Beside Your Heart Read online

  Title Page

  Beside Your Heart

  Mary Whitney

  Dedication

  “In the midst of life we are in death; from whom can we seek help?”

  The Book of Common Prayer

  Prologue

  Chicago, Illinois

  June 1998

  USED RECKLESSLY, THE INTERNET could be a cruel invention. I rarely searched Adam’s name, but sometimes I couldn’t stop myself, and I always regretted it.

  It was late one night at the campaign headquarters, and I was one of the few people still there. I needed to create the canvas lists for the following day, so I stared at the computer screen full of names and addresses of potential voters. Clicking on the mouse, I repeated the same actions—cut, paste, cut, paste. I was moving so quickly, I almost didn’t notice his name, but there it was—Adam Kincaid.

  With seven million registered voters in Illinois, it was bound to happen. There were a lot of Adams in the world and a good many Kincaids as well. Coming across those names separately or attached to another name had no effect on me, but this person was an Adam Kincaid. I stopped and gazed at the screen.

  Adam Kincaid in Peoria, Illinois, wasn’t my Adam, but seeing his name made me uneasy. My high school friends Rachel and Lisa were backpacking through Europe that summer. I knew they were going to see him. I wondered what they might find.

  Making sure no one could see my computer screen, I looked around the room furtively. The few people there were all busy at work or shooting the shit. No one was paying attention to me. With a few strokes on my keyboard and one click, I searched for signs of my Adam Kincaid. I blinked twice at the first few links that popped up for him.

  Hello! Magazine?

  That’s weird. Taking an anxious breath, I scrolled over the link and clicked. The page took forever to load, and when it finally appeared, my heart sank. There was a photo of Adam looking fine as ever but a little worse for the wear as he held hands with a tall, gorgeous redhead. The caption read:

  Lady Muff Selbourne and her long-time boyfriend, the Honourable Adam Kincaid, son of Viscount Kincaid, leaving Martin’s nightclub with a group of friends.

  I cocked my head at the screen. Muff? He’s dating a girl named Muff? And she’s a “Lady”? What does that mean? Like Lady Diana?

  I exhaled in disgust with myself, but there was no stopping me at that point. I needed more information. Going back to my search results, I moved on to the next link. This time, the page loaded while I tried not to be insanely jealous of Adam’s girlfriend. I reminded myself I had a boyfriend.

  If the first photo had wounded me, the next one was a mortal blow. Adam and Muff stood in a large group of friends, obviously at a wedding. The caption read:

  Guests at the Mann-Lexington wedding party. From left: The Honourable Adam Kincaid, son of Viscount Kincaid, Lady Mary Selbourne, Lady Penelope Welch, Lord Garrett Welch…

  I stopped reading and gaped at the photo. I’d never seen Adam dressed so well. He wore a dark gray morning coat with tails, a vest, tie, and striped trousers. While it would be a little over the top for an American wedding, he still looked achingly handsome. Next to him, Mary or Muff or Twat—whatever her name was—wore a pale pink coat dress with darker pink pumps, making her as tall as Adam. Her hair was pinned up, and she wore a strange vertical hat of feathers and straw that matched her shoes.

  What in hell? Is that a hat? The other women were also wearing ridiculous things on their heads. Must be a British thing. I grimaced because, despite the goofy hat, she was still beautiful.

  Sinking back in my chair, I looked down at my tattered Keds, wrinkled shorts, and old T-shirt. I glanced again at Muff, and then my eyes moved to Adam. At that moment, it seemed impossible that at one point in my life I’d known him so well. He couldn’t be the same person.

  I looked around the cramped, messy campaign office. Red, white, and blue Logan for Governor signs and stickers were strewn everywhere. It seemed more than a world apart from the ancient stone church in the background of Adam’s photo.

  I shook my head and closed the screen. Why did I even look? Nothing has changed.

  Two months later, Lisa called to fill me in on the European vacation. She gave me a rundown of the trip, country by country, guy by guy, that she and Rachel had encountered over eight weeks. While I’d been having my own fun working on the campaign, I was a little jealous of their adventures. Rachel seemed to have slept her way through Europe with a new guy in every city, and Lisa had some great stories as well. Yet even as I laughed at my dear friends and their wacky stories, I kept wondering what had happened when they’d met Adam.

  As the conversation wound down, Lisa finally brought it up. “So, let me tell you about seeing Adam and David.”

  My heart jumped, but I kept cool. “How was that?”

  “No big surprise. Rachel and David hooked up.”

  “That’s been years in the making.” I giggled, thinking of how Rachel had drooled over Adam’s cousin when we’d met him in high school.

  “We almost missed our train because she spent the night at his place.” Lisa snickered. “She was sore for a couple days.”

  “Poor thing. She was out of commission.”

  “But not for long.”

  “What’s David up to?”

  “Believe it or not, he’s an investment banker. He said he’s always been a gambler, so it’s a good job for him.”

  “That’s hilarious.”

  Lisa laughed, too, but soon she stopped. “And Adam’s doing well also.”

  “What’s he up to these days?” I tried to keep an even tone. Grasping for something to make the conversation casual, I remembered a postcard I’d received from Adam’s sister. “Sylvia had mentioned she went to his graduation.”

  “He’s started working at the BBC as an apprentice or something.”

  “Good for him. It sounds like he’s on the right track for what he wanted to do.”

  “He asked after you, of course—a lot of questions, in fact. He was really interested in your political work. He wanted to know all about it. I think he was disappointed I didn’t know more.”

  The ache I always fought away started to sneak into my heart. It made sense he’d find my work interesting. It was right up his alley. If I’d been there, we would have had a great conversation. I worked with the media all the time now, so I’d be equally interested in what he was doing.

  I winced back the sadness and said, “It’s fine. You’re going to med school. You’re into science, not politics.”

  “I said as much.” She took a deep breath. “He specifically asked me to tell you how sorry he was about your grandmother. He said he knew how much you loved her.”

  I rolled my eyes. Just kill me now. I rubbed my forehead, hoping the call would end soon. “Um. Yeah.”

  “Nicki…why haven’t you ever called him or even just sent him an email?”

  “It’s not like we had cell phones or email five years ago.”

  “But we do now. He asked me to tell you that he really misses you. The way he said it, I know he meant it. And think about it…he told me. He knows I had my issues with him. I think he’d like to hear from you.”

  Feeling like my heart was being ripped out, I closed my eyes. This is too much. I was about to cry when my mind snapped back to reality. Though I knew the answer, I wanted to hear what Adam had told Lisa. “So does he have a girlfriend?”

  “Yeah, but…I mean…you have a boyfriend. What’s the big deal?”

  “Did you meet her?”

  “I did.”

  “Is she pretty?”

  “Well, yeah. You think Adam would be with someone ugly?”

  “No, he never would.”

  “She’s priss
y, though. I didn’t like her.”

  “Whatever. I don’t want to know any more.”

  “Listen. When Adam wasn’t around, David joked that he would drop her tomorrow if you walked in the room.” Lisa’s voice became motherly. “Nicki, shouldn’t you reach out to him?”

  “For what purpose? We live on opposite ends of the earth, and we’re both seeing other people.”

  “Jeez, you’re always dating guys, but it’s never serious.”

  “Jeff was serious.”

  “No way. Jeff didn’t even last a year. He was a rebound, and you know it.”

  “Regardless, I’ve moved on. Adam’s obviously moved on. Why should I mess things up by contacting him?”

  “Because you want to, damn it.” Lisa groaned. “Don’t you still care for him?”

  “Of course.” Thank God the conversation wasn’t happening in person. I could be stronger on the phone. “But that doesn’t change things.”

  Around midnight, I lay in bed replaying my conversation with Lisa. I hadn’t learned very much about Adam, but that’s not what I focused on. I kept thinking about when she’d asked me if I still cared for him.

  He’d brought me happiness during that awful year—the year of the accident, the year Lauren died, the year Mom mentally checked out. I rolled over and looked out my window. An old memory of Adam climbing through my childhood bedroom window came to mind. I’d forgotten it, but there he was again, late at night smiling at me as brightly as the stars behind him. Remembering that bittersweet year, I broke down in tears, both sad and glad.

  Did I still love Adam? Of course. How could I not?

  Chapter 1

  Bellaire, Texas

  September 1992

  THE MORNING OF THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL, I started ripping clothes out of my closet. I really hadn’t contemplated the clothing problem. Ninety percent of my wardrobe was black. If I wore all black, though, would people think I was in some kind of dramatic mourning? I hoped not—they were the same clothes I’d worn last year.

  Just in case, I found a green T-shirt to brighten things up and wore it with a black miniskirt, leggings, and black flats. I looked at myself in the mirror. My clothes were a little baggy. I was never big to begin with, but I had lost some weight over the summer—hospital food sucked, and I’d never gotten my appetite back. The short sleeves showed off one of my many Frankenstein scars. It was a purplish brown railroad track six inches long on my left forearm, though I wasn’t even self-conscious enough to cover it up.

  School was only a couple of blocks away from my house, but I purposely arrived right as the bell rang. I didn’t want to be trapped with downtime in stilted conversations about the accident, my health, and how sorry the other person was for me. I’d already had enough of those.

  I slipped into the generic-looking Texas public high school, hoping I looked like every other late student running to my first class. It wasn’t like I was dying to go to economics. I’d only signed up for it because it was supposed to be easy and I’d get an hour during the day to do homework. Besides, economics sounded like a substantial course. No college admissions officer would ever know it was actually taught by the soccer coach.

  Because the first class of the day was homeroom, Coach Knizki handed out our locker numbers at the end of class. When the bell rang, I walked outside, found my locker, and smiled. Excellent. It was a top locker and the first one at the end of the row by a wall—two less people to deal with every day.

  Sandra Harold and Trish Keller walked up and pointed to the bottom lockers. “Those are ours,” Sandra said.

  “Oh, do you want in?” I asked, moving aside to the wall. I didn’t know them well. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be too chatty every day.

  “Nah. We just wanted to let you know,” said Trish. She gave Sandra a side-eye glance and nodded down the hall. “We’re going to keep our books in our boyfriends’ lockers. See you around.”

  As they walked away, I smiled. They had about as much interest in talking to me every day as I did them. Pleased two more people were out of my life, I put my economics book inside what would be my little home for the year. When I heard the door rattle at my side, I frowned at the end of my privacy. I was no longer alone as I heard, “Hello, Nicki.”

  I knew that voice. It was distinct among the three thousand students in the school. I took a breath and closed the door.

  There he was—Adam Kincaid. Even though I’d been with my old boyfriend, John, when Adam had moved to Bellaire from England last spring, I swooned over the cute British guy just like every other girl. He was tall, played soccer, and had reddish hair and an irresistible accent. It sounded upper-crust to me, and he was always incredibly polite, but he also said “fuck” a lot. He was adorable. His father was some famous geologist, and his sister, Sylvia, was this shy little Goth who had far too cool of a wardrobe for Bellaire, Texas.

  Adam had turned out to have some sort of magical personality that allowed him to travel in opposing social circles. He hung both with the popular crowd of jocks and cheerleaders and the ragtag crew I hung out in with my best friends, Rachel and Lisa. Rachel described our group as the Island of Misfit Toys—drama types, radioheads, and assorted geeks. Her boyfriend, Tom, had become good friends with Adam.

  The fact that Adam had soon begun dating a cheerleader galled Lisa to no end, so she didn’t like him. It was her opinion that because he was English, smart, and sort of hip he rightfully belonged to us. I really couldn’t understand why he was dating ditzy Meredith Daniels either, because if he liked her, he must have really been stupid. But Rachel scoffed at my theory; “Please, Nicki,” she’d said. “Even smart guys think with their dicks.”

  Looking at him now, I noticed the econ textbook in his hand and said, “Hi. I didn’t know you were in that class.”

  Adam smiled at me as he put his book in the locker next to mine. “You sat in the front of the room. That’s why you didn’t see me. I sat in the back.”

  I nodded. I really had nothing else to say. I’d seen him at a party a few weeks ago and couldn’t think of anything to say then either. Normally I was a talker, but not around him.

  Yet he seemed to want to keep the conversation going. “It’s nice we’re neighbors.”

  “Good fences make good neighbors.” I cringed. Why did I say that? It sounded like I was a bitch or pretentious or both.

  His brow furrowed. “Pardon?”

  I realized he had no reference for what I’d said. He probably wasn’t familiar with twentieth-century American poetry. “Uh, it’s a line from a poem. Not really apropos here, though.” I faked a glance at my watch. “I should get to my next class. I’ll see you later.”

  “Yes,” he said with a nod. “See you later.”

  Holding my books tight to my chest, I walked away. What the hell? Couldn’t I catch a break? I was going to have to spend nine months watching a never-ending stream of cheerleaders meet Adam Kincaid at his locker. And I felt so awkward. I didn’t want to be nervous every time I needed a textbook.

  I decided to keep my books with me for the rest of the day. The fewer trips to my locker the better.

  Drama was my fourth period class, which was great because Tom and Rachel were in it with me, and we got to eat lunch together. Lisa and I would both admit even to Rachel herself that we were happy to be her friend rather than her enemy. She had the sharpest tongue around, but was also otherworldly beautiful with gray eyes, long dark hair, and legs for days. Adding spiked heels to her five-foot, eight-inch frame made her stand out even more. She was the antithesis of your average Texas high school girl.

  Only Tom could tame her. Towering over everyone in the school, he was handsome like a great actor, with a unique face that could somehow be both average and dreamy. The funny thing was, you forgot about his looks because he was so funny and sweet. Anyone with sense at all wanted to be around him.

  After we sat down with our trays, Tom stretched in his chair and looked around the giant cafeteria, which wa
s loud with excitement from the first day of school. It seemed like he was surveying the masses.

  “Who are you looking for?” I asked.

  “Oh, I thought Adam might have lunch now, but he doesn’t.” He gave me a sly look. “He mentioned you two are locker mates.”

  My lunch turned in my stomach. I was going to have to get over Adam or it was going to be an even worse school year than I’d already expected. So I replied with fake excitement, “Do I get Meredith, too?”

  Rachel burst out laughing and high-fived me while Tom rolled his eyes and said, “Will you give the guy a break?”

  “No,” Rachel and I said in unison. She wrinkled her nose and added, “Why should we?”

  “Because she’s his girlfriend,” answered Tom.

  “She’s also an idiot,” I said.

  “Thank God he doesn’t bring her around when he’s out with our group. The only thing interesting about her is her balance,” Rachel said. “Somehow she keeps standing rather than pitching forward because of her chest.”

  We all laughed because it was true. And I was always pleased whenever I saw how badly her red hair and light freckles looked with the red of her cheerleader uniform. I’d mentioned it to Rachel once, and she’d snorted and said, “As if. I promise you, no guy is looking at her face. They’re staring at her tits.”

  “Tom, are you going to say he likes her for her mind?” I asked.

  He rubbed his neck for a moment in pretend thought before he smiled. “I might not go that far.”

  “See?” I said.

  “He’s from a foreign country. Let him have some fun while he’s here,” Tom said.

  “What did you just say? ‘Have some fun’? Tom, I love you, but you sound like a frat boy.” Rachel placed her hand on her stomach. “Have fun? Like have sex with Skanky Meredith. That’s such a gross thought. I think I’m going to hurl.”

  “Yeah,” I said, pushing my cafeteria tray away from me. “At least you’re not the one who’s going to see them together every day.”