Jack Who? (Book 1 Draft Version)

CHAPTER 12

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I needed to make my phone calls, and Jack mentioned going down the hall to a vending area we had passed en route earlier. Olivia was my first call, and surprisingly, she didn't ask any questions about Jack, after hearing what had befallen Tristan. When I called my mother, I caught hell for calling Olivia first, but she calmed down enough to grill me about Jack.

“Marissa, do you understand how much you embarrassed your father and I? We are your parents and you walked off without so much as a brief introduction?! If that young man weren’t such a hoodlum, I would think you were ashamed of us!”

Despite the seriousness of the last couple of hours, and especially half hour, I felt a giggle gurgling in my throat. How my mothers actions would change when she learned that Jack was a celebrity, of sorts. Studying the french manicure Olivia had treated me to, while helping me with my errands, I let my mother run out of steam. By that time, Jack returned, setting both a coffee and a soda on the little table beside me, as well as a package of crackers, and one of mini donuts. Then, he reclaimed his seat sipping his own soft drink.

Nodding my thanks, I popped the top on the can, and tilted the fizzy drink into my throat. “Mother, I've got a lot on my mind right now. Anything that does not concern Tristan we can talk about at another time.”

“You act as if you don't appreciate me being here,” She bemoaned.

“Mom, don't do this right now.” Feeling Jack's assessment, I stared hard at the pattern on the carpet.

“I really have no reason to be here if we cannot see Tristan today.”

“It means the world to me that you are here with me, but you are right. Why don't you go home get some rest and I will call you as soon as they put him in his room.” As much of a comfort as my mother's presence could be, at other times, like now, it was the opposite.

“Excuse me for saying so, but you haven't exactly been good with keeping us updated.”

In the background, I heard my father mutter something reproving to her, and knew within minutes they would be in an argument.  As a child, I was the peacemaker, running interference between the two of them.  In my early adult years, I distanced myself from them, but lately, these last few years I found myself playing the role again.

“Mom, I'm coming down to walk you to the car, okay?”

Hitting 'End Call,' I turned to Jack. “I've got to, well, you heard...Will you be here in case--”

Nodding, he assured, with warm eyes, as much as warm words, “I'll be here. Do what you need to do. I'm not going anywhere.” Still, I hesitated, wanting to be sure he had my number, but I knew he did. Maybe I was looking at my phone, or maybe he read my mind, because he reassured me yet again, “I will call you if any thing changes. Don't worry, you will be back in what, fifteen?”

Nodding, I turned and my feet moved in the closest action to a sprint that was acceptable in a hospital.

My father hugged me with words of reassurance, and related that he would return the following day. My maternal parent harangued me every step to her car, and demanded information on whom she clearly knew was Tristan's father, but I refused to give her any information about Jack, insisting that he was a friend.

Olivia, as the true friend that she was, waited patently in the lobby, and passed over my purse as she accompanied me back in to Tristan's empty room. As she gathered the few things she had brought for an all day camp here at the hospital, she let me know that Jack was not 'Russ.'

For the fortieth time, I felt the guilt of carrying this secret. “I know. Liv, I will tell you everything.”

“You KNEW you slept with JACK STONE?!” Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, like the guppies she had surprised Tristan with when he was three. “Rissa, Tristan is Jack Stone's SON!”

Wanting only to run three floors up to be as near Tristan as I could, I, nonetheless, waited this out. Olivia was my best friend. I should have told her long ago. However, the problem was her inability to keep a secret. Never could I have been sure she wouldn't tell someone.

Ramming her phone into her clutch, as she rattled off the observations, she froze when her godson's name made sense. “Ooooooohhhhh. Tristan JACK!” Turning her head so rapidly toward me, that her hair flipped, she declared, “You get a reprieve today. But Rissa, I swear I will tie you to a chair or something until you tell me everything!”

“Okay. Okay!”

“Did he leave?”

“No. He's upstairs. I should get back up there.”

“Yes you should!” Olivia smiled a gentle smirk. Then she leaned against me in a brief hug. “I'm so relieved the surgery part went well, and don't worry, he's going to get through this fine. Text me or call me, whatever, as soon as our little guy wakes up. Okay?”

Olivia and I walked together to the elevator lobby where she pressed both the up and down buttons. My doors parted first, and before stepping through them, I hugged her again.

Jack's attention was on the face of his phone, a forefinger tapping on the screen, but as if feeling my presence he looked up even though a television broadcasting in the upper corner of the room muffled my approach. Automatically, he stood and momentarily confused, thinking he was leaving, I remained standing, until I realized that he was mannerly waiting for me to sit down.

Dropping to the chair I previously vacated, I took up the Coke I had been drinking, and while sipping, took in the other occupants of the room. The number of families waiting for news of loved ones, or to visit, was testament of number of patients that Tristan's doctor had spoken of.

“You get your mom calmed down?” His smile was small, but it was joking, and I took a moment to enjoy the break in the stress of the day before answering affirmative. “Is she always like that?”

“Like what?" I drawled disparagingly, "Flipping everything around to how it affects her? Yeah.”

Viewing the large clock on the wall, I saw that there was twenty minutes to go until next visit time. Delving into my pocket for my phone, I brought up the missed text messages. Now that I had actually spoken to Olivia, her texts would occupy ten minutes or so, keeping me from my other distraction. The fact that Jack could make my heart pound by just sitting there, and draw my gaze with his every move, while my child lay ill down the hall was discomfiting.

After my talk with Olivia the other night, I put a lock code on my phone, and now as I punched the number in, I noticed in my side vision, that Jack returned his attention to his phone.

Since I was reading the texts backwards, I went through the ones asking about Tristan, then stopped when I saw Jack's name.

LIV

ALERT He is not Russ.  That is Jack Stone or whatever name he goes by these days

9:22 AM

The internal amusement may have been verbal because Jack twisted his head to me, and a strangely familiar instinct had me turning the screen to his viewing angle. “My friend Olivia. The one that was with me when you got here.”

An answering sound, as stressed and tired as my own laugh sounded from his lips, then he asked, “Who is Russ?”

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