Rachel Gibson - True Confessions

Out of the corner of her eye a glimpse of red caught her attention and she glanced up at the woman standing by her table. She lifted her gaze up Ralph Lauren jeans and a red silk tank, but even with the brown chin-length wig and dark sunglasses, Hope immediately recognized Juliette Bancroft.

“If you don’t want to draw attention,” Hope said, “lose the sunglasses.”

Without asking if she wanted company, Juliette slid into the seat across from Hope. “Have you called Mike Walker?” she asked, referring to The National Enquirer’s infamous reporter. She reached for her sunglasses and tucked them into her purse.

“I told you, I don’t work for The National Enquirer.”

“I know. You work for The Weekly News of the Universe, which, the last time I checked, had a gossip section.”

“True.” Hope paused and ate a few more fries. “But we don’t pay reporters to look through your trash. Everything you read in our Hollywood gossip section is pretty much old news.”

Juliette grabbed a menu. “I’ve already talked to my agent,” she said as she looked it over. “He’s spoken with my publicist, who will issue a standard ‘No comment’ to the press until we feel the time is right for a statement.” She flipped the menu to the back.

“No one will hear a word from me.”

Juliette glanced up. “Because of Dylan?”

“Of course,” she answered without hesitation. “But even if I felt nothing for Dylan, I would never hurt Adam.”

“Dylan and I have talked to Adam, and I think he’ll be okay. I’m the one who will be hurt the most if the story gets out,” Juliette said.

“And me,” Hope added. “Dylan would never forgive me if he read the story in a tabloid.”

Paris set a glass of water on the table. “What can I get for you?” she asked.

“Is this bottled water?” Juliette wanted to know.

“Straight from the tap.”

Juliette pushed it aside. “Do you have anything low-cal?”

“Salad,” Paris answered.

“Fine. I’ll have a chicken salad with vinaigrette dressing.”

“Don’t have vinaigrette.”

“Then give me Thousand Island, but put it on the side. And I’ll have a Diet Coke, lots of ice.”

“Do you want that ice on the side?”

Surprised that Paris might actually be making a joke, Hope looked up at her, but by the extremely irritated expression on her face, it was very clear she wasn’t kidding.

“In the glass will be fine.” Juliette shook her head as Paris walked away. “I don’t know how anyone can stand to live here.”

“Actually, it grows on you,” Hope said and was surprised as much as Juliette by her statement.

“How long have you known Dylan?”

“Long enough.”

“It was a real shock to walk into his house today and find you in his bed.”

“It was a shock to wake up and find you in his house.”

A reluctant smile tilted the corners of Juliette’s red lips. “He must care about you.”

Hope took a drink of her milkshake. She didn’t know for certain how Dylan felt about her. Beyond telling her she was important to him, he’d never actually said. Now she might never know.

A local couple sat down in the booth behind Juliette and wanted a booster seat for their toddler. Paris brought it, and Hope was struck by how nice and chatty she was to them.

“You don’t look like the sort of woman I always pictured with Dylan,” Juliette said, drawing Hope’s attention away from the change in Paris.

“Why’s that?”

“I always knew he’d end up with a pretty woman, but I figured he’d want someone more… homespun, I guess.” Juliette tucked the brown wig hairs behind her ears, then laid her hands on the table. For the first time, Hope noticed the impressive diamond on her finger. “How much has Dylan told you about me?” she wanted to know.

“Not a lot. Just that you and he were never married and when he left, he took Adam with him,” Hope answered and figured she didn’t owe Juliette anything more.

“When Dylan left L.A., he took Adam because he is a wonderful father.” Juliette lowered her gaze to her hands. “People look at a woman differently if she gives up custody of her child, even if it is best for the child, like there is something wrong with her, like she has no heart. That’s just not true. I love my son, and I never meant to keep him a secret.”

Hope didn’t know what to say about that. She didn’t have children, would never have children, but she didn’t think she could give up custody no matter how wonderful the father.

“I’m only telling you this in case you go ahead with a story. I’m telling you so you know my side. I gave Dylan custody of Adam because Dylan is a good father and a good man. I gave him custody because I love them both.”

As Hope looked into the heavenly blue eyes of America’s favorite angel, she believed her. It didn’t matter if she understood Juliette Bancroft or even liked her. She was right. Dylan was a good father and a good man.

Even before she’d fallen in love, she’d made a connection, and for the first time in a very long time, she’d shared her life and dark, painful secrets. She’d shared with Dylan because she felt safe with him. She trusted him, and he’d trusted her enough to share his life with her, too.

But only to a certain point. She hadn’t told him the truth about what she really did for a living, and he’d lied to her about the woman sitting across the table. He’d told her Adam’s mom was a waitress. He hadn’t trusted her that far. She’d lied to him, and he’d lied to her. Perhaps not the best beginning for any relationship, but they could work through it.

Dylan was being a big hypocrite about it all now, but that would shortly change. When he realized she wasn’t a gossip reporter, he’d have to apologize. She’d forgive him, but she just hoped he didn’t wait too long. She wasn’t a patient woman.

And Adam. During the short time she’d been in Gospel, she’d come to care for him, and his anger hurt almost as much as his father’s.

The cord to Hope’s Discman bumped against the front of her gray sweatshirt as she jogged toward Main Street. Her sunglasses shaded her eyes from the morning sun, and through her earphones Jewel provided commiseration for her breaking heart. She sucked cool mountain air into her lungs as her ponytail bobbed and swayed on her head.

Dylan hadn’t called. He hadn’t called the night before, and he hadn’t called that morning. Hope wasn’t good at waiting. Not when it felt as if her whole life were at stake. She’d given him until nine-thirty that morning before she’d pulled on her jogging shorts and set out for his house.

She was in love with him, and she was certain he cared about her, too. It had taken three years and more than a thousand miles to find him. They could work through their problems because she wasn’t going to give up now, but the closer she got to his house, the more her stomach twisted into a knot. As she entered town, she wasn’t so certain showing up at his door was the wisest move, but she’d had enough of waiting around for him. She had to know for certain what he was thinking and feeling. And exactly how important she was to him.

She rounded the corner at Hansen’s Emporium and slowed. A crowd had gathered outside the Cozy Corner Cafe half a block away, and it appeared to be a film crew, photographers, and a chaotic mess of spectators.

Immediately she recognized the back of Dylan’s battered cowboy hat in the crowd. She pushed her headphones down around her neck, and the knot in her stomach tightened. The closer she got, the tighter it got.

Dylan’s voice rose above the chaos. “Ms. Bancroft has no comment,” he said.

The throng moved as one down the street, past Jim’s Hardware, as reporters shouted questions that were never answered, photographers snapped pictures, and film footage rolled. Above it all, Hope heard Adam’s cries and his pitiful pleas to go away and leave his mother alone. The mob circled Dylan’s truck, and Hope squeezed her way through the shifting wall of reporters. Over the shoulder of one of the photographers, she saw Dylan shove Juliette and Adam into the cab of his truck and shut the door. She pressed forward and broke free of the melee.

“I didn’t do this,” she yelled as she grabbed his forearm.

His jaws were clenched and his eyes burned as he glared at her. “Stay the hell away from me,” he said and shook off her grasp. “And stay away from my son.” He fought his way through the crowd to the driver’s side of his truck. He fired up the engine, and if the reporters hadn’t quickly moved aside, Hope wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t have mowed them down.

As they pulled away from the curb, Hope looked into the cab at Juliette’s pale complexion, bleached so white no amount of makeup could hide her shock. She caught a glimpse of Adam’s face, of the tears rolling down his cheeks, and her heart hurt for him. For herself, too. It was over. She’d lost Dylan. He would never believe her now.

Numb disbelief settled over her as she glanced at the photographers snapping photos of Dylan’s fleeing truck. She held her hands up as if she could stop it all, the cameras clicking, the film rolling, Dylan leaving. Then suddenly it did stop. The crowd dispersed and she was left standing on the sidewalk alone, rooted to the spot where Dylan had told her to stay away from him. Where her life had fallen apart.

She turned to the people standing behind her, in the doorways of shops and spilling from the Cozy Corner. She recognized the faces of those who lived in Gospel, and she also recognized the stunned confusion in their eyes.

Hope didn’t know how long she stood there, staring down the street, nor did she know how long it took her to walk to Timberline Road. Her feet felt leaded, her hands cold, and her heart so battered it hurt her to breathe too deep.