“I’m not going to let you walk out of here until you’ve heard what I have to say.”
“What gives you the idea I’m interested in what you have to say?”
“Whether you’re interested or not, you’re going to hear it.” He pushed her toward her chair. “Now sit down.”
She glared at him, prepared to resist to the death.
“I said, sit down!”
He was mad, too. She could see it snapping in his eyes. Shrugging, she dropped onto the chair, her face rigid with rebellious anger.
He stood towering over her for a second or two, as if making sure she would stay put. Then he moved around the table and slumped into the other chair. Leaning his elbows on the table, he ran the fingers of both hands through his hair in a gesture of frustration.
“I quit the force,” he said, his voice muffled so that she could barely hear him. “After the ambush, I quit. I spent six months trying to decide what I was going to do with the rest of my life. I started drinking. Heavily. Nights at first, then daytime, as well, when the pain and the guilt wouldn’t go away.”
He lowered his hands, lifting his chin to look at her. “It was as if I’d lost all sense of direction. I couldn’t eat, and I couldn’t sleep without drinking myself into a stupor. I lost all my self-respect. And I didn’t care anymore. Until I woke up one morning in a motel room and couldn’t remember how I got there. I realized then where I was heading. I knew I had to take back my life.
“Thanks to an understanding colleague who had some influence, I was offered the post of U.S. Marshal, and I accepted. I never looked back.” He thrust his hands onto the table, his fingers clenched into fists. “I need to be a part of law enforcement, Gail. It isn’t something I do, it’s who I am. It’s been a part of me ever since I was born. Without it I have no life. It wasn’t until I faced that fact, and did something about it, that I finally pulled myself out of the hole I’d dug.”
She frowned, striving to understand “No one is trying to take that away from you, Blake. Least of all me.”
He shook his head, his gray eyes reflecting his determination. “I can’t have both, Gail. I wish to God I could, but it just isn’t possible. I saw what my father’s death did to my mother. What the deaths of my unit did to their wives. I couldn’t face the thought of bringing that kind of suffering down on someone who might love me.”
He shoved his chair back and stood. “As long as it’s only myself who’s involved, I don’t think about the risks. If I had to consider someone else, someone who would suffer if something happened to me, I would lose my edge. I’ve seen what happens when I let personal feelings sway my judgment. I just couldn’t do my job if I worried about the risks. And without my job, I couldn’t live with myself.”
She didn’t need to look at his face to know how useless it would be to argue; it was in his voice. He’d had to make a choice between her and his job. And his job had won. Slowly, she got to her feet, feeling as if she were facing a long, dark and endless tunnel. “I’m going to take a shower,” she said wearily. “And then I’ll drive you to the sheriff’s office.”
Gail managed to make small talk on the way there. He answered her in monosyllables, looking almost as unapproachable as he had that first day he’d walked into The Book Nook.
It wasn’t until they’d pulled up at the curb that he finally looked at her. “If you ever need me—for anything—please don’t hesitate to call. The number’s listed in the book under U.S. Justice Department.”
She nodded, meeting his eyes briefly before switching her gaze back at the road. The sun sparkled on the packed snow, dazzling her, and she wished she’d brought her sunglasses. If she had, she could have hidden behind them to take that last, long look at his face.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do? Will you be going back to Portland now that you don’t have to worry about Stevens?”
“No, I don’t think so. This is my home now, and Heather hardly remembers Portland anymore. I prefer to keep it that way.”
“Tell her goodbye for me. Tell her—” He paused. “Tell her I’ll never forget her.”
“I never did give you the picture she drew for you.”
“Mail it to me?”
“Of course I will.”
“Thanks.”
They were talking like strangers, she thought sadly. No one would ever guess that they had shared something so beautiful, so damned meaningful. At least, it had been beautiful and meaningful to her.
She wanted to yell at him, to strike out at him, to let him know how badly he had hurt her. She had given him her heart and her soul, and he’d thrown it all back at her.
I can’t make you any promises. She hadn’t asked for promises. All she’d asked for was honesty. But he hadn’t been honest. He’d let her believe that he really cared for her. And all the time he’d known that he belonged to his job. He’d never belonged to her. He never would.
She would never be able to understand the complex emotions that drove him. She only knew that she’d lost him. But dammit, she would let him go with as much grace and composure as she could manage. Afterward, when she was alone, she could give in to the rage.
“I guess I’d better get going,” he said, his voice thick with regret.
He would never realize what it cost her to turn to him and smile. “Have a good trip back.”
“Thanks. You take care, okay?”
“I will. You, too.”
“And look after that cute little daughter of yours. She’s going to be just as beautiful as her mom, some day.”
“I’m counting on it,” she said evenly.
He nodded. Reaching for the handle, he eased the car door open. He looked back at her, and for just a moment she saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes; then it was gone. “Goodbye, Gail.”
“Goodbye, Blake.”
She watched him climb out. The door slammed shut, and he stepped back, touching his forehead with his fingers in a gesture of farewell. Then he turned and hurried up the steps of the building. He went through the door without looking back, and it closed behind him, shutting him out of her life.
She took off with a squeal of tires and drove up the street, heedless of the speed limit. She needed to be alone, just for a little while, before she collected her daughter. She needed time to accept the fact that for the second time in her life, she had dared to love and had lost it all.
She drove until the tears forced her to pull over, onto a winding lane that led to an open field. There she parked, and laid her head on the steering wheel until the tempest had passed and she was exhausted.
When she finally lifted her head, only a dull ache remained, instead of the tearing agony of loss. She still had Heather, she told herself as she mopped up her face as best she could. And when Heather was grown and no longer needed her, God willing, there would be grandchildren to enjoy.
Maybe a dog, she thought, as she drove slowly back to Darcie’s. Heather would like that. Her spirits rallied a little at the thought of her daughter. Now she was anxious to see her. Now she couldn’t wait to hold that wiry little body and hug her tightly.
She pulled up at the traffic light at the edge of town, and deliberately shut her mind to the memories. Later, much later, she might be able to face them again, but not now. Now she wanted to forget.
After a few minutes she pulled up in front of Darcie’s house. The door opened immediately to her knock and a small body hurled itself at her in a flurry of arms and legs.
“Mommy, where have you been?”
For a moment she was afraid she would cry, then she collected herself. Hugging the little girl closer she murmured, “I’ve been on a long trip, but I’m back now.” She looked up to see Darcie in the hallway, a look of deep concern on her face.
“It’s good to see you, Kate. We missed you.”
“I drew lots of pictures for you,” Heather announced, and grabbed hold of her hand to pull her inside.
Gail managed a tight laugh as she met
Darcie’s intent gaze. “You wouldn’t have a pot of coffee on, would you?”
“Don’t I always? Come on in and sit down. You look as if you haven’t slept in a week.”
“I feel as if I haven’t slept in a week.” Gail sank wearily into a chair in Darcie’s comfortable family room and stretched out her feet. She listened as Heather brought her up to date on every minute detail of her life for the past three days, while Darcie busied herself in the kitchen.
“Here,” she said, coming back into the room a few minutes later. “Coffee and a bagel.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”
“Eat it anyway.” She tilted her head to one side and studied Gail’s face. “Have you come to take Annie home?”
Gail nodded. “I figure you must have had enough of her by now.”
“I’ll never have enough of her. She’s a good kid.” Darcie patted Heather on the head. “If you’re going home you’d better collect all those pictures you’ve been drawing.”
“Okay.” Heather scrambled to her feet. “You wanna look at them, Mommy?”
Gail smiled. “I’ll see them when we get home. We’ll have lots of time to look at them then.” Too much time, she thought dismally, then banished the depressing thought.
Heather left the room, presumably to collect her pictures. As soon as she had gone, Darcie pulled her chair closer to Gail. “Okay, shoot,” she ordered.
Gail sighed. “It’s a...little complicated.”
“Okay, so tell me about Blake first.”
She told her the entire story. Hesitantly at first, then with growing confidence as Darcie listened, enthralled. She left out her feelings for Blake. She wasn’t ready to talk about that yet, if ever. She skipped over the time she’d spent making love with him; that was something she would always keep locked away in her heart.
Darcie’s expression changed so rapidly as the story progressed that Gail almost smiled. Especially when she got to the part when Mike called her to tell her he had Heather.
“My God,” Darcie whispered, when she had finished the story. “You must have been out of your mind.”
“I was.”
“Weren’t you terrified of meeting that monster in that lonely spot?”
“I didn’t have time to be afraid. Not for myself, anyway.” Blake had said something like that, she remembered. “As long as it’s only myself involved, I don’t think about the risks.”
“So what happens now?”
Gail shrugged, doing her best to look indifferent. “Not much, I guess. I’ll have to answer some questions. The sheriff will take care of the rest.”
“And Blake?”
“He’s gone back to Portland.” Just like that. So easy to say, and so damn difficult to understand.
Darcie looked disappointed. “I thought there was some big romance budding here. Or are you planning on going back there, too?”
Heather chose that moment to rush back into the room, much to Gail’s relief. “No,” she said, rising to her feet. “We’re not going back. This is our home, and we’re going to stay.”
Darcie smiled. “I’m glad.”
Maybe one day, Gail thought, as she left the warmth of the baby-sitter’s home, she would be glad about it, too. Right now, the prospect seemed as bleak as the clouds that were blotting out the sun.
Heather chatted happily on the way home, and seemed more than content to be back in her own room, surrounded by familiar and loved possessions. If she missed the company of Darcie’s children, she didn’t mention it.
Gail found it hard to go to sleep that night. Although she did her utmost to banish all thoughts of Blake, his image insisted on intruding into her mind. She wondered how long it would take for the pain to ease, and the memories to fade. She wondered if he was lying awake, too, thinking about her. She rather doubted it.
The next morning she dropped Heather off at the kindergarten and then drove to The Book Nook. Polly greeted her warmly, and although obviously curious, refrained from asking her too many questions.
Gail was relieved about that. The less she talked about it, she decided, the sooner she would forget.
Unfortunately, in the days that followed, that theory proved unfounded. No matter where she went, the memories haunted her. Long after Heather had stopped asking about Blake, Gail would see his image everywhere she went.
She could no longer enjoy meals in the diner, and every time she passed the Alpine Inn, she felt the acute ache of loss. She made excuses when Heather begged to go back to the mountain, or to the children’s museum in Parkerville.
The entire town of Mellow Springs seemed to grow smaller and more confining every day. Her work at the bookstore suffered, and more than once she caught Polly staring at her, her face wrinkled with concern.
Finally, as the snow gradually melted and the crocuses and daffodils brightened the front yards, Gail faced the truth. She would never be rid of the memories as long as she stayed in Mellow Springs. The town no longer seemed a haven; it seemed like more like a prison, shutting her away from the outside world.
For days she struggled with indecision. She could go back to Portland, but that would mean risking the chance of bumping into Blake. She couldn’t bear that. Although the pain never quite left her, she was beginning to heal. She could go for an entire day or two without thinking about him. Without wondering where he was and what he was doing. Without worrying that he might be in danger, aware that she would never know if something bad had happened to him. Or good, for that matter.
To go back now, knowing he was so close, knowing that the possibility of seeing him was always there would only drag out the agony of getting over him. No, Portland wasn’t the answer.
The day she finally made her decision was bright with sunshine and soft breezes that brought with them the promise of spring. She’d dropped Heather off at the kindergarten and was driving along Main Street, trying not to think about the first day she’d had lunch with Blake.
The idea grew slowly, but the more she thought about it, the more she liked it. Seattle. She was familiar with the city, although it had grown considerably since she was there as a child. But she liked the openness of it, the waterways, the proximity of the ocean, the climate that was so similar to Portland’s.
Heather would love it—there was so much to do there, so much to see. The opportunities for growth, a broader education and exposure to a variety of cultures were all readily available compared to the limited resources of a small town like Mellow Springs. And best of all, the memories she had of the city were of another life, another time—before she even knew that Blake Foster existed.
Excited now by the prospect, she told Polly what she intended to do.
Polly listened gravely, then nodded her head in resignation. “I’ve been expecting it,” she said. “And you’re right, it’s time. You’ve spent way too long pining away in this piddling little town. You need to get back where you can enjoy some excitement in your life.”
Gail pulled a face. “I’ve had more than enough excitement lately. I just think it’s time I took charge of things and did what’s best for me and my daughter. I’ve been running away all my life, taking the easy way out, instead of taking risks and running toward something. This time I’m going to make plans for the direction I want to take, and do my best to make them work.”
“Good for you.” Polly gave her a hearty slap on the shoulder. “You’ve come a long way from that frightened little thing who came looking for a job a few months ago.”
“Yes,” Gail said wryly. “I certainly have.”
Heather didn’t seem at all happy about the move at first. “I’ll miss all my friends,” she said, as Gail tucked her into bed that night. “I’ll miss Miss Thompson, and Darcie, and Janice and—”
“You’ll make new friends,” Gail said firmly. “And you can write letters to everyone here. We’ll call now and again, and even come to visit if you like.”
Heather pouted. “Don’t want to go.”
“You’ll be missing a lot if you don’t. Boat rides in the summer, amusement parks, the zoo, train rides—there’s an even bigger children’s museum there, and we’ll still be fairly close to the mountains.”
Heather thought about that. “Can I take my dolly’s house?”
Gail smiled. “You can take every one of your toys. We’ll buy new ones, as well. Maybe we’ll even buy a dog.”
“I think I’m going to like Seattle,” Heather said sleepily.
So would she, Gail thought hopefully, just as long as she could leave all the memories behind in Mellow Springs.
Blake had made a mistake and he knew it. The truth of it hit him from every direction, everywhere he turned. In his lonely apartment, when he returned to it at night, he kept imagining her sitting next to him on the couch, laughing at something on the television, while a blond, curly-haired child played at their feet.
He heard her laughter in the wind, and her whispers in the dark. He couldn’t take a shower without remembering her wet, smooth body sliding across his, her mouth eager and hot on his bare skin. He ached for her, with a deepseated pain that would not let up.
He wouldn’t even look at a bottle of beer. He was too afraid that once he started drinking, he wouldn’t stop. He analyzed his thoughts and his emotions until his mind whirled in crazy circles of denial.
When he’d first arrived back in Portland he’d been assigned a desk job for a while, taking care of the assets seized from the profits of illegal drug operations. Then the day he’d dreaded had arrived, and he was handed another field assignment. Another prison escape—this time two inmates, both known to be savage killers.
He was assigned a deputy, an excitable young man on his first big case. In the beginning things went smoothly—the initial investigations, the reports, the follow-ups. But then, when the first fresh lead came in and he knew it was time to take action, he had to face the truth.
He was no good without her.
He couldn’t concentrate. He’d lost that keen edge, that sixth sense, that gut responsiveness that could only come with experience, and which could mean the difference between living and dying.
Every Waking Moment Page 22