That twinge around his heart sharpened as he realized that she'd been disappointed to find out she wasn't pregnant. He tried not to hate the long-gone Robert—as well as himself. "So why didn't you get 'em?"
"A couple of reasons."
"Like ... ?"
"Well," she said with a sigh of disgust, "there was the bimbo down the hall from him."
"Great guy."
"But the capper was, Robert went out and got a vasectomy."
Jack winced.
"Of course, he didn't bother to tell me about his decision until after it was a done deal." • "Nice."
"Oh, charming," she agreed, pacing again as if she couldn't bear to stand still. Her footsteps pounded against the damp grass and the ever-present wind tousled her hair and carried her scent to him.
Jack swiveled his head to keep up with her progress as she made a wide circle around him. Her hands flew, gesturing as she spoke, and emotions rippled across her features, changing so fast he could hardly keep up.
"He said children would be a mistake. That we got on well together. We would do better as a childless couple."
"Nice guy." Okay, Robert was an asshole. Neither one of them had done right by Carol, but so far, Robert was winning the jerk award.
"I'm not finished," Carol said quickly and he swore he saw lightning, jagged and bright, flash across her eyes as she paused long enough to shake her index finger at him with so much vigor he could only be grateful she wasn't holding a baseball bat.
"His cheating was hard to take, I admit. But the vasectomy tore at me, because he'd known how much I wanted children. So, I pressed him, wanting to know exactly why he'd had himself sterilized."
That wince again. Jack couldn't help it. Any man's nuts would squeeze up tight at the thought.
"Finally, he admitted that as I was a foster child, we couldn't be sure of my background and it was better not to take chances on procreation."
"Christ." Jack just stared at her. And because he was watching her so closely, he saw the fury pulse back into her eyes and was glad to see it. Anything was better than seeing her hurt. Even if it did mean he was about to get reamed because the weasel Robert wasn't handy.
"I handed him his ring and walked out."
"Good for you."
"It wasn't so hard," she said with a shrug that belied the expression in her eyes.
"He was an asshole."
"Yes, he was," she said, "but at least he was honest."
"Honest?" The word burst from Jack's mouth before he could hold it in. "He slept with a bimbo while engaged to you and then he sneaked off and got himself fixed without telling you and that's honest?'
"No, but his reasons were honest. And that at least was something."
"Meaning..."
"Meaning, he told me how he really felt."
"Damn if I'll be compared to that jerk and come out the loser." Jack felt his own fury rise to match the raging sea he saw in her eyes.
"You proposed—and I use the word loosely—because you thought you had to." She tipped her head even farther back and met him glare for glare. "Robert did it because he too thought he should."
"And then hacked off his nuts." He shoved both hands through his hair in frustration.
Her fists balled at her sides, and once again, Jack was struck by the urge to hunt for cover. A furious woman was nothing to be sneezed at.
"I said yes to Robert because I wanted to be loved. I wanted the fairy tale—but I realized that marriage without love would be a lot lonelier than being by myself." She pulled in a breath and held it before releasing it on a rush. "I didn't marry him because he didn't really love me. Who I am."
"Good call."
She ignored that. "He only wanted to do what he thought was right."
"I think I just landed back in Robert's boat."
"Damn straight. And I wouldn't have married you for the sake of a baby," she added quickly. "I want love. Jack. I want the whole package. To love and be loved. I want kids. I want 'permanent.'"
Jack just looked at her. His insides twisted with regret and pain and shame, dammit. Fine. He'd screwed this up royally. In trying to do the right thing, he'd only insulted her. Hurt her.
He did belong in Robert's boat.
Jack watched her, in the weird half-light thrown by the Nativity scene and then dappled by the shadows around them. He felt the tremors coursing through her body as clearly as though he were holding her to him. And suddenly, his arms ached to do just that
A huge stab of pain sliced at his heart and he almost reached for his chest to massage it away. True, he'd been living with a throbbing ache in his heart for two long, miserable years. But this was so much more. So much deeper. This pain he'd brought on himself. And there was no one else to blame for it.
She lifted her chin and her hair, driven by the wind,
danced around her head in a blond halo. Her shoulders were squared, her eyes tear-free, and her bottom lip was firm. She faced him proudly and her strength humbled him. She wasn't going to cry again and for that he was grateful.
But she also wasn't going to waste any more time on him. And for that, he was sorry. Hell, he was even sorry there was no baby. And he hadn't expected that. He shouldn't have been anything but relieved. But there was a twist of disappointment squeezing his insides that told him nothing was simple.
A part of him grieved for a child who had never existed, just as he mourned the loss of what Carol might have been in his life.
'Tonight," she said, dragging his attention back to her, "when Lacey told me about the boy who'd made her pregnant, she said that he'd told her he loved her. That she was special..." Her voice broke on that last word and she had to pause for breath before continuing. "I understood. God help me, I knew just what she meant. Just how much those words could mean to ears hungry to hear them." Her gaze locked with his again and the raw power in those golden eyes slammed him hard. "I need to hear them, too, Jack. I need to hear those words said and to be meant. And I won't settle for anything less."
"I'm not asking you to," he argued, though even he wasn't on his side anymore. "I told you—I was just trying to do the right thing."
"You want to do what's right?" Her voice was a challenge and her eyes fired sparks at him that should have singed him. "Well, you know what's right, Jack? Loving when you get the chance. And living every minute of every day." She bit down hard on her bottom lip, then
swept right on, clearly on a roll. "But you can't see that. You're too busy beating yourself up for surviving to actually live the life you could have. So don't tell me you know what's right, Jack." She shook her head slowly. "Because you don't have a clue."
It stung. All of it. Standing there listening when he wanted to argue but knew he didn't have any ammunition. Years of being a martyr had only brought him pain. Only alienated him from everyone he'd ever cared for. He'd locked himself into a small chamber of misery and snapped like a tiger at anyone who'd tried to free him. He'd hugged his agonies close and used them as a shield to keep the world at bay. But he'd told himself he'd been doing it to protect those around him as much as himself. That excuse didn't really fly now, though. Did it?
"Dammit, Carol," he finally said, when she paused long enough for him to jump in. "You think I want it to be like this?"
Impatiently, she scooped her hair back. "If you wanted it to be different," she said, "it could have been." Then she stepped in close to him, looked way up, to lock her gaze with his, and delivered that killing blow a second time. "I love you."
His heartbeat staggered slightly and he had to fight against every instinct that clawed at him, making him want to grab her and hold on.
"I'm not afraid to say it," she said, and her tone taunted him. "But you don't have to worry. I'm sure I'll get over it."
Moments ticked past, measured in soft breaths and Quinn's pitiful whine. The wind picked up and danced through the limbs of the trees, sounding like a whispering crowd offering comments on the scene being played
out in front of them. From a block or two away came the muffled sound of a dog barking and under it all was the ever-steady rhythm of the sea, rushing in to shore.
Everything had changed for him in the last few weeks, Jack thought. He'd stumbled across Carol and she and Liz had dragged him back into the world of the living. But did he belong there? At best, he was alive only because of a whim of fate—at worst, because he'd allowed his partner— his friend —to die, instead.
And if Will had died because of him, did he have the right to live happily? He shook his head, tumbling those dark thoughts back into a corner of his mind where they'd fester a while before leaping out at him again.
"Do you want me to move out of the apartment?" he asked, steeling himself for her answer.
Now it was her turn to wince. And that slight stab of pain hit him as hard as it had hit her.
She kept her gaze locked with his. "Are you still going to be here only temporarily?"
He paused. Temporary was the only way he knew anymore. "Yeah."
Carol nodded stiffly, as if even that slight movement ached. 'Then there's no point in your moving out. I think we can stay out of each other's way well enough, don't you?"
"If that's what you want."
One corner of her mouth turned up and then flattened again. "That is so very far from what I want, Jack." Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper of sound as she added, "But we don't always get what we want, and I should know that better than anyone."
"Carol—"
"Just," she said, lifting one hand to cut him off even
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as she started past him, "don't say anything else, okay? It's been a lousy night and anything you can say won't make it better."
"Okay." He shoved both hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her as she passed him. Her scent stayed with him even as she walked away. Her steps were slow, tired, fatigue dragging her down into the ground as if the park were sitting on quicksand. Even the bells on her shoes weren't tinkling with the same carefree joy he usually associated with her.
Quinn paused beside Jack long enough to look up at him and whine again. Maybe he was losing what was left of his mind, but Jack almost thought the dog was disgusted with him. Hell, join the club. But the moment passed and the big dog hurried to catch up to his mistress.
Jack turned to watch her leave and a tight, cold band wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed. With her hand on the big dog's back, she walked alone in the shadows, and for the first time since he'd known her, she looked.. .fragile.
By mid-morning, word about Liz had spread all over Christmas and Jack was standing on Lacey Reynolds's front porch, his sister Maggie at his side.
The house had seen better days. The dark green paint on the shutters was peeling, a porch rail was missing, and the doorbell hiccuped drunkenly as it rang inside the house. The grass needed mowing, the bushes needed trimming, and the screen door flapped loosely around its frame. It was a good old house, but it had been neglected too long and now, Jack thought, it would probably be easier to just raze the place and start from scratch.
"How's Carol doing?"
He shifted his gaze to Maggie, looking trim, professional, and just a little sad around the eyes. She'd seen enough misery in her time at Social Services to be as hardened as Jack. Yet Maggie, like Carol, had found a way to look at life and still smile. Usually. Today though, her empathy for Carol shone from her eyes and sounded in her voice.
"I think she's all right."
"You think?" she asked, one dark red eyebrow winging up. "I thought you and she were, uh—"
"You thought wrong," he said, cutting her off.
"Well, color me surprised."
"Give it a rest, Mag."
But she wouldn't, of course. He hadn't really expected her to.
"She needs you right now, Jack. I know what losing this baby must be doing to her and—"
Impatience leaped from him. "Look. She doesn't particularly want me around right now, so can we just do thejobr
Both eyebrows lifted now and she managed, even though she was at least eight inches shorter than he, to look down her nose at him. And damned if he didn't deserve it
"Fine, Sheriff."
The front door suddenly swung open, sparing Jack the necessity of a reply. Lacey's mother stood in the doorway, blinking at the sunlight like a vampire who'd stayed up too late. "What is it?"
"Mrs. Reynolds, we're here to see Lacey."
She groaned tightly and pushed at the screen-door latch. The door popped open like a cork pushed from a bottle and Jack caught it before it could slam into the house.
"Great. The baby's been screaming ail night and now that it's finally asleep, you come along and wake me up."
"We're very sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Reynolds," Maggie was saying in that cool, rational tone that used to drive him nuts when they were kids. "But this official visit is necessary to check on the well-being of the child in question and its"—she paused to glance around— "home situation."
Jack smelled liquor, baby formula, and just a whiff of desperation. It was dark in the living room, only the sunlight slanting in behind them to light up the corners of the room. Magazines were scattered across a table, laundry— whether clean or dirty, he wasn't sure—piled on the couch, and the television was tuned to a game show with pretty people and annoying music.
A part of him wanted to rush in, grab the baby, and take her back to Carol. He wanted to walk in her front door, holding that baby, and be the damn hero. He wanted to be her hero.
Hell, he wanted, as he hadn't wanted in years.
Scrubbing one hand across his face, he pushed that wild impulse aside and stared at the once-blond, now-brassy older woman in front of him. Her eyes were red and her hand shook as she reached for a cigarette and lit it. She* sucked in the smoke like it was oxygen for a starved brain, then exhaled it reluctantly.
"Where is Lacey?"
She stared up at him and he wondered if she was just sleepy or still drunk. Then she breathed on him and he figured it was a little of both.
"Are you here to take the baby?" she demanded.
Maggie answered that one. "We're here to check on the baby and speak to your daughter."
"Stupid girl," Lacey's mother muttered as she turned
and headed down the short hall toward a closed door. She took another short drag on the cigarette, then stabbed the air with the fiery tip of it. "Didn't think she was smart enough to hide a pregnancy. Then she turns around and does something idiotic like claiming the kid. Told her she should have left that baby with the shopkeeper. What the hell is Lacey going to do with it?"
She stopped in front of a closed door, gave a brief, perfunctory knock, then opened it and walked inside. Here, Jack thought, Lacey had done all she could to combat the closed, quiet air of defeat clinging to the house. The walls were a cheerful pale yellow, and white curtains fluttered at a window that overlooked a weed-choked flower bed. Posters were tacked to the walls and framed photos cluttered every surface.
The girl herself sprang up off the bed as though she'd been shot and faced them all with a guilty, embarrassed expression.
'They're here to see about the baby," her mother announced, then stepped back, folded her arms across her chest, and tapped one bare foot against the carpet.
Jack's gaze swept the small room and landed on the baby. Asleep on Lacey's bed, Liz's tiny face was scrunched in sleep and she looked in as much distress as her mother. He recognized the blanket covering the infant. Carol had bought it that first week with the baby and had covered her with it every night. Tiny yellow ducks pranced across a soft white fabric and something inside Jack shifted and groaned.
His hands itched to hold her. His heart ached for what ie'd lost. What he, Carol, and little Liz had lost.
"Hello, Lacey," Maggie said softly and eased up on he girl as though she were a wild thing poised for flight.
"Hi." She looked from Maggie to Jack to her mother
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and back again. Her eyes were wide and filled with tears she was trying not to shed.
"We've got a few questions," Maggie was saying.
Jack responded to the emotions crowding the girl's anxious face. She was probably terrified. Wondering if she'd be going to jail. But jail wouldn't serve anyone at this point Maggie had agreed to keep this private as much as she could "It's okay, Lacey," he said, wanting to relieve her of at least this much. "You're not in trouble."
She breathed a sigh of relief that was short-lived as her mother spoke up again.
"Oh, yes she is," Deb said, stabbing the air with her cigarette again. "She's a kid. What does she know about babies? Nothing. She can't take care of that baby and I'm sure as hell not going to raise it."
"Mom—"
"No way," the older woman said sharply. "I did my time in the trenches. I raised you, didn't I? Well, I'm finished. You got yourself into this mess. You can get yourself out"
Jack's teeth ground together. He was helpless. He couldn't take Liz out of here, and return her to the warmth and love in Carol's apartment He couldn't help Lacey against her mother's anger. Rage coiled inside him at the unfairness of the situation. But anger wouldn't help her, either.
"This isn't really productive," Maggie said.
Deb opened her mouth to say something else, but Jack stopped her with a hand on her arm. This, at least, he could give Lacey. "Mrs. Reynolds," he said, keeping his grip gentle, since she felt like a sack of sticks. "Why don't we step out into the living room and let Maggie and Lacey have a talk?"
'Talk all you want," the woman said, looking back
over her shoulder at the daughter she'd thought was going to amount to something. "It won't change anything. You're stuck now. Stuck here. Just like me." Deb narrowed her gaze. "For all your fancy talk of college, you're no smarter than me, are you?" That parting shot left Lacey weeping.
"Only terrified," Lacey admitted.
"How'd you do it? How'd you have the baby all alone, Lace?"
She'd nearly managed to blank that whole night out of her mind. But still the ragged edges of her memory tugged at her. "When the pains started, I went down to the caves," she admitted, her voice soft.
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