HF02 - Forever After Page 2

  A recording, a woman’s soothing voice, came on the line and offered Jenna half a dozen choices she knew would only get her to someone else’s voice mail. She punched “0” and got another recording. She dropped the phone in its cradle. The beginnings of a headache niggled at the back of her eyes.

  Something had to give. Even with her in-laws paying Zach’s funeral expenses and buying his pickup from her, in the year since his death, she’d blown through what little insurance he had and spent his meager pension checks as fast as they came in, just trying to keep up with the bills.

  She glanced up at the clock and gasped. She was late. Zach’s mother had somehow wrangled her an appointment with a new girl at Cutlines. “And don’t worry about the cost, darling,” Clarissa had said. “It’s already taken care of. Get the works.”

  She’d better get “the works” because once Clarissa discovered the state her finances were in, that would be the end of salon perks for the next decade.

  Two hours later Jenna stretched behind the wheel of her Volvo to check her hair in the rearview mirror. Her naturally blond hair sported highlights—or lowlights, the salon owner called the technique. She liked the look, but she wasn’t sure it was worth the hundred dollars it had cost Clarissa—not to mention the basketful of products Jenna had been coerced to purchase to “maintain” the look.

  Zach had never really cared about her hair one way or the other. Whenever she talked about changing her style, he’d assured her, “You’re beautiful just the way you are.”

  Clarissa, on the other hand, always had opinions. She’d been expressing them since the day Zach first introduced his mother to her. Jenna had been a junior in high school then, in St. Louis, where she and Zach both grew up. Zach was away at college in Springfield, and she’d lied to her mom and sneaked out to visit him one weekend. Clarissa showed up on campus unannounced, but Zach had been unflustered and treated the two of them to lunch in Springfield. Standing on the sidewalk in front of Bruno’s that day, Clarissa reached up and brushed Jenna’s bangs off her forehead. “You really should let these grow out and show off your beautiful bone structure, darling.”

  Jenna had taken it as a compliment and started growing out her bangs that day. Remembering the moment, she fingered the fish-shaped charm hanging from a silver chain around her neck. The necklace, fashioned of white and yellow gold—real gold—was an engagement gift from Clarissa. It was the first thing of any value Jenna had ever owned. Years after Clarissa had presented the necklace, Jenna read in a magazine that the goldfish was the Chinese symbol for prosperity and wealth. She wondered if Zach’s mother knew that. Probably.

  At any rate, even after Jenna had collected a whole jewelry box full of more expensive treasures, the goldfish necklace remained her favorite. A talisman of sorts. She took it off only to shower.

  Clarissa had quickly become the mother Jenna’s own mother could never be to her. She’d never treated Jenna like trailer trash, but taught her how to dress, how to do her makeup, and later—after she and Zach were married—taught her how to hold her head high and act as if she deserved to carry the Morgan name.

  It had taken a dozen years of Clarissa’s mentoring, but most days Jenna could almost believe she was worthy to associate with Bill and Clarissa’s crowd. Could almost believe she deserved to live in a beautiful home in the Brookside development and that she wouldn’t be turned away trying to gain entrance to her in-laws’ home in Clairemont Hills, the new gated community on the outskirts of Hanover Falls.

  She pushed away the sudden vision of her anemic checking account and turned off Main Street, heading to the east edge of town.

  She entered the passcode and waited for the iron gates to slide open, then wound her way through the wooded enclave to the Morgans’ rambling property.

  She pulled onto the circle drive in front of the elegant Tudor-style home. Clarissa met her at the door, her little Shih Tzu, Quincy, yapping in her arms. Clarissa shushed the pup while she gave Jenna the usual once over.

  Her eyes lit when she noticed Jenna’s hair. “Look at you! Lovely!”—she twirled her free hand—“Let’s see the back.”

  Jenna obliged.

  “Simply stunning. Do you like it?”

  Jenna tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “I think so. It’s a little shorter than I’m used to, but I—”

  “Well, of course you like it! Who wouldn’t? I told you that new girl was good. Dottie said it usually takes weeks to get in with her.”

  Jenna took the hint. “Thank you again for getting the appointment for me. And for taking care of the bill.”

  “Oh, heavens …” Clarissa waved her off, right on cue in this game they’d played for over a decade. “I was glad to do it. Come in, come in … Quincy doesn’t like this cold.”

  Clarissa disappeared into the house and Jenna followed, closing the front door behind her. The scent of cinnamon and cloves wafted from a tray of candles on the carved mantel.

  “Do you want coffee?”

  “No, thanks.” She wiped sweaty palms on the thighs of her jeans. “I … I need to talk to you about something.”

  Zach’s mother must have heard the tremor in her voice because she looked up, deep furrows etching her forehead. “What’s wrong, honey?”

  “Maybe I will take that coffee.”

  The lines in Clarissa’s forehead deepened, but she beckoned Jenna to the kitchen and pulled fancy mugs from a cupboard.

  Jenna watched her, searching for a gentle way to break her news. After they’d lost Zach in the fire a year ago—a tragedy that killed four other firefighters from the Clemens County Fire District—Bill and Clarissa had taken Jenna under their wings, encouraging her to stay in the home she and Zach had built in the upscale development on the west side of Hanover Falls, and helping her out financially as they had all through her and Zach’s marriage.

  His parents continued to pay for little extras like Jenna’s hair appointments and manicures, and season tickets for the Springfield Little Theater season. Just last week Clarissa had presented Jenna with a pair of tickets for the new season, saying, “I know it won’t be the same without Zach, but you can bring a friend.”

  Jenna smiled wryly to herself at the thought. First of all, Clarissa meant a female friend. Perish the thought she should ever start dating again. Second, Clarissa’s “it won’t be the same without Zach” didn’t wash since Zach had gone with them to a show exactly once. He’d never been a fan of theater and always managed to somehow pull an extra shift the night of a production.

  Clarissa placed two steaming mugs on the table and motioned for Jenna to sit down. “What’s on your mind?”

  Jenna stirred creamer into her coffee and inhaled the fragrant steam. “I … I’m late on the house payment. I think I’m going to have to—”

  “Why didn’t you say something?” Clarissa jumped up and slipped her checkbook from her purse. “How much do you need?”

  Jenna wadded a paper napkin and dabbed at an invisible spot on the tablecloth. “The house payment is two thousand, but … I put it on a credit card last month and I really need to pay that off, too.” She didn’t mention that she’d also put the groceries on a credit card.

  The pen in Clarissa’s hand stilled and she eyed Jenna. “You don’t want to get behind on your credit cards, honey. The interest will eat you alive. It might make sense to take some of Zach’s pension and get your credit card paid off.”

  If Clarissa had any clue how far in debt she was, how many credit cards she’d maxed out …

  But Clarissa resumed writing the check. “Will five thousand be enough?”

  Jenna nodded. “Thank you. I’ll pay it back as soon as I can, but …” She took a deep breath, hearing Zach’s disapproval in her head. He would have been mortified at what she was about to tell his mother. “I think I’m going to have to sell the house, Clarissa.”

  “Oh, no!” Clarissa shook her head, alarm in her voice. “You don’t want to do that. The house is an investment.
You want to build as much equity in it as you can. Besides, where would you go? You’d pay at least half what you’re paying on the mortgage to rent anyplace decent. Besides, there’s not a rental in this town that isn’t a dump.”

  “I don’t know that I have a choice, Clarissa. I can’t keep up with the payments. I’m so far behind right now …” She waited for the familiar words that always brought relief: “Don’t worry, honey … we’ll take care of it.” She hated herself for hinting, for always depending on the Morgans to bail her out.

  Clarissa frowned and pointed at the check lying on the table between them. “This will get you caught up, right?”

  Jenna couldn’t meet her eyes. “No, Clarissa. Not quite … Not even close, actually,” she whispered.

  Clarissa straightened. “Exactly how far behind are you?”

  “I think—” She swallowed hard. “I need to sell the house,” she said again, trying to sound firm. “I’m getting further and further behind.”

  Her mother-in-law shook her head. “I don’t understand. What’s happened to all your money? You have Zach’s pension and the insurance. That can’t all be gone. …”

  “It’s gone to pay the bills. Every cent.” She was glad she could say that honestly. But as quickly as the thought came, so did the image of the beautiful eighty-dollar sweater she’d ordered online last week.

  Clarissa sat with her jaw hanging open. “How on earth could you let this happen?” Her voice climbed an octave. “Especially when we’ve been pitching in every month? Why didn’t you say something sooner? I can’t imagine where all this money has been going! You surely haven’t blown through your savings, too?”

  “We never had any savings, Clarissa. We were living … beyond our means. Way beyond our means.” She willed her voice not to tremble. “From the very beginning.”

  “What are you talking about? Not before Zach—”

  “Yes.” Jenna shook her head. “Then, too. Neither of us wanted to admit it, but we could never quite make it on what Zach made.”

  “Even after we helped you with the house?”

  “We couldn’t afford a house like that, Clarissa.”

  “Then, why in heaven’s name didn’t you get a job?”

  Jenna bristled. There were few jobs in the Falls that weren’t beneath a Morgan. She’d broached the subject once, years ago, and Clarissa and Zach had both had a fit. “Zach was determined to prove he could be a good provider, but—”

  “Prove? To whom?”

  Jenna didn’t miss the accusation in her voice. She bit her tongue and collected herself. “To you. You and Bill. And I would have gotten a job, but you didn’t want me to.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clarissa sputtered.

  Zach had spent the ten years of their married life trying to prove to his parents—and to her—that he could provide a good living on a firefighter’s wages. But the Morgans had a very different definition of “good living” from Zach’s. They’d never tried to conceal their disappointment that their only son had chosen firefighting over a “professional” career.

  Thankfully, once Zach and Jenna were married, his parents had quit hounding him about going back to college. Of course, given the fact that Jenna was three months pregnant on their wedding day, they’d had other things to worry about.

  Though Clarissa had the decency not to say so, Jenna suspected she was relieved when the pregnancy ended in a miscarriage three months later, saving the Morgans the humiliation. Instead Clarissa had milked it for sympathy. Jenna had overheard her tell a friend at church, “Poor Jenna got pregnant practically on their honeymoon, but at least she was only a couple of months along when she miscarried.”

  Let Clarissa fudge on the numbers if she thought it saved face. Never mind that Jenna’s “wedding dress” had been tent-shaped because she was already showing by then. She wondered what Zach’s mother would say if she knew the whole truth.

  To Zach’s credit, he’d somehow put a stop to their blame game. She’d probably be out on the street right now if he hadn’t smoothed things over between her and his parents.

  “Zach didn’t want me working either, especially not with the baby coming.”

  “The baby?” Clarissa’s carefully penciled brows lifted. “What does that have to do with anything? That was years ago.” Her eyes narrowed to silvery gray slits. “Just how deep in debt are you?”

  It felt wrong to reveal their secrets when Zach wasn’t there to defend himself. Zach may have fooled his parents, may have even fooled himself, since Jenna was always the one who paid the bills. But the truth was, they’d been up to their eyeballs in debt long before Zach died. And without insurance on their mortgage or any of their credit cards—a decision Jenna had pushed for—she’d inherited over a quarter of a million dollars in debt at Zach’s death. And only a little more than half of that was the mortgage.

  She might be sorry later for what she was about to say, but she wasn’t just hinting this time. She was merely telling the truth about her options. “I—I’ll probably have to declare bankruptcy to keep the house from foreclosure.”

  Clarissa gasped. “You’ll do no such thing! I will not let our—Zach’s good name be destroyed that way. Wait until Bill gets home and we’ll work something out. You may have to sell the house,” she conceded, “but you will not declare bankruptcy.”

  Jenna tensed and bit her lip to keep from saying something she’d regret later. It drove her crazy the way Clarissa had perched Zach atop a pedestal the day he died a hero’s death. If only Zach could have had his parents’ support while he was living. She reminded herself that it was Bill and Clarissa’s generosity that allowed her to have the kind of life she’d never dreamed possible before meeting Zachary Morgan.

  Relief flooded her. As difficult as it was to confess the truth, she should have known Zach’s parents would take care of things. Clarissa might hold it over her head for a while, but at least they would help her get out of the mess she was in. She should have let them know how much she’d struggled financially long before now.

  But it meant she had no choice but to lay open her bank statements and confess the truth to them. The truth about their finances anyway.

  Other truths—one in particular that haunted her still—Jenna Morgan would take to her grave.

  He’d wished a thousand times that he was one of the fallen.

  3

  Friday, November 7

  Lucas deposited his breakfast dishes in the sink and, using the counter to steady himself, worked his way to the dining room. He was growing steadier on his feet each day and rarely used his cane in the house anymore. But he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all himself. He was a long way from being ready to go back to work. Back on duty.

  He’d wished a thousand times that he was one of the fallen. To have died a hero, to have left loved ones grieving his death—

  An image of Jenna Morgan, weeping over Zach’s casket at the graveside service, filled his mind, and he was tempted to entertain it. Ironically, the image wasn’t even one he’d distilled from real life. He’d still been in the hospital—unconscious—when they buried his father and the others. The haunting image of Zach’s wife came from a newspaper photograph—one that had run in the Hanover Falls Courier the day after the funerals and had been picked up by the AP and run across the nation.

  He’d stared at the half-page photo from his hospital bed and wished it had been he who’d died instead of Pop. Instead of Zach. He would have traded places with any of them in a heartbeat.

  Zach was an engineer. He should have been manning the truck. He never should have been in that building. Jenna should not be a widow.

  The truth—wrong as it was, guilty as it made him feel—was that he’d envied Zach even when his buddy was alive. To have a woman like Jenna love you … he could only imagine.

  He tried to banish the disturbing scenes from his mind, but Jenna’s lovely image resisted, hovering at the fringe of his thoughts. Lucky app
eared around the corner and came to rub against his leg, begging to be stroked. Lucas nudged the cat away, as if he could push away thoughts of Jenna as easily. No need to add lust and envy to his already lengthy list of sins.

  But memories bombarded him. Among the things he’d lost in the fire was the barely blossoming love of the woman he’d started dating three months before the fire.

  Cate Selvy didn’t hold a candle to Jenna Morgan, but he’d been in love with Cate. Or so he’d thought. She’d visited him in the hospital. Once. At least according to his mother. He had no recollection of seeing Cate there. And except for one awkward encounter at the Hanover Falls Pharmacy a few weeks after he’d been released from rehab, he hadn’t seen her since.

  So much for true love.

  Recalling that day in the pharmacy still made the blood rush to his face. He would never forget the look on Cate’s face as he maneuvered his wheelchair away from the counter after paying for his prescriptions. Trying to avoid hitting the person behind him, he’d backed into a display of vitamins. Bottles clattered to the ground. Mortified, he reached to pick them up. Cate knelt to help, only then recognizing that it was him in the chair.

  She tried hard to cover her surprise with a pasted-on smile, but the revulsion in her eyes spoke the truth of her feelings.

  After an interminable, awkward silence, she mumbled something, ducked her head, and veered down the cosmetics aisle.

  She’d called him once after that. He hadn’t answered. A few months later his sister Victoria told him Cate had moved to St. Louis.

  Not that it mattered. Not that she had ever mattered. He was over her. And Cate was no Jenna Morgan.

  He hadn’t had a date since Cate—despite his sisters’ concerted attempts to set him up. Even from their out-of-state colleges, Gina and Victoria had been relentless matchmakers. And although he assured them and his mother otherwise, he doubted he would ever date again. Certainly not marry. Even if he were interested, what kind of woman wanted half a man?