which made it tolerable.
“Your brother exaggerates.”
“Did you really kick Steven in the face?” I wanted to tell him I knew all about his ninja talents, but I thought better of breaking his father’s confidence.
“Just once. I didn’t want to do that. He just wouldn’t listen.” He smiled, disarming me. “Why don’t I take you back home, so you can get some sleep?”
“Home? Rich told me to stay clear of my home. Is it really as bad as he made it sound?”
He looked down ashamed, obviously feeling guilty for making a mess. “That’s not the home I was talking about. I meant my house. I’ll make sure my father lets you get some rest this time.”
“Your father’s a sweetheart, Jonathan. He’s very interesting.”
“Oh, no. That sounds like he was in one of is chatty moods.”
The only other person in the cafeteria scooted her over-weighted chair away from the table next to ours, causing a high-pitched screeching noise. Jonathan held his hand over his ear, then shook off the edge it created, and turned back to my questioning face.
“It’s okay if I know a little something about you, isn’t it?” I was tired, and cranky, and I didn’t have tolerance for any more secrets.
“Any questions you have, ask me. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“Okay. Why don’t you want your father to tell me?”
“My father exaggerates. Sometimes he paints a very romantic picture of ordinary things.” He sipped at his cup now, holding the coffee in his mouth for a second before swallowing. Thinking.
“What kind of ordinary things?” I asked. “Are you talking about how wonderful he thinks you are, or how talented you are? Or maybe that he thinks you’re some kind of superhero? Any of those ordinary things?”
“Yeah, ordinary things like that.” For the first time since I’d met him, he blushed. His eyes focused on his thumb rubbing along the outside of his half empty cup. “We should check on Rich again before we go.” A statement, not a question. This was something I really liked about this man.
“Good deflection. I’ll let you slide now, but you’re gonna have to deal with me later.” I reached across the table and held his blood-stained hand.
After we made sure Rich was comfortable for the night, I called Candy to let her know that the café was all hers until the afternoon, at least. What on earth would I do without her?
~ ~ ~
By the next afternoon, Rich was home in bed, and Annie was off the mountain, hovering over him like they’d been married for fifty years. She was devastated to see what Steven had done to Rich’s sweet face. He looked so forlorn and in pain until she turned away to fetch something for him from the kitchen. Then he winked at me, proud of himself. It disgusted me so I decided Candy needed my help more than he did.
When I started to leave them to their role playing, he stopped me.
“Becka, wait! We need to talk about a few things,” Rich called after me.
Annie scurried off like a Japanese geisha, excusing herself to call her parents. I wanted to smack her. She should know Rich better than this, but guilt can be a powerful, ugly thing. I knew she felt like he’d saved her life, and maybe he had. But still, what was with Rich’s poor-little-me shit? He was never like that.
I told him I’d only listen if he’d stop the act and at least sit up in the bed. “You didn’t seem so pathetic last night when the yummy Dr. Michaels was leaning over your bed.”
He tried to grin but winced, which made me feel better for some sick reason. Then he said, “I think he’s into me. Don’t you?”
“God, Rich, you’re pathetic! How would Annie feel about you flirting?” I asked, wondering just how much of a couple they intended to be.
“I already told Annie about the doctor. She wants to meet him.” He paused for a second. “Becka, Annie gets me. We have an understanding. I’ll be a great father and love her with all my heart, but I can’t be a husband to her. She understands that, and she’s willing to accept it.” The expression on his face made me believe it was true.
“Thank God. I was so worried one of you was going to get hurt over this whole thing,” I let out a breath, moving in closer to him. “What do you need to talk to me about?”
“I’ve got all of Silvy’s wishes in order. The paperwork has been drawn up, and I have some people working on her special requests.”
“Sounds like you’ve been busy. Who’s doing the plaque for the homeless shelter?”
“They said they’d take care of it. I gave them the exact words of dedication that Silvy wanted. I spoke with Marsha, the lady that runs the place. She seems pretty amazing.”
“I’m not so sure Daddy would have wanted a homeless shelter dedicated in his name.”
“I think Silvy just wanted people to finally know how generous our father really was.” Rich tried to sit up further, but slipped, knocking over the pillows and a glass of water from the nightstand. I bent down to wipe the water with the hand-towel from the bath.
“Sorry.”
“Okay, so you signed over the properties she wanted donated. Those two houses uptown?”
“Yeah, those are already in the works. We’re keeping the status quo on Muffin Stuff. It seems to work pretty well the way it is. The only two things left are the property next to the café, which I’m leaving up to you, and Sullivan’s. That one’s gonna take some time.”
I sat back down at the edge of the bed and looked him over, worrying about him more now than I’d let myself. “Rich, are you really all right? You took a pretty good beating last night.”
“I still say it was worth it,” he whispered to me. “Annie hates him. She needs to hate him to get over him.”
“I think she could have learned to hate him without you sacrificing your body for the cause, Rich,” I whispered back, swatting his blanketed leg at the same time.
“This way was faster.” He wiped his hand across his forehead, running his fingers over the stitches around his eye. The purple of last night now shined with yellow and green highlights. “I’m not as pretty as I was before, am I?”
I laughed out loud at my brother’s playful vanity and stood to kiss his head. “You’re the prettiest boy I know, Rich.”
“See, now you’re just lying. I know you think Jonathan’s prettier than me.” He grabbed my hand before I pulled away. “That’s okay. He is prettier than me too. You’re a lucky woman, Becka. He’s a keeper. And he sure loves you.”
I looked into the watery pools of my brother’s swollen eyes and thanked him. I thanked him for loving Annie enough to sacrifice his body. I thanked him for loving me enough to recognize what Jonathan means. And I thanked him for taking care of everything and of everyone.
“Becka,” he said, “I’m glad you’re my sister.”
“I’m the lucky one, Richie. I love you. You really do need to get some rest.” I bent in to kiss his head again, tears rimming my eye.
“Hey, I almost forgot,” he said, changing the subject. “That list for Sullivan’s people is in my desk drawer. You still wanna help with that?”
“I’ll take care of it. Get some rest. I’ll be back later.”
“Bring Jonathan with you. I want him to show me that move.”
Annie scurried back into the room, this time with a bowl filled with chocolate pudding. Fussing over Rich. Great.
“Annie, don’t fatten him up too much. He’ll get spoiled.”
She stopped next to Rich’s bedside, fluffing his fallen pillows with one hand better than I’d done with two.
“When do you see your doctor?” I asked her, putting my coat on.
“Tomorrow morning. I’m so scared,” she said. “I hope the baby is all right.”
“Want me to come with you?”
Rich cleared his throat. “I’ll be taking her,” he said with pride in his voice. “I’ll be taking her to every appointment.”
“Okay, okay.” I held up my hand in surrender. “But if Rich isn’t up to going, call me.”
Annie set the bowl down and gave me her famous hug before walking me out. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I’ll take good care of him.”
“I know you will, Annie. I know you will.” We hugged again, and then I waved to my brother as I headed to the café toward some semblance of a normal life. Whatever that was.
~ ~ ~
Jonathan was at the counter sipping a mocha when I finally made it to the café. He looked tired, but he’d cleaned away the blood spots, shaved, and combed his hair. He stared drowsily into his coffee, his head sagging a bit in front of his shoulders. He looked almost like a drunk leaning against a bar, three drinks past sober.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Van Winkle himself?” I traced my hand over his shoulder, heading to the kitchen to hang my coat, greeting customers as I walked by them.
“Why didn’t you wake me up when you left?” His voice had that irresistible sleepy, sexy tone. It made me stop in my tracks, realizing only then that he was disappointed I hadn’t woken him for a little pre-breakfast interlude.
“I figured you needed the rest.”
“I’m never that tired.” He reached for my hand across the counter.
“Shhhh,” I whispered, embarrassed. “Would you mind coming in the back with that coffee? I’ve got some baking to do, and I’d prefer my customers not hear details about my love life.”
“Love life, hah? That’s progress.” He smiled lazily, then stood, coffee cup clutched protectively in hand, and walked through the swinging door to the back. He set the cup down and pulled me into him, holding me close as he had when we’d slept together in his bed. It was sweet and comfortable. He smelled of soap, shampoo, chocolate, and coffee. I could have eaten him whole.
“Becka,” he said, his mouth against my forehead, “we haven’t talked about that article I found in your book. Stanford and Rachel?”
I pulled him to me tighter. “I know. There’s just been so much going on.”
“If you want, I’ll see what I can find out. When you’re ready, okay?” He held me by the shoulders then, looking deep into my eyes, waiting until I agreed.
“We need to get past this thing, so we can move on to this life. It feels wrong to love a man who only knows me for who I used to be!” Those honest words surprised even me when they came out. Jonathan stepped back as if he’d been shocked.
Candy, who had been busy behind us preparing a tuna on rye, stopped for a second and looked our way. She’d been caught in our private moment, was curious about it, I’m sure, and maybe she was even feeling a little sorry for Jonathan. But, she said nothing.
“Candy,” I said, feeling odd at having shared such a private sentiment in front of her. “Thanks again for covering this morning.”
She smiled her big orange-lipped smile and then said, “No problem, honey. How’s your brother feeling?”
“Like he got the shit beat out of him. But, he’s still Rich. Ornery as ever.”
“That’s good.” She smiled at us both, hesitant. “You two get back to your talk. It sounds like some things need to be worked out.” She tucked her journal under her arm, backed out of the swinging doors with the sandwich on the plate, two slices of apple and a wedge of orange garnishing, and greeted another of the customers who had grown to love her. We were alone.
Jonathan hadn’t uttered a word. He just watched me, searching my face for clarification. I felt an itchy tingle over my skin where his eyes burned with hurt and curiosity.
“Becka, I’m sorry,” he said. “I guess I never even considered you felt that way. I mean—I’ve loved you all my life, so—God. I feel like an idiot.” He started to move away from me. I’d hurt him when I’d said I needed to know the man he is now.
“Jonathan.” I came in behind him, guiding him to sit on a nearby stool. I stepped in front of him and held his shoulders down, so he wouldn’t leave, feeling the quiver of his body under my touch. I bent in, my lips against his ear, and whispered, “I do love you. I just want us to love each other for who we are now. That’s all I meant.”
I brought my arms around his neck, holding his face against my breasts. For the first time I felt actual fear that he would reject me. From the moment we met, he’d been chasing me and trying to convince me. Now, it was turned around.
“I understand, Becka. I do. I’m sorry for just expecting.”
When I sat on his lap, the creak of the stool threatened to ruin a poignant moment. “Let’s take this thing one step at a time, okay?” I lightly kissed his lips, tasting dark chocolate with the tip of my tongue. “You’re an amazing man, and I want you with every fiber of my being. I just want to get to know you.”
“Then that’s what we’ll work on.” He took my tongue into his mouth then, forgiving me.
I didn’t care if Candy or anyone else walked in. I wasn’t moving away. His hand ran up my thigh and rested on my crotch, tantalizing me. I moved my hips against it, trying to encourage him to touch me. But, he just slid it away, leaving me frustrated.
“I think we should know each other better before we make love again, don’t you?” He was wicked.
“But,” I said in that pleading voice that worked on him before, “I always try on shoes before I buy them.” I smiled up at him, batting my eyelashes and working it.
“Nah, that’ll have to wait. I don’t want you thinking I’m that kind of guy!” He stood up, nearly dumping me on the floor, sipping the last of his coffee as he started out the door.
“I’ll call you later, Miss Clemmons. May I call you, Becka? Or is that inappropriate?” He was almost laughing now, knowing he’d left me frustrated and breathless.
I slumped the rest of the way to the floor and sighed. I guess I asked for that. I called Annie the moment I got up from the floor. If anyone could help me track down Dr. Stanford Reed and Rachel Stewart, it’d be Annie. I figured it’d be tough to pull her away from Rich for the evening, but when he wanted to come along, I got excited. I wanted this whole mystery wrapped up, so I could get on with the wooing of the fully alive Jonathan Parker.
~ ~ ~
Annie knew little about men, but she knew tons about getting hard-to-retrieve information from a computer. The library was deserted except for three college students studying at a conference table at the far end of the computer terminal section.
We propped Rich in the most comfortable chair we could find, and then set to finding documented proof that first, Dr. Stanford Reed and Rachel Stewart were real people, and second, that Jonathan and I were the recipients of their evolved souls.
Even saying that aloud to my best friend and my brother made me feel strange. They assured me they could see the connection when Jonathan and I were together. “A light surrounds you two,” Annie said.
Rich just kept nodding, adding his two cents every now and again. Believers are an odd bunch. I thought of Silvy and wished she were here.
It took Annie only fifteen minutes to find an obituary from a Southern California newspaper for one Dr. Stanford Reed, circa 1939. The first line read, A Tragic Loss. As I read the paragraph-long tribute, my breath came in short, painful spurts.
Annie, wanting it to be true more than anyone else alive, held my hand as I studied the scratchy words from the computer screen. Rich grumbled for me to read louder so he could hear. I started to until I ran across something I hadn’t bargained on, then I went mute, much to his irritation.
The second line of the tribute said Dr. Reed was married at the time of death with two young children left fatherless. Instantly I felt guilty, wanting to abandon the search. “What if I find out we are these people?” I asked Annie and then finally silent Rich. “What if I find out I don’t like who these people were? It says right here he was married. Was I his mistress?”
“Becka, there’s no turning back now. If you stop before you know for sure, you’ll never be able to move forward.” Annie was right, and I knew it.
Rich fidgeted so much, Annie got up to make sure he was all right while I read on. There was no mention of anyone named Rachel Stewart, though it would have been tasteless to add a mention of his mistress.
Stanford Reed, dead at forty-two. His patients in Hollywood mourned his untimely passing. Private graveside services only. I read the last of it aloud. No photo inserted. I could barely take a breath.
“What do you think?” Rich asked, wondering if any of this clicked in my brain.
“I need to see a photo. Annie, can you find a picture of him?” Seconds later she tapped on the keys while I inhaled through my nose.
“It’ll be okay, sis.” Rich hobbled over next to me, looking worse than he had this afternoon. I got up and pulled in another chair, worrying about the fatigue I saw in his eyes.
“Here, look!” Annie was so excited. I wasn’t sure if she was more excited to see the photo materializing on the screen, or the fact she found one so quickly.
“Here he comes,” Rich said in his teasing voice, “and, oh man, will you look at him. He was better looking than he is now.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said, rubbing my eyes before sitting down in front of the screen. There were two people, one a decent looking blonde in a one-piece bathing suit shaking hands with none other than Dr. Stanford Reed in a tank top and swimming trunks. Physician to the Stars Wins Race for Charity, the caption read. I felt a slight bit of relief. This adulterer at least did some good things.
The width of his shoulders portrayed a man who took pride in his appearance and who spent time in the outdoors, challenging himself to stay in top physical shape. His short, dark hair was slicked back away from his defined facial features. His bright smile showed nice straight teeth. The large oval eyes were dressed in thick lashes and sleek brows, laugh lines creasing the edges in a playful way. Those eyes, though partially turned toward the blonde away from the camera, were familiar and warm. I couldn’t help but smile looking at him.
“A swimmer, hah?” Rich said. “Oh my!”
“That could explain why you two were out swimming in the ocean at night. Maybe it was his thing?” Annie was reasoning things out in her head.
“Let’s find Rachel, shall we? Before the two of you get it all figured out.” I moved away from the computer, heading to the front of the library.
“Rich, you want a soda or something? Annie?” I needed a real drink, but a soda would have to do for now.
“I’ll take a water if they have one,” Rich said, shifting positions and watching Annie work.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Water would be good for the baby.” She stopped long enough to rub her still-flat stomach, snuggling in close to Rich. How sweet it was to see the two of them, never able to fully be a couple, but doing a pretty wonderful job at being parents already. Again, I said a silent prayer that Richie was the father. I wasn’t sure what it would do to them if he wasn’t.
In the large breezeway outside the main library entrance, the soda machine dropped a half shaken can of Mountain Dew into the tray. Can. Not good. But I was desperate. Two bottled waters later, I headed back up the stairs toward the research center where Annie and Richie, no doubt, stared at Rachel Stewart. I wanted to see her face. I felt sure I’d know if it were me staring back.
I tucked one bottle of water under my arm, trying to maneuver the handle. The heavy door flopped shut twice before a familiar hand reached in from behind me and held open the door for me to enter. “Allow me, Miss Clemmons,” he said in that sweet, sexy voice, sending vibrations over my body.
“Thank you so much for your assistance. Do call me Becka, won’t you?” I spoke my best southern belle accent, which by the look on his face, fell well short of convincing.
“Doing a little research, are you?” he asked then, taking the second water from under my arm. We walked toward Annie and Rich as they hovered over the computer, the sound of printing echoing off the cubicle walls.
“Becka, hurry up,” Annie yelled when she saw me enter the area. Jonathan’s steps stayed with mine, both of us wanting to run but walking according to the rules.
Annie ripped the printed copy off and handed it to me, taking the drinks from both of us as we got the first glimpse of the dashing couple.
Dr. Reed escorted the lovely Miss Stewart to some literary function. Rich mumbled the words from the accompanying article appearing in one of a hundred celebrity gossip magazines. “His wife must have been out of town.”
“Wife?” Jonathan asked, pure astonishment in his voice.
“And kids,” Rich added. “You were a dirty dog—a gorgeous dog, but dirty.” He winced when the smile came, but Jonathan just shook his head.
“Literary function?” I questioned.
“Yeah,” Annie answered. “Seems Rachel was an author with some success.” She pointed down at the paragraph touting Rachel Stewart’s novel, Soul of the Moon.
“Ewww, Soul of the Moon,” Richie said in his sarcastic voice. “Sounds like something Silvy would read.”
“Annie, how can I get a copy of that book?” Now I was fraught with curiosity. I’d been a writer in a past life when in this one, I have a hard time keeping my thoughts assembled long enough to speak.
“I’ll get to work on that,” she said. “I’m sure it’s out of print. It was published in 1934. Not too many that old survive.” She patted me on the arm, assuring me she’d give it her best shot.
As Annie and I finished chatting about Soul of the Moon, Jonathan read the printed article. He looked from me to the paper and back again, waiting for my reaction to seeing the face of Rachel Stewart for the first time. “Becka, how does this make you feel? Is any of this familiar to you?”
I took back the paper and stared at her. She was obviously older than him, her light hair pulled up into a fancy twist on top of her head. Her long sequined gown hugged tight against her voluptuous figure. The sweet smile on her face looked almost frightened by the light of the camera. His hand, so gentlemanly, was at her elbow. Her hands were tucked demurely into a mink muff at her waist. Her eyes were glazed and happy, her beauty glowing more from within than without.
“It’s you,” Jonathan finally spoke in a choked voice, unable to keep quiet any longer. “Becka, can you see it? It’s you!”
Both Annie and Rich nodded their heads in agreement. It was so obvious to them. Jonathan just waited and waited for me to speak.
“Annie, find someone we can talk to about her,” I said, pointing to the computer, urging her to flex her research genius once again. “If Rachel was some kind of semi-famous author, there must be someone, somewhere who can give us more information about her life.” Jonathan could see that I wanted to believe Rachel Stewart and I shared one soul. I wanted it more than anything.
“You got it,” she said. “But, this may take a while.”
“I’ve already waited this long. A few days more won’t kill me.” I kissed the top of her head as she pulled her chair in to work.
Jonathan asked if I’d join him for dinner.
I quickly accepted with one condition. “I would love to—as long as it’s not pizza.”