Promise of Paradise Read online

  “Thank you, Doctor. That’s good to hear.”

  “Have you told your husband the good news yet?”

  “No,” she murmured. “He’s out of the country on business just now.”

  “Well, I’m sure he’ll be delighted.”

  Oh, yes, Jessica thought with an inward twist of her stomach, remembering the time Luke had been so annoyed at the antics of the children playing on the beach, his firm determination never to father any offspring of his own when they’d discussed it later.

  It had to have happened that first night on the beach, when she’d been so swept away in his embrace that she hadn’t even thought about the danger of pregnancy. After that they’d been more careful, but that had only been locking the barn door after the horse got out.

  Right now she was too stunned to make any long-range plans. She just knew she had to get out of Pensacola. Feeling the way he did, Luke must never know. She’d see to that.

  That night she called Helen. She had thought it over carefully all day, and although there had never been a moment’s doubt in her mind that she wanted the child, she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to manage all by herself. She’d have to depend on the Trents for help.

  After the usual polite amenities, there was a short silence while Jessica searched for a way to broach the subject.

  Finally Helen cleared her throat. “Uh, Jessica, why do I have the feeling that you have something pretty heavy on your mind?”

  Jessica had to laugh. “Probably because I do.” She took a deep breath. “Well, Helen, to make a long story short, I’m going to have a child.”

  There was an audible gasp, then, “Why, my dear, I think that’s marvelous!” came the quick reply. “I mean, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “What do you mean? You’re either pregnant or you’re not. No two ways about that!”

  “Oh, yes, I’m pregnant, all right. Only Paul is not the father.”

  There was a long silence this time. Finally, Helen heaved a deep sigh. “Well, that does complicate things, doesn’t it?”

  “I’d say so, yes,” Jessica said dryly. “Anyway,” she rushed on, the hard part over now, “I don’t think I can manage here on my own, and I was hoping you’d be willing to help me out.”

  “Of course,” was the prompt reply. “What do you need? Money? Shall I come to Florida to be with you? Just name it. An aunt! I’m going to be an aunt! And Father will be thrilled at the idea of having a grandchild.”

  “Helen!” Jessica broke into the gushing spate. “Didn’t you hear what I said? It’s not Paul’s child!”

  “I don’t see what difference that makes. Who will ever know? Sure, it’ll be born a little late, but who counts these days?”

  “A little late!” Jessica exclaimed. “About four months late, to be accurate! More, when you consider Paul and I hadn’t even lived together for weeks before his crash.”

  “Listen, my dear, no one will say a word. They wouldn’t dare. Everyone is too frightened of Father, and believe me you won’t have to worry about him. I know him. He was terribly broken up over Paul’s death, and with his only other child a confirmed old maid, even if he does suspect, he’ll never say anything. He’ll accept your child as his grandson, no question.”

  “But it’s a lie,” Jessica protested.

  “Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Helen replied firmly.

  “But please don’t tell your father about it yet, Helen. I’m hardly used to the idea myself.”

  “Fair enough,” Helen agreed. “Right now, you need to decide what you want to do. I really think you’d better come home. It’s where you belong. We can take care of you—and your baby.”

  Tears stung behind Jessica’s eyes at the kind words. Of course she’d go home. Helen was right. It’s where she belonged.

  “All right,” she said. “It’ll take me a week or so to get things wound up down here before I can leave. I’ll call you as soon as I have a definite date.”

  “Good. And, Jessica. Take care of yourself.”

  Now that her mind was made up, the hardest part seemed to be telling people she was leaving, especially Millie. Since she couldn’t reveal the real reason, she was afraid it would seem like an act of cowardice to her, as though she couldn’t handle earning her own living and was running back to the money and position she’d left so eagerly just a few months ago.

  Still, it had to be done, and quickly. The very next morning then at the usual slack time she asked Millie to have a quiet cup of coffee with her and just blurted it out.

  For a few moments Millie didn’t say a word. Then, “Why?” she asked quietly.

  When Jessica saw the hurt look on her friend’s face, with no trace of judgment or accusation, she knew she’d have to tell her the real reason after all. And why not? Maybe Helen was right, that she should just let people assume the child was Paul’s.

  “Well, I’m pregnant,” she said.

  Millie’s eyes flew open, but in the next her face was wreathed in a bright grin. “That’s great, kiddo!” she exclaimed. Then she sobered and searched Jessica’s face. “Isn’t it?”

  “Oh, yes. At least I think it is. But please don’t tell anyone about it. Even though I won’t be here, it’s a little embarrassing, being a pregnant widow.”

  “Sure, Jessica. If you say so.” She paused for a moment, then added, “Not even Luke?”

  “Especially not Luke!” Then, afraid she’d said too much, she rushed on. “I don’t really want to go back to San Francisco, but I just don’t feel I can handle it alone. You know, it wouldn’t really be fair to the child.”

  “Oh, right,” Millie assured her hurriedly. “I can understand that. You’re just lucky you have a family to help you out.”

  It wasn’t until Millie had congratulated her again and left Jessica sitting alone at the table that the full implications of that last statement dawned on her. Millie hadn’t been so lucky. Here she’d been feeling so sorry for herself and her predicament, when Millie had done it all by herself. It couldn’t have been easy, yet she’d never heard her complain.

  If Millie could do it, why couldn’t she? For a moment she almost changed her mind about leaving. But only a moment. Millie was made of sterner stuff than she was. With her pampered, sheltered background, she’d just barely managed to support herself, let alone a child.

  She rose from the table and slowly made her way back to the desk. She had to leave. She had no other choice.

  A week later she was at the airport in Pensacola waiting for her flight. Somehow even now she half-hoped something would come along to stop her.

  It had been a hectic week, packing her clothes and what personal belongings she could fit into her suitcases, cleaning out the apartment, arranging to sublet it to a Navy wife whose husband was stationed at the base.

  The items she couldn’t easily pack, like books and dishes and linens, went into storage along with the few pieces of furniture she’d picked up to replace those provided by the management.

  When she’d finished, she walked slowly through the tiny rooms where she’d been so happy. It had looked terribly bare and impersonal, with every trace of her life there obliterated. Nothing of her own had been left, and not, of course, a sign that Luke had ever set foot in it.

  Just then her flight was called. She picked up her small carryall and started making her way toward the proper gate.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JESSICA sat in the breakfast room of the Trent mansion staring out the bay window at the morning fog rolling in, pushing around on her plate the scrambled eggs she didn’t want and listening idly while Helen and the Senator discussed an upcoming fund-raising ball.

  She’d been back for only a week, and was already beginning to fear she’d made a mistake. Just those few months on her own in Florida had shown her what real life could be like. Even without Luke, she missed the more relaxed life-style, the sunshine, the job that had given her her first ta
ste of independence.

  “What do you think, Jessica?” she heard Helen say.

  She gave a little jump and turned to her sister-in-law, a stocky no-nonsense woman in her early forties who was full of energy. “I’m sorry, Helen. I wasn’t listening. Think about what?”

  “Whether to have a Hawaiian motif or something more exotic, like Arabian or Oriental. We’ve just about worked the leis and orchids and hibiscus into the ground.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Oriental might be nice.”

  “Well, the planning committee is meeting here this morning at ten o’clock to decide. Will you join us?”

  “Yes,” Jessica agreed. “Of course I will, if you think I’d be of any use. I’m not very good at that kind of thing.”

  The Senator gave a gruff laugh. “Leave Jessica alone, Helen. Can’t you see she’s not really acclimated to being home yet?”

  Jessica turned to the handsome, silver-haired man with the courteous Old World manners, gave him a grateful smile. To her surprise he’d been so glad to see her that he’d even helped shield her from Helen’s determined efforts to involve her in her various projects, and she was grateful. She knew Helen was only trying to distract her, but she couldn’t work up the slightest enthusiasm for any of her plans.

  She pushed her half-eaten breakfast aside and rose to her feet. “It looks as though the fog might be lifting,” she said. “I think I’ll take a walk around the garden.”

  By the time she’d gone to her room to pull on a heavy cardigan and tie a scarf over her head, the fog had begun to lift. In the distance she could even see a patch of the angry gray Pacific, so different from the gentler surf of the Gulf of Mexico. August in San Francisco was a far cry from August in Florida, and she missed the warmth of the brilliant Southern sun.

  The Trent house was in an area of wide, winding, tree-shaded streets with large houses, some of them quite imposing mansions. The garden was formal, with neatly-paved paths, lush green lawns and evergreen shrubbery. It took in five acres, the garden shielded from the street by a tall yew hedge, the house set far back, with a winding driveway leading to the front.

  Jessica wandered slowly along the flagstone path until she came to the tall brick wall that separated the house from its nearest neighbor. She sat down on the low stone bench beside it, enjoying the solitude and quiet. From here she couldn’t even see the house.

  She hadn’t been sleeping at all well since her return, even though she had her old room, the room she’d shared with Paul during their short time together. Now she laid her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.

  Although her plans were not yet definite, she had tentatively decided to stay on with the Trents at least until March. She really had no choice. She had someone else to consider now. Her child. Luke’s child, she thought, and the old anguish rose up to haunt her again, the joy of loving him, the pain of losing him.

  No! she told herself, fighting back the threatening tears. She would not give into self-pity. She had loved him with her whole being, and he had abandoned her. Yet even in her most bitter moments, she didn’t regret the time they’d had together. It was a memory she’d treasure and relive through their child.

  Some time later she awoke with a start and glanced down at her watch. It was almost ten o’clock. It wouldn’t hurt her to help Helen with her committee. She knew most of the women, and at some point she’d have to get back in circulation again.

  At the house there was already a car in the driveway. Part of Helen’s planning committee, arriving early, no doubt. It was time to go change into more suitable attire, comb her hair and put on a little makeup. Didn’t want to disgrace Helen.

  Inside the vast entry hall, she headed for the wide curved staircase. On her way past the main drawing room she glanced inside, but there was no sign of Helen or her friends. She did hear voices coming from the library, however, which was exclusively the Senator’s domain. Helen would never trespass on it for one of her committee meetings. Curious, she walked softly over to the open door and peeked inside.

  The Senator was there behind his desk, facing her, and as luck would have it caught her eye. “Oh, Jessica,” he called, rising from his chair. “Come inside. There’s someone here I want you to meet.”

  As she entered the room she glanced at the man seated across the desk, and at the same moment he turned his head. She stood stock still, rooted to the spot, blinking, hardly able to believe her eyes. It was Luke! It couldn’t be, but it was. Then through the buzzing noise in her head she heard the Senator speaking to her.

  “Come in, Jessica. I want you to meet Luke Fury, the man who was in charge of the investigation into Paul’s crash.” He turned to Luke, who had risen to his feet and was gazing at Jessica out of hooded eyes, his expression blank. “This is my daughter-in-law, Jessica,” the Senator went on. “Paul’s widow.”

  Luke nodded gravely to her. “Mrs. Trent,” he murmured.

  Thank God! she thought. At least he had the sense not to reveal they already knew each other, or how well! But what in the world was he doing here? More to the point, how quickly could she get him out?

  She had recovered from her shock by now and gave him a cool smile. “How do you do, Mr. Fury?” she said and turned to her father-in-law. “I was just on my way upstairs to change, Father,” she said. “I promised Helen I’d help her with the planning committee and they’re due to arrive any minute now.”

  “Of course,” the Senator replied. “There will be plenty of time later to talk to Mr. Fury.” She smiled again, and walked sedately out into the foyer.

  Then, the moment she was out of earshot, she made a mad dash up the stairs to her own room. Closing the door behind her, she leaned back against it, her eyes closed, her heart pounding. What was he doing here? Had he come after her? No, that wasn’t possible. He had no way of knowing she was here, probably didn’t even know she’d left Pensacola, he’d been so anxious to avoid her.

  Could the Senator have sent for him? Perhaps he wasn’t satisfied with the official version of Paul’s death either, and had decided it would be better to learn the truth than cover it up. But that didn’t seem likely. Surely he would have mentioned it to her.

  Then from the driveway below came the sound of car doors slamming, high-pitched female voices, and she gave herself a little shake. It was time to change. The committee had arrived!

  During the meeting, Jessica’s mind was even more distracted than it usually was during these boring events. She couldn’t get Luke’s sudden appearance off her mind, or the reason for it. It couldn’t have been to see her. What did he want then? And how should she deal with it?

  After the meeting, the women stayed for lunch, and didn’t start trailing off until past three o’clock. As she and Helen stood in the doorway bidding them good-bye, she noticed that the car that had been parked there earlier, which must have been Luke’s, was gone.

  Thank God, she breathed. He must have left. She wouldn’t have to face him again after all, and the whole thing would be forgotten.

  It was the Trent family habit to have drinks in the main drawing room before dinner, which was served at eight o’clock precisely by Mrs. Grimes, the Senator’s long-time housekeeper.

  Jessica had taken a long nap that afternoon, and at seven forty-five had just finished dressing. Since. the Senator was very emphatic about punctuality, she hurried down the stairs, smoothed down the skirt of her dress and ran a hand over her dark hair, then stepped inside the drawing room. She stopped dead in her tracks, however, when she saw that Luke was there, standing beside the Senator who was speaking to Helen.

  “Helen, may I introduce Luke Fury, the man I spoke to you about earlier. Luke, this is my daughter, Helen.”

  Luke took her hand in his. “How do you do, Mrs.—” He broke off, giving her a questioning look.

  “Oh, it’s Miss Trent,” Helen gushed. “I’m not married,” she added pointedly. “But please, call me Helen.”

  Luke nodded gravely and slowly wit
hdrew his hand, which Helen seemed clearly reluctant to part with. Jessica stood by, watching. From the way Helen was goggling at him, he’d clearly made another conquest, and a slow anger began to simmer inside her. The man had no shame.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Trent,” he said, turning to her now. “But may I call you Jessica?” he added smoothly.

  Before she could snap out the resounding “No” that had risen to her lips, the Senator’s voice boomed out.

  “Of course, of course,” he assured him. “We don’t stand on ceremony here.” He turned to Helen. “I’ve invited Luke to stay here with us for a while, Helen. Would you see to it that the north guest room and bath are ready for him?”

  “Of course, Father,” Helen said quickly, flashing Luke another brilliant smile. “Right after dinner.”

  “Good. Now, let’s all sit down and have a drink.”

  He went to the sideboard and poured out freshly-made martinis from a silver pitcher into crystal cocktail glasses, then handed them around. Then he sat down on the couch next to Luke and gave him a paternal pat on the arm.

  “Luke has been entertaining me all afternoon with stories of his adventures in the field. Quite harrowing, some of them. Where are you off to next?”

  “I haven’t quite finished up the job in Chicago,” Luke replied, leaning back on the couch and crossing one long leg over the other. “Then after that I’ve been offered a job in Germany that sounds interesting.”

  “My,” Helen commented with something like awe in her voice. “What an exciting life you must lead.”

  Luke flashed her his most winning smile. “It suits me.”

  “And dangerous, too, I imagine.”

  “Oh, it has its moments,” he replied with a shrug. “But that’s part of its appeal.”

  Throughout this exchange, Jessica sat with her drink clutched tightly in her hand, her eyes fixed firmly on the portrait of the Senator’s dead wife hanging on the wall over Luke’s head, trying to make herself invisible. From time to time she was aware of Luke’s penetrating green gaze on her, but always managed to avoid any direct eye contact.