by Irene Hannon
“I’m sorry about that. But you were in Iraq dodging bullets. The last thing you needed was a distraction. If something had happened to you, I would always have wondered if it was because you were thinking about me when you should’ve been watching your back. I wouldn’t have been able to live with that kind of guilt. But I can live with the kind you’re trying to dish out right now.”
So much for his strategy. Time to regroup.
“Let’s table this discussion until tonight, okay?”
“How about tabling it until you get settled in? Or forever?”
“Nope. You agreed to give me details when I got back in town. I intend to hold you to that promise.”
“Hmph. I could renege on my invitation.”
Silence while he waited her out.
At last he heard a peeved whoosh of air. “Okay. Fine. I’ll let it stand and deal with you after you get here. But if anything comes up and you have to cancel, call. You do have a BlackBerry, you know.”
“Sorry about the last get-together. Things got wild.”
“I understand. And all is forgiven. Unless it happens again.”
He chuckled. “Message received. See you later.”
After the phone went dead, Jake checked in with the command post. Everything was quiet. Good. A quick call to Cole confirmed the husband was still AWOL. Not so good.
But at least that news meant he had time for his jog and a workout before he headed downtown to check on the judge in person.
As for stocking his fridge and unpacking—the former chore he’d take care of after he visited Liz. The latter could wait for another day.
At the soft knock on her door, Liz got up from the glass-topped dining room table, where she’d spread out the contents of her briefcase. Massaging her brow, wishing the subtle ache that had begun in the middle of her sleepless night and intensified throughout the morning would go away, she trudged toward the condo’s small foyer. Must be another visit from one of the marshals in the command post. They’d been checking on her at regular intervals.
Or perhaps word of Delores’s cannoli had spread to today’s crew and they were looking for a sample. Her lips softened into the hint of a weary smile as she approached the door. She was glad to accommodate them, but she wasn’t in the mood for conversation.
When she peeked through the peephole, however, Jake stood on the other side, once again dressed in jeans and a cotton shirt. Must be his standard off-duty attire.
Suddenly she was in the mood for conversation.
Unlocking the door, she pulled it open and ushered him in. “I didn’t expect you to stop by until later in the day.”
He waited in the foyer as she slid the dead bolt into place. “Am I too early?”
“No. I just assumed you’d have things to do and places to go on Sunday morning.”
“My sister invited me to church, but I declined.”
“I hope not because of me.”
“Not entirely. I’ve been less than diligent in my church attendance since Jen died.”
She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “I can relate. I stopped going to services for a while after Doug died too. Faith is a funny thing. It’s easy to believe while life is rolling merrily along. But in times of trial, it’s tempting to turn away from God. Yet that’s when we need him the most.”
“You sound like Alison.”
“Your sister?”
“Yeah. With her prodding, I’ll find my way back sooner or later.” He gave the condo a quick sweep. “Any problems? Other than insomnia?”
She arched her eyebrows. “I didn’t say I wasn’t sleeping.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Heat crept up her neck under his intent scrutiny. “I look that bad, huh?” She tried for a light tone but couldn’t quite pull it off.
“Not bad. Just very tired. And very stressed. You’ve had a tough couple of days.” He gestured toward the dining room table. “Working?”
“Trying to. I can usually lose myself in an interesting case. It’s not happening today, though.”
“Maybe a nap would help.”
“Maybe.” She gave him an appraising scan. “You look like you caught up a little on sleep.”
“Twelve solid hours. And I jogged this morning and got in a good hour-long workout.”
No wonder he was in such superb physical condition. “Lucky you. I already miss my daily walk.”
“You’re a walker?”
“Yes. Thirty minutes every day on the treadmill, no matter how late I get home. I’ll go back to it after all this is over. Speaking of which . . . I take it there’s no news on Alan?”
“Not yet. I’ll let you know as soon as there’s a break.”
“Thanks.” They were still standing in the foyer, and she motioned toward the living room. “You’re welcome to come in.”
A tinge of some emotion—regret, perhaps?—flashed through his eyes.
“I have a few errands to run. And later in the afternoon I’m having dinner with Alison. I stood her up when I first got back into town, and if I don’t show today I suspect I’ll end up wearing the lasagna the next time she sees me.”
She tried to smile past a sudden surge of panic. She didn’t want him to leave. For whatever reason, he was fast becoming her lifeline to normalcy—and sanity—amid all the craziness.
Although she didn’t move, didn’t say a word, he seemed to discern her thoughts. “I’ll be back later tonight to check in on you again, Liz.”
“Okay.” Relief—and some other emotion she couldn’t identify—washed over her. “Look . . . if she’s serving lasagna, you have to have an Italian dessert. Take some of the cannoli.” She started toward the kitchen.
“If you keep giving them away, you won’t have any left.” His protest was only halfhearted as he trailed after her.
She slid four onto a plate and covered them with foil. “Good food and kindness are meant to be shared. Enjoy.” She held them out.
He took the plate from her in silence, his expression quizzical.
An odd undercurrent in the air unsettled her, and she eased back a few inches. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. But I’ll figure it out.”
With that enigmatic remark, he turned toward the foyer, calling over his shoulder as he walked. “Lock up after I leave. And expect me again around 8:00.”
He slipped through the door before she could respond. And as she secured the bolt behind him, Liz decided that was just as well.
Because he was talking in riddles. And with fatigue and a headache dulling her thinking, she wasn’t up to solving puzzles today.
But come tomorrow, she might just tackle that challenge.
Alison was way too thin.
As Jake greeted his sister with a bear hug at the door while a golden fluff ball cavorted at his feet, he could feel her bones. Every one of them. Or so it seemed. He loosened his embrace, afraid if he squeezed too hard he’d crush her.
He’d known after talking with Cole yesterday that the accident had been a lot worse than he’d thought. Known his sister’s recovery had been slow and tedious. So he’d expected to see some evidence of trauma.
What he hadn’t expected was her palpable fragility. Though Alison had never carried an extra ounce of fat, she’d always been toned and athletic. Strong. Healthy. Vigorous.
Now she seemed shockingly delicate.
But her spunky spirit appeared to be undimmed. Either that, or she was keeping up a good front for his benefit.
He suspected it was a combination of both.
“Hey!” She shifted in his arms. “I’m glad to see you too, but I’m suffocating in here.”
At her muffled comment against his chest, Jake released her. When she tottered a bit as she pulled back, he grasped her shoulders and held on until she got her footing.
“Talk about an exuberant hug.” She grinned, attributing her imbalance to his enthusiastic greeting. But he saw the flash of frustration and pain i
n her eyes and knew better. “Jake, meet Bert.” She gestured to the pup at his feet.
He bent down and gave the dog a distracted pat.
“Did you come bearing gifts?” She gestured to the foil-covered plate in his hands as he stood.
Already he could tell that getting her to talk about her injuries, let alone allow him to help in any way, was going to be a tough sell—as Cole had warned. Alison had always been an independent sort, and adversity seemed to have strengthened that trait.
“Cannoli. Courtesy of Liz Michaels. Her neighbor made it for her, and she’s sharing the wealth.”
“Yum.” Alison took it and led the way toward the kitchen, the pup trotting at her heels. “I have spumoni, but this is much better. Let me put it in the fridge.”
Jake followed, watching her walk. He could tell she was trying for a normal gait. But she couldn’t hide her limp from him. He’d watched her chase butterflies, climb trees, jump rope; he knew every nuance of the easy grace and power of her usual confident stride.
Hearing Cole talk yesterday about how close they’d come to losing her had been bad enough.
Seeing the evidence of it was like a kick in the gut.
“Alison.”
At his hoarse summons, she stopped and turned. “What?”
“You’re skin and bones. And you’re limping.”
She flushed. “I know. I had an accident, remember?”
“You said you were fine.”
“I will be. Soon.”
“It was a lot worse than a broken leg and minor internal injuries.”
“Some.”
“I can’t believe you wouldn’t let anyone tell me.”
Her shoulders stiffened, and the foil on the plate crinkled beneath her fingers. “We already discussed this. I didn’t want you to worry. And be distracted.”
“I appreciate your consideration. But that doesn’t change how I feel. I would have found a way to come home. To be here for you. Like you were for me when Jen died.”
He caught the sudden shimmer in her eyes before she dropped her chin and made a pretense of recrimping the foil around the plate. “I know you would have. And that means more to me than I can say. But you have enough on your own plate. Besides, I had David.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
Her head snapped up, and she compressed her lips. “Cole’s been talking to you.”
“He mentioned the two of you had broken up. And why. You didn’t tell me that, either.”
Ignoring his comment, she turned back toward the kitchen. “I need to put this away.”
He followed, the aroma of spicy tomato sauce and garlic bread greeting him as he entered the sunny room. Two places had been set at the café table in the bay window, complete with red checkered napkins, and a small bouquet of fresh-picked flowers from her garden stood in the center. She’d gone to a lot of effort to welcome him home. And he didn’t want to spoil the dinner she’d planned. But unless they hashed this thing out, he doubted either of them would be able to do justice to the meal she’d prepared.
She slid the plate of cannoli into the refrigerator and nodded to a bowl on the counter. “You can toss the salad if you want, while I get the bread out of the oven. Here’s the dressing.” She removed a bottle from a lower shelf and thrust it toward him before closing the door.
Instead of taking it, he waited until she looked over at him. Then he locked gazes with her. “I want details on your injuries, Alison. And your prognosis. We can go over it now or later. But you need to know I’m not leaving tonight until we talk about this.”
Setting the dressing on the counter, she locked her arms over her chest and tried to stare him down.
He didn’t so much as blink.
She narrowed her eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to put the whole thing behind me and move on.”
“I got that message. Loud and clear. And I think it’s a smart strategy. Focusing on the future is a good thing, and I’ll support you in that 100 percent. Once I get up to speed on the past.”
For another few seconds she held her ground. Then she huffed out a sigh. “Fine. You want a download? I’ll give you a download. A month after you left for Iraq, I was broadsided at an intersection on my way home from work by a car going at a high rate of speed. The other driver was drunk. He didn’t make it.
“My tibia and fibula were broken. The tibial shaft fracture was bad, and a metal rod was inserted and screwed in to hold the tibia in place. In the interest of full disclosure, the procedure is called intrameduallary rodding. I wore a cast from above my knee to below my ankle and used crutches for quite a while. Both of those breaks are almost healed.
“I also suffered an unstable pelvic fracture, which led to severe internal bleeding. The doctors inserted long screws into the bones on each side of my pelvis and connected them to a frame outside my body to stabilize the pelvic area. That allowed them to address the blunt trauma injuries to my abdomen. The worst was uterine avulsion, which required a subtotal hysterectomy. My pelvis was put back together with screws.
“As for the prognosis, it’s very good. I’ve already made tremendous progress, and in time, I should be able to walk normally. Other than never being able to have children, I should make a full recovery.” She leaned back against the counter, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the edge. “And now you know the whole story, in all its gory detail. Satisfied?”
Jake was still reeling from the fast-paced data dump. He didn’t understand half of the medical terminology she’d used or the subtleties of her injuries, but he filed away the information and planned to check it all out later on the Net.
What he did understand was that she’d recited the facts in a clinical, dispassionate voice—until she’d gotten to the part about not being able to have children. Then her composure had started to splinter and her words had grown shaky.
And that had spoken volumes. She might have come to grips with the physical baggage of the accident, and she might be making her peace with her shattered romance, but she was still working through her inability to conceive.
He’d known, when Cole had dropped that bombshell, how crushed Alison must be. She loved children. Had dedicated her life, through her work with Social Services, to seeking justice for little ones caught in bad situations. Had always talked about having a large family of her own.
As he watched her now, struggling to hold on to her self-control, a lump rose in his own throat. Following his heart, he closed the distance between them and took her in his arms.
“Oh, Twig.” He cleared the hoarseness from his voice. “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through.”
He felt a shudder ripple through her, mirroring the quiver in her words. “I’ll be okay. But I have to admit, an occasional hug is really nice.”
“Count on plenty of them from now on.”
She leaned back and gave him a watery smile. “In moderation, though, okay? Mom was smothering me; that’s why I sent her packing. And Cole never stopped hovering. I need my space.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
“I’ll remind you if you forget.”
He gave a soft chuckle. “I don’t doubt that.”
“Are we all squared away now?”
“Yeah. I guess. But I still wish you’d told me all this sooner.”
“Just remember, my motives were good.”
“What’s that old saying about a certain road being paved with good intentions?” He slung an arm around her shoulders and grinned down at her.
“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
As she repeated his words back to him with an impudent tip of her head, he laughed and squeezed her shoulder. “It’s good to be home.” Releasing her, he picked up the bottle of salad dressing. “Let’s eat.”
After the emotional prelude to their meal, Jake made a concerted effort to keep the conversation light and pleasant as he devoured her lasagna. Only when they got to dessert did it drift back
to serious topics.
“It was nice of the judge to share her bounty with us.” Alison dug into the cannoli with gusto, closing her eyes after the first bite as an expression of bliss swept over her face. “Wow. These are as good as the ones from the best restaurants on the Hill.”
It had been years since Jake had sampled the famed cuisine of St. Louis’s Italian neighborhood, but he didn’t dispute Alison’s evaluation as he polished off his own offering.
“She said they’ll go to waste before she can finish them all. That’s probably true. I doubt she’s eaten more than a few bites of anything since Friday night.”
“Do you think she might like some of my lasagna? You could take a piece with you when you go back tonight.”
“It’s worth a try.”
Alison used her fork to break off a bite of cannoli. “How’s she holding up?”
“Better than most people would under the same circumstances. Every time I think she’s about to shatter, she manages to pull herself back together. She’s pretty amazing.”
Squinting at him, Alison speared the last bite of her cannoli and twirled it on her fork. “I seem to recall you making some sort of disparaging remark about her once. After her husband died.”
Had he? Jake didn’t remember that. But he might have. He and his sister had always been vocal in their opinions with each other. Now he regretted that particular comment.
“It’s possible.” He fiddled with his coffee cup. “But after spending time with her these past couple of days, I discovered I may have been operating on some faulty assumptions.”
She leaned down to give Bert a pat. “So you think she’s nice?”
The conversation had taken an unexpected turn. One he didn’t like. He’d seen that gleam in his sister’s eye in the past. For all her independence, she was a romantic at heart. Her own love life might be in the doldrums, but it wouldn’t stop her from meddling in Cole’s. Or his. Not that he had one. Or intended to.
Especially with Liz Michaels.
As he tried to think of some way to redirect the conversation to a less personal topic, his BlackBerry began to vibrate.
Yes!