Safe in His Arms

by Dana Corbit

  A lump formed in Lindsay’s throat as she stared at a photo of Brett and Joe with their arms draped over each other’s shoulders. True friends through thick and thin. Her relationship with Delia had been like that, with the added benefit of being sisters, as well.

  “Joe told me about your accident,” Tricia said in a quiet voice. “I’m so sorry for your loss. For you and Emma. I know what that kind of mind-numbing loss is like. So, if you ever need someone to talk to, someone who gets it…”

  Lindsay nodded, and the woman who she’d met that day hugged her like a childhood friend. Joe had given her such a blessing by introducing her to these people.

  Tricia pulled back from her and stared into Lindsay’s eyes. “Joe has really struggled with guilt over being unable to save both you and your sister. He told Brett he played the scenario over and over, looking for what he could have done differently.”

  “He did everything he could,” Lindsay said, finding that she really believed that, even if part of her still wondered if he’d helped the right victim first. “He was a hero.”

  “He doesn’t he see it that way. It had to mean so much to him that you’ve forgiven him. That you’ve accepted him as a friend.”

  Had she forgiven him completely? Lindsay wasn’t convinced. She hoped so because he deserved her forgiveness. He’d never deserved her blame, though she hadn’t been ready to acknowledge that before.

  “But then it’s already a sign that you’re a good person that your sister entrusted you with Emma’s care.”

  “Thanks.”

  Tricia must have believed they’d spent enough time on that heavy topic because she turned back to Lindsay smiling.

  “I still wonder how you convinced him to go to church with you. We’ve invited him so many times. He accepts our dinner invitations. He’s a single guy, after all. But he’s always amazingly busy on Sunday mornings.”

  “He told me he lost his faith after his mom died.”

  Tricia pointed to another picture of Brett and Joe standing arm-in-arm. “Oh, Joe still believes. He’s just not ready to admit it.”

  “I told him almost the same thing.”

  “Great minds think alike,” Tricia said. “Good thing for Joe that our God is patient.”

  “That’s a good thing for all of us.”

  The poem. It was a symbol that they were both right about Joe and his faith. Lindsay was tempted to tell Tricia about how he’d given her the poem about God the night of the accident, but she doubted that Joe would appreciate her sharing the story. He was embarrassed enough every time she mentioned it. She decided it was a story best left between the two of them.

  “Are you ladies finished gabbing about us in here?”

  Both turned to find Brett standing in the doorway where Tricia had been earlier. Since it was impossible to tell how long he’d been there, or if Joe was nearby, Lindsay was relieved she hadn’t mentioned the poem.

  “We have five—make that six—starving youngsters out there, and we’ve got Rossetti manning the grill, so I figured a call for backup might be in order.”

  “Uh-oh, we’d better get out there.” Tricia linked arms with Lindsay and started for the door. As she passed her husband, she asked, “Is the fire department on standby?”

  “No, but good call.”

  They were already out the back door by the time Brett caught up to them. He stepped closer to his wife, putting his arm around her and giving her a squeeze. “Did Lindsay pass the test…because if you’re still not sure, I can make a quick call and come up with a lie detector…”

  “She passed. We’re keeping her. But you’d better let Rossetti know that his spot around here isn’t as secure.”

  Lindsay followed them out into the huge fenced backyard, catching a glimpse of Joe, who looked like he had the grill more under control than Brett had suggested. The children were still playing on the wooden fort, so it didn’t look as if any of them had passed out from starvation yet.

  When Joe glanced up from the grill and smiled at Lindsay, her heart skipped a beat. No matter how Joe felt about her, she could no longer deny that her feelings for him went way beyond friendship.

  During their visit, she’d learned a lot more about him. No, he wasn’t perfect, but learning about his imperfections had only balanced the qualities she already knew he possessed—strength, dedication and empathy. His incongruities only made her more curious about him. The man with a spotted record with women, who’d been only kind to her. The brave police officer who was afraid to fail.

  Her intense curiosity about him was just another signal that she was in too deep. Stepping away would be in her best interest. Her parents certainly believed that it was in Emma’s best interest, but Lindsay knew now she wouldn’t do it and not only because she disagreed with them. The need to know everything about Joe Rossetti and the need to be near him were too strong. Both of those things were so appealing, and yet they scared her to death.

  The last strip of orange and magenta was clinging to the edge of the horizon when Joe sat down next to Lindsay on the front porch step of her condo. She shifted farther over, probably without realizing she was doing it, and glanced up the street. He didn’t have to ask her for whom she was watching.

  “Is she asleep?”

  He nodded. “I only made it to the second page of The Velveteen Rabbit. Those Lancaster kids wore her out.”

  “She had a great time.” She cleared her throat and didn’t look his way as she added, “So did I.”

  “The kids thought Emma was great. She has a lot in common with the three older ones.” He didn’t have to say that he, too, shared the loss of a parent in common with all of them.

  “She adored them, too.”

  Joe looked up in time to see that orange strip of sky disappear as if someone had colored it with a navy felt-tip pen. “You’re probably wondering why a great couple like Brett and Tricia would ever be friends with a guy like me.”

  “I didn’t wonder that. Brett said he was obligated since he was your first partner.”

  “Thanks.” He reached over the space that separated them and poked her arm. “But it’s true enough.”

  As he watched her under the yellow cast of the porch light, he had a hard time sensing her mood. Was she sorry she hadn’t stuck to her guns and continued to avoid him, or was she just worried that her parents would pop in for a visit and decide that her spending time with him was some symbol that she was ignoring Emma?

  “You’re probably wondering why I had never brought a woman to meet my friends before. And why Brett made a big production of letting you know it.”

  “Well…”

  “Oh. Tricia told you.” He hated for Lindsay to know what a creep he’d been. “I wasn’t such a great guy. I didn’t treat women very well.”

  “Tricia just said you liked to date around.”

  “And if I know Tricia at all, then she didn’t say it as pleasantly as that. I did once tell her husband that there were plenty of fish in the sea and there was no use reeling the same one in all the time.”

  Her lips lifted at that. “Okay, maybe she didn’t say it harshly enough.”

  “I deserved that. I wasn’t just dating around. I was avoiding relationships. What Tricia doesn’t know—I never even got around to telling Brett about it—was why.”

  Lindsay gave him a dubious look that suggested there was no good reason to ever have treated women badly, and she was right, but he decided to tell her anyway.

  “I got burned,” he began, but had to take another breath before he could continue. “Her name was Chelsea. I was crazy about her.”

  Her eyes widened with questions, but she didn’t ask.

  “I had just taken my entrance exam for the third time. And failed again.” He had to force himself to look up at her again. “Did I tell you I had to test four times before I finally was admitted to the Michigan State Police Recruit School? Not a proud time for a third-generation guy.”

  “No, you didn’t tell m
e.”

  “Well, I had expected to pass that time and had planned to propose to her right afterward. Instead, I missed the mark again, and then Chelsea announced that she was dumping me for some other guy. Apparently, I’d been too focused on studying for the test and not enough on her.”

  He glanced over at Lindsay then, and the compassion in her eyes hurt almost more than the original breakup.

  “Not only had I failed at the family business, now I had also failed at building the other thing the Rossetti men were known for. Blissful marriages. Dad and Grandpa adored Mom and Grandma and never got over their deaths. Even my brother, David, and his wife have been sickeningly happy.”

  “It’s easy to see why you avoided relationships,” she told him. “Why didn’t you ever tell Brett this story?”

  “Because Brett got dumped himself by his first fiancée. I was supposed to be his best man in that first wedding, too.” He glanced over at her, surprised to find her studying him so intently. “Anyway, his story was more pitiful than mine, so I didn’t want to compete.”

  “And you didn’t want to share your humiliation.”

  “That, too.” He grinned. There was no getting anything past Lindsay Collins.

  Lindsay had moved closer to him. He hated that she might have shifted out of pity, but his nerve endings came alive with her nearness, and her light floral perfume invaded his senses. He could feel her gaze on him. She was trying to figure him out, struggling.

  “So, if this dating around thing was working for you, then why did you stop?”

  “It stopped being fun…if it ever was. And after a while, I realized it wasn’t any of the other women’s faults that I got dumped.” He smiled out into the near darkness and then added, “Also, I decided that my mom would have been disappointed to know that after all of her work to raise David and me to be gentlemen, I’d grown up to treat women with anything less than respect.”

  “For someone who’s been gone for well over two decades, she still has a lot of impact on you.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  She turned and smiled at him then. “You should.”

  For the next few minutes, the only sounds around them were the rumble of passing cars, the persistent chirps of crickets and the battling television voices in other condo units. Had telling the whole story made him look better or worse to Lindsay? He didn’t even bother asking himself why he cared so much. He did, and that was all there was to it.

  “Why are you telling me all of this?” she said.

  “You mean besides that fact that I don’t want you to see me for the scum I really was?”

  “Besides that.”

  “And besides that you’re especially easy to talk to.”

  “Now, I know it has to be more than that.” She laughed. “No one ever accused me of being easy to talk to.”

  “I don’t know.”

  How could he explain his temptation to open up to her from that first day at the park, when sharing like that had always been a foreign language to him? How could he explain his need to confide secrets in her like an adolescent girl at a slumber party? He’d never felt the need to share with Chelsea, and he’d thought he loved her. Now he wasn’t sure he’d ever known what love was.

  “I guess if we’re sharing, you probably want me to tell you some story from my dark dating history?”

  As a matter of fact, he didn’t want her to, but he couldn’t tell her that. Then he would have to explain how the hair at his nape bristled at the thought of any man who’d had the privilege of holding her or touching her face. How could he be jealous over a woman he’d insisted was only a friend? He couldn’t, but he wasn’t ready to admit any of that to her, either.

  “If you want,” he said finally.

  “Well, that’s the funny part,” she said, but there was no humor in her voice. “The truth is, I don’t have a dating history.” She cleared her throat. “I haven’t. Ever.”

  “Never ever?” He didn’t mean to look at her as if she’d grown a second head, but he must have because she stared down at her hands.

  “I never intended for it to be that way. It just…was.” She didn’t look up at him as she continued to speak. “You get used it after a while. The invisibility. If not that, the looks that said while they would be more than happy to borrow my chemistry notes, they had no interest taking me out for coffee. Men just never noticed me that way.”

  “Someone as amazing as you? How is that even possible?”

  Joe wasn’t sure whether he’d spoken those words aloud or in the safety of his thoughts until Lindsay stared back at him, a deer-in-the-headlights look in her eyes. Her mouth was slack, and he found himself studying her lips, those same full red lips he’d noticed that first day in the squad room and had been trying to ignore ever since.

  If she hadn’t dated, had those lips never been kissed, as well? She hadn’t said that, but the possibility was there that her mouth may never have been properly adored by someone who’d taken the time to notice even that fine line in the center of her bottom lip. Suddenly, he wanted more than anything to be that first man to kiss Lindsay Collins. The only.

  As if she’d become gravity and he just a piece of rock caught in its magnetic pull, she drew him to her, without her knowledge, and from that shielded look, maybe without the certainty that she wanted it to happen. He leaned toward her in a move he’d practiced with dozens of forgettable faces. But as he drew close, staring into those wide eyes, he felt as if he was about to have his very first kiss, too.

  A shriek coming from inside the house stopped him, his face mere inches from hers. Lindsay might have been frozen in place only a moment before, but at the sound of her niece’s voice, she was up and rushing for the door. She threw open the storm door and ran for the stairs, taking them by twos. Joe was right at her heels.

  “I’m coming, Emma,” she called out.

  The door to the child’s room was open only a crack, but Lindsay pushed it wide and hurried inside. Emma sat rocking in the middle of the bed with knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them.

  Lindsay sat on the edge of the bed. “What is it honey? Another bad dream?”

  “I miss my mommy,” Emma moaned, not answering the question, or maybe answering one her aunt hadn’t asked.

  “I know you do, sweetheart.” In a quiet voice, she added, “I miss her, too.”

  The child looked up at Lindsay with twin tears trailing down her cheeks. Joe continued to watch the heartbreaking scene from the doorway, wanting to step in but realizing it wasn’t his place. This was Lindsay’s responsibility, and she was handling it flawlessly.

  “It’s going to be okay, Emma,” she crooned. “We’re going to be okay. You and me.”

  So different from the first night when she’d called him in a panic, Lindsay was calm as she inched closer to Emma until she was right next to her. Then she gently rubbed the child’s back in tiny circles.

  Soon she was cradling Emma in a scene so precious that Joe’s heart ached just watching. He’d spent a lifetime trying not to become involved, and right now there was nothing he wanted more than to get wrapped up in this situation and in this little family.

  After several minutes of rocking and soothing, Lindsay seemed to remember that he was still there and turned her head to look at him in the doorway. She smiled. No awkward moment about the near miss of a kiss from a few minutes before, she seemed to have forgotten it altogether.

  “If you want me to, I can stay until she’s back to sleep,” he said, in a low voice.

  Lindsay shook her head. “That’s all right. Emma needs me. I’m just going to stay with her for a while until she gets back to sleep.” As if she expected him to argue, she smiled. “We’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll check in with you later, then.” He backed out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

  He wanted Lindsay to be confident and capable when caring for Emma. That was his whole goal for spending time with her,
right? So why did he hate feeling so extraneous now?

  He grabbed his shoes that he’d left in the entry, went outside and pulled the door closed, checking the doorknob behind him to ensure it was locked. He was a police officer, after all. He might be going home, but he wouldn’t leave Lindsay and Emma vulnerable when he left.

  Vulnerability. That had to be it. He’d opened himself up to Lindsay in a way he never had to anyone. He’d even told her about the humiliation over Chelsea, a story he’d planned to take with him to the grave. After all of that, Lindsay had all but shoved him out the door. To be fair, she’d had a little on her mind at the time, but the dismissal hurt just the same.

  He couldn’t be vulnerable. Not at work, not in any relationship, and Lindsay made him feel utterly unprotected in both of those ways. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t go in too deep, wouldn’t risk more than he was prepared to lose, and here he was setting himself up for heartbreak.

  He managed to make it all the way to his truck before thoughts of that almost-kiss whacked him like a .45-caliber round to a chest protected by a bulletproof vest—no blood but a world of ache. It would have been a mistake for him to kiss her, but even now as he imagined her sweet smile and trusting eyes, he wanted to repeat the moment again with a more perfect ending.

  What had he been thinking? He’d told himself he needed to keep his distance from Lindsay, and yet he’d been drawn to her like a moth to a pretty, bright light. Even when she’d been the sensible one and had tried to put space between them, he’d used attending church, of all things, to change her mind.

  Just because Joe couldn’t bear not being able to see her smile or to hear her laugh or smell the scent of her hair, that didn’t mean he should have manipulated her into spending more time with him. The God he’d kept at arm’s length would probably not look kindly on that.

  Joe grumbled as he gripped the steering wheel and pulled away from her curb. He didn’t know her thoughts about what had taken place tonight, but she deserved an explanation for his behavior. She deserved to know why, despite all of his efforts to pursue her, that the two of them couldn’t be together for their own good. So why did he get the feeling that he would be the one with the broken heart?