Slowly Jack pushed to his feet, watching Alayna all but drag Billy along with her, still feeling the sting of her accusation.
It's better this way, he told himself. Better for her to be angry with him, rather than with the boy. The kid deserved her love and attention, and needed it.
Jack didn't.
But he'd taught the boy a valuable lesson, one his own father had taught him. One he'd never get the chance to teach his own son. One Billy's father should have been around to teach Billy.
But Jack had been there. And he'd delivered the lesson with the same degree of thoughtfulness and care his own father had expressed when he delivered the lesson to him.
And for that Jack felt a small measure of pride.
"Where's Jack?" Molly asked sullenly.
Alayna had to struggle to keep her gaze from straying to the empty chair at the dinner table. "I guess he isn't hungry tonight."
"Probably hidin' out," Billy grumbled, "after the way you yelled at him. And he didn't even do nothin' wrong."
"Bil-l-ly."
There was just enough I-refuse-to-listen-to-another-word-about-this in the warning to have Billy swelling up like a toad.
"Well, it's the truth," he argued. "He didn't do nothin' wrong. I tried to tell you he didn't, but you wouldn't listen, and now he's probably out in that cabin of his starvin' to death 'cause he's afraid to come up here for supper."
Alayna inhaled deeply, then slowly released the breath, fighting for patience … and relief from the guilt.
Billy had told her what had happened. That Jack hadn't supplied the cigarettes, that Billy had bought them from another child at school. How Jack had held him while he'd been sick.
She tried to justify her reaction by telling herself that anyone happening upon the scene would have made the same assumption that she had.
Squaring her shoulders defensively, she picked up a bowl and held it close to Molly's plate, lifting a laden spoon. "Would you care for some more mashed potatoes, sweetie?"
Molly shook her head, her pigtails slapping against her cheeks. "If Jack's not eatin', I'm not, neither. And neither is Teddy," she added, stubbornly hugging the bear that was perched on her lap to her stomach.
Alayna dropped the bowl to the table, then her elbow beside it and pressed her hand against her aching forehead. Silently she counted to ten.
It's easier to spit out an apology than it is to try to swallow it and choke on the hoarded words.
Alayna groaned as one of her father's favorite country wisdoms came to mind. He had a saying for everything, and no matter how angry or upset she was when he offered them, she eventually had to face their truths.
She lifted her head, pressing her fingers against her lips as she looked from one accusing face to the other. "Okay, okay," she said, dropping her hand and sagging back in her chair in defeat. "I'll go and talk to him."
"You'll tell him you're sorry?" Billy asked pointedly.
Alayna leaned across the table to ruffle his hair. Oddly he didn't dodge the affectionate display. "Yes, I'll tell him I'm sorry."
Molly hopped down from her chair and pressed herself against Alayna's legs, her eyes as wide as saucers. "And you'll take him his supper?"
"Yes," Alayna said, laughing at the child's serious tone. "I'll take him his supper."
With a nod of approval, Molly held out her bear. "Take Teddy, too. Jack might be scared staying all by hisself."
Knowing that the bear was what Molly had clung to on those nights when her mother had left her alone, Alayna had to bite back tears. She took the bear and set him on her lap, then pulled Molly into her arms. "I'm sure Jack will appreciate the company." She drew back and swiped a hand beneath her eye to catch a stray tear.
"Now you two scoot up to your rooms," she ordered sternly, shooing them away with her hand, "and do your homework while I'm gone."
"Yes, ma'am," they replied in unison.
Without a whine or a single complaint, the two headed for the stairs. Alayna watched as Billy slipped a brotherly arm along Molly's shoulder, and heard him whisper, "If you get scared without your teddy, you can come to my room with me."
Alayna dreaded having to face Jack again. Almost as much as she dreaded offering the apology she'd promised the children she'd give him. It seemed as if she was always having to apologize to him for one thing or another. Usually the other, she thought, feeling the familiar heat on her cheeks.
With a groan, she quickened her step. She didn't understand why she was so physically attracted to him. And she certainly didn't understand why she'd touched him so impulsively, so intimately, the night before, especially after she'd made such a fool of herself that night on the pier.
But she had, and then she'd done what she'd sworn she'd never do again. She'd avoided facing him—as well as her inadequacies—by leaving him a note and escaping to town.
But not anymore. No more avoidance.
Firming her lips, she shifted the teddy bear under her arm to free a hand and rapped her knuckles sharply against the cabin's thick oak door. After a moment, the door opened and a shirtless, wet-headed Jack stood in the opening, a damp towel draped around his neck.
The sight of his bare chest and the beads of moisture that clung to the dark hair that covered it were a vivid reminder to Alayna as to why she found Jack so physically attractive. As Maudie would say, he was one good-looking hunk of man.
"What can I do for you?"
Alayna snapped her gaze to his and found the familiar frown on his lips. Her hands trembling a bit, she lifted the covered plate. "A peace offering." When his frown deepened, she held out the teddy bear as added incentive. "Molly sent this. She thought you might be scared to be by yourself." Tears pushed at her throat as she repeated Molly's words, knowing what a sacrifice it was for Molly to offer Jack the bear.
Jack looked at the stuffed animal, then slowly took it, holding it between his hands as if it were a priceless treasure that he might break. "She sent me her bear?"
Unable to trust her voice, Alayna nodded.
Jack shifted his gaze from the bear to Alayna. "But she never turns loose of this thing."
Alayna gave up trying to hold back the tears. "I know," she said, blotting the tears from her cheeks with the heel of her free hand. "That's what makes the gift so precious."
Only then aware of the waterworks that were going on in front of him, Jack stripped the towel from around his neck and traded it for the plate Alayna held. He opened the door wider.
Alayna dabbed at her eyes and her cheeks with the towel, trying to get a grip on her emotions as she passed by him. "Thank you," she murmured gratefully.
Once inside, she took a deep breath, determined to offer the apology that she owed Jack. "I came to apologize for yelling at you today and accusing you wrongly. When I saw you there with Billy and saw those cigarettes on the ground—"
"He has a scar on his forehead."
Startled by the interruption, Alayna turned and saw that Jack had closed the door but was still standing by it, his gaze fixed on the bear. For a moment, she thought he was talking about a flaw on the face of Molly's Teddy … then she realized he was talking about Billy. Wearily she combed her hair back from her face and held it there. "Yes, I know. I've seen it."
"How he'd get it?"
Alayna dropped her hand, letting her hair fall, and sank down onto the sofa, feeling every one of her thirty years. "His father. I didn't know he was the one who put it there until today, though. When I was in town I went by the social worker's office and asked to see Billy's file."
"Why?"
"Because I need to know his history, in order to know how to better help him."
"No, no," Jack said in frustration, turning to look at her, his knuckles white as he tightened his grip on the bear. "Why did his father hurt him?"
Before, she'd thought his eyes empty, lifeless, but at the moment they were full of emotion. Rage, fury, indignation for a boy he claimed to dislike. "I don't know why," she said car
efully. "I just know that he did. Several times. Billy was taken away from his parents when he was four. He's spent the last three years in a succession of foster homes."
Still frowning, Jack crossed the room, dropped the plate onto the old trunk that served as a coffee table, then sank down on the sofa beside Alayna. He propped his elbows on his knees, and held the bear out in front of him. "And Molly?" he asked after a moment.
"Her father is listed as 'Unknown' on her birth certificate."
"Her mother?"
Alayna looked from Jack to the bear that seemed to hold him in some kind of trance. She lifted a shoulder. "They don't know. She had a history of disappearing. She would leave Molly alone for days at a time. That's why the authorities were finally called in. This time, though, she didn't return. She's just … gone. No one knows where."
"What will happen to Molly?"
"She'll stay in the system until her mother gets her act together and comes back to claim her."
"If she doesn't?"
Alayna shrugged again. "The courts will rule her an unfit mother, strip her of her paternal rights and Molly will be put up for adoption."
"Will you adopt her?"
Alayna shifted her gaze to the bear and tried to swallow the wad of emotion that rose. "I—I don't know if I'd be offered the opportunity. Rarely are foster parents allowed to adopt the children who have been placed in their care. The social worker made that very clear upfront." She drew in a shuddery breath. "Plus, I'm single. They prefer to place adoptable children in homes with married couples."
Jack sat for a long time staring, then he turned his head to look at Alayna. "How do you do it? How do you let them go?"
The question was a difficult one, one that Alayna tried very hard not to think about. She turned her gaze to her hands and slowly threaded the towel through her fingers. "I don't know, yet. Molly and Billy are the first foster children I've taken in." She drew in a deep breath and forced a smile to her lips before looking at Jack again. "But I'll manage. The children's happiness is what is most important. Until the time arrives when they leave me, I'll fulfill their needs as best I can."
Jack propped the bear on the coffee table, then turned, angling a leg onto the sofa between them. He stretched an arm behind Alayna on the sofa's back, his brown eyes fixed on her. "And what about your happiness? Your needs?"
Alayna kept the smile in place, though it was difficult. "I'm a big girl. I don't need anyone to look out for me."
"You'll miss them."
The tears were close, but she stubbornly kept them at bay. "Yes, but there will be other children who'll need my care."
"But you'll still miss them."
A tear leaked out and ran down her cheek. She swiped at it with the towel, hoping Jack hadn't seen it, then knotted the towel in her hands. "Yes, I'll miss them."
"You've got a big heart, Alayna. The kids are lucky to have you."
His kindness brought the tears closer. They burned her throat and stung her eyes. She opened her mouth to form a glib reply, one that wouldn't reveal the fears and doubts that lurked inside her … then quickly closed it, swallowing the sob that rose instead.
Jack leaned closer, placing a finger beneath her chin and forcing her face to his. "Alayna?"
She saw something in his eyes that she had never seen before, something she'd never expected to see. Compassion. She crumpled in the face of it.
"Oh, Jack," she cried, giving in to the tears, her fears. "I want so badly to help them, to provide a good home for them."
"You're doing fine," he assured her.
"Am I?" She didn't wait for an answer, didn't seem to want one. "You handled the problem with Billy today so much better than I ever could. I'm not even sure how I would have handled it if I'd been the one who had caught him smoking."
Jack already had one arm open, resting on the sofa behind her. It seemed only natural to open the other one, too, and offer her a shoulder, the one solid thing he had to give her. When he did, she melted against him on a sob. He stiffened immediately as her body met his, realizing too late that in opening his arms, he'd exposed his chest … his heart.
Slowly he gathered her into his arms, tucking her face into the curve of his neck, and let her cry. Her tears were hot and wet against his bare skin, slowly melting his resistance. He gathered her closer, holding her, murmuring senseless words to soothe her. He understood her tears as few other men could. He'd experienced the grief firsthand. He'd already faced the day where he'd had to say goodbye.
He felt a shudder move through her and dipped his head to look down at her. Her hair formed a golden halo against his bare chest. An angel, he remembered thinking that afternoon when he'd first seen her. Her actions since had only confirmed that first impression. Her care for the children. The kindnesses she'd shown him. The sunny smile with which she greeted every new day. Unable to resist, he pressed his lips against her hair. She forged closer and he felt her breast flatten against his ribs. Their heartbeats became one, beating a single rhythm of shared pain.
Jack sat as still as a statue, giving Alayna the shoulder she needed, the comfort that she deserved, until the muscles in his arm cramped and started to burn.
But he never once moved.
After what seemed like an eternity, a shudder moved through her and vibrated through him. He glanced down, praying that the well had at last run dry.
But looking at her was a mistake. With her face buried in the curve of his neck, her hand curled against his chest, she looked so fragile, so vulnerable, so needy … and somehow so damn right huddled there against him.
Another shudder vibrated through him … but this time it was his own.
He focused on the hand curled against his chest. It was the hand of a lady—long graceful fingers and manicured nails. Yet he knew the strength in those fingers, their willingness to take on any job, no matter how menial. He knew their ability to heal with a compassionate touch.
Slowly he lifted his own hand and laid it over hers, pressing her palm more firmly against his chest. He closed his eyes, curling his fingers around hers, absorbing her warmth, her softness, and tried his damnedest to will her grief, her doubts, away from her and into his own tortured soul.
He felt a shudder run through her and he opened his eyes, needing to see her. "Alayna," he whispered, brushing back the halo of hair that blocked his view of her face. "You're doing just fine. No kid could ask for a better mother, a better home than the one you provide for these kids."
She lifted her face, and sniffed, meeting his gaze with watery, red-rimmed eyes. Jack couldn't remember ever seeing a woman who looked more beautiful.
"Oh, Jack. I want to provide a good home for them. I really do. And I want to believe that what I'm doing for them is right. But I—" She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears again. "I just don't know."
He gave her a reassuring squeeze. "You're doing fine. I give you my word on it."
Alayna laughed softly, then sniffed again. "And we both know how seriously Jack Cordell takes giving his word." She sat up, drawing away from him, and pressed the heels of her hands beneath her eyes, suddenly embarrassed by her emotional display. "I'm sorry," she said, rising to her feet. "I didn't mean to fall apart on you like that. I swear, I'm not normally such an hysterical female."
Already missing her warmth, the comfort of having her body pressed against his, Jack wished like hell he could pull her down on the sofa with him again. But this time they wouldn't be sitting. They'd be stretched-out, their limbs tangled, their bodies meshed. And it wouldn't be comfort and reassurance he'd be giving her. It would be passion, something he doubted her ex, or any other man in her life had ever offered her. "I never thought you were," he said, his voice husky.
She laughed softly and glanced over her shoulder. "Thanks, Jack. For everything." She started for the door.
"Alayna…"
She stopped, stood there with her back to him for what seemed like forever, then slowly turned around. He wondered if
it was something in his voice, or if it was that his thoughts were revealed in his eyes. Whichever it was, he knew that she knew exactly what he was asking of her.
He saw the doubts that shadowed her eyes, the internal war being waged. Then she shook her head and backed up a step, and away from temptation. "You're a good man, Jack Cordell. The best. I wish I could—" She paused as if struggling for the words to explain, then tossed up her hands in frustration. "Well, I wish I could, but we both know I can't."
By the inflection she placed on the word "could," Jack knew that she was thinking of her inadequacies in the sex department. He knew differently. And he knew, too, that there was only one way to prove it to her.
He stood, prepared to prove it to her, but she spun quickly and headed for the door, cutting him off. "I better get back to the house," she called over her shoulder. "See you in the morning, Jack."
The door closed behind her.
Jack dropped down onto the sofa, staring at the closed door, then fell back, squeezing his eyes shut and digging his fingers through his hair.
Never in his life had he felt more alone, more abandoned than he did at that moment.
He opened his eyes and saw Molly's bear sitting on the trunk. He reached for it and pulled it to his chest, then sat back and waited for the loneliness to fade.
He fell asleep, still waiting.
* * *
Six
« ^ »
Jack awakened in the night in a cold sweat, still sitting on the sofa with Molly's bear clutched tight against his chest. With a groan, he tossed the bear aside and scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to figure out what had awakened him.
The answer came quickly, as did the pain. He'd been dreaming again. About his son.
He rose and stumbled his way to the cabin's tiny kitchen. He splashed cold water over his face, trying his best to wash away the memory of his son's face. Sandy-blond hair with a cowlick in the middle of his forehead. A grin that revealed a missing tooth he'd lost prematurely when he'd fallen out of the fort Jack had built him in their backyard. Hands, tiny and curious, that were always busy, that had the power to melt Jack's heart when they were wrapped around his neck.
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