Under The Mistletoe With John Doe

Chapter Eleven

Jason tossed and turned until about two that morning. And when he finally fell asleep, he didn’t rest long. A dream of automobiles crashing into each other, glass shattering and air bags deploying tore into his slumber, shaking him to the core.

But most disturbing of all was that sound of a woman’s cries. Be careful!

I’m pregnant.

Don’t hurt the baby. Please…

Then she shrieked, as if she were being torn in two, and Jason shot up in bed. His heart was pounding like a runaway train, and his skin was cold and clammy.

“Damn,” he uttered, his breaths coming out in short, ragged huffs.

He raked his fingers through his hair and scanned the darkened room, needing to assure himself that the accident hadn’t really happened.

Surely the nocturnal vision had only been a figment of his sleep-deprived imagination. But it had been all too real to be sure.

If the goose bumps on his arms had any significance whatsoever, it could be an eerie premonition.

Or had it been an actual memory that had been triggered by the conversations he’d had with his brothers?

He blinked his eyes, trying to recall the details of his unsettling dream.

There’d been an intersection, a blinding glare. A car speeding by. Metal slamming upon metal. Mangled vehicles spun this way and that.

A blonde in her early thirties sat in the driver’s seat of a minivan. A jagged gash marred the side of her head, and shards of glass littered her blood-matted hair.

Tears streamed down her face as paramedics and firefighters worked on the vehicle, using the Jaws of Life to cut her out of the crushed metallic prison that held her body captive and refused to let go.

Who was she? The only blonde in his life that he was even vaguely aware of was Katrina, the woman he’d been dating. Was she the injured driver? Was she expecting a baby?

And if so, was it his baby?

Is that how Jason figured into all of it?

He might have told his brothers not to worry, that his memory was coming back. But clearly, some things were still lost to him.

Another wave of confusion swept over him as he tried to remember the life he’d once lived.

A sprawling home with an ocean view. A black Mercedes in the driveway. A closet full of suits. A calendar full of meetings and charity events.

Bits and pieces were all he had. But the only life that kept coming back to him, the one that made sense, was the one he’d recently stumbled upon in Brighton Valley. The one he’d found with Betsy.

But if there was a woman he’d been seeing, a woman who might be pregnant, then getting involved with Betsy was wrong. And making love to her, as sweet as it had been, was the last thing he should have done.

His gut clenched at the thought of giving her up, of letting her go. He’d come to care too deeply for her. Hell, he might even love her. But his life was getting more complicated by the minute, and it wasn’t fair dragging her into his mess.

Maybe what he needed to do was to go to California, where his life made sense again. Where he could make some decisions based upon fact.

Going back to sleep was out of the question now, so he got out of bed and padded into the bathroom, where he showered. The hot water pounded his neck and back and the steam swirled around him.

As confused as he was, as uneasy as he was about leaving Brighton Valley and all he’d found here, the past was clearly calling him home. Maybe in San Diego, when he was immersed in familiar surroundings, everything would fall into place.

He sure hoped so. The alternative-eternal uncertainty-wasn’t going to cut it.

After getting dressed, he went to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. While he waited for it to brew, he checked the dialing history and called his brother.

Not Michael, though.

He couldn’t explain why or how he knew it, but it was David he went to when he had a problem. David who came to him for the same reason.

His brother answered on the fourth ring, his voice groggy and sleep-laden. “Yeah?”

“David?”

A pause. “Jason? What’s up, man?”

“Did I wake you?”

Another pause. A glance at the clock? “Damn. It’s three in the morning. I’m not sure where you are, but if it’s in Texas, there’s got to be a two-hour time difference between us.”

Jason blew out a sigh. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t think. I’ve only been firing on a few cylinders lately.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m coming home, Davey. But I need money.”

“You got it. I’ll wire whatever you need first thing this morning.”

“I’m going to fly home today, too.”

“I’ll send the corporate jet for you. It was out of commission yesterday, but it should be ready to go today. Where’s the closest airport?”

“Wexler, Texas, I think.”

“You got it.”

“Davey?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Since when?” his brother asked, a hint of humor sparking his sleep-graveled voice. “We’ve been covering each other’s butts for as long as we’ve been walking and talking.”

That was good to know.

Real good.

“So how’s life in Texas?” Davey asked. “Did you get a chance to play cowboy?”

“Just a little.”

“Good. Ever since we moved into the house in Rancho Vista, you wanted to work with horses.” He had?

“Do you remember riding on those equestrian trails near the beach?”

Jason thought for a moment, the memory clicking. Their parents had purchased an estate in an exclusive area near the ocean with two-to five-acre parcels that were zoned for horses. All three of the boys had learned to ride, although their time was also taken up with schoolwork, sports and girls.

“Yes,” Jason said, “I remember.”

He’d actually tossed around the idea of attending the University of California at Davis and majoring in animal science or something in the agricultural field. But Mike had talked him out of it, saying a business major at USC, their dad’s alma mater, was the only way to go for a future executive at Alvarez Industries.

“So what time do you want the jet at the airport?” David asked. “Best case scenario, it’s going to be at least nine before they can even take off.”

“Let’s shoot for about one o’clock my time.”

“You got it.”

As the call ended, Jason realized that it was a good thing he’d woken up early. He had to get busy if he intended to fly home today.

First, he’d have to hire someone to look out for Doc’s place while he was gone. That would have presented a problem for him, but while he’d been at the feed store yesterday, the proprietor had mentioned that his son was home from college and looking for work over winter break.

The kid’s first job would be to drive Jason to the airport in Wexler, although they’d have to stop by the hospital on the way. Jason needed to let the accounting department know that he had medical insurance and that he would forward that information to them shortly. Then he would go up to the third floor and visit Doc.

He was going to thank the man for everything he’d done. He’d also assure him that someone would take care of the ranch while Jason was gone. He wasn’t sure when or even if he’d be back. But either way, he’d find someone permanent to step in when the student returned to college.

The last thing Jason planned to do was to talk to Betsy. And that visit was going to be tough. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to her. He had to either end things or put their relationship on hold, no matter how much she’d come to mean to him.

But going back to San Diego was his only option, even if he didn’t know what it would bring.

Just talking to Davey had caused more of his memories to surface. A picture had begun to form, and it was finally starting to make sense. He’d recalled the closeness he and David had shared, the house on Derby Lane in which they’d grown up, the horses they used to ride.

Everything Jason owned, everything he was-his life, his identity-was in California. So he had no choice; he had to go back.

He even had a game plan for leaving and seemed to have his proverbial ducks in a row. But that didn’t change what he felt for Betsy.

Nor did it make saying goodbye any easier.

The E.R. was pretty quiet, even for a Tuesday morning, so Betsy decided to take advantage of the lull.

She’d just stopped by the break room to pour herself a cup of coffee when Kay Henderson, one of the volunteers, poked her head in the door. “Doctor, there’s a guy in the waiting room claiming to be your friend and asking to see you. He says his name is Jason Alvarez, but that you know him as John Doe.”

Her heart soared at the news. Had he come to tell her his life had all come together? That he had things to share with her, things that she could pin her heart on?

But she feared that wasn’t the case and braced herself for the worst.

After pouring out her coffee into the sink and running the water to rinse it down the drain, she tossed away the disposable cup and went to hear what John Doe aka Jason Alvarez had to say. But once she reached the receptionist’s window and spotted him standing near the door, words weren’t necessary. She could see the solemn expression on his face.

Whatever he had to say wasn’t going to be good, at least not from her perspective. But she may as well get it over with.

“Kay,” she said to the volunteer covering for the receptionist, “will you please tell Dawn that I’m going outside for a few minutes. I’ll be near the rose garden if she needs me.”

“Of course, Doctor.”

Then Betsy went out into the waiting room to talk to Jason.

He was wearing a pair of jeans and one of the shirts she’d bought him, which made her think that maybe she was wrong. That maybe he wasn’t going to morph back into a stranger.

“I came to tell you that my memory is coming back,” he said. “And that I have to leave.”

Her heart cracked at the news, but she put on her doctor game-face. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“That I’m leaving?”

No. Not that. Yet she forced herself to remain stoical. To pretend that she was giving a patient’s family bad news and that she had to be strong, detached.

She nodded toward the entrance. “Let’s go outside and talk privately.”

“Okay.” He followed her out the door, then they turned right and took the sidewalk to the rose garden that provided people with a refuge from the pain and suffering that went on behind the walls of the hospital and a place to pray or meditate.

“I know these past few weeks have been difficult for you,” she said, stopping beside one of the concrete benches. “And you must have family and friends who were worried about you.”

He nodded. “I don’t remember them all. But it’s coming back.”

Don’t ask about a wife or a lover, she told herself. And whatever you do, don’t you dare cry.

“I’m an executive with Alvarez Industries,” he explained. “It’s a family business.”

An executive, she thought. That explained the nice clothing, the education he seemed to have. But it still left a lot of questions, most of which would probably remain unanswered as far as she was concerned.

“I’m glad it’s all come back to you,” she said.

He skipped over that, saying, “I owe you a lot, Betsy. And I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You already did.” She thought of the memories he’d left her with, the evenings on the porch, the dinner at Cara Mia, the wonderful nights they’d spent making love.

“I’ve settled up with the accounting office,” he added, as if remembering her concerns about the hospital’s financial situation. “I gave them my insurance information and an address where they can send a bill for my share of the cost.”

“That’s good.” She stood as tall as her petite frame would allow, even though she wanted to crumple to the ground and bawl her eyes out.

“About the other night,” he began.

“Don’t give it another thought.” She forced a straight face, then felt it weaken when curiosity about his marital status won out. “Unless you found out that you have a wife.”

“I did at one time,” he said, “but I’m divorced.”

She felt momentarily relieved until he added, “But I’m not sure if I’m committed to anyone or not. And until…”

“I understand.” A cool breeze ruffled past her, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “But for the record, I’m okay with what we did. We both needed the release.”

“Is that all it was to you?” His gaze snared hers, demanding honesty.

But she couldn’t be truthful. Not when their lovemaking had been so much more than sex to her. Not when she’d fallen in love with him.

She could kick herself for letting it happen, but she hadn’t been able to stop the inevitable.

Her rational side tried to shake some sense into her, insisting that she’d fallen in love with John Doe, a man who wasn’t real. That he and Jason Alvarez had very little in common other than the body they shared.

But boy, oh boy, what a body that had been-the olive skin, those blue eyes, that crooked grin. The broad chest, taut abs…

And now that he was standing in front of her, looking every bit like the man who’d held her in his arms, who’d kissed her senseless, who’d put dreams in her heart once again, she felt a wave of remorse at losing him and what they’d once shared, even if he-and it-hadn’t been real.

Still, her rational side popped up again, explaining why it had happened: she’d needed the respite from her troubles and worries for as long as it had lasted.

Of course, her heart wasn’t buying it.

John Doe had made her feel like a woman again, instead of a doctor. And he’d healed something deep within her, even though she should have been the one doing the healing.

And now he was leaving-as Jason Alvarez, a stranger again.

She didn’t know what to think. But the sooner she could send him on his way and get control of her life and her emotions again, the better.

“What we had together was good,” he said.

Her phony, don’t-think-I’m-not-dying-inside smile cracked a little, matching the break in her heart. “But it was never meant to last, Jason. We both knew that.”

He glanced at his feet, at the rugged work boots she’d purchased for him when he’d first gone to live on Doc’s ranch. And she wondered why he wasn’t wearing those Italian loafers and the expensive clothes he’d had on when he came to town.

For a moment, she hoped that he was taking a little bit of Brighton Valley back to California with him. A little bit of…her.

But she’d better get her head out of the clouds and her feet back on solid ground.

When he finally spoke, he said, “I…uh…talked to Doc. And I told him that I lined up someone to look after the ranch until I can find someone a little more permanent to help out.”

“You know,” she said, crossing her arms to ward off the chill in the air, as well as the painful goodbye. “I had a feeling that you were a take-charge sort of guy.”

“I guess you were right.”

Funny, but being right wasn’t much consolation right now. Not while her heart was crumbling.

“There wasn’t any future for us,” she added, taking the only position available to her that wouldn’t cause her to collapse in a pathetic heap. “The only commitment I need to have right now is one to the hospital and to my patients.”

And she’d best remember that.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” he said. “But we can talk then. Maybe we can have dinner or…something.”

Was he trying to let her off easy? Or did “something” mean sex?

If so, she couldn’t do that with him ever again. Not when she loved him-whoever the hell he’d turned out to be.

“I’ll call you,” he said.

Sure, she thought, realizing he’d just left her with the standard last line to use on a date when the evening hadn’t gone anywhere.

She lifted her pager and glanced at the screen, as if it had vibrated unbeknownst to him. Then she offered him a wistful grin. “I’d better get back to work. It’s showtime again.”

But the only show she’d be putting on was this one, the goodbye conversation that was tearing her up inside.

“Okay,” he said. “I won’t keep you, then. But I wanted to say one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“If she asks again, I hope you’ll give your biological mother a chance.”

“Why is that?”

He shrugged. “Because I think your ex made you wary of being hurt. And because I hope this thing with us didn’t make it worse. Sometimes love and relationships deserve a second chance.”

She didn’t respond, didn’t know how to.

As they both headed back to the hospital, he veered toward the parking lot and she turned to enter the E.R.

On the way, she’d been tempted to blurt out that she loved him, that saying goodbye hurt like hell, but that she understood. And that she wished him well.

But the words jammed in her throat.

When she reached the glass doors of the E.R., she reminded herself that she had more important things to worry about than a crazy, irrational attraction to either John Doe or Jason Alvarez-like wondering if the bank would loan the hospital money to stay afloat until the end of the year. But she couldn’t help looking over her shoulder and taking one last peek at the stranger who’d first stolen her heart, then broken it.

And wishing that things were different.

Jason arrived at the Carlsbad Airport at a little after two that afternoon, where he was met by the company limousine.

He’d recognized both the corporate jet, as it had taxied down the runway and stopped to let him board in Wexler, as well as the black luxury vehicle that waited curbside to take him to his house on the beach in Del Mar.

The driver of the limo, a fiftysomething man wearing a sports jacket and a tie, seemed vaguely familiar. He stood beside the open passenger door with his hands clasped behind his back. “Good afternoon, Mr. Alvarez. Did you have a nice flight?”

Jason merely nodded as he climbed into the back of the vehicle. The trip home had been uneventful, but he hadn’t felt like talking to either of the pilots or the driver of the car. Leaving Texas had been far more unsettling than he’d expected it to be.

Maybe because that meant leaving Betsy.

After Jason settled into the L-shaped backseat, the driver shut the door, then circled the car and climbed behind the wheel. Before driving off, he looked over his shoulder to peer through the glass panel that separated them. “Where to, Mr. Alvarez?”

“My house. Do you know how to get there?”

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

Good, because Jason wasn’t sure he could find it just yet.

“Your brother gave me a spare key,” the driver said. “He didn’t think you’d be able to get in without it.”

“He was right.”

They drove out of the airport and turned right, heading toward the entrance to Interstate-5.

“I’ll bet it’s good to be home,” the driver said.

Jason didn’t respond. The whole trip had been complicated.

He’d been afraid that his leaving would hurt Betsy as badly as it had him, but she’d taken it much better than he’d anticipated.

What we had together was good, he’d said.

But it was never meant to last, Jason. We both knew that.

But had they?

A part of him wished to hell that what they’d had, what they’d shared, would have lasted. Or that it still had a chance of making it. But before he could stew about her comment, the phone rang.

The driver pushed a button on the dashboard, then answered.

“Hello? Yes, just a minute. I’ll let you speak to him.” The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. “It’s for you, sir. It’s your brother. I’ll transfer the call to the back and raise the privacy shield.”

“But how do I…?”

“There.” The driver pointed to a control panel. “It’s near the climate control.”

“Thanks.” Jason waited for the panel to rise, then took the call.

“It’s good to have you back,” Mike said. “How was your flight?”

“It was okay.”

“Did you ever find Pedro?”

“Actually, I stopped at a local honky-tonk on my way out of town.” Jason had been wearing the clothes Betsy had bought him so that he’d blend in better with the locals, and he couldn’t help thinking that it had brought him better luck. “I talked to a couple of guys who knew Pedro.”

“Oh, yeah? Have they seen him lately?”

“One guy seemed to be the spokesman. He wanted to know who I was and what I wanted with Pedro. So I gave him my name and told him we were friends and that we’d worked together in San Diego.”

“What’d they say to that?”

“That they’d give him the message.”

A beat of silence followed. Then Mike asked, “Do you think he’ll call?”

“If he gets the word, he will. We weren’t exactly friends, but we had a connection that went beyond management-employee.”

“I told you to watch out and not get too close to your subordinates.”

Jason clamped his mouth shut, even though he wanted to snap at his older brother and say, “Look who’s talking?” After all, hadn’t getting cozy with female subordinates and rubbing elbows-or whatever-with them gotten Michael into trouble?

Not that Jason was saying that he was guilty of Cheryl’s charge. But why give people a reason to believe the worst?

“You know,” he said instead, “my relationship with Pedro could prove to be helpful.”

“I hope that it is.”

They ended the call, and Jason glanced out the window, watching the passing scenery, the stretch of the Pacific near the Del Mar racetrack.

He had a turf club membership, he realized. And he spent a lot of time there during racing season. But not because he was a big gambler. He just liked the horses, the people who worked them.

Is that why he’d settled into Brighton Valley so easily? Was that why he wasn’t at all happy about coming home?

He suspected that he had an issue with his older brother. That while he loved him and there was a loyalty factor, he didn’t always respect him.

Had he always known that? Or had the amnesia and the time away highlighted the things that had been wrong in his life, the things he’d just accepted before because he’d been groomed to be a part of Alvarez Industries?

He wished he had the answer to that, as he settled back into his seat.

Ten minutes later, the limousine pulled in front of a sprawling house on the beach.

Home, Jason thought. And while the yard and structure appeared more than a little familiar, he didn’t quite feel as though he belonged here.

Was that another result of the amnesia? he wondered. Or was it due to the time he’d spent at Doc’s ranch in Texas?

The limousine driver opened the door for him, and as he stepped out of the car, he was handed a key to the house.

“I’m not sure if the alarm is set,” the driver said. “If it is, I can’t help you there.”

That could prove to be a problem, Jason realized. “Would you wait here until I find out? If the police arrive, you’ll have to vouch for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Fortunately, as Jason let himself in to the foyer, he saw that the alarm was off.

The scent of lemon oil and cleaning products suggested the reason for it. The maid came in a couple of days a week, and he usually left it off for her. He suspected that it had remained off for the entire time he’d been gone.

After waving the driver on, he entered the house and scanned the model-home-type furnishings, with everything in its place.

“Home,” he repeated, hoping he would come to believe it.

He made his way to the kitchen, where the breakfast nook window looked out to the ocean.

It was a great view. Did he enjoy sitting at the table or out in the yard? Did he take comfort in the ocean air, like he’d taken comfort in the sights and sounds of the ranch at night?

He cast a glance at the kitchen furnishings, the black marble countertops and stainless-steel appliances. He wandered to the refrigerator and opened it, finding it fully stocked with a variety of beverages.

How about that? Someone had been ready for him.

Katrina? he wondered. Did she come to his house often? Did she have her own key? Had she left her feminine mark on the place?

So far, he hadn’t seen any indication that she had.

He was glad of that because he had no inclination to see the woman-no matter what she may have meant to him.

After taking out a cold beer from the fridge, he popped open the flip top, then closed the door. On the counter near the sink, he spotted a telephone-answering machine combination.

A red blinking light indicated he had messages. So he sauntered over to the counter and pushed the play button.

“You have twelve messages,” he was told.

Beep.

“Hi, Jason. It’s Katrina. Give me a call when you get home. I haven’t seen you in a while and thought that it might be nice to have dinner.”

Beep. “It’s me again, Jason. Where are you? You didn’t return my call yesterday. Are you out of town?”

Beep. “Okay, I’m getting worried now. No one at your office will tell me where you are. And you never mentioned leaving. What’s up?”

Beep. “I give up, Jason. This is the last call you’re getting from me. I realize we don’t have a commitment, but common courtesy doesn’t cost a dime. Unless you have a very good reason for shining me, don’t bother calling back.”

Beep. “Oh, my gosh, Jason. I just heard that you disappeared. Are you okay?”

Jason slowly shook his head. Clearly, Katrina wasn’t the brightest star in the galaxy. How the hell was he going to call her back if he was missing?

Beep. “Okay, Jason. This is the last call you’ll get from me.”

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

He wondered if the hang-ups had been her.

Beep. “Jason, this is Jim Felton, with Felton, Thurman and Grady. Give me a call when you get in. I’d like to meet with you and discuss strategy. Counsel for your insurance company tells me that even though the injuries weren’t terribly serious, there’s definitely going to be a lawsuit coming down the pike. But the good news is that I spoke to the D.A., and there won’t be any criminal charges filed against you for the car accident.”

Beep.

He’d caused an accident? The one he’d dreamed about?

The pregnant woman hadn’t been Katrina, he realized. She must have been driving the other car. Thank God her injuries hadn’t been serious.

As he leaned against the counter, relieved, he was struck by an almost overwhelming urge to pick up the phone and call Betsy, to tell her he’d definitely be coming back to Texas, that he wasn’t involved with anyone after all. He just had a few details to work out first.

A few details? He had a couple of lawsuits-Mike’s and his own-and a formal breakup to a relationship that was already over. He also held an executive board position in Alvarez Industries and all the responsibilities that went along with that.

Damn. Even if he managed to cut strings and smooth out all the rough spots in the road, how could he go back to Brighton Valley and tell Betsy how he felt?

She’d been very clear when she’d told him that what they’d had was nice, but that it was over.

And she’d never even shed a tear.