Just Joe

by Marley Morgan

  Joe gave a little half smile. "At the end of this season," he confirmed. "I'm coming home."

  "That's wonderful!" Jassy broke in enthusiastically. "I remember once you told us that you wouldn't quit football until you found—" She broke off suddenly as Joe's eyes warned her into silence.

  Mattie wondered at the thoughtful gaze Jassy directed her way, but dismissed the thought as Cole continued.

  "I'm going to have you for a full-time neighbor again! I can't wait. It's going to be just like old times."

  "Not quite old times," Jassy inserted sweetly. "I'm here now, remember? No more double dating in the hayloft."

  Cole's eyes turned to Joe accusingly. "Did you tell her about...?" .

  "How about we exchange presents now?" Joe suggested rising rather hastily from the dinner table.

  They moved into the living room, where a huge Christmas tree reached toward the ceiling, and the banter continued. Mattie and Joe had gone shopping the week before for the present they intended to give the Barons, and Mattie had insisted on paying for half. It was a Jacuzzi attachment for their bathtub, and Joe had insisted that they would put it to good use. Mattie was beginning to suspect that he was right.

  Jassy, in turn, handed Joe a rather flat package, gaily wrapped. "I wanted to paint something you valued most in the world. Maybe I should have waited awhile." Her eyes moved to Mattie.

  Joe met her gaze in level understanding. "Maybe next year," he told her quietly.

  "You paint?" Mattie picked up on that part of the exchange eagerly. "How wonderful! I've tried, you know, but I just can't seem to get the hang of it."

  "On the other hand, I couldn't create the magic you do with your camera, Mattie Grey," Jassy returned admiringly. "So we're even."

  "You've seen my work?" Mattie was honestly surprised.

  "It's hard not to see your work," Jassy returned. "Your pictures are in practically every magazine from Arizona Highways to Sports Illustrated."

  Mattie shifted awkwardly, a little uneasy with the honest admiration, and her eyes fell on the painting Joe had just unveiled. She gasped softly at the sheer beauty of what she realized at once must be a part of his ranch. Joe was studying it reverently, and Mattie somehow knew that the setting had a particular meaning to him. She didn't even look at the artist's signature before her eyes flew to Jassy's.

  "You're Jasamine Creig," she told her disbelievingly. The painting, being a Jasamine Creig, was worth thousands, but it was the caring that went into it that gave it its real value.

  Jassy smiled a little. "That's the name I work under. I much prefer being Jassy Baron."

  "I attended your last show," Mattie continued quietly. "Your work is so touching. Every painting seemed to have something to say to me."

  It was Jassy's turn to become a little flustered, while both men looked on at their women with almost identical expressions of smugness.

  Jassy and Mattie didn't notice, however, and fell into a lively discussion about places they had seen and captured on canvas and film, respectively. Mattie felt the distance she had always maintained with others melting away, and she realized with an aching rush of joy that she and Jassy could be friends. This was something else Joe had given her.

  Her eyes instinctively moved to seek him out and she found his gaze on her, warm and tender and caring. Mattie had never felt so happy as she felt in that moment. Christmas, she discovered, was a holiday of the heart.

  They talked for an hour more, the four of them delighting in one another's company. They seemed to mesh somehow, complement each other, and by the time the evening was over they were well on their way to a lasting friendship. It was Jassy who bowed out of the conversation first.

  Groaning comically, she rose to her feet. "I have to do the dishes now, or they just won't get done. Our housekeeper, Juana, is off for the holidays," she explained for Joe and Mattie's benefit.

  Mattie jumped instantly to her feet. "Let me help you."

  Jassy shook her head, but it was Cole who issued the denial. "Sorry, Mattie, that's my job."

  "No," Jassy protested laughingly. "You're off the hook tonight, Cole, You stay here and entertain our guests. I'll wash and dry tonight."

  "Sweetheart..." Cole began protestingly.

  Jassy grinned cheekily. "You can make it up to me later," she told him softly. "In the Jacuzzi."

  Mattie turned six shades of red while Cole's eyes flamed seductively. "You're on."

  Jassy swung from the room with a wink, and Cole's eyes followed her the entire way.

  It was Joe who brought his attention back to them with a question about the ranch. They picked up their conversation where they had left off earlier. Mattie sat quietly, not really listening to the words they spoke but observing the warmth between them. They obviously shared a genuine caring for each other.

  They were both so open to other people, she thought be-wilderedly, feeling, not for the first time in recent weeks, how much she missed by hiding behind the walls she had erected. They seemed to invite others to come close, while all she could do was push them away. Dammit, she was tired of being alone! She had let Joe into her heart, and he had given her back a hundredfold of what she had given him. Maybe she could have it all, maybe she could have what Jassy and Cole had, if she could only exorcise the ghosts of her past.

  Mattie's brain was whirling with these confused and troubled thoughts. She knew that she wouldn't find the answer tonight, not when she couldn't even think straight, so she forcefully pulled her thoughts from their inward speculation and focused once more on the conversation around them.

  It took her about fifteen seconds to realize that Cole's mind was elsewhere, too. His eyes kept drifting toward the doorway, and he shifted restlessly in the loveseat he had shared with Jassy a few minutes ago. Joe was watching him with a knowing amusement, his mouth quirked as he waited for the next move.

  Mattie watched them both, bewildered. What kind of game were they playing?

  Suddenly Cole jumped from his chair so abruptly that Mattie started.

  "I think I'll go see if Jassy needs some help," he announced to no one in particular, already striding from the room.

  The silence he left behind lasted for perhaps five seconds before Joe burst into laughter.

  "Joe... ?" Mattie asked in confusion.

  Joe was shaking with laughter, and Mattie punched his arm in frustration. "Would you stop laughing and tell me what's so funny? What's wrong with Cole? He seemed so restless. Is he sick... ?"

  "Sixteen minutes," Joe wheezed finally, his eyes gleaming with laughter still. "He lasted sixteen minutes this time. What an improvement!"

  "What are you talking about?" Mattie demanded.

  "Sixteen minutes ago Jassy left this room," Joe pointed out. "Within five minutes Cole was restless. Within ten he couldn't keep his eyes away from the door. Sixteen minutes and not even politeness stopped him from going to her."

  Mattie still looked perplexed.

  "Mattie, it drives him crazy to be in a position where he can't see or touch Jassy!"

  "That's not something to laugh about," Mattie protested indignantly. "I think it's... sweet."

  "Of course it's sweet," Joe agreed. "But it's not what I expect from Cole Baron. The man is so independent it's intimidating. Remember what I told you on the way up here? Until Jassy came into his life, there was no one and nothing in this entire world that Cole needed."

  Mattie considered that silently. "Another part of... loving, Joe?"

  "Another part of loving," Joe agreed softly.

  "Sweet..." Mattie murmured almost silently. "Still.. .sixteen minutes. Jassy must feel a little smothered."

  The intimate, loving sound of laughter drifting from the kitchen was a most emphatic denial.

  Hours later Cole stood quietly at the bottom of the porch steps, the cold night air cutting through his jacket as he fo-

  cused on Joe's stiff back. Sighing almost silently, he crossed the front yard to lean beside Joe on the paddoc
k fence.

  Joe's eyes seemed to be focused on the horizon, but somehow Cole knew that he wasn't seeing anything but the pictures he held in his mind.

  Joe turned his head slightly to acknowledge Cole's presence but did not say a word. The silence lasted quite a while before Cole finally spoke.

  "Pretty night," he remarked laconically.

  "Yeah," Joe agreed, his eyes narrowing in the darkness. "I thought you'd be asleep by now. We turned in long ago."

  "I heard you go out about an hour ago. When you didn't come in, I thought you could use some company."

  Joe smiled slightly at the unspoken friendship expressed in those two sentences. "Jassy asleep?"

  "Mmm. Mattie?"

  "I think she dropped off right away. She was pretty excited about meeting you. I guess it took its toll."

  "She's a pretty lady, your Mattie," Cole said carefully.

  "Beautiful," Joe corrected softly. "Inside and out."

  "There's something in her eyes sometimes—"

  "Yeah," Joe said, cutting him off abruptly. "Something we're trying to work out."

  "You know," Cole began softly, "I remember you telling us once that you wouldn't retire from football and come home until you found that one special person to share your life with. I was beginning to think it wasn't going to happen for you."

  Joe knew exactly what he was talking about. "I guess I was, too," he admitted. "But it only took a second. She's twined around my heart so tightly..." He sighed, and a silence stretched between them. "I need to ask you a question," Joe grated finally, his eyes wary.

  "Shoot."

  "It's personal."

  Cole eyed him a little warily. "What are friends for?"

  "You remember when you first brought Jassy here, just after you met her?"

  "Of course I do," Cole recalled, his lips curving in amusement. "You dropped in for an unexpected visit and found her in the barn explaining aerodynamics to a horse."

  Joe's own smile lasted for perhaps a quarter of a second. "She didn't love you then."

  Cole drew a deep breath and held it unconsciously. "No, she didn't."

  "She loves you now." It was a flat statement of fact, and Joe uttered it tonelessly.

  "Yes." There was a world of contentment in that one word, and the unexpected stab of envy it produced made Joe's voice harsher than he had intended when he forced his next question.

  "How did you do that? How did you make her love you?"

  "Oh, Lord." Cole's voice was filled with sudden understanding. "Joe, I'm sorry. I didn't realize..."

  "That Mattie doesn't love me?" Joe completed quietly. "She says I'm her best friend. It's not enough, Cole. I want more, everything. I want what you and Jassy have."

  It was a curiously raw moment between two strong men whose emotions were rarely revealed.

  "I didn't make Jassy love me, Joe. I don't know if it's possible to force love out of someone. I kept her with me, and she did the rest."

  "You kept her with you?" Joe latched on to that. "How? How did you keep her with you?''

  Cole shook his head wearily. "I don't want to talk about it, Joe. It's not something I'm proud of."

  "It worked."

  "But it cost me," Cole told him in a muffled voice. "It cost me three months without Jassy. It cost me a lot of pain and a lot of loneliness. I almost lost her entirely because of what I did. It was wrong."

  "But it worked," Joe insisted in a low, driven tone.

  "Ultimately, no," Cole said. "We talked about it later. She told me that it wasn't—what I did to hold her that brought her back to me. It was me, the man. Who I was, what I was, what I felt for her and what I made her feel. Before I go to bed each night, I thank God for bringing Jassy back to me, Joe. Because what I did almost drove her away."

  "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

  "No," Cole answered steadily. "I'm not going to tell you. There aren't any easy answers, not with love. I wish I could—" He broke off helplessly, unable to phrase what he wanted to say.

  Joe understood without the words. "I'll take it as said, Cole. Maybe with time..."

  "Love can grow, Joe. It doesn't have to hit like a lightning bolt. It's not any less because it grows slowly."

  "Do you think Jassy loves you more than you love her?" Joe asked ironically, already knowing the answer.

  "I can't imagine any one loving another person more than I love Jassy," Cole answered a little roughly. "If she loves me equally, then I'm one of the two most loved people in the world. And that's more than enough. It feels good to love, Joe. It feels like... being whole. Don't you think so?"

  Joe thought of his own love for Mattie. "Yeah," he agreed softly. "It feels like... finally being whole."

  "That's a hell of a lot, Joe. How much more do you want?"

  Joe turned to meet his eyes steadily. "How much more can I have?"

  Neither had an answer for that question. The one person who did was asleep in the house and unaware of the raw plea. Cole clasped Joe briefly on the shoulder in a gesture of understanding and silent support, then turned to the house where the woman who was his wife and lover and best friend waited. Joe turned back to the horizon, scanning the night for hope and strength.

  Eight

  Mattie fell in love with Joe's ranch at first sight. Stepping from the Jeep, she felt the most overwhelming sense of homecoming that she had ever experienced. It was as if she had been waiting all her life to come back to a place she had never been before. The wide open spaces beckoned her, the house seemed to call to her. There was welcome in the air. She turned to Joe, her eyes meeting his exuberantly. "It's perfect, Joe. It looks like...home." She turned back to the large ranch house in front of her, studying the long porch and the old swing that shouted for someone to occupy it. She could see the house as it must have been thirty years ago, when Joe was growing up. A hundred years ago, when the land was not as hospitable as it was now. She could feel the history and the memories of the house and the land and the sky as if she had been here for a thousand years and witnessed it all.

  Joe studied her enraptured expression with loving eyes, experiencing some powerful emotions of his own. Now, he thought in satisfaction, no matter what happened in the future, he would always be able to picture Mattie here, in his home, on his land, with that expression of joy and wonder on her face. Drawing a deep, cleansing breath, he looked around. He had been back to the ranch innumerable times since his parents' deaths, but for the first time he seemed to be looking at the land with eyes that sought out the living instead of the dead. It wasn't the memories of the past that haunted him now, but the dreams for the future.

  "Let's go inside, Mattie. We have a lot to do before the evening."

  His voice prodded her out of her reverie. "Like what?"

  Joe began to lead her up the front steps. "Well, the ranch house pretty much sits empty in between visits. Cole looks after the land for me, but I could hardly ask him to stop by and clear out the cobwebs."

  Mattie laughed at the image of Cole Baron, broom in hand, attacking phantom cobwebs. "Now I understand," she teased. "You didn't want company for Christmas. You wanted free maid service."

  "No." Joe couldn't play along with the joke. The next few days were too important to him. "No. I wanted you, Mattie. I wanted you here in my home. You're the best person I know to face ghosts with."

  Mattie's gaze held his solemnly, a little shaken that he had chosen the same metaphor of ghosts that she had been carrying in her mind. Joe was facing the memories of his parents' deaths with her. Maybe it was time for her to face, once and for all, her own demons.

  She reached for his hand and squeezed gently. "Maybe we—maybe we can help each other?"

  Joe tightened his hold and brought her hand to his lips. "Don't you know that we already have, Mattie?"

  In the entryway, with its tall ceilings and softly glowing hardwood floors, Joe took Mattie's coat and removed his own. Holding her arm gently, he guided her into the living room o
ff to the left of the hallway.

  "Besides, I need your help with more than just the cobwebs," he told her lightly. "We've got a tree to decorate." One hand on either shoulder, he turned her to face the beautiful but small pine in front of the glass doors that led to the side porch.

  Mattie swallowed, a hard little ache in her throat. "We're going to decorate a Christmas tree?"

  "Sure. It's part of Christmas, you know."

  "I've—" Mattie tried again. "I've never had a Christmas tree to decorate before."

  Joe's hands tightened consolingly on her fragile shoulders. "Well, you do now. I can't do this alone."

  "But how...? When...?"

  "I called ahead and asked a couple of the hands to get it. See, it hasn't even been cut," he pointed out softly. "It was dug up and potted."

  Mattie nodded a little helplessly. "It's so beautiful, Joe." One hand lifted tentatively to clasp his where it rested on her shoulder. "I think this Christmas is going to be beautiful, too."

  Joe's mouth softened. "You bet it will, sweetheart. Because we're together, and that's always... beautiful."

  Mattie turned to face him, curious at the emotion in his husky voice.

  "Come on," Joe said bracingly, before she could give voice to the questions in her eyes. "Cobwebs first, tree later."

  Mattie let the moment pass. "Okay, Joe. Let's start upstairs."

  Joe released her shoulders and led her to the second floor. He showed her the bedroom she would have during their stay, and pointed out his own room next to it.

  Of course, Mattie knew it was his room before he told her. It radiated a kind of calm and solidity that she would always associate with Joe.

  "Let's get started," she ordered enthusiastically, clapping her hands once. "Together or separate?"

  Joe regarded her oddly. "Together, Mattie."

  They worked for a couple of hours, dusting corners and making beds. Mattie actually made more out of it than there was, simply enjoying the calm routine. They broke off around two o'clock for a belated lunch, which Joe made with characteristic finesse, then searched through the attic for Christmas decorations that had long since been packed away.

  Joe studied one of the dusty boxes, a faraway look in his eyes. Mattie saw and understood that he was years, not inches, away.