Blood in the Past (Blood for Blood Series) Read online

  “That makes sense.” Jillian failed to stop her gaze from falling to Calvin’s wedding ring. He didn’t seem to notice. “But that’s part of the reason I chose that major.” He slid closer and, with wide eyes, silently urged her to continue. She did but with solemnness to her tone. “I was a foster child. The good homes were few and far between. The bad homes were real-life nightmares, and no one wants to talk about their nightmares, right? I guess I just wanted to know why people are the way they are and do the things they do.” He didn’t say anything, and all of a sudden, Jillian felt a flush of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Mel doesn’t even know—”

  “It’s okay. Let’s talk about something else.” Calvin placed his iced tea on the table. The glass slid an inch when the condensation met the cheap wooden surface. He interlaced his fingers and crossed his legs, imitating a cheesy, late-night talk show host. “So, Ms. Jillian, are you originally from Philly?”

  “Yes, all parts. Northeast, West, South, and now North.” Amused, Jillian heard her voice regain some of its luster. “As you can imagine, I moved around quite a bit.”

  “I see.” He reached for his tea, took a sip, then returned the glass to the table. “Do you have a favorite?”

  “Yeah—the one part I never lived in. Center City.” Jillian exhaled, slightly betraying her lighthearted tone. How can I love a place I’ve never spent much time in? “City Hall, Love Park, Rittenhouse Square. And those towering buildings. They must have such spectacular views.”

  Jillian’s eyes ignited with excitement. Her dream since making it to college was to have her own practice, perched high above the city in one of those sky-high office buildings. A small sigh escaped her lips.

  “I’m sure you’re right about that. So, what do you like to do in Center City? Suppose I were to take you somewhere, where would you like to go?”

  “If you could ‘take me somewhere?’” Jillian repeated, incredulous.

  Calvin shrugged. “Sure.”

  Jillian let the space between them grow, scuttling to the opposite end of the futon. “But...you’re married?”

  “I am. But, it’s...complicated.”

  Jillian remained still, staring at her hands, begging them not to squirm. She’d known he was married. Fantasizing about his interest in her had been acceptable. But he was interested in her. That was different. That was wrong.

  “Is my being married a problem?” he prodded, reaching to place a hand on her knee. Jillian withdrew but didn’t have far to go. The armrest of the futon was already jutting into her side.

  “I don’t know. I, I think you should go.” She brushed her thick, black hair behind her ears, dropped her hands to her lap, and fidgeted with her fingers. She didn’t dare look at him, or she might change her mind.

  Calvin stood without a word and saw himself to the door. Jillian sat motionless, but her mind juggled an innumerable flurry of questions. Maybe she shouldn’t be so hasty. He was truly interested in her, and she was letting him walk away without knowing the whole situation. Perhaps he and his wife were in the process of separating. Perhaps his wife just wasn’t a good person. Perhaps Jillian should find out, give him a chance.

  When Calvin’s hand reached for the knob, she jumped up and sprinted to the door, oddly compelled to act. Just as he was closing the door, Jillian pried it open. Calvin froze in the hallway, his back toward her. “The Franklin Institute! If I could go anywhere in Center City, I’d wanna go to the Franklin Institute.” She demoted her cries to a whisper and added, “They just renovated the Planetarium.” With that, Jillian closed the door softly before he could respond. She leaned against it and slid to the floor. What did I just do?

  The next day, Mel banged on Jillian’s bedroom door, startling her awake. Grateful she didn’t have class until noon, Jillian stretched her arms over her head and yawned. She’d tossed and turned all night over her attraction to a married man.

  Before Jillian could say, “Come in,” Mel entered the room. The effects of the mugging—dark circles and a down-turned mouth—were still on full display. “Hey, I found this pushed under the door. Has your name on it.”

  She tossed the envelope, and Jillian watched it soar across the room end-over-end. She caught it, and Mel left before she could look up. Curious, she thought. She didn’t recognize the handwriting. She tore it open. Inside were two tickets to the Franklin Institute.

  ***

  The ceiling twinkled and gleamed with the display of the stars and planets visible from that exact point on Earth, during that exact time of year. The generous air-conditioning sent a wave of crawling, shivering pinpricks over Jillian’s bare arms. Calvin noticed and curled an arm around her. What am I doing here? she wondered, suddenly glad she sat to his right, so his wedding ring was out of sight for the moment. Jillian had no idea how to feel about their first date or the way he looked at her, listened to her. The feeling of being wanted flustered her. She had gone unwanted for far too long, her entire life even. Her father abandoned her pregnant mother, who then dumped Jillian in front of a hospital as an infant. Year after year, every household thereafter only took her in to collect a government paycheck. Don’t I deserve a real relationship, however complicated?

  After that afternoon at the Planetarium, Jillian fell for Calvin at a feverish pace. His desire felt so different from the foster homes, from the many schools and neighborhoods, and from the hundreds of faces that had passed in and out of her life, overflowing her world with rejection. Yes, Calvin was married. But for once, someone who already had a family wanted her—truly wanted her. So she held tight to Calvin Kyle.

  They shared beds at hotels near the airport and candlelit dinners at restaurants in Jersey and Delaware. Their affair stretched from weeks to months. Calvin held doors for her and bought her trinkets. She’d never been in a similar relationship. Or any serious relationship, in fact. Calvin made her feel as though she had a voice, as though she was worth it. She didn’t know what it was, but it made her feel alive. She could live a thousand lifetimes in a single day with Calvin. And she’d die a thousand deaths before she’d let him go. But one thing nagged at Jillian.

  Calvin paid for their dinners in cash. She charged the rooms to her credit card, and Calvin reimbursed her. The arrangement pestered her somewhat. Keeping their relationship hidden was curious, since he insisted a separation between him and his wife was imminent. She’d asked him about it one night after he’d stuffed a handful of twenty-dollar bills into a black leather checkbook and handed it off to their waitress.

  “Can’t leave a paper trail for the little woman,” he had joked.

  “Yeah, about that.” She’d looked up at him from the chocolate mousse she’d been toying with and frowned. “Where is what we have going if you’re married?”

  Calvin had answered with a garbled mess of words. The topic of leaving his wife remained the one blemish in his otherwise smooth demeanor, the one flaw in their romance. I don’t even know my rival’s name, she thought bitterly. But she knew his daughter’s name: Lyla.

  He spoke of her constantly: how she had graduated at the top of her class—pre-med at the University of Pennsylvania—and was currently serving her last year as a surgical resident at one of the more prestigious local hospitals. Calvin gushed with pride over her. Jillian assumed he didn’t leave his wife because Lyla would be crushed.

  But what about the crushing weight of his marriage on our relationship, Jillian often asked herself. But she held on. She held on against her better judgment because, for the first time, she had something—someone—to hold on to.

  Early spring turned to late summer and it was their five-month anniversary. Jillian picked Calvin up at one of their meeting places. The tops of her brown breasts glistened in the rays of sun peeking through the sunroof. The strings to her bikini draped down from the back of her neck and tickled her collarbone.

  “Happy anniversary, darling,” she said with a beaming smile as Calvin stepped into the co
upe.

  He barely chuckled before pulling the door shut. Jillian leaned to her right for a kiss and met empty air instead. She disguised her humiliation by reaching into the glove compartment for a different pair of sunglasses, mumbling that they matched her bathing suit better. Had Calvin forgotten about their anniversary?

  During the drive, Jillian tried to recall if Calvin had responded differently on anniversaries past. He hadn’t really, so she assured herself he simply thought it was cute and youthful that she celebrated by month instead of just by year.

  With her feet planted in the warm sand of Rehoboth Beach, she watched his skin deepening in the sun, his hair fluttering in the ocean breeze. Salt stained his legs from their earlier traipse near the approaching tide. Jillian cradled a book in her hand, but her lover’s physique interested her far more than her novel. Rays of light glittered in the few gray hairs of his chest and sideburns. Sweat sparkled in the creases of his muscles. She desperately wished he’d turn to look at her so she could feel the warmth of his gaze coupled with the heat of the summer day. But facing the ocean, wearing a smirk, he appeared preoccupied.

  Jillian followed his line of sight to see what had ensnared his attention. She scowled at the two girls her age frolicking in the surf topless. Calvin clearly enjoyed the view. The lifeguard’s scolding shouts punctuated the thoughts bombarding her mind. Jillian found herself obsessed with everything that had happened that day. He had most certainly forgotten their anniversary. He hadn’t spoken more than a dozen words during the three-hour car ride to Delaware, and he hadn’t stolen a single glance at her since they’d arrived. Then he became distracted by other women. Am I losing him?

  “Cal?” she called sweetly, trying to derail his focus.

  He didn’t answer. He continued to smile at the topless girls on the horizon.

  “Cal!” she yipped, slamming the armrests of her beach chair.

  Startled, he faced her, lowering his bronze-tinted sunglasses down to the tip of his nose. He squinted against the bright reflection of the sun off the sand.

  “What’s up, Jilly?”

  Jillian tried not to speak through gritted teeth. Instead, she took a breath and forced a smile. “What are you thinking about, staring off into the ocean, without a care in the world?”

  “Oh, just savoring the day.”

  Jillian affixed another fake smile and allowed silence to retake the moment. She focused on her breathing, aligning it to the rhythm of the crashing waves. Calvin had just lied to her. She tried to rein in her thoughts, to corral her feelings, but she found it impossible. She couldn’t let him stray. She was his.

  All her life, Jillian had been meek and submissive. She’d stayed in her place, whatever that was, and rarely spoke her mind. Not anymore. She exhaled through pursed lips and gripped the armrests, willing her fingers to convey strength rather than anxiety. “Cal, when are you leaving your wife?”

  “We’ve talked about this.” He sighed, still looking straight ahead, though the girls had reunited themselves with their bikini tops. “It’s not the right time just yet.”

  “But there is a right time? One hopefully just around the corner?”

  “Jill, my wife and I got married very young, basically right out of high school. We thought we were in love, and maybe we were. Then she got pregnant and we had Lyla, and we realized that what we thought we had was never there. Or it was and it was gone. The whole thing is very cliché, I’m sure, but the truth is we’ve been living virtually separate lives ever since. And I’m sorry, but I just can’t pinpoint an exact date when we’ll finally part ways. Do you understand?”

  “I understand that you didn’t answer my question. You do plan on leaving her, don’t you?” Jillian winced when she heard her voice revert to its usual passive tone.

  “I thought I answered your question.” His voice was stitched with annoyance. “Look, can we not talk about this today? It’s our anniversary.”

  Jillian fumed. Earlier he’d forgotten their little monthly milestone, and then he was using it against her. Was he testing her? Did he want her to fight for his attention, for his love? She could do that. She’d caught his eye months ago, and she could do it again.

  “I’d like to go,” she said coyly, placing a hand on his arm.

  “Really? We still have a few more hours—”

  “I know, but...The lifeguard has left for the day and most of the beachgoers have left as well...”

  Jillian let her voice trail off and stood. The wind tossed her long ponytail over her shoulder and whirled sand around her mahogany curves. She leaned in close to Calvin, her breasts nearly spilling out of the triangles of her top. “Follow me,” she said in a breathy whisper.

  She clasped his hand and led him toward the wooden boardwalk. When they neared the ramp, she redirected him—under the boardwalk. Before he knew what happened, she kissed him hard and fast, devouring the windswept salt on his lips, falling with him to the soft sand. Unlike out in the open sun, the darkness provided cooler sand that conformed to their writhing bodies.

  The wooden planks above rattled with the footsteps of passersby, blanketing any trace of their grunts and moans. The little sunlight that forced its way through the hurried crowd above the boards cast dancing cheetah spots of shadow across their sand-speckled, near-naked bodies.

  Jillian threw her head back with pleasure. She’d fought and won, pushing herself to the forefront of Calvin’s mind once more. She was his, and she was there to stay.

  ***

  The following week, Jillian met Calvin in an alley near the pub he and his colleagues frequented following their shifts. Calvin’s early morning patrol shift had just ended, and he’d wanted to discuss the arrangements for one of their usual hotel trysts. The sun shone, but shadows dampened the alley. Only a few rays of sunshine accompanied them. Calvin spoke to her with an unusually firm tone; it sounded overly dour compared to the jovial man she’d come to know.

  “So, we’ll meet at the hotel at eight,” he said. “Room 216. I memorized your Visa, so I made the reservation for us.” He opened the door to his police cruiser, hopped in, and rolled down the window.

  Jillian leaned into the car and watched her lover’s eyes creep downward to her low-cut tank top. She kissed him deeply, the way she always did, but he pulled back. Just a little.

  “Some of the guys still think you’re an informant.”

  She pouted. “I thought you told them about me.”

  “I did, just not all of them—“

  “By the way, I’ve been trying to call you since Delaware, baby.” Jillian spoke in a coquettish tone, giddy to spill her news right then, but Calvin cut her off, nodding curtly.

  ”Listen, I want to talk about us tonight, Jilly.”

  Jillian’s heart flip-flopped. Finally! That was what she had waited months for. Lyla was more than an adult and about to complete her last year of residency. In fact, she’d just moved into her own apartment. Calvin could finally leave his wife. Plus, this would be the perfect time to share her exhilarating news! But why doesn’t Calvin look as thrilled as I feel?

  Jillian craned into the car to give him another quick peck on the lips. Calvin said goodbye and headed home to catch up on some sleep—in the bed he still shared with his wife. Driven by curiosity, and perhaps a bevy of other emotions, Jillian tailed him to his cobalt-blue, two-story townhouse.

  The serene neighborhood on the outskirts of Philly intrigued her. She wanted so badly to be a part of it, and she even imagined Calvin returning home from work to her, greeting her with a kiss. Jillian wondered if she would move in with him or if he’d leave the house to his wife so they could start anew in their own house. Soon she would know. Maybe even after that night’s talk.

  Jillian arrived at the Atlantic City hotel early. She draped herself in a silk negligee—a gift from Calvin—and lit several gardenia candles. She always used a gardenia-scented conditioner, and Calvin had mentioned when they first met that he liked the way her hair smelled.
In fact, he’d described the smell as “divine.” Jillian shivered with anticipation as she ordered a bottle of champagne from room service—she didn’t think a single glass would hurt—and sprawled across the king-sized bed to await her lover.

  Calvin lumbered through the door well after eight. He didn’t even spare a glance at Jillian. Instead, he circled the room and extinguished each candle with his thumb and forefinger. Finally, he perched on the edge of the bed and stared at her. Jillian didn’t budge. Even holding the champagne flutes, she fought the urge to fuss with her hands under his scrutiny. He got up, turned up the lights as bright as they could go, and returned to his spot on the bed.

  “Jillian, I’ve asked you several times not to call my house.”

  She sat up. Are we not about to have the talk I’ve looked forward to all day? The talk I’ve longed for the past five months?

  Calvin continued. “I think we should stop seeing each other. At least for a while.”