Connor's Gamble (13 page)

He leaned back against the seat, slouching down again, trying to get comfortable.  They were a few hours from New Orleans and he planned to spend it thinking about the woman he loved and the passion they'd shared over the last couple nights.  And he'd try like hell not to remember that when they disembarked at their next stop, he'd go back to his lonely apartment and she'd head back to Florida—and out of his life for good.

Chapter Seventeen

Saturday

“I
don't know what to do, Molly.”

Alyssa steepled her fingers before fisting her hands and resting her chin on top, looking at the woman seated across from her.  Once the seniors were settled into their new hotel rooms, Alyssa had gone straight to Molly, the one friend she could always talk to.

“About what, honey?”

“Connor.  I'm so confused.  Thought I moved far enough away. I never expected to run into him in Florida.”

Compassion and understanding flowed across Molly's face.  “Was bound to happen sooner or later.  You've got family in New Orleans.  You'd have to go back sometime.”

Alyssa laughed and it sounded bitter to her own ears.  “Family?  Is that what you call them?  In the two years Connor and I were married, you and Margaret were more family to me than they ever were.  Ryder was as close to me as Daniel.”  Grasping Molly's hand, she whispered, “I never knew what family was supposed to be until I met you.  Danny was the only saving grace in that dysfunction people called our happy home.”

Molly patted her hand, squeezing it gently.  “Alyssa, you
are
family.  The minute Connor brought you to meet us, you became family.  You loved our boy, so we loved you.  That doesn't change just because you aren't together any more.  You will always be family.”

Tears rolled silently down her cheeks and Alyssa didn't try to stop them.  She couldn't love Molly more.  Blood relation or not, Connor's grandmother had welcomed her with open arms from the day they met.  She remembered that day as clearly as if it had just happened.  Sunday afternoon picnic lunch.

Every Sunday after church the entire Scott family gathered at Connor's grandparents' house. The men fired up the grill, milling around the giant wooden deck enclosing the back of the house.  A huge grass-covered yard spread out beyond, concrete steps leading off the deck to a smaller concrete patio where the kids toys scattered in a colorful explosion of plastic and metal.  A freshly mowed lawn covered the rest of the backyard that seemed to go on forever before sloping off gently at the small pond.  Deep enough to swim in during the hot summer months, big enough to hold the entire family.  Warmth from that bit of memory filled her spirit and made her smile.

“It's so hard seeing him again.  The last few months of our marriage were—rough.”  Alyssa's voice broke at the last word.  Rough didn't begin to encompass the hurt and betrayal of Connor's infidelity.

“I still don't believe my boy cheated with some two-dollar floozy.”

“I didn't want to believe it either, but pictures don't lie.”

Molly's head snapped up at her words.  “Pictures?  You never said anything about pictures.”

Alyssa sighed.  She hadn't meant to reveal that.  She'd never told Molly about the pictures she'd gotten in the mail.  Vivid color prints of her husband and some auburn-haired trollop draped naked across his lap, her head thrown back as one hand roamed over his bare chest.  Bare breasts brushed against her husband's chest and his hand cupped her ass.  Just thinking about those pictures and the screaming fights they'd had after they'd arrived tore her up inside.

They'd had the worst fights of their marriage in the days following those incriminating photos.  Connor's denial still rang in her ears.  She'd wanted to believe him, needed to believe him, but she held the truth in her hands, in living color.

“Yeah, there were pictures.  His
girlfriend
mailed me concrete proof he'd been sleeping around on me.  Apparently it'd been going on for months before she finally felt I needed to know.  Bastard.”   Alyssa stood up and stalked across the room, her arms crossed beneath her breasts.  Anger pulsed through her, a living breathing heat roaring in outrage, as it did each time she remembered Connor's disloyalty.  The loss of trust was more than their marriage could withstand.

# # #  # #

Molly walked over and put her arms around Alyssa, hugging her close.  She'd known there were problems in their marriage at the end, but never knew all the details.  The divorce when it came had been a shock to the whole family.  Connor clammed up and hadn't spoken to anybody, not even his brother, Ryder.  She knew her boy loved Alyssa with all his heart.  There was no way he'd ever have cheated on this woman. 
His wife
.  She and John, God rest his soul, had raised their boy up better than that.  His grandpop would be rolling over in his grave if he thought for a minute Connor had fooled around on Alyssa.  Not his Connor.

Something didn't add up here.

“So his philandering was the reason you divorced him?”  Molly patted Alyssa's back as she continued to rock her gently.

“What else could I do, Molly?  Connor knew what my life was like as a child.  My mother was the town whore who spread her legs for any man who'd buy her a drink.  She was gone more than she was home.  Dad drank himself to death, mourning for what he'd lost, the woman he loved more than anything.”  Her voiced dropped down to a barely audible whisper.  “More than Danny—or me.”

“Did he tell you why?  Why he turned to somebody else?”

Alyssa shook her head.  “No.  He swore up and down he never slept with her.  That he loved me, only me.  But the proof sat right there in my hands.  More fool me, I even took the photos to a lab after his denial.  I believed him when he swore they were faked.”  She raised her head, her eyes meeting Molly's, tears glistening on her lashes.  “They weren't fakes, Molly.  They weren't doctored or altered in any way.  The photo lab said they were one hundred percent the genuine article.”

Molly stood holding her ex-daughter-in-law in her arms, feeling the trembling sobs rock her petite frame.  Something definitely did not add up.  On the day before he'd married Alyssa Connor had come to her house early in the morning.  He'd been so happy, so in love.  They'd talked about her marriage to his grandpop.  How he wanted to have a marriage just like theirs, one that stood the test of time.  Molly'd loved John with every fiber of her being from the day they met until he took his last breath.  Loved him still and knew to the depths of her soul one day they'd be together again.

Alyssa stepped back out of her arms, a trembling smile tilting the corner of her lips upward.  “Its okay, Molly.  I just needed to talk and you've always been there for me.”  She paused a moment before continuing.  “When I made the decision to work for Whispering Pines—I knew you were there.  Without Connor and Maggie and Ryder, you were all the family I had left.  Danny was in the marines, gone overseas.  I . . . I needed to hold onto one piece of something special, one piece of what had been solid in my life.  You were my touchstone.  It wasn't a coincidence I got hired at the senior center where you happened to live.  I made it happen.”

Molly chuckled.  She had her own secrets about exactly who'd gotten Alyssa the job at Whispering Pines, but her lips were sealed and she'd never tell her.  Alyssa thought she was so smart, but she didn't know everything.  Molly had contacted the center's administrator when the activities director position came open and mentioned she knew a candidate who'd be perfect.  When Ryder called, he mentioned Alyssa was in Florida, getting ready to go on a cruise.  Even though she and Connor were divorced, Alyssa stayed in contact with and occasionally talked with his brother, Ryder.

Molly had dropped a few carefully worded hints in Ryder's ear about how Alyssa needed a change of scenery and wouldn't it be a good thing for her to come work in Florida for a bit, put some distance between her and Connor.  Maybe a new job, new people, would be a good thing. 
Just, don't tell her I mentioned anything,
she prompted.

Ryder faxed in Alyssa's resume without telling her, applying for the position.  The interview was scheduled before he even told her about it.  The position was all pretty much a done deal before she ever set foot at Whispering Pines Senior Living Center.  Molly even convinced the administrator not to mention her part in any of Alyssa's hiring.  Things had worked out just fine, until she saw how heartbroken Alyssa was.  The girl obviously missed her ex-husband something fierce.

Molly had been struggling with figuring out a way to get Connor down for a visit when fate literally threw him into her path.  They'd be stuck together on a bus for at least three days while traveling to New Orleans.

Molly expected fireworks but so far nothing had gone according to plan.  The bus wrecking, Abby's accidental death.  But no reconciliation.  She wasn't a quitter, though, and it looked like she'd be doing a bit of not-so-gentle nudging to get these two back together.  If necessary, banging their heads together to knock some sense into them might do the trick.  She chuckled.

Getting these two lovesick fools back together was a challenge—and she'd never backed down from one yet.  Game on.

Chapter Eighteen

Saturday

“I
'm going to the police.”  Esther Shapiro's blood ran cold at Trudy's proclamation.  What did the stupid twit think she was doing?

“What?  Why would you even think about doing something so crazy?”

“Abby's dead—we have to tell them what happened.”   A sob spilled from Trudy's shaking form and she raised her trembling hand to her lips.  “There was so much blood, Esther.”

“Of course there was blood.  She hit her head, remember?  That's what happened.”

“She wouldn’t have hit her head if you hadn't pushed her.”  Panic laced Trudy's voice, evident by the rise in volume.

Esther raised a hand to quiet her.  “Balderdash.  Abby was perfectly fine when we left her room, sitting on the side of the bed.  You saw her.”

“I know, Esther, but she
died
.  We're at least partially responsible.  If you hadn't argued . . .”

“If you tell the police you had an argument with somebody and the next day they're dead, what do you think is gonna happen?  Don't you watch those
Law and Order
shows on TV?  Won't matter whether it was an accident or not, you'll go to jail.  I'm sixty-eight years old.  Ain't planning on spending the rest of the time I got left sitting in a cell because Abigail got too big for her britches.”

“Esther!  They're not gonna throw us in jail—she hit her head on the nightstand.  It's not like we
murdered
her!”   The screeching pitch in Trudy's voice grated on Esther's last nerve.

“Hmpf.  Won't matter.  Police got a dead body; they want somebody to pay the price for it.  Won't matter to them one way or another.  We'll both end up in the slammer.  We warned Abigail.  How many times did we tell her to back off?  Why couldn't she have kept to herself and done what she was told?”  Esther watched as Trudy waddled back and forth across the floor of their shared room.  Waddled was the only word to adequately describe the shuffling, bobbing gait of her overweight roommate and co-conspirator.  Gritting her teeth, biting back the retort she wanted to fling at Trudy, Esther instead tried a more logical approach.  “The two of us were a team, Trudy.  Abigail had no call sticking her nose in our business that way, thinking she could just stroll in and take over.  You told her, I told her—she just wouldn't listen.  She won't be pushing herself forward any more now, will she?”

“Do you think the fall killed her?”  Trudy whispered the question, staring at the floor as though unable to meet Esther's direct gaze.

Fat cow probably can't.  The idiot's too guilt-ridden to think straight.  Maybe . . . hmm, that might work in my favor
.

Esther mentally rubbed her hands together, a plan unfolding in her mind.  “She hit her head pretty hard but got up quick.  Didn't act like she was hurt or anything.”  Sniffles accompanied Esther's statement.  She rolled her eyes, but made sure Trudy didn't see her.  Gotta play it cool.

“I still get the shakes every time I think about that policeman asking all those questions, wanting to know if anybody had been with her before she died.”  Esther glanced at Trudy, trying to gauge her reaction to her words.

Trudy nodded, rubbing her wrinkled hands over her upper arms, encased in a thick cable-knit sweater.

“He wouldn't have let the bus leave with all of us if they thought somebody murdered her.  Just like I said—it was a terrible accident.”  Esther reassured Trudy, her tone soothing and warm.

“I guess so.  But you did push her.”  Trudy's sullen voice grated against Esther's nerves.

“Shut up, Trudy.  This is the last time I'm telling you.  She was a mean-spirited old biddy who conked her head.  I don't know what killed her, but it wasn't us.”

Trudy heaved a huge sigh and closed her eyes for a moment as though gathering her strength at Esther's pronouncement.   “Okay, Esther.  Let's go on downstairs.  I wanna play some video poker and if we don't rush, Sandy will hog all the good machines.”

Stupid old fool
.  Esther grabbed her ginormous purse and headed for the door.  Trudy was becoming a liability; she felt it in her bones.  The blabbermouth wouldn't be able to keep her trap shut. Couldn't keep a secret worth a damn.  It was only a matter of time before she spilled the beans to somebody, especially if she had one too many martinis.  Which was a sucker bet, Esther thought.  The woman loved a good cocktail while she played her slots or video poker.

I'll have to take care of Trudy before she becomes a bigger problem than she already is.  Can't have her running her fool mouth off about our plans.  I'm not going to jail because the old battle-axe bumped her head.  Who croaks from a knock on the noggin, anyway?