by Peggy Webb
Then she continued to read.
“Please know that I have not forgotten your boys. I will speak to Commander Sayers about sending a replacement for my Wednesday/Friday commitment. I hope I can always be here for you as your neighbor and your friend. Jim Standing Bear.”
Thunderstruck, Sarah sat on her bed staring at the letter while her tea got cold and her temper got hot. Flinging the letter aside, she marched to the kitchen to find Delta.
“I’m going out for a little while. If you need me, I’ll be next door.”
“Mmm-hmm. Looks like the Bear’s done met his match.”
Jim saw her coming. How could he help it? He’d been prowling his library hoping to catch a glimpse of her ever since she got home from school.
He could tell by the way she walked that Sarah Sloan was a one-man war party. Excitement grabbed him by the throat and wouldn’t let go. Excitement and desire. He hung on to the former and tried to squelch the latter.
Sarah didn’t come through his hedge: she stormed through. If she wanted a fight, she’d come to the right person.
Jim thanked his lucky stars that Archie had already gone home, then went downstairs to answer his doorbell. He swung open the door, and the desire gut-punched him.
So much for control.
“Hello, Sarah.”
“Under what circumstances?” she asked.
Jim took that as a storm warning. When Sarah, the soul of politeness and decorum, didn’t return a greeting, he’d better batten the hatches.
“I see you got my letter. Won’t you come in?” He smiled at her. In a fashion that was merely friendly, he hoped. “Or would you rather eviscerate me on my doorstep?”
“You’re not going to make me laugh,” she said.
Sarah followed him inside to the kitchen, which he decided was a far safer place than the den with all that comfortable furniture and all those uncomfortable memories.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked, and Sarah almost forgot herself. She almost said, “Yes. You.”
Instead she sat down on one of his hard kitchen chairs, and crossed her legs and tugged at her skirt and tried her best to hold on to the rage that had sent her across their yards, jet-propelled.
“Yes, thank you,” she said. “Tea.”
“Hot or cold?”
“I like it hot.”
“I do, too.”
His eyes snared hers, and she fought the blush she could feel rising. Neither one of them was talking about tea. Not by a long shot.
Why couldn’t she have been born the kind of girl who could have a free and easy affair that had nothing whatsoever to do with the heart? Why hadn’t she been born irresistible to bears, one in particular?
Sarah squelched a sigh. She might as well be wishing for the moon.
When he turned his back to put the tea up to steep, she did her darnedest to regain a bit of her equilibrium.
“Tell me, Jim, what are the circumstances that warrant such a drastic measure?”
“I don’t see substituting Chuck Sayers as a drastic measure. In fact, it will probably be a marked improvement.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
When he came to the table with two cups of steaming tea, he was smiling.
“You sound like a schoolmarm.”
Looked like one, too. And that was the problem. That and her darned virginity. She wished she’d given in to Aubrey Clemmons when she was seventeen and full of ideals and he was eighteen and full of hormones. If she had she wouldn’t be sitting in the Bear’s kitchen talking about problems. She’d be in his bed. Which is exactly where she wanted to be.
In spite of the letter. In spite of his misplaced nobility. In spite of her mission.
“Drink your tea, Sarah, before it gets cold.”
She wasn’t the least bit interested in tea. She wanted to know why he didn’t want to come to Southside and why he’d written a letter instead of coming over, and why he was sitting as far away from her as he could get.
“I think you’re making a terrible mistake, Jim. You’re good for the boys.” She took a sip of tea. “And I think they’re good for you.”
She saw her error the minute the words were out of her mouth. Jim transformed from a smiling man to a grizzly.
“I don’t need a rescuer, Sarah. I never did.”
“I’m not trying to rescue you. I’m trying to rescue my boys.”
Anger flared between them as quick and hot as their passion. The air around them sizzled. Caught in the floodlights of Jim’s intense scrutiny, Sarah could do nothing but listen to her own uneven breathing and feel the runaway pounding of her heart.
“I’m offering you an alternate way of achieving your goal, Sarah. What’s so bad about that?”
She couldn’t bear it anymore—the raw hunger, the hopeless yearning, the aching uncertainty. Something inside her snapped.
“I’ll tell you what’s so bad about that, Jim Standing Bear.”
She got up so fast the table rocked and her tea spilled over into the china saucer.
“You would never have written that letter if things had been different on your boat.”
“Now, wait a minute, Sarah—”
“I’m not finished. Let me finish.”
“By all means.”
The cold courtesy of his tone was a red flag. She not only ignored it, she kicked it out of her way.
“None of this would be happening if it weren’t for my unfortunate virginity.”
“Your innocence is not unfortunate. It’s charming and refreshing.”
“If it’s all that refreshing and charming, why are you running in the other direction as fast as you can?”
“I would hardly call getting a substitute for a legitimate reason running away.”
Instead of placating her, his maddening calm goaded her.
“Why is it that Archie didn’t become a legitimate reason until after I turned out to be such a disappointment?”
His face was thunderous as he came around the table. He gripped her shoulders and dragged her so close she was within inches of him. A few heartbreaking inches that might as well have been miles.
“Don’t you ever think of yourself in that way again, do you hear me? Don’t you ever think you have to give yourself to a man in order to be considered exciting.”
His fingers bit into her shoulders and a muscle ticked in the side of his clenched jaw.
“I know what I am, Jim. I’ve always known.”
“I don’t think you have any idea, Sarah. You’re a kind, intelligent, substantive woman. A million Bethany Lawrences couldn’t hold a candle to you.”
Although he was heaping accolades on her and she knew she should be pleased and satisfied, she wasn’t. He had left out some significant words, words like desirable and passionate. And that stung.
Sarah was tired of being the kind of woman who carried a cake next door. She wanted to be the woman who licked icing off Jim’s fingers. She was tired of being the woman who was protected. She wanted to be the woman who was ravished.
And so, in spite of the way being close to Jim made her feel, in spite of the way his eyes gleamed when he looked at her, in spite of the way she longed to close the small gap between them and fall shamelessly into his arms, Sarah held on to her anger. It was her only salvation.
“If I’m so worthy why do the Bethany Lawrences get pledges of everlasting love and I get letters avowing undying friendship?” She raked her hair back from her hot face. “Don’t bother to answer. I already know the answer.”
“Would you be so kind as to inform me? I haven’t a clue.
The Jim Standing Bear she knew would never sound so British and stuffy. She’d made him mad. Good. So was she.
“Because I’m not your type. I’ve seen pictures of you and that…that woman. I know your type. You go for women with cheekbones like knifeblades and two tons of makeup.”
“And what else do I go for?”
His face thunderous, he clos
ed in on her. Alarmed, Sarah took a step back. She might be in retreat, but she wasn’t ready to quit the battlefield. She’d come across the hedge spoiling for a fight, and by George she was going to get her pound of flesh.
“Women who know how to…you know, the sophisticated kind who know all the latest techniques.” His eyes gleamed with mischief and he looked as if he would burst out laughing at any minute. Sarah got even madder.
“See, that’s just what I mean,” she yelled. “You would never laugh at a woman who…who…”
Suddenly she ran out of steam. It was simply too much effort to be mad at a man so outrageously gorgeous who looked as if he wanted to kiss her. Too much effort and too confusing.
“You mean the brittle, shallow women who are a dime a dozen, the women who aren’t worthy to tie your shoelaces?”
Sarah was almost in his arms, and Jim’s control was almost in shreds. He held on to the tatters with Herculean effort.
She must never know how much he wanted to kiss her. She must never see how much he wanted to cast nobility aside and storm up the stairs with her.
If she said one more outrageous word he was going to kiss her. Not just kiss her, but ravish her.
His only salvation would be in retreat and capitulation.
“Sending the letter was cowardly, Sarah. I should have come over.”
He’d thought she would be triumphant. Instead she grew soft. The look she gave him would have melted ice caps. Jim reined in his galloping desire.
“You’re no coward,” she whispered, her voice and her face softened.
She moved closer, so close the full length of her body brushed against his. Her lips were only a whisper away. All he had to do was bend down and take them.
Then all would be lost. Jim had to let go. Completely. But she wasn’t the one he had to prove it to. He had to prove it to himself.
“All right, Sarah. You win.” He released her, then lifted his teacup. “A toast. To the woman who storms the cave of a bear in order to get what she wants.”
“What did I win?” she asked.
“You won two days of my time for your boys.” He smiled at her. “Again.”
She was solemn when she lifted her teacup, and Jim was thrown off base.
“To victory. For my boys.”
He stared at her over the rim of his cup, trying to figure her out. But she was giving away nothing. Sarah Sloan, whose emotions were always plainly written on her face, was a sphinx.
And Jim was fascinated. Silently he calculated the number of weeks till the end of the spring semester. Three weeks. And they would be the longest in his life.
If he could survive them with his honor intact, he could survive anything.
“Thanks for the tea, Jim. And thanks for agreeing to come back to Southside.”
Sarah carried her cup to the sink, and Jim made a move to escort her to the door. She waved him away.
“Don’t bother to see me out. I know the way.”
It was best that she leave this way, Jim told himself. Best without long goodbyes. In the doorway of the kitchen, she turned back to him.
“By the way, Jim, you don’t have to worry about me when you come to Southside. Once I’ve turned the boys over to you, I’ll be busy with other things.”
Sarah gave him a wistful smile and a little two-fingered wave.
“Goodbye, my friend,” she said softly, and then was out the door. Out of his life.
He had won.
Wasn’t that what he wanted? To be Sarah’s friend and nothing more?
Jim picked up his teacup. It was empty and so was his victory.
Chapter Twelve
Jim and Archie were slowly building a bond of trust. The silver was spread on the kitchen table, and Jim was explaining the intricacies of polish and rag.
“I’ll be back from Southside in a couple of hours. If you finish the silver before then, start writing your book report.”
“It’s not due till next week.” Archie took one look at Jim, then saluted. “Yessir, Commander.” His smile showed how far he had come in a week. “You trust me with all this silver?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know I won’t pawn it and run off to Miami?”
“If there’s anything left when Delta gets through with you, I take scalps.”
When Jim left the kitchen, Archie was studiously polishing the silver, his tongue caught between his front teeth in concentration.
Jim was headed out the door when Delta’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“You going down to that devil school of Sarah’s?”
“Yes.”
Delta descended on him, mop in hand. From the looks of her face, she would like to use it on his backside instead of the floor.
“I hope you’re fixing to make up to Sarah for whatever you done on that boat.”
Jim stiffened. Surely Sarah had not told Delta.
“You look like a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs.”
“I have to go, Delta. I don’t want to be late.”
“I ain’t finished with you yet.” Delta blocked his exit with a mop. “I don’t know what happened that day, and I don’t want to know. All I know is that Sarah’s done got her hands full with that poor old daddy of hers trying to run away ever night of this world. When she ain’t in that garden dancing with him when she ought to be sleeping, she’s trying to act like she ain’t been crying.”
The thought of Sarah in tears broke Jim’s heart. He felt like the worst kind of human being. At a time when Sarah needed him most, he was pulling away.
In protecting her by putting emotional distance between them, Jim had left her alone and vulnerable.
“I’m sorry she’s having such a hard time, Delta, and I can assure you that I’ll do everything in my power to help her.”
“Humph. Some folks ain’t got the sense of a last year’s bird nest,” she muttered, whacking her mop against the sides of the bucket. “Help her, my foot. If you ask me, what ought to be happening is two good people getting together ’stead of one sitting over yonder behind that fence pining and the other over here acting like God’s done told him somethin’ nobody else is ’posed to know.”
“‘Bye, Delta. If I get any more messages, you’ll be the first to know.”
“You get on out of here, Bear, before I take this mop and whop some sense into you.”
Jim got in his car, then sat there wondering what he would say when he saw Sarah Sloan. The mere sound of her name socked him like a well-placed left hook. What would it be like to see her again? To smell her sweet fragrance? To touch her?
“No.”
Jim slammed his fist into the steering wheel. The last thing in the world he intended to do was touch Sarah Sloan. Even in the name of friendship. There was only so much pain a man could bear.
Sarah looked at the clock. For the hundredth time, she guessed. Maybe more. Ten more minutes and Jim would be in her classroom.
She clenched her hands under her desk so her students wouldn’t see. Thank goodness for her boys. She would have some buffer between her and Jim, however fragile.
The ticking of the clock sounded like a time bomb. Nine minutes and counting.
Oh, God, what would she say? What would she do?
Memories swamped her…the way the boat had rocked in the water, the way Jim had known exactly what she wanted, what she needed.
She needed Jim. She might as well have needed an ice cake from the top of Mount Everest.
Groaning, Sarah massaged her temples. On the front seat, Jared laid down his pencil.
“What’s wrong, Miss Sloan?”
“Headache,” she said. It was the first time she’d ever lied to her students.
Pull yourself together, she said. Drawing a deep breath, she took her own advice. Then, suddenly, Jim Standing Bear was at her door, and Sarah’s composure went out the window.
“Good morning, Sarah.”
“Hello,” she said, or had she merely sig
hed?
Jim’s eyes burned briefly through her, and when he walked into the room her students stood and applauded.
Sarah felt as if she’d personally won the Nobel peace prize. He walked to the front of the room and she could hardly see him for the mists in front of her eyes.
“What happened on this campus last week is never going to happen again.” Jim made eye contact with each boy in the class before continuing. “We’re going to play ball today, and we’re going to play by the rules. There are only two: respect and cooperation. Stand up and repeat the rules.”
One by one the boys stood.
“Louder,” Jim said. “I didn’t hear you.” He waited for the response. “Good. You can sit down. The same rules apply to life, and starting today we’re not only going to play ball by the rules, we’re going to live by the rules. Stand up and tell Miss Sloan what they are.”
They did as they were told, and they did it with respect. Which was exactly what Sarah had expected. Jim Standing Bear was not a man to be taken lightly. By anybody.
She’d been right to ask his help with her boys.
Or had she?
“Now, get your things together and let’s play ball,” Jim said, then as the boys stored books and got out sports equipment he leaned over Sarah’s desk.
She was electrified.
Did love always make a person crazy? There was that word again. The word she’d tried to stomp out, shove out, wash out, tear out of her mind.
She absolutely refused to love a man who didn’t love her back. After all, she had her pride.
“You did a great job, Jim,” she told him. “I’m glad you’re back. For the boys’ sake.”
“If you’re happy with my performance, that’s good enough for me.”
“I’m very happy with your performance,” she said, and then to her mortification she blushed.
Thankfully, Jim pretended not to notice. Instead, he reached for her hand.
“Delta told me about your father, Sarah. I’m sorry.”
Compassion always moved Sarah to tears. In an effort to get control of herself, she blinked back the tears and took back her hand. It didn’t help one bit.