Where There's Smoke

“I didn’t think I should keep the secret any longer, Helen,” Key told her from the open doorway. “I felt Jimmy had a right to know, so I called him tonight.”

“I’m glad you did,” Jimmy said fervently.

“So am I. Now,” Helen added softly as she nuzzled his chest. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Me, too. When you broke up with me, I got mad for a few days. Then the hurt set in. I couldn’t figure why you’d stopped lovin’ me all of a sudden like that.”

“I didn’t stop loving you. I never will. It’s because I love you so much that I didn’t want to be a burden to you, to hold you back or keep you from taking this opportunity.”

“As if you could ever be a burden. You’re my second half, Helen. Don’t you know that?” Jimmy bent his head and kissed her softly on the lips, then pulled back and whispered, “I’m sorry about our baby.”

When Helen began crying again, Key knew it was time to leave the young lovers to work through their reconciliation and regret alone. He stepped into the bedroom only long enough to retrieve Lara’s black bag.

“Sometime before her folks come home, see to things on the back porch,” he told Jimmy. “Take her to Dr. Mallory’s office in the morning. No one else will ever know.”

The younger man nodded. “Thanks, Key. You’re the best.” Key kissed the tip of his finger and pressed it to Helen’s temple, then left the room.

He found Lara in the living room, seated on the sofa, hugging her elbows. She looked at him with cold reproach. “You could have told me.”

“And spoiled your fun? Think of the hours of pleasure you’ve had despising me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Suddenly he was very tired and didn’t feel like dragging this out. Every time they were together, they were at each other’s throats. The emotional events of tonight had left him feeling drained; the fight had gone out of him. “Forget it.”

She stood and reached for her bag. He handed it over to her. It weighed down her arm like an anchor. “You okay?” he asked. “You don’t look so hot.” She, too, appeared tired, bone-weary, and dispirited. “You’re pale.”

“No wonder. You woke me out of a deep sleep, and I didn’t take time to use my blusher.” She moved to the front door. “Can I get out of here without being mauled by coon dogs?”

Key secured the front door and they left the house together. The dogs were roused, but Key gruffly ordered them to stay where they were. Once Lara was in the driver’s seat of her car, she rested her forehead on the steering wheel.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Just tired.” She raised her head and reached for the door. He moved aside and let her close it, then watched as she drove away. He kept her in sight as he climbed into the pimp-mobile. She drove slowly, as if it were a newly acquired skill.

At the crossroads, he debated over whether to return to The Palm. It was late. Only the drunkest of the drunks would still be there. He didn’t feel like carousing. But he wasn’t ready to go home, where he always felt claustrophobic.

In the opposite direction, the taillights of Lara’s car disappeared behind a rise in the road. “What the hell,” he muttered as he turned the Lincoln around.

In spite of her protests, she hadn’t looked too chipper. He was responsible for getting her out at this time of night. The least he could do was follow her to see that she got home safely.

Lara didn’t notice his headlights in her rearview mirror, so it came as an unpleasant surprise when the Lincoln pulled into her driveway as she was unlocking the clinic’s back door.

“I’m closed!” she called. Undeterred, Key joined her on the back steps. “What do you want now? Why can’t you leave me in peace?”

Her voice was beginning to fray. If she noticed the weakness, he was certain to hear it too. The tears she had managed to hold back during the drive home filled her eyes, making his image watery.

Turning her back to him, she inserted the key into the lock. At least she attempted to, but her vision was blurry and her hands were unsteady.

Key reached around her. “Let me.”

“Go away!”

He took the key from her, pushed it easily into the lock, and opened the door. The alarm began its delay buzzing. He went in ahead of her and moved to the panel.

“What’s the code?”

She wanted to tell him to go to hell, wanted to forcibly remove him, but didn’t have the strength for either. “Four-o-four-five.” He punched in the code and the buzzing ceased. “It won’t do you any good to know the code,” she told him peevishly. “I’ll change it tomorrow.”