The fine thread of desperation that Jared had heard in her voice seemed to swell with her cry. “Shhhh,” he soothed. “You’ll work things out.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure, you can.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve done some awful things!”
Jared was beginning to feel like a confessor, and he was increasingly uncomfortable with the role. This was no random prank caller, but a woman with serious problems. Unfortunately, he was neither a priest nor a psychiatrist. He wasn’t sure quite how to handle her.
“I wish I knew your name,” he murmured half to himself, but she heard.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, suddenly more subdued. “Just talk to me.”
“What should I say?”
“Tell me to stay calm. Tell me to keep my wits. Tell me that panicking won’t do any good.”
“It won’t.”
“I know. But what will? Nothing’s gone as I planned. I’m scared.”
Jared didn’t doubt it for a minute, but he felt helpless. “I want to help, but I can’t do that unless you tell me more. I need to know who you are.”
His plea was met by silence.
“Orwhereyou are.”
Silence still.
“Are you at home?” He paused. “At a friend’s?”
Nothing.
“Then tell me more about your problem. I’m probably not the person you should be speaking with. If you give me a better idea of what’s wrong, I’ll direct you to someone whocanhelp.”
“You don’t understand,” she said defeatedly.
“I’m trying to.Helpme.”
His plea seemed to echo over the line. The silence that replaced it was final.
“You’ve hung up again, haven’t you?” he murmured into the phone. When there was no answer, he replaced the receiver.
He didn’t budge until it was time to identify the station again, and as soon as he’d done that, he went back to thinking about the call. He had to decide whether to do anything about it, and, if so, what. More immediately, he had to decide what to say if she called again.
But the remainder of the night passed uneventfully, and when he joined Savannah in bed shortly after six, it wasn’t a mystery woman’s call that was on his mind. It was Georgia, as always.
CHAPTER20
Susan had always liked the month of May. She thought of it as a time of emergence, a time when things were fresh and new, when the worn, tired face of winter yielded to spring’s rebirth. Most immediately, that meant putting furs and wools and downs into storage and coming out in the open with the brightest and best of the coutures’ new look.
At least, that was what spring had meant to her in the past. This year was different. Though her wardrobe was as smashing as ever, she found little excitement in showing it off.
Sam was forever on her mind.
When they were together, life was positively beautiful. At those times, she didn’t need expensive new clothes to give her a kick. She dressed more casually than she ever had, sometimes preferring a slacks outfit that she’d bought two years before, or a soft pair of jeans and a sexy silk blouse. Other than the planning that went hand in hand with wanting to turn him on, she rarely thought of clothes when she was with him. Nor did she think of alcohol. He kept her busy. They talked about everything, they read and they shopped for the few pieces of furniture he decided to buy. They grilled dinner on the deck and they made love.
Then he went to work and everything changed. Those were the times when she returned to Newport. Bored and lonely without him, she was looking to fill her time. But she was increasingly impatient with those of her crowd whom she saw, and increasingly disinterested, all of which brought her thoughts right back to Sam.
