"Oh." Heat rushed to her cheeks. "I"m sorry. I ... I didn"t really think-it just looked ..." She dropped her hands to her sides.
Jonah cleared his throat. "Would you like a drink? Coffee, tea? c.o.ke?"
She shook her head. "No caffeine. My mind is already running away." Stupid, stupid Stupid, stupid.
Half grinning, Jay lifted a jacket from the end of the couch. "I"ll just be going. Nice meeting you." He nodded at Jonah. "See you later."
When Jay had gone, Jonah forked his fingers into his hair. "I don"t believe anyone has ever questioned my orientation."
"I didn"t. Really. There was just something between you."
He expelled a long breath. "Let me take your coat."
"I shouldn"t stay. There"s no reason if I can"t treat the animal."
"You drove all the way out here."
She pulled the coat tighter. "It"s kind of chilly."
"Jay had the doors open so she could come and go. I"ll light a fire." With easy dispatch he got a blaze roaring up the chimney. Then he went to the kitchen and came back with a mug of hot chocolate. "Minimal caffeine."
"Thank you."
"You"re welcome." He sank into the worn leather recliner.
She took the other, feeling like her limbs were made of cardboard. "So Jay helped you get sober."
"He got me sober. Jay found me with more booze than blood in my veins. He used sweats, potions-incantations for all I know. I had shut down."
"How long did it take?"
"Five weeks. He treated me like a baby, spooning gruel into my mouth. He got me on my feet and taught me carpentry so I"d have an employable skill, since neither of us believed I"d get my old job back."
"Your old job?" She blew on the chocolate, then sipped.
"Chief of police." The fire crackled, chasing away the chill.
"You obviously did, though."
"Yeah."
"Weren"t people concerned whether you could do the job?"
"They knew I could do it." His eyes turned to flint. "I"d proved it when I took the job."
"I didn"t mean to imply ..."
"I"ve been sober six years."
"And Jay?"
"Nine. The longest he"d gone before was three. He"d been close to slipping, but we pulled through together and kind of keep it that way."
"He"s a very good friend."
"He is."
She studied him. "Is it primarily a physical craving? Your addiction?"
His eyes rose slowly in the shadowed sockets. "Or underlying issues?"
"Call it scientific curiosity."
"The desire is always there. But other things trigger it."
"I didn"t mean to pry."
"Confession is part of recovery." He got up and poked the fire, resettling the logs. Flames leaped with renewed vigor. Liz rose stiffly and joined him at the fireplace. He had told her deeply personal things. Did she dare tell him hers?
Rehanging the poker, he slid his gaze to her. A sensation she"d never felt before melted her bones. Eyes locked on his, she moved closer, her skin p.r.i.c.kling with the fire"s heat. No denying the attraction. He must see and sense it. He knew.
His voice thickened. "We could start something here."
Her weak leg almost gave out. She had never been near a man like him.
"We could, Liz, but it wouldn"t be fair."
"Because ..." He might lose his sobriety? his heart? Then she saw it in his eyes. "There"s someone else."
"I"d stop it if I could. But I just ..." He spread his hands.
She could help him, change him. "Does she feel the same?"
"No. Yeah." He shook his head. "It"s complicated."
"What isn"t?"
He ran his thumb over her cheek. "This."
That gentle stroke opened a pit of yearning. She would do, give, be anything he wanted. "And in the morning? Will it be complicated then?" Why had she said that? Because her own complication had swelled up and choked her. What he would see. What he would know.
Eyes pressed shut, he lowered his hand. "Yeah. It would."
Liz forced the strength back into her legs. "How long have you loved her?"
"I don"t know when it happened. I"ve known her since I was nine."
"Childhood sweethearts?"
"Not exactly. I was engaged to her sister."
Her heart staggered. He"d loved them both?
He gripped his head and turned away. "I need to stop telling you things."
"I"m a good listener." And she wanted to know, to hear how he"d committed to one woman and loved another. Sisters.
He pressed his palm to the fireplace stone. "You should go."
"But-"
"For your sake, Liz. Go." His tone left her no choice.
Fists clenched, Jonah listened until the door closed and Liz was gone, her defenseless blue eyes no longer searching him. He shook his head in frustration and relief. She"d been willing, even after he"d told her, because something inside a woman made her believe she could change what was inside a man. But what was inside him had nothing to do with her.
Tia"s rejection had stung. He"d wanted to a.s.sert ... some control. He moved toward the shelf, took the bottle down. He opened the lid, breathed the fumes like an asthmatic inhaler. His mouth touched the gla.s.s, his tongue the smooth, cold lip.
Sensing something behind him, he turned and saw her watching, eyes glowing red in the firelight. Was she leaving? He closed the bottle and slid it onto the shelf. Her lips drew back in a snarl, a low hum in her throat. He would have to go past her to open the door, but she lowered her head and limped back to the bedroom, her blood-crusted sides heaving. He followed.
She didn"t go as deeply into the closet but flopped down on the T-shirt and shorts he"d worked out in the day before. They had to be covered in his scent, but she didn"t seem concerned. Maybe she used it to camouflage her own. He sat down on the bed, watching her pant. There was water in the bowl, but she didn"t go for it.
She stared hard at him and contracted, curled and contracted, then bent her head around and licked a small, dark wad. She tore away the sac and revealed a wet face. He sank back on his heels, hardly believing she was having the pups in his closet.
He should have let Liz stay. No. He rubbed his jaw. He shouldn"t. He"d done the right thing, but his body disagreed. He wanted a drink. He wanted a release from the need that hollowed him. The old song was right. Love hurt. Love scarred. It wounded and marred.
Jonah ground his palms into his eyes. The coyote growled when he stood up, but he eased out of the room, brewed a pot of coffee, then returned. A second wad lay against her belly, receiving the lick-down. He stretched out across the foot of his bed, sipped the black coffee from the mug, and felt humbled by her trust. She"d put her life in his hands when he couldn"t be trusted with his own.
Piper had left Tia alone in the living room after the chief brought her home, but now she climbed onto the settee next to her. "Are you mad?"
"Mad?"
"That I called him?"
Tia shook her head. "I"m sorry I worried you."
"Between Miles and the animal torturer ..."
"I know. Jonah made that clear." Tia pinched the bridge of her nose. "But honestly? I"ve walked these streets my whole life. I could do it blind."
"Not with your leg like that."
Tia sighed. "You"re right. I guess the pain pill knocked me out. Right now, I wish I had another one."
"You should see a doctor in the morning. In the meantime, one ice pack and ibuprofen coming up." She fetched the soft pack from the freezer and a dose of weaker, but hopefully helpful, pain relief.
"You"re a good nurse."
"Just a friend, I hope."
Tia smiled. "You are that."
"Or sister. I"d love to have you for my sister." As an only child tugged from place to place she had wished most of all for a sister.
Tia"s smile faded. "You wouldn"t say that if you knew."
"Yes, I would." She wished Tia realized how much she meant it. She took her hand. "Whatever happened, it wasn"t your fault."
Tia closed her eyes. "It definitely was."
"So what if it was? Does that make you a horrible person? Everyone makes mistakes."
"You sound like a Sesame Street Sesame Street song." song."
Piper snuggled in. "I loved Sesame Street." Sesame Street."
"So did Reba." Tia"s grin twisted. "I told her Big Bird had a growth disorder and Grover was a mama"s boy."
Piper rested her head on Tia"s shoulder. "And Oscar?"
"I kind of liked Oscar. He said it like it was."
Piper giggled, crossing her ankles on the coffee table right beside Tia"s. "Want to have a pajama party?"
When Tia got up and limped to the kitchen, Piper guessed she"d pushed too far, but then Tia came back with a bottle of red wine and a box of G.o.diva dark chocolate. "I bought these truffles for my birthday last month. I think now would be a good time to eat them."
Twelve.
Let children walk with Nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that death is stingless indeed, and as beautiful as life.-JOHN MUIR Jonah woke with his head and arms bent over the foot of the bed, his empty coffee mug lying on the rug, and the coyote watching him over three live and one unresponsive pup. The last must have come after he dropped off, when he"d thought she was finished. Had it been born dead, or had the mother lacked the energy to lick one more to life? Guilt stabbed as she looked at him with accusatory eyes.
"Yeah? Get in line." He pushed up from the bed, stripped, and showered. He"d navigated troubled waters last night, and though there were things he could have done better, he"d come through sober and chaste. It could be worse.
Then he realized it was Sunday. Maybe he should change it up and see his mother on Wednesday or Sat.u.r.day or not at all. Or maybe he should get to church and stop whining. As Jay said, his sentence was self-imposed. He didn"t have to inflict himself on her or her on him. But he would.
He brooded through the Scripture readings, then stood with the congregation to recite the creed. He did believe in G.o.d, the Father Almighty. Stan Westfall had personified that person of the Trinity, altering the energy of a room, charging the s.p.a.ce around him with a consuming power any wrong step could unleash. He understood the Son, broken by the Father"s will, sacrificed to redeem the people fallen in their sins. The difference came in that Jesus had exalted his father, not destroyed him.
Those images were old, and he knew better. He"d encountered the living G.o.d. He just couldn"t always see through the fog-the gla.s.s was still dark. Some days as dark as the base of a bottle of ale.
Instead of going home to gear up, he drove directly to his mother"s house. She didn"t answer when he knocked. Not home yet, he guessed. She attended church an hour and a half away, so as not to offend her former congregation or the family of the young woman who had died.
With the rush of relief came words like worthless, gutless, spineless worthless, gutless, spineless.
The wood pile was low. He strode over, jerked the ax from the splitting log, and got to work. The brisk air chilled his salty sweat, and his muscles bulged and stretched. He"d always found release in physical exertion, and it cleared last night"s frustration and helped him focus. By the time his mother"s Blazer pulled in, he had replenished her supply. He sank the ax and turned.