He was gentle and sweet and she would have allowed him to kiss her all night, but he didn’t. Instead, he drew back, blinked a couple of times, tipped his head, and waited.
“Say something.” Her heart was about to jump out of her chest.
“Okay, you’re right. That does complicate things.” He cleared his throat and moved away from her.
“What?”
“I don’t want you to think I’m trying to influence you about whether or not you shut down this place, okay? I fully expect you to make that decision regardless of how I feel. This doesn’t change anything.”
“Of course it doesn’t change anything.” It changes everything. Natalie reined in runaway thoughts, waited for her breathing to slow, and tried to extricate the memory of his lips on hers. “I told you it would be a bad idea.”
He rolled his eyes and rammed his fingers through his hair. “You didn’t like it?”
“Oh, please.” He wasn’t getting an answer to that.
A loud crack split the night, sending bright sparklers into the dark sky.
“The fireworks.”
“Finally.” Relief rang through his voice.
Knowing Grandpa, the show would be spectacular, but it wouldn’t be able to compete with the fireworks she’d experienced moments ago. “We’d better get back,” Natalie said. “Jeni will be looking for you.”
“Jeni’s probably asleep.” He rubbed his jaw and shot her a sidelong glance. “Are we good?”
Natalie pushed aside longing, banished the thought of actually telling him how she felt, and nodded instead. “Let’s just say we’ve satisfied our childhood curiosity and leave it at that.”
The zing of more fireworks pinged through the air followed by a loud explosion of light.
“We what?”
She ignored him and walked as quickly as she could back to the safety of the crowd. Then she stopped. Sarah and a man who looked vaguely familiar were engaged in what seemed to be, from this distance at least, a rather heated discussion. “Who is that?”
Tanner turned to where she pointed. “I don’t recognize him. Wait, I think . . .”
Natalie’s memory clicked, and she gave a happy squeak. “That’s my uncle!”
Twenty
IT WAS HARD TO BELIEVE HE’D BEEN IN EUROPE A FEW DAYS ago. Jeffrey almost wished he was still there. He’d walked the perimeter of the party undetected for quite some time. Watched the fight with guarded interest. Wondered what that was about, but he’d find out. Spied his father, some old friends he recognized, and finally found Sarah.
Lord help him, she was still so beautiful. Still capable of causing that dangerous knee-jerk reaction that sent his brain on a permanent vacation. It was all he could do not to stride across the grassy area and swoop her into his arms.
Eventually he’d approached her. And immediately regretted it.
Sarah’s frozen glare was hardly welcoming.
“What are you doing here?” Sarah hissed. She scanned the crowd, no doubt sussing out his father’s whereabouts so she could warn him that hell was about to freeze over.
“I came to see my dad. And . . .” Another explosion sent colors shooting across the dark sky, shook him senseless. Jeffrey breathed in and stared at Sarah instead. He needed to get a grip.
“Is Hal expecting you? I don’t want you upsetting him.” Sarah gripped her elbows, her eyes wide and filled with distrust. The white cardigan she wore over a pretty yellow top and navy capris didn’t do much to hide the fact that she was trembling. The night air was balmy, in the high seventies if he had to guess, so he suspected her uncomfortable stance could be blamed purely on his presence.
“I should have called.”
“You think?”
“Look, Sarah, we can talk . . . we should talk. But not here.” He ran a hand down his face and felt air leave his chest. The adrenaline he’d been running on the last twenty-four hours was dissipating.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Sarah veered her gaze. “No sense rehashing ancient history, is there?”
Jeffrey sighed and pondered a response. Came up empty.
“Jeffrey!” Somebody yelled his name and he silently thanked God for the interruption. He swiveled to see who the voice belonged to and grinned as his niece raced toward him. “Uncle Jeff!”
“Natalie Mitchell, you went and grew up on me.” Jeffrey gave her a long hug, then stood back to study her. If his instincts were right, the smile she wore was taking some effort. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks splotchy. He wondered if the tall man tailing her had something to do with that. The guy who’d been in the fight. “You look just like your grandmother, gorgeous.”
She rolled her eyes but her smile broadened. “That’s what I’ve heard. What are you doing here? Did Grandpa know you were coming?”
Jeffrey ran a hand over his windblown hair and shrugged. “I decided to surprise him.”
“He doesn’t like surprises.” The man standing behind Natalie spoke, looked him up and down, unsmiling.
“Should have figured as much.” Jeffrey tried to keep his voice calm. “Neither do I. Have we met?”
“This is my son.” Sarah moved to stand beside the man and slipped an arm through his. “Tanner Collins.”
“Ah. Tanner. You were just a kid last time I saw you.” Jeffrey extended a hand. Tanner shook it warily, gave off warning vibes. Sarah’s son wasn’t a kid anymore. Had to be at least six foot—and looked ready to take him down too. Jeffrey almost grinned. He’d be in for quite a shock if he tried. “Jeffrey Mitchell.”
“I know who you are.” And clearly knew Jeffrey and Sarah’s history, if the stony look on his face was any clue.
“Uncle Tanner, you’re missing all the fireworks!” A little girl ran up to their group, a larger man following, huffing like he’d just run a marathon.
“Thought she was asleep! She just took off on me.”
“No worries, David.” Tanner’s smile came out as he lifted the child into his arms. “Sorry, princess. I got a little sidetracked. Let’s go watch the show. Coming, Mom?”
“Gladly.” Sarah shot him a parting glare and they were gone.
Jeffrey hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until he let it out in a sigh of relief spiced with regret and a bunch of other emotions he didn’t care to analyze right now.
Natalie stared after them, her face screwed up like she was trying to figure something out. Then she trained her gaze on him. “My imagination or did the air just warm up after they left?”
“Not your imagination.” Jeffrey cracked a smile, flung an arm over her shoulder, and knew he’d found a friend. “Come on, darlin’. Buy your old uncle a drink and tell me what you’ve been up to since I last saw you.”
Natalie’s laughter didn’t last long, but it sure made him feel good. “Since that was about thirteen years ago, Uncle Jeff, I think I’ll find a bottle. But first, let’s go find Grandpa.”
“Uh, okay.” He could argue, but she wouldn’t understand. And maybe his gut was wrong. Maybe Dad would actually be glad to see him.
And maybe he’d actually sleep through the night without waking in a cold sweat.
That hadn’t happened in years.
Every muscle in his neck tensed as Natalie propelled him through the crowd toward a collection of picnic tables.
Hal’s white head stood out amongst the dark-haired men engrossed in their card game. Figured the old man would be playing cards with his cronies rather than working the crowd. He’d be doing the same. Bill was the schmoozer in the family.
“Grandpa, look who’s here!” Natalie pressed forward. “Isn’t this great?”
His dad turned, took one look at him, and his brows shot skyward.
Hal stared at him a long time. Jeffrey was usually pretty good at reading him, but tonight he was out of practice and got nothing. Hal’s jaw twitched as he drew in breaths. The other men fell silent, all eyes on Jeffrey. For a moment he was back in Siberia, facing a potential firi
ng squad.
Jeffrey shoved his hands in the pockets of his Levis and rolled back on the heels of his boots. “Hey, Dad. Long time no see.”
“Long time no see?” Hal pulled his long legs over the bench and got to his feet. He was still a couple inches taller, his blue eyes just as piercing. Heart attack or not, the old guy looked good. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
“Not especially.” Jeffrey cleared his throat, tried to smile but old anger tapped at his heart. “I would have been here earlier but my flight was delayed.” Never give out useless information. There went that rule.
Dad’s mouth formed a hard line. “Somebody else must have sent you an invitation, because I didn’t.”
Ouch. “No. I just . . . decided to come. Didn’t know it was harvest celebration.”
“Don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of a thing called the telephone. You can even carry them in your pocket now. Got one myself.” He pulled out an iPhone and waggled white eyebrows. “You ought to get up with the times, son. That way at least we might know you’re alive.”
The man still had the ability to make him feel like he was fifteen and breaking curfew. Jeffrey clenched his jaw. “If I’m not welcome, I can go.”
“Of course you’re welcome.” Natalie’s worried gaze darted from him to his dad. She slipped an arm through Hal’s. “Isn’t he, Grandpa?”
“Sure. Since he’s here.” Hal still didn’t smile but his eyes weren’t quite so cold. “Maoilios is still your home, like it or not. Go grab something to eat. And try the Cab. Got a hint of chocolate this year. I think you’ll like it.” He turned back to his friends and sat down again. “Where were we?”
Right. Jeffrey ground the toe of his boot into the grass. He looked over at Natalie and smiled. “Want to show me where the food is? If there’s any left, I’ll make short work of it.”
“Absolutely. And I’ll see about that wine.” She fairly skipped off ahead of him and Jeffrey had to laugh. At least one person around here seemed happy to see him.
Early Wednesday morning, Jeffrey lay awake staring at the ceiling. Footsteps padded up and down the hall. Three thirty. He’d been home four nights and had quickly concluded that he wasn’t the only one who slept sporadically. And since his father’s snores were loud enough to wake the cats in the cellars down the hill, he’d put his finger on Natalie.
He noticed the shakes right off. The jumpiness, the way she tried too hard to hold a conversation. Watched her pick at her food and stare off into space when she thought nobody was looking.
He’d been in Moscow when they’d finally reached him that summer to tell him about Nicole. Hadn’t been able to get back for the funeral. When he showed up at his brother’s for Thanksgiving that year, out of the blue as usual, Natalie was a mess. He took Bill and Jane aside and gently tried to explain that their daughter needed help.
Bill kicked him out.
There was little he could do. A couple weeks later he was back in the field. He had a buddy check up on them, found out Natalie had been admitted to a psychiatric hospital.
And now, all these years later, she was still suffering.
They had more in common than she knew.
At dawn, he hauled himself out of the bed he’d slept in for a lot of his life and got into the shower. Let the hot water pummel him and inhaled steam. Once dressed, he paced his room. Rifled through his drawers, put everything in order again, and his eyes landed on his revolver.
Technically, he wasn’t supposed to be packing, but one thing he’d learned over the last thirty-some years was that you never went anywhere without protection. He checked the cartridge again, knowing he’d emptied it and stored the ammo up in the top shelf of the closet. Even doing that made him nervous. It would take approximately twenty seconds to sprint across the room, get the ammo, load, and shoot. But you could be dead in twenty seconds.
Brant had been right. He did need a vacation.
Downstairs, he scoured the hall, listened to the sound of a vacuum, and tried to determine which room Sarah would be in. Sounded like the living room. He went the other way and found sanctuary in the quiet kitchen.
Jeffrey paused at the refrigerator and studied the old photographs. His mother had loved to display family photos where she’d see them every day, along with postcards he’d sent from various stops around the world, and her typed-out Bible verses. She’d been gone five years, yet it all remained.
Coffee was still hot. He searched the cupboards, found his favorite Lakers mug way in the back, poured, and gulped. Coffee could fix anything. Almost.
“Hope there’s some left for me.” Natalie entered the sunny room, a hand over her mouth as she stifled a yawn. She wore smart navy trousers and a navy and white striped sweater. Her hair was neatly styled and she’d applied some makeup.
Jeffrey poured her a cup and frowned. “Going somewhere?”
The past few days she’d been skulking around the house in shorts and baggy tees. He’d tried to get her to go into town with him for lunch, but she’d refused. The almost happy mood she’d appeared to be in when she’d first seen him on Saturday night had shifted with the wind, turned dark and stormy.
He was well acquainted with the mood swings too.
Natalie ripped open a packet of sweetener and sprinkled the white stuff into her coffee. “I have an appointment in the city.”
“Business?”
She joined him at the kitchen table. Sat in silence, sipped her coffee, and finally shook her head. “Doctor’s appointment.”
Jeffrey pushed back his chair. “Hungry? I make a mean omelet.”
“Sure, I could eat.” She didn’t look sure, but he went about fixing them food anyway, chopped, diced, grated up cheese, and soon had the ingredients in the pan. All the while Natalie sat at the table staring out the sliding glass doors.
He made more coffee and served breakfast. “So. Have you been dealing with PTSD since the accident?”
Natalie’s hand stilled, fork in midair. Her eyes locked on him and widened with suspicion. “Who told you?”
“Nobody.” Jeffrey ran a finger over the small crack in the rim of his mug. “Don’t you know what I do, Natalie?”
“I don’t remember. My dad always said you were a James Bond wannabe. I never knew what that meant. So what are you, a shrink?”
“Ha. That would be handy. No. I work for the FBI. I’m primarily posted overseas. Suffice it to say PTSD and I are old friends. I recognized your symptoms. I’m sorry.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m on leave at the moment, but yeah.”
She looked down at her plate and Jeffrey took the opportunity to study her. The way she held her head, her complexion, thick wavy hair, smile when she gave it, reminded him so much of his mother. It was one of the things he’d dreaded, coming home, having to walk through the house, her absence palpable.
He hadn’t figured on missing her so much. Having Natalie around somehow made it bearable.
She met his gaze again. “Do you ever get over it or is this something I’m going to live with the rest of my life?”
Heckuva question, kid.
Jeffrey finished his meal and pushed his plate aside. “Some get over it. I can’t say for sure whether you will or not. But it’s good you’re getting help. A lot of people are too afraid to even admit what’s happening to them.”
“I had to be hospitalized a few months after the accident.” She told him what he already knew, her expression neutral. “Then I went to boarding school. I forced myself to live with it, to cope. Eventually it got better. Things were good for a while. I’d get flashbacks or the occasional nightmare, but I learned to handle it. I thought things would be okay, normal even. And then this year, at the beginning of June, it started again, worse than ever.”
“Was there a trigger?”
Natalie shifted her gaze, her cheeks pinking. He’d take that as a yes, and she clearly didn’t want to talk about it. “If you’re not doing anything today, Uncle Jeff, d
o you think you could drive me into San Francisco? I’m having trouble in vehicles right now.”
“Sure.” He’d take any opportunity to get away from Maoilios for a few hours. Away from the awkward conversations he’d attempted with his father and the frosty stares Sarah threw his way when they crossed paths. “I’d love to drive you.”
“Thanks.”
When they finished eating, she gathered their dishes and headed for the sink. Jeffrey glanced down at his grubby Stones T-shirt and contemplated changing. As he got to his feet, Sarah’s son—what was his name . . . couldn’t remember—came into the kitchen. Jeffrey raised a hand in greeting. “Morning.”
A curt nod was all he got in response.
Natalie turned from the sink, her face losing a little color.
Interesting.
“Ready to go, Natalie?” The guy rocked on his deck shoes, hesitation in his tone.
“What are you doing here, Tanner?”
Jeffrey backed up against the counter and watched them.
“It’s Wednesday. Your appointment is today, right? I said I would drive you.”
“And I texted you saying you didn’t need to. Didn’t you get it?”
“I did, but . . .” He scratched his head. “Are you seriously mad because I had to cancel Monday?”
Natalie yanked the plug from the sink and let the water out with a whoosh. “Cancel? You never canceled. You just didn’t show up.”
“What?” The kid narrowed his eyes. What was going on with these two? “You didn’t get my message?”
“What message?” She put a few clean mugs away and banged the cupboard shut. “I waited around for two hours, Tanner. You didn’t show and you didn’t call, and no, I didn’t get your message.”
He strode across the room to the answering machine and flicked it on. It beeped and played one new message. “Natalie, Tanner. Something came up. Sorry. Call you later.”
The Memory of You Page 19