by Cox, Suzanne
Kent grinned and Emalea was thankful for the gruff bartender, who’d decided not to buy into his cousin’s hatred.
“Mick!”
All three turned to the source of the voice. Kent’s mother stepped onto the porch, her face bruised and swollen. She noticed Mick flinch at the sight. The bartender’s gentle side had always been at odds with his rough-and-tumble appearance. These two, mother and son, their lives devastated, could certainly use a friend with a little softness. Kent’s mother came down the steps.
“I brought some food for you.” Emalea motioned toward her truck. “I don’t know what I can do to help, Mrs. Raynor, but if you think of anything, please let me know.” Emalea paused. “I’d be glad to recommend someone for counseling for both you and Kent.”
“But, Ms. LeBlanc, I already see you. Why can’t my mother come, too?”
Emalea put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. She hated doing this. Part of her wanted to have Kent and his mother at a counseling session every week. But she’d gotten too close. The boy had become more than just her client and she knew she couldn’t be objective; too much had happened.
“You can still come by to see me anytime, Kent, but as a friend now.”
The sadness in his eyes lifted briefly. “I guess, that’ll be good, if you have time.”
“I’ll definitely have time.”
Mick pulled his truck keys from his pocket. “I think I’ll go down to the bait shop. You wanna come, Kent?” The boy nodded, following the big man.
Mrs. Raynor watched them go.
“What will you do now?”
The woman glanced at Emalea and shrugged. “I don’t know. We may move to Lafayette with my sister, but then Kent would have to change schools and I hate to put him through any more. I’ve never been on my own.” She sighed without continuing and to Emalea she appeared lost without the fear and violence that had been her companion for so long.
“I meant what I said about helping you get a counselor. It would be at no cost and I know someone who specializes in family therapy.” The woman stared at her and Emalea was glad she’d used her cell phone on the way over to call and get a friend to offer free service.
“I think that would be good for us. I just don’t know what’s next.”
Emalea caught the woman’s hand and squeezed it. “You’ll figure it out. It just takes a little time and a few good friends. Now let’s get that food inside.” Mrs. Raynor followed her to the truck and Emalea knew there were plenty of people in Cypress Landing who would help these two get back on track.
“I HEAR YOU AND YOUR MOM might move.”
Kent paused in the middle of unpacking glass for framing from a large box. He wasn’t sure what to say or at what point he might do something really stupid like cry.
He glanced at Megan and she was watching him. “I don’t know yet. My mom isn’t sure what she’s going to do.”
“Are you guys making it okay without… I mean now that your dad’s gone?”
His throat thickened. “We’ll do fine.” The words escaped from his lips all whispery and he hung his head.
Megan squatted beside him, putting her arm across his shoulders. She didn’t say a word, just sat there beside him until he felt his chest start to relax and his eyes cleared.
He tilted his head to look at her. “Thanks.”
She smiled, then she gave him a shove. “Now get that box empty before I have to help you and you know how clumsy I am. I’d likely break everything that’s left.”
He returned to his work, relieved to have a friend like Megan. She’d been really nice to him even when things were at their worst, like at his dad’s funeral. They’d buried his dad a few days ago. He and his mother had both cried at the funeral attended by many fishermen and even more militia members. Kent figured his dad had caused them both plenty of tears along the way, but he was still his dad and now he was gone, which was really scary. His mom had never dealt with money or paying bills so he was already helping her manage her bank account. He’d learned that in school. They’d get by, though. He had this job at Picture Perfect and his mom would find something. Every day he gave a small prayer they could stay in Cypress Landing. He should have wanted to get as far from here as possible. But he didn’t. It wasn’t the town or the people that had made his life bad. His mom was seeing the therapist Ms. LeBlanc had gotten for them. Sometimes he went with her. Twice he’d been by Ms. LeBlanc’s office, just to visit. If his mom would find a job here and if he could get her to leave that old house behind… If… If… He guessed the two of them still had a long way to go, but at least now he believed they’d get there, wherever that might be. Yeah, he still cried sometimes, when he thought about his dad, but he often wondered if part of it was from relief.
CHAPTER TWENTY
IN AWAY, HE WAS RIGHT BACK where he had started, at Sal’s. The once-frosty mug had turned lukewarm in his grasp. Behind the bar, Mick rinsed glasses, his back to Jackson. At least this time he knew that in Cypress Landing he’d found a home. The French doors had been closed in favor of the air-conditioning, but the river was still visible between the panes. The physical aspects were the only part of him that were the same as the first day he’d sat on this stool. His insides had been scrambled then realigned to form a new-and-improved Jackson Cooper, or at least he thought so. Still, one piece was missing and, because of it, the whole of him didn’t run as smoothly.
“You gonna drink that thing or hug it the rest of the evening?”
Jackson took his eyes off the amber liquid in his glass. “Drink it, I guess.”
“You guess? Man, what are you doin’ here? Isn’t there a lady you need to be chasin’ after?”
Would chasing Emalea do him any good? He doubted it. After he’d left without calling, she wasn’t likely to speak to him, much less continue a relationship.
“I don’t think it’ll help, Mick.”
“You won’t know unless you try, right?”
Jackson took a drink of the barely cool beer, while Mick continued to stand in front of him. “What is it?”
“Man, I have to tell ya, I didn’t much look for you to come back after you went off to Chicago with those FBI people.”
“This is home now, Mick. It’s a whole different kind of life in Chicago than in Cypress Landing. I like this better.”
“Plenty of people around here thought you was gone for good. I know one in particular who thought so, and she was kinda down about it.”
Jackson’s eyes narrowed. “Really? I didn’t tell her I was staying in Chicago.”
Mick ran a rag over the bar top. “Didn’t tell her you weren’t, either.”
“Well, no, I didn’t.”
Jackson watched the big man continue wiping down the bar. Mick tossed the damp cloth in a box then returned to stand in front of him. “She was by here just before you came. Ridin’ her bike. Had a burger then said she was headed to the Bluffs. Don’t know why.”
Jackson thought of Emalea sitting alone near the river, staring at the water, maybe missing him. “How long has she been gone?”
“Not so long before you came.” Mick began putting glasses on a shelf.
“But I’ve been here for a while. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Mick frowned. “I don’t recall you askin’. I ain’t no mind reader. You gonna have to take care of this business on your own. Nobody can do it for you.”
“You’re right, Mick, I only hope I can help myself.”
Before the bartender could reply, Jackson threw a few bills on the bar and raced to his motorcycle while Mick shouted something about change.
The old house had been sold or the previous owners had decided to do major renovations. Jackson didn’t see Emalea at the place she’d once called home, but sheer amazement impelled him to stop and stare. Chips of ancient paint lay scattered around the house, while the weathered planks of the outside walls shone smooth from a recent sanding. No longer sagging beneath the weight of the tree limb, the roof sloped solidly skyward,
the hole nonexistent. Grass and weeds were raked into dried, brown piles, some waist high. It was as though the place had been reborn. He was hopeful, excited even, but he wasn’t sure why. Spraying gravel as he pulled onto the pavement, Jackson prayed Emalea would still be at her special place.
A PIECE OF GRAY-AND-BLACK BARK broke off in her hand. Undaunted, Emalea stretched upward, pulling herself onto the lowest branch of the tree. Just like old times, the river rolled by not noticing her. Here and there, through the years, the bank had slipped into the water, making the currents change ever so slightly. At least she wasn’t the only one affected by the passing of time. Today, the child she had once been was not forgotten, but she had been put to rest in a way Emalea had thought impossible. She’d given her best effort to save Kent and his mother, and though their lives had been spared, she couldn’t take credit for it. Kent had done it. He’d saved himself and his mother in a way she’d been unable to save hers, but only because they’d wanted to be saved. Her mother had not. Emalea realized now that even if she had been able to stop her father’s beating that day, sooner or later, he’d have finished the job.
All the restraining orders and visits from the sheriff hadn’t kept Emalea’s mother from deciding to stay with her father. She’d made a choice to remain in that environment. The situation her mother had put herself in had led her to form a bond with the man who would eventually kill her, thus sealing her fate.
Emalea’s future stretched in front of her, clearer and brighter than ever before. Just like the old house, she’d been gutted of her guilt at last.
The distinctive rumbling of a Harley had her looking toward the road. Fingers bit into the bark as she recognized Jackson. He must have come for the rest of his things and decided to say goodbye, although how he’d found her she didn’t know. Then she almost laughed. That was ridiculous. How could he not find her in Cypress Landing? After all, he had been the investigator. Emalea stayed in her tree. He parked his bike and strode toward her. Let him come to her, say his goodbyes then go. She’d still have a life after he was gone, albeit not one as full as it could have been with him.
“Not reliving old times are you?” He stopped with his head even with her knees.
“No, I’ve completely given that up. I’m making new times now.”
“Good. I saw the house when I came by. It looks like someone’s doing an excellent makeover.”
“It needed it.” Her fingers loosed from the tree and she wiped her palms on her jeans. “So, how’s Chicago?”
“Too loud, too busy and generally annoying.”
She leaned forward to look at him more closely. “You don’t sound very happy to be there.”
“If I were living there I’d be miserable.” He placed a hand on each of her legs. “Emalea, I’m not going back to Chicago. I never was. I don’t know how you got that idea, I’m only sorry I didn’t let you know differently. The only thing I can say on my behalf is that I really didn’t think you cared whether I stayed or went. In truth, I sorta figured you’d rather I left.”
Her eyes were locked on his hands while her body registered the warm sensations that were spreading through her at his touch. “You have to admit it’s going to be awkward working on search and rescue and just being around each other after—” she was unsure how to phrase what had happened between them, but hurried on “—well, after everything. You know what I mean.”
His hands slid to her hips then with one smooth movement, he pulled her out of the tree. Standing on the ground in front of him, she felt overwhelmed, not with fear or hatred, but with love for the man who hadn’t fit any of her labels.
“It doesn’t have to be awkward.” His hands traveled up her body to cup the sides of her face. “It could be perfect, like it was before.”
“But what about me being in danger?”
“If you’re willing to take a chance, then I’m ready to do the same. I know that there will always be one threat or another. DePaulo’s in jail and Raynor is dead, but others will step right in to take their place. I’m leaving the decision up to you this time. Besides, from what I’ve seen, you can hold your own.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“I’m serious about you, about us. Yes, I’m scared of the dangers the future might hold, but I’m ten times, no, a billion times more afraid of not having you in my life.”
She wrapped her hands around the back of his head, pulling him to her until she could touch her lips to his. She feathered a light kiss over his mouth then hungrily pressed her lips against his until they parted and she tasted the warmth of him with her tongue.
Just when she thought she might fall, he broke away. “Is that a yes?” His breath rushed against her face and she reached forward to kiss him again.
“What was the question?”
He went completely still for a moment. “Well, damn, Emalea. You went and kissed me and I got the whole thing messed up.” He dropped to one knee. “Marry me, please. I don’t want to go through this life without you.”
Dropping to her knees, she wrapped her arms around him. “Then the answer is yes. I don’t want to do anything without you in my life.” It was true. She wanted to spend every minute of her life with Jackson Cooper. She smiled as he pulled her closer. It had happened for her, just like Lana had said. She’d found the perfect man.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-2164-2
A DIFFERENT KIND OF MAN
Copyright © 2005 by Suzanne Cox
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