Remembrance (The Mediator #7)(50)
Jesse continued to look skeptical. “And Mr. Walters?”
“Maybe he’s a monster, but only to his daughter’s friends. Or maybe he’s completely innocent, and doesn’t know how to show affection, and keeps getting serially remarried out of the hope that his new wife will take care of the problem of his maladjusted kid. It’s no wonder Becca’s so depressed, and has had to transfer schools so many times. She can’t ever get close to anyone, because whenever she tries, Lucia pushes them away—literally.”
The skepticism in Jesse’s dark eyes turned to thoughtful concern. “But now your friend Kelly is living there—”
“Do you think I haven’t thought of that? Kelly’s in real danger. Then again, based on the behavior I’ve seen her exhibit around Becca so far, she might be the last person we have to worry about Lucia hurting.”
He winced. “Susannah.”
“I know, that’s harsh. But, Jesse, you didn’t see Kelly yesterday in the office. I did. Trust me, if it’s true Lucia’s coming after anyone who gets too close to Becca, then Becca’s dad picked the perfect new wife. Not to speak ill of a former classmate.”
“Didn’t Kelly used to go out with Paul Slater?”
“Oh, yeah, a long time ago.” I managed a derisive laugh. “That’s ancient history. God, Jesse, don’t you read the online Mission Academy alumni newsletter? Get with the times.”
He shook his head, then slipped an arm around my shoulders, bringing me close for a hug. “How can someone so young and so beautiful be so jaded and cynical?”
“Too much time hanging around with dead people?”
He released me from the hug, but kept the arm around my shoulders. “I wouldn’t doubt it. All right, I suppose it does make sense that Lucia is protecting Becca from whoever it was that hurt her. And it’s a good bet it wasn’t a horse.”
I snuggled against him. “I knew the horse thing was what was going to change your mind about exorcising her.”
“It wasn’t the horse. It was you, as you know perfectly well.”
“Sure. You may have everyone else fooled with your pursuit of a medical degree, Dr. de Silva, but I know the truth. You’re really a vaquero at heart. Admit it.”
“I’ve told you repeatedly that I never herded cattle in my life. Sometimes I think you’re the one who needs to have the demons exorcised out of her.”
“You’re probably right,” I said, enjoying the close-up view I was getting down the vee of his shirt, and the rock-hard feel of those solidly carved chest and shoulder muscles. “Maybe we should head to your car. Since you’ve already got all the necessary equipment, you could start driving the devil out of me right now.”
The lopsided grin I loved so much appeared. “I think for you it would take more than a few vials of holy water.”
“That wasn’t the kind of equipment I was talking about.” I slid my lips along his neck while my hand crept playfully toward his belt buckle.
“Susannah.” His fingers locked around my wrist in an iron grip. “Need I remind you that this is my place of work?”
“No one can see us in here.”
“Uncle Jesse!”
Suddenly three small, plaid-skirted projectiles came sailing through the entrance to the gazebo to launch themselves against my fiancé. Their timing was, as always, terrible.
“Oof,” said Jesse, wincing painfully as Mopsy kneed him in the exact spot I’d been about to place my hand.
“Do you have any gum for us, Uncle Jesse?” the girls cried, patting down the pockets of his brown suede jacket.
Jesse had long been a favorite of my stepnieces due to his habit of carrying bubble gum with him. He was the one who’d taught them how to blow bubbles. It was a skill I’d shown him one day while waiting in an endless line at the Department of Motor Vehicles. While he’d declared gum chewing a disgusting habit in adults (bubble gum had not yet been invented the first time he’d been around), he now found it beneficial in entertaining his younger patients while they were receiving painful medical procedures.
“I don’t know,” Jesse said, pretending to extract a stick from behind Flopsy’s ear. “Do I?”
The girls shrieked with appreciation. The insides of their mouths had been stained red from whatever they’d extracted from the vending machines.
“Hey.” Their father strolled up behind them, looking sheepish. “The nurse said you guys were out here. Sorry it took me so long. Thanks for looking after them, especially after what happened. Is Father D going to be all right?”
I rose from the bench and crossed to Brad’s side so we could speak without the girls overhearing.
“We don’t know,” I said. “Jesse said if he makes it through the next twenty-four hours, he should be okay. Where were you?”
“Oh, you know.” Brad looked down at the sidewalk, his hands in the trouser pockets of his ill-fitting suit. He kicked a fallen bud of bright pink bougainvillea into the grass. “Debbie’s dad wouldn’t let me leave, even though I told him about the kids. He made me inventory all the new SUVs we got in at the lot today. It was his way of getting back at me, I guess, for fighting with Deb. But of course all it did was make your life hell. I’m really sorry. Debbie couldn’t come pick them up because she and Kelly have Pilates or yoga or some goddamn thing on Thursday nights.”