Page 19 of The Making of Marnie Jones

Leaning forward, Marnie clasped her hands together. “Does the doctor believe her?”

“She doesn’t know what to believe.” His jaw clenched. “Hell, I don’t know what to believe.”

“What are your instincts telling you?”

His brow furrowed and he paused. Obviously she’d asked a question he didn’t have a simple answer to. “She’s telling the truth. There are no outward signs of repeated drug use and no signs of withdrawal. The doctor said the difference between oblivion and death can be as little as two pills at that strength.”

“Give her the benefit of the doubt. She’s in a controlled environment right now. She won’t be able to use, and I assume they’re watching her for any sign of suicidal thoughts. Maybe this was her way of coping with her mother’s arrest. Maybe she really lied when she claimed the drugs were hers.”

He leaned forward, meeting her gaze. “I can’t afford to get this wrong.”

Unable to respond, emotion clogging her throat, she continued to stare into his eyes. So much stress and concern wrapped up in one person. He took on the world’s problems and, although he had broad shoulders, was showing the strain. His eyes carried bags, and some of his energy seemed to wane. He hadn’t shaved in days, and the scruff was growing.

She took a breath. “Aside from coming to Toronto, which I won’t do, what can I do to help?”

The relief on his face was palpable. “Can you talk to her about it? Can you talk about it?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.” She rose quickly from the picnic table, needing to find an outlet for her frustration. When he moved to join her, she held up her hand. “Give me a minute, okay?”

“Of course.”

She wasn’t running. She was taking a moment to center herself, and that meant making her way over to the tree in the middle of the park by herself. Could she do this? Could she go back to that dark place? Revisit those horrific memories? Maybe if she opened up to Jake, he’d see the truth. He’d see she was incapable of helping Olivia because she wasn’t even able to help herself.

When she pivoted back, he was watching her. Probably questioning her sanity, but there was nothing she could do about that. Having decided, she headed back to the table.

Chapter eight

Hewassoclosehe could taste it. This was the nearest she’d come to discussing her past.Tread lightly. Any insight she provided was invaluable, but she could shut down just as easily. As she sat, clearly she was rebuilding those protective walls he’d witnessed numerous times over the past few days. Not surprising, but frustrating because he needed her unvarnished and painful recollections of her experiences. This was his only chance to reach Olivia. As bad as he’d imagined her situation to be, the reality was even worse.

But Olivia wouldn't talk to him. She wouldn't talk to anyone.

Marnie offered him a small smile. “Sorry.” She reached up to tighten her ponytail, even though it appeared pretty secure. “I needed a moment. I need to be in control, and for a moment, I wasn’t.”

“That's important, isn't it?” He gestured vaguely. “Control, I mean.”

“Jake, I can't stress this enough—control is everything.” She pulled her lower lip through her teeth. “But it's a double-edged sword. Too much control and independence can be as crippling as too little. It's tempting to take the freedom and embrace the world. But freedom can become paralyzing. I retreated to my father's home where his housekeeper took care of me. Olivia may have chosen drugs. Both, in their own way, are self-destructive behaviors. My father’s housekeeper helped me get back on my feet. Except, any time I ventured out, the world treated me as Laura Derks, fragile woman/child, or Laura Derks, daughter of Martin Derks. As long as I remained in Toronto, I could never reclaim my life.”

“So Laura Derks disappeared, and Marnie Jones was born.” He tilted his head. “Why Marnie Jones?”

“There was a Marnie at school. As for Jones, there was a band about twenty years ago named Sugar Jones. I liked the name. Marnie Smith, Marnie Jones…who cared, as long as it gave me some anonymity. And speaking of anonymity, how did you find me? I spent a lot of time, effort, and money, trying to disappear.”

He didn't miss the emphasis on money. He didn't doubt she spent significant cash to vanish. “Mrs. Grant.”

“Mrs. Grant? Are you kidding me?” She shook her head, disbelief on her face. “There's no way she gave me up.” Her eyes narrowed. “What did you say to her?”

“The same thing I said to you. Olivia Bater. If it’s any consolation, she didn't give you up easily. She also made me promise I wouldn't push.”

“No,” she intoned. “You're not at all pushy.” She bared her teeth.

Her sarcasm hit close to the mark. Hehadpushed, and if Marnie were to tell Mrs. Grant of his actions, he suspected a reprimand would be in order. Not that he worried about Mrs. Grant per se, but the woman did scare him just a little bit.

“I ought to call her.” Her tone was soft and wistful. “I don’t call her often enough.”

“Painful reminder?”

“She's been in my father's employ since my mother died. She was always there when I was growing up, and she helped me pick up the pieces when I came back.” Marnie drew herself up, her spine straightening, pulling her shoulders back. “She's a wonderful woman. She protected me and kept the media hounds at bay when I first came home.”

“Do you still see it as home?”

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