Jean grinned.
“What’s so amusing?”
“Your comment about Stump and messages. He’s got this amazing ability to decipher them. It’s like a foreign language. When he looks at license plates, as an example, he sees both the numbers and the respective letters they represent on a phone pad. Sometimes those letters make up cute sayings.”
“Smart kid.”
“I can’t afford to lose him, Myles. He’s all I’ve got. What should I do next?”
“I’m no psychologist,” he said, poking at some piecrust, “but I’d say as long as he’s safe, give him a little space. In the meantime, keep attending the meetings and in a few days, when he’s calmed down, you can talk with him. When that time comes, I can join you, if you’d like.”
“You’d do that for us?”
“If you’re willing to give it a chance, I am too. In addition, you might want to find a symbol that will constantly remind you of your new commitment.” He reached into his pocket, retrieved a brass token and set in on the table. “Are you familiar with these?”
She took it and looked it over. “Is this what you talked about last night?”
“Yep. Six years sober. Whenever I get tempted to do something stupid, these silly little coins remind me of what I’ve been through. They don’t look very important to anybody else but they’ve saved me a couple of times, especially in the beginning.”
“Do they have one that says three days?”
Myles grinned, “I don’t think so but you can come up with something else that serves the same purpose.”
“I’m not very creative.”
“Many people don’t need reminders but if it helps you, I recommend you identify something unique and personal that you can draw on for inspiration. For instance, you might simply go for a walk at the same time every day. Or, keep your meds in a coffee can so that you’re regularly reminded that you have the ‘grounds’ to stay sober. I know it’s corny, but that’s the point. You’ll remember why you’re doing it. One guy wore his underwear inside out for two years because it made him smile every morning.”
Jean bit her lip, looked around the room, then reached in her purse. “I know what I’m going to do,” she said as she pulled out her pack of cigarettes. “Stump hates these. I’m going to quit smoking.”
Myles’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know about that, Jean. From what I understand nicotine is just as difficult to overcome as alcohol.”
“That’s what makes it perfect for me. The urges will be intense but continuous. Every time I want to plop a cigarette on my lip, I’ll think of Stump’s bloody lip after the fight and that he got it because I couldn’t control myself.”
“Are you sure? I’ve never heard of anybody trying to quit both addictions at the same time. As you saw at the meeting, lots of recovering alcoholics smoke.”
“It’s like you said about Stump. He had to act out to the same degree as his frustration. I have to do the same thing. I have to do something drastic to prove to him I mean business.” She crumbled up the half empty pack of cigs. “I hate what I did to my son and he hates the smoking. It will work, Myles. I know it will.”
“You know something? I can hear the determination in your voice.”
“Another thing. When I get to that meeting tonight, I’m going to confess to everything—not for you or the other people—but for Stump.”
Chapter Forty-One
Just days after Rachel took the pregnancy test she advised Mac that she’d started her period, which prompted a conversation between him and Miranda. They noted that it had been three months since Rachel’s last period, and that her phrasing suggested the event was newsworthy to her as opposed to a simple process of nature, all of which essentially confirmed that she indeed wanted to have a baby. But, more importantly, if the same three-month cycle were to repeat itself, the stage was set for the most important phase of the con.
Now another month had passed and Mac had been slipping sleeping pills to Rachel, both so he could spend more hours with Miranda and because drowsiness was a frequent early symptom of pregnancy.
On this particular day, Rachel was still asleep and the not-yet-warm sun lingered in the eastern sky as Mac made his way downstairs. He put on a fresh pot of gourmet coffee and threw a few strips of bacon in a frying pan. That done, he snuck out to the garage and secured a couple hand-tools and a dusty old pink phone.
Back inside, he slid into the living room and plugged the phone into the outlet between the recliner and the end table, after which he returned to the kitchen where he removed the hardline wall phone and disconnected one of the wires. That done, he dropped a pill from Dr. Gravely into Rachel’s cup.
As he waited for Rachel, he would have liked to talk to Miranda, but that wasn’t possible. Instead he mentally rehearsed the plan they had devised. Timing would be critical, but if it worked, they would have paved a direct path to the trust.
Finally, he heard Rachel moving around. He scooted toward the kitchen and filled her cup. “Wow, it smells great in here,” she said as she descended the stairs. “Is that new coffee?”
“Good nose,” Mac said, handing her the spiked cup. “Here you go.”
“How nice.” She sipped at her drink, then gestured toward the wall phone now lying on the counter. “What’s going on?”
He sighed. “It’s bad enough our cells don’t get a decent signal in this valley, but now the damn hardline is screwed up too.” He pointed toward the living room. “The pink one from the garage is over there. It’s got a short cord, but it’ll do until we can get something better.”
She twisted her head toward the cord. “I’m glad you’re so handy.”
After Mac made some toast and scrambled some eggs they finished off their breakfast, then Rachel went upstairs while he cleaned up and once again, he waited.
A little later when his hands were immersed in dishwater, she returned. The creases in her forehead indicated her discomfort. “You okay?” Mac asked, knowing that her nausea was a result of Gravely’s pill.
“Just a little queasy. Might be the eggs.”
“Don’t think so,” Mac replied. “We ate the same thing and I feel fine. Why don’t you have a seat in the family room and read a magazine until you feel better?”
“I just hope it’s not the flu,” she said. She grabbed a magazine and plopped into the recliner.
“You know what they say about nausea.”
She lifted her head.
“You could be pregnant.”
She snickered. “Did you forget about my surgery?”
“You said they told you it’s not impossible.”
“They were just trying to make me feel better, but I remember the negativity in the doctor’s tone.”
“Tone? You can’t go by that. There’s only one way to be absolutely certain.”
Rachel sighed. “Not that again.”
“I know you don’t like to get your hopes up, Rachel, but nausea is a real symptom. So is drowsiness and you’ve been awfully tired lately.” He pointed toward the stairs. “I’m getting one of those tests, just to be sure.”
She shook her head. “It’s a waste of time.”
A moment later, he returned with the orange box they’d opened the previous month and smiled. “I’m not going to take no for an answer,” he said, “so you might as well make this easy on both of us.”
She rolled her eyes. “After all you’ve done this morning, I guess you deserve that much. Give me the damn box.”
Rachel sighed and eased toward the bathroom and pushed the door mostly closed. This was Mac’s chance. He slipped toward the corner of the kitchen and speed-dialed Miranda. Just as they’d previously discussed he waited for one ring and hung up.
Almost instantly the pink phone rang back. The timing was impeccable. “I’ll get it,” Mac said loudly. “Hello.” He paused, then said, “Do you mean Rachel?”
Another short delay. “What kind of accident?”
Then, “Oh no. Is she going to be okay?”
Mac observed Rachel’s shadow move under the bathroom door. “Wait a minute,” he said to his caller. “I’ll go get her.” He set the handset on the recliner, dashed toward the bathroom. “Rachel. You’d better hurry. There may be something wrong with Granny.”
As expected, Rachel made a quick exit and rushed toward the short-corded receiver. While she was practically tied to her chair, Mac quickly slipped inside the restroom. Rachel had filled the cup with urine and dipped one of the strips in it as required. He replaced her urine with some that Gravely had given Miranda and dunked a different strip into it. Then he set both where Rachel’s had been and quickly hid the other cup and strip under the sink.
Rachel was leaning forward in the recliner and listening intently to the caller when he returned just a minute later. She wrinkled her brow. “Are you certain we’re talking about the same woman?” she asked.
Mac moved closer to Rachel. “What’s going on?” he asked rather loudly.
Rachel shrugged at Mac and returned her attention to the caller. “I think you might have the wrong number.” Following a brief pause, she said, “Hello? Are you there?”
She sighed as she held up the receiver. “She hung up.”
Mac twisted his head and squinted. “That’s strange. You’d better call Granny, just to be certain.”
Rachel’s fingers jackhammered the buttons on the receiver. Then she said, “Thank God. Granny? You okay?”
Mac sat close by while Rachel satisfied herself that her grandmother was fine. After she hung up he hesitated and then lifted his head. “The test,” he said excitedly. “We forgot about the test.”
Rachel grabbed one of her magazines. “You can check it out if you want to.”
Mac measured his pace. Once in the bathroom he examined the substitute strip. Two lines. Perfect. His pulse quickened. He hurried toward Rachel. “Take a look at this. What’d I tell you?”
A combination of disbelief and hope filled Rachel’s eyes. She checked the strip and looked up.
Mac smiled broadly and waved the strip at her. “I knew it. I knew it. I knew it.” He grabbed her hand, coaxed her to her feet and gave her a big bear hug. “Sleepiness and nausea. I knew it.”
Rachel just stood there, obviously stunned. She looked at the strip again and then plopped back into the recliner. “It must be a mistake.”
“Why don’t we try again, just to be sure?” He stepped into the bathroom, grabbed the cup and the last strip from the box. Then right before Rachel’s eyes, he dunked the last strip in the liquid gold and placed it on the magazine beside her. This time she paid attention. Then, there they were again. Two magical lines. “Hot damn,” Mac yelled.
Rachel’s eyes filled with tears.
* * *
Some five minutes later, across town Miranda answered her burner on the first ring.
“A home run,” Mac said. “She’s taking a shower now, so I don’t have long.”
“Fantastic. I wish I could have been there.” Miranda lowered her voice. “Now listen. She’ll want to call the doctor’s office so as soon as she sets an appointment you call me back so I can give Dr. Gravely a heads up. He’ll want to move her appointment up.”
“Why do we need to do that?”
“She might want to test herself again. You’ve got to keep her preoccupied every minute so she doesn’t have that opportunity.”
“No problem. We’re going to Granny’s after a while. That ought to do it.”
“Good. Now, another thing. You need to convince her not to tell anybody, including Granny. There’s no telling what will happen from here on out, so the fewer people who know what’s going on the better.”
“Never thought of that.”
“Shouldn’t be too tough. Most women keep it to themselves for a few months anyway, until they’re certain. But by then, we’ll be out of the picture. I love you, Sweets.”
“I love you, too.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Miranda got up early, changed her sheets and sprayed the air with perfume before she took the familiar 10-mile drive to the prison; only this Thursday was different. Don was to be released at precisely 10:00 a.m.
She arrived early and made her way to the gate where she anxiously waited out the last moments of his three-year sentence. Minutes later she heard them coming. The guards escorted Don out of the final security gate right on time. She rushed to him and wrapped her arms around him, and then their lips met and they hugged and kissed again.
When the clanging bars closed behind him for the final time, Don turned around and waved his middle finger in the air. “Fuck you, shithole.” He grabbed Miranda’s hand and they hurried off to her SUV. As soon as they hopped in, her burner went off. “Dammit. Why is your brother calling me? I told him I had a dentist appointment and I’d call him when I was done.” She hit the off button.
“Good,” Don said, “’cause we’ve got some serious catching up to do.”
* * *
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Don probed while he and Miranda were still lying in her bed.
“It’s not that big of a deal, Donnie. It was just a suggestion.”
“Is that what my brother does? Take his time?”
As a matter of fact, it was, but it wasn’t really fair to expect Don to approach the matter the same way as Mac did, especially considering their timing restraints lately. “For crying out loud, Donnie, this has nothing to do with him. I just asked you to slow down and enjoy the moment, because we’ve had to rush through everything recently, that’s all.”
He punched his pillow. “You must think I’m stupid. We lived together before I got thrown in the shithole and you never complained until after you’d been with him. Now all of a sudden, I’m not good enough to satisfy you.”
She sighed, took his hand. “You’re reading too much into this. You’re a much better man than he is—or anybody else for that matter. You’re smart and loyal and you figured out a way to provide for Mickey.”
“Yeah. I’m wonderful, except in the sack.”
She shook her head. “You’re every bit as good, but you’ve been in a lousy situation.” She rolled over, rubbed his forehead with the palm of her hand. “I’m sorry I brought it up. That wasn’t fair. We both have to give you a little time to normalize.”
He pushed her hands away. “Alright then. I still think we should kill the bastard when we’re done with him—and that lady principal too.”
Before she could answer, Miranda overheard the familiar rumble of a motorcycle coming from up the street. She sat up. “It can’t be.” But the bike kept getting closer until the engine stopped at her home.
Don sat up too. “I thought you told him—”
She grabbed her robe. “He’s got a key.” She jammed her feet into her slippers. “You stay here. I’ll get rid of him.” She closed the bedroom door behind her and heard his key wiggle in the lock. She rushed to the door, just as it inched inward and Mac stepped inside. “Sweets,” she said as she raised her hand to her jaw, trying to sound sick. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you, but I feel like crap from the novocaine. Can we just meet tomorrow?”
He glanced over her shoulder and around the room. Fortunately, there wasn’t any sign that Don was there. “I thought your phone was broken.”
“I just didn’t answer it ‘cause of my tooth.”
“Oh,” he said, lifting a gentle knuckle to her chin. “I can stay with you if you’d like.”
Chapter Forty-Three
The next evening, Mac was at Rachel’s, looking through a magazine in her living room when she descended the stairs. “What did I tell you?” she said in a dejected tone.
A quick glance in her direction revealed both disappointment in her eyes and an applicator from a typical pregnancy test in her hand. She’d obviously tested herself. A chill danced up Mac’s spine. When did she have time to buy a pregnancy test of her own? He’d been with her practically
every minute lately. She held up the stick. “It’s negative. I knew it.”
She was scheduled to see Dr. Gravely the next morning. Why couldn’t she have just left well enough alone until then? He rose. “Can I take a closer look?”
“I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up,” she said, dropping her head slightly. It was negative all right. His pulse quickened.
He wished he could discuss the matter with Miranda, but he was on his own. “I’m so sorry,” he said, as she stepped toward him and held out her arms.
Her body was limp, except for her arms, which clung tightly around his neck. “I’ll have to cancel my doctor’s appointment,” she mumbled.
Another chill, stronger than the first, wrapped around his back. That would be a disaster. He had to calm her down before she became hysterical or derailed everything that he and Miranda had been working towards for months. “Where’d you get that test?” he probed. “Maybe, it’s wrong.”
She sniffled. “It was in the closet. I’ve had it for a long time.”
That was something to cling to. “Well, there you go. The darn thing probably expired.”
“Expired? Those things wouldn’t expire.”
“Well, how long have you had it?”
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I had a relationship about four years ago, but it didn’t last.”
“That’s a long time ago. I’m betting it’s no good. Either way, you said you’ve always had lady-problems. We both know that your doctor will still want to see you just to be sure. If it will help, I’ll take tomorrow off and go with you.”
Rachel sniffed again and pulled back slightly. “I’d like that.”
“Sure,” he said, pointing to her stomach. “That’s my baby too, you know.”
* * *
“Does the father want to come with you?” Dr. Gravely’s receptionist asked Rachel after she turned in a urine sample. Shoulders rounded, Rachel turned toward Mac.
“If it’s okay,” he said.
Thanks to last night’s late conversation with Miranda, they figured he’d better stay close by Rachel until Dr. Gravely got her back on track.
Almost immediately after they were seated in the exam room, a nurse joined them. “Hi. I’m Paula,” she said. “I need a blood sample.”
Rachel nodded solemnly extended her arm. Minutes later, Paula had taken the blood, asked a series of routine questions and added the information to Rachel’s file. “That’s all for me right now,” Paula said. “I’ll tell Doctor you’re ready.”