by Lyn Cote
Cash said quietly, “I was so worried about you. We will never let things come between us again.”
She smiled and nodded. She wanted to answer him and tell him again that she loved him, but a day of panic and fear had exhausted her. Cash left the room, and she undressed and slipped into the hot water.
From that moment on, her contact with reality became more and more muted. Sustained, conscious thought eluded her, but as she went through the motions of a bath, she was aware of the intense physical sensations: the cinnamon fragrance of her bath soap, the warm water, the touch of terry cloth robe as she covered her bare skin, the gurgling of the water as it drained from the tub. She walked barefoot across the hall. Cash turned back her comforter for her and she slid between cool percale sheets.
“Don’t go,” she murmured.
“Don’t worry. Go to sleep.” While the small fire crackled with the pine tar in the logs, he sat down on the bedside rocker.
In the dancing shadows he watched Jane fall asleep. The woman he loved had been spared. She had said, “I love you. I’ll marry you.” She was his at last. Intense gratitude consumed him. He felt so many emotions he couldn’t name them all.
When she was completely asleep, he drew close to her. Her natural scent and the fragrance of her soap had cast their power over him. Just gazing at her brought him intense pleasure. As she breathed evenly, he bent and kissed her cheek. Thank you, Lord. Please make me worthy of this precious woman. At last he sat back down, propping his feet on the padded ottoman and fell asleep, deeply satisfied, content.
Chapter Fifteen
At first Jane’s eyes merely registered light, filtering through her lashes, but the warm, morning sunlight gently tugged her into consciousness. Then she heard the noisy, chattering sparrows on the boughs of the maple tree outside her window. She yawned. She stretched. She sighed. Rolling over, she buried her head into her fluffy down pillow.
Cash, her mind formed the name. Cash is here with me. She sat up.
She was alone. “Cash,” she called softly, then louder, “Cash!” His name drew no response. Her face felt tight, dry. She touched it gingerly.
Rising, she walked into her bathroom. A note taped on the medicine cabinet mirror read: “Jane, I had to go out to the site to assess damage.” She pulled the note off and read it again. All the fear and frustration she had struggled with the day before cascaded through her like white water surging over a rocky riverbed. Cash, I want you. I need you—here.
Warm tears slid down her cheeks. “How can I go to Angie?” she asked aloud. The ache of loss stunned her with its force. She needed to drive with Cash to her parents’ house to see Angie and the rest of her family, to see them safe and whole. She needed to feel their arms around her, smell Angie’s fresh-from-the-bath, baby-powder fragrance when she hugged the chubby little body close.
As Jane wiped her fingertips over her cheeks, she felt the scratches on her face. She looked into the mirror at her reflection and drew in a sharp breath. Dried blood starkly delineated each small nick on her forehead, cheeks and chin. A few deeper cuts were perilously close to her left eye.
A vision from the day before of the parking meter piercing her display window sent a chill down her back. For less than a moment she felt the savage wind, the flying glass, heard the wind’s roar. She felt weak, and rested her elbows on the sink’s rim. “Dear Lord, anything might have happened to us. Anything! Thank You. Thank You for Your protection. Dear Lord—”
Again, images of the ones she loved most came before her, tugging at her heart. Oh, Cash, why didn’t you wake me?
Finally she forced herself to straighten up. Reaching into the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, she selected a tube of antibiotic cream. She applied it to her whole face, and it eased the tightness of her abraded skin.
Then, with a sigh, she walked across the hall and into her room again. Letting her clothes match her mood, she tugged on old jeans and a faded, navy T-shirt. She made herself walk downstairs to her kitchen for breakfast, just as if it were any morning.
Another note lay on the table: “Coffee is on the stove, Cash.” She had already smelled the coffee as she walked down the steps. Lifting the pot, she felt it was still hot. I just missed you, Cash! Why didn’t you wake me?
For a few fleeting seconds she visualized herself bathing Angie in the sink on the morning after they’d slept in the basement during the storm. She remembered the sleek texture of Cash’s skin as he had surrounded her with his arms while he had splashed his hands in the water with Angie. She shivered. She almost believed she could still sense his distinctive sandalwood scent in the empty kitchen.
Her longing for Cash, Angie, everyone, gripped her. But she couldn’t go to them. Cash had driven off in his Jeep, and her Blazer was at the medical center. She lifted the receiver of the wall phone. It was dead.
She poured herself a cup of coffee, but after a few sips she made her decision. Clattering her cup onto the countertop, she jotted a quick note: “At my shop” and slammed out the front door.
Outside, evidence of the storm’s destruction slowed her steps and brought a deep soberness to her. Downed branches and large limbs were scattered over the sidewalk and streets. Windows had been boarded up against the night’s rain. Two cars on Main Street lay “beached” on their sides.
In spite of this, her arrival at the shop jolted her. Someone had boarded up the front display window. Touching her face, she thought of Mel and unlocked the front door. Inside, she propped the door open on its catch.
The bizarre wreckage inside the shop halted her. Clothing racks were down and scattered. What remained of her current inventory was sodden, twisted and already beginning to smell of mildew. Fighting tears, she took deep breaths and passed a hand over her eyes. “It’s only things, Jane,” she said aloud to herself. “Only things, and to quote Grandmother, ‘Hard work is good for the soul,’ so don’t just stand there, get busy.” She marched briskly to the rear.
To encourage a cross breeze through the shop, she propped the back entrance open with a broken chair. With a flourish, she flipped on all the switches by the back door. Electric lights and a ceiling fan whirred to life. “Excellent,” she said with a sigh. Ever so slightly her spirits lifted.
Stepping carefully over the littered floor, she opened the utility closet, whose latch had held against the wind. From it, she pulled trash bags, a broom, mop and bucket. She paused momentarily to survey the task before her. Then she vigorously slapped open a large, brown plastic bag and began picking up trash blown in after the window broke.
Roger Hallawell found her bent over, carefully picking up a large pieces of glass. “Jane?”
She stood up. “How are all the children you brought in yesterday?”
“I just came from seeing them at the medical center. They were bruised up pretty bad. A few had broken bones, but they’re doing okay. Except for the girl I carried in, they’ll all be going home by eleven.”
“Oh, I’m glad to hear none of them were seriously hurt.” She smiled at him.
“I’m off to take stock of damage to my site.”
“I’m doing a similar operation here.” She motioned around her shop and put her hands on her hips.
“I stopped here on purpose.” He paused and scanned the littered floor. She waited, still looking up at him.
“I was in the wrong about Eagle Shores, about Langley,” he started hesitantly. “I was dishonest and I didn’t play it very smart.” He halted.
She remained silent, not knowing how to respond to him politely.
He started again. “Yesterday when I watched a tree take that shelter down, I suddenly realized there was more to life than beating the competition. People were counting on me. They needed me.”
Before she could reply, Uncle Henry and Tish bustled in the back door. “Jane!” Henry called.
“How’s Aunt Claire?” Jane asked.
“Out of intensive care,” Henry answered. “We were there when she was moved
this morning. She’s feeling better, but so tired. I thought we should let her rest. Tish suggested that we come and give you a helping hand. Jane, you were a godsend yesterday.”
With a rueful smile, Tish shyly kissed Jane’s cheek, and Jane pulled her close for a quick hug.
“I’m glad you came,” Jane said.
Tish nodded, then began picking up branches, leaves and unrecognizable debris.
“While I have you two men here, would you lift a few of the heavier racks and see if we can get them to stand up?” Jane pointed to a couple of racks that had clumped together in a convoluted mass.
Henry came over to help Roger. They hoisted up a long metal pole and held it while Jane unwrapped coils of skirts that were tangled around them. She said, “This reminds me of trying to unravel a twisted necklace from my jewelry case.”
Cash strode in the back door and came to her. “Here let me help with that.”
At the sound of his voice, Jane’s pulse raced. But the presence of the others forced her to abandon her first impulse—to rush into his arms.
Cash supported the middle of the metal bar and found that part of another rack had become enmeshed in the overall tangle.
Jane’s eyes kept drifting to Cash’s face, looking for a lingering spark of the concern he had shown so fully the night before. But all she read was deep concentration on the task at hand. The skirts from the twisted racks were finally separated into individual lumps on the floor. The three men carried the mangled metal tubes out to the alley and stacked them near the overturned Dumpster.
Hallawell and Cash talked briefly about yesterday’s search. Then Hallawell excused himself to go to his own site. Cash walked him to the back entrance. “Call if you need any more help.”
Jane felt a surge of pride in the man she loved. After shaking hands with Cash, Hallawell left.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it, Cash,” Henry said, “how two of the display cases shattered, but one remained intact? Was there much damage at your site?”
Cash shrugged. “Not much. Just a lot of limbs down in a sea of mud. Let’s get this rack up.”
Jane listened and waited. Still, Cash made no effort to approach her for a welcome kiss or personal comment. Had she misunderstood last night or dreamed it?
Cash hadn’t realized Jane might not be alone when he came. How could he speak to her about their future with Henry and Tish hanging on every word? He gritted his teeth in frustration, but went to help Henry.
Silently unhappy, Jane again unwound each pair of slacks from around the bent circular rack. As Cash talked her through some of the worst tangles, she recalled her anxiety yesterday morning, when Cash had come to take Angie. Earlier in the year she had equated losing Angie with losing Dena. Now she saw clearly that Angie, Cash, Dena were tangled together in her heart like the twisted clothing that she held in her hands.
After last night she could not bear to go backward in her relationship with Cash. God, help me. Tell me what to say or do. I love him. Does he want me, too?
Her mind ached with doubt, and she needed a few minutes of solitude. She finished unwinding the last pair of slacks. “I have to go downstairs,” she said over her shoulder. “It just occurred to me that I left the place wide open last night. I have a cash box and a lot of new fall inventory downstairs.”
“The sheriff had his men out patrolling all night,” Henry said.
In the basement not a thing had been moved out of place. Her newest shipment of wool skirts and blazers, awaiting tags, hung against the unfinished concrete wall. Jane shook her head over the contrast above and below the top step.
She used the quiet to try to get her emotions under control. Cash had proposed twice, but she had refused him twice. What if he didn’t propose again? She racked her memory of last night. After her words of love, he had kissed her, but had he in any distinct way made his proposal again?
Momentarily she pressed her fingers to her temples, willing away the headache that was trying to come. She wanted to have a time alone to talk with Cash. But in another sense, she wished to hide from him, afraid of what he might say if she hinted at marriage. She sighed in exasperation.
She still had trouble believing Cash loved her. So much had happened yesterday. And he hadn’t come in and approached her like a man in love.
Standing in the middle of the basement, she pulled up her reserves of strength and cast her concerns on God’s broad shoulders. Cash might not love her yet, but he had not failed her. He had come for her the night before, and he was here now working hard to restore her shop. She was determined to make him love her or at least to make him happy if he married her. In any case hiding in the basement was no good. She had to go upstairs.
She started resolutely up the flight of steps. Pausing on the top step, she touched the old-fashioned bolt lock. She didn’t want to think about what would have happened to Mel and her if this bolt had not held yesterday’s wild wind at bay.
As she emerged from the stairwell, she came face-to-face with Cash. She looked up in surprise, nearly blurting out her musings to him.
Cash spoke first, “Jane, I—”
“Cash,” Henry called. “Help me get this parking meter out of here. How did this thing get in here, anyway?”
Cash grimaced, but stepped back to let Jane pass in front of him.
She watched her uncle and Cash hefting the pole which had pierced the window. Tish helped direct the two men as they carried it out to the alley and laid it down.
“Sweetheart!” Jane’s mother called to her.
Jane looked up to see her mother hurrying in with Angie in her arms. Close behind her came Phil and Lucy.
Jane met them and scooped up the baby. “Angie, sweetheart.” She spun around hugging Angie while she crooned all her love to the plump little girl. Jane’s family surrounded her, capturing her in a group hug. Tish and Henry joined the cluster, and kisses began. There was a crescendo of halfasked questions, answers and endearments.
Cash watched and felt his throat tighten with emotion. Staring at the floor, he stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
Lucy looked up. “Cash!” She swooped to him, gathering him to her breast. The swarm of Everetts followed Lucy. Marge embraced Cash, and Phil thumped his back. Cash grinned, slightly abashed.
Finally Lucy exclaimed, “Everything’s ruined, Jane! Your lovely shop!”
“Everything’s not ruined, but it is a mess,” Jane agreed. “But now that you’re all here and Aunt Claire’s going to be all right…everything’s really okay.” Jane shrugged, then kissed Angie’s nose.
Cash approached Jane and put his arm around Angie, grazing Jane’s arm. She shivered at his touch. Being near him without giving in to the desire to throw her arms around him tortured her. She moved away from him.
Tish answered Angie’s greeting and as always gave the little girl an Eskimo kiss. Then Henry quietly brought everyone up-to-date on Claire’s condition.
Marge nodded. “We’ll go to see her this afternoon. We wanted to help Jane get started here.”
Phil scanned the room. “Looks like we’ve got a lot of work.”
Lucy pantomimed looking into a crystal ball. In a mysterious voice she said, “I see a sale in Jane’s future. Jane’s Super-Dooper, Wash and Wear Clearance Sale.” Everyone chuckled.
Suddenly feeling fatigued, Jane sat down on a nearby stool with Angie in her lap.
Henry spoke up, “Only a half mile from here one twister touched down along Highway 51 for about a mile, and a second one destroyed a swath along Bass Lake’s southern shore. We were so fortunate neither of the two touched down in a populated area.” A sober stillness settled over them.
“Thank you, Lord,” Lucy said softly.
Cash recalled yesterday’s stark terror when he thought he and Angie might have lost Jane forever. He’d bungled his first proposal to Jane and hadn’t done much better since. She deserved the best and he’d begin by giving her a proposal of marriage.
He ste
pped closer to her and, so he could see her eye to eye, knelt on one knee. “Jane?” he said, his voice sounding gruff to himself. “Will you marry me, Jane Everett? I love you. I can’t stand the thought of living without you. I’ve tried to think of ways to convince you—”
“Cash, dear boy, just kiss her,” Lucy said.
He looked into Jane’s eyes. “May I kiss you?”
Jane felt a thrill go through her. “Please.” Leaning forward, she let her lips meet his.
He pulled back an inch. “Will you marry me, Jane?”
She smiled almost shyly. “Yes.”
They kissed again. The Everetts all beamed at the couple. Pressed snugly between Cash and Jane, Angie clapped her hands and squealed with joy.
Epilogue
Late spring, nearly two years later
The blue Jeep came up the final rise smoothly. Jane stepped out first and turned toward the back seat. Cash waved her away and came over to her side. He reached back to the rear seat and undid the hooks of the two car seats. Angie scrambled out under her own steam, but Cash swung their year-old baby, Storme, up into his arms. Storme grinned around her pacifier at him.
Angie rushed toward the crest of the gentle rise, but Jane caught the little girl’s hand and slowed her to a walk. Angie and Jane mounted the slope while Cash and Storme brought up the rear. At the top they stopped to take in the view.
Held securely in her father’s arms, Storme spit out her pacifier and twisted, trying to look everywhere at once. Then she patted her daddy’s chin. He responded by rubbing his face in her belly. After giggling appreciatively over this, she found the pink ribbon that attached her pacifier to her powder blue blouse. With her tiny hand, she lifted the pacifier, sucked it into her mouth. Then she rested her head on her father’s shoulder.
Cash swept his free arm eastward. “This will be the view from your kitchen window—east to catch the morning sun.”