The First Kiss of Spring

by Emily March

  Maybe he’s researching a part. It fit. All of it. It fit!

  But no. That’s crazy. He wouldn’t have ended up in Oklahoma City if he was a Trammel. It’s a coincidence. It has to be. He’ll probably laugh when I tell him about this. If he’s in a good mood, that is.

  But what if it isn’t a coincidence? What if I’m right? I can’t be right. “I have to ask him,” she murmured. “I have to ask.”

  After paying their bill—her mother had neglected to do so in her hurry to leave—Caitlin stuck her head into Celeste’s office and asked to borrow the magazine. “There’s an article I’d like to show Josh. I’ll return it by the time you close today.”

  “Of course you may borrow it,” Celeste said. “No need to make a special trip to return it, either. Next time you’re headed this way will be fine.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And Caitlin?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “On the way into the spa, I noticed something that made me think of you. It’s about halfway between the sidewalk and the big blue spruce to the north, halfway between the front door and the parking lot. In the snow. Take a look as you leave, will you, please? It’s a sign, one should hold close to your heart in coming days.”

  She didn’t have the patience to translate Celeste’s cryptic advice right now. Distracted, she said, “Sure. Thanks, Celeste. I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.”

  “Goodbye, dear. And please tell Josh that I pray every day for his speedy recovery.”

  “I will.” Caitlin retrieved her coat from the hall tree and exited the building. Halfway to the parking lot, she remembered Celeste’s request and looked northward. Since she didn’t have a clue about what she was looking for, she didn’t know whether to look high or low or … there. Snowdrops. White teardrop flowers on green stems pushing skyward through the blanket of snow. A promise that spring will come.

  A sign. One I should hold close in the coming days.

  Apprehension blew through Caitlin like a blizzard.

  Journal Entry

  Tormento has become a problem. He is a bad influence on Sherman, feeding him, suggesting evil things.

  It is not good to have monsters running around inside one’s mind and body. They destroy one’s soul.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Josh sat on the side of his bed trying to work up the desire to move. His chest hurt worse than it had yesterday. He needed to cough, but coughing damn near killed him so he tried to stifle the urge.

  He probably should call the doctor. He’d been warned that pneumonia was often a complication of broken ribs, and pneumonia could kill you. Dying didn’t worry him all that much, but the thought of having to cough his way to the grave did give him pause.

  The need to cough won out over will and by the time the fit was done, he’d felt as if he’d hacked up both lungs—and broken at least two more ribs. He looked toward Penny standing in his doorway with head cocked to one side, watching him.

  “Wipe that look of pity off your face,” he grumbled. “It’s demeaning to be pitied by a crippled dog.”

  At the sound of his voice, she padded over to his bedside. Under other circumstances, Josh would have scratched her belly and behind her ears, but bending over wasn’t an option. Instead, he rubbed her with his foot. “You’re looking pretty today. Caitlin takes good care of you, doesn’t she? She takes good care of us both. The woman is a saint.”

  She deserved better from him, too. The worse he felt, the bigger an ass he became. He couldn’t explain how she sometimes wandered into the line of fire between his demons and himself. That’s what had happened this morning. He’d been hungry for the first time in ages and decided to toast a blueberry bagel. He couldn’t say why, but the scent triggered his cravings. She’d walked into the kitchen while he was riding the high of the memory—his heart racing, his nerve endings tingling in anticipation. She’d said something—he hadn’t a clue what—and he’d damn near bitten her head off.

  Afterward, he’d crawled back into bed and slept the sleep of the shamed.

  “I should send her home,” he muttered to Penny. “If I had an ounce of integrity, I’d send her home today.”

  Good thing he had no integrity, because he didn’t want to do that. He desperately didn’t want to do that. He loved having her company, loved being the recipient of her care and concern and first-class pampering. He loved … her. Still.

  He met Penny’s solemn brown-eyed gaze and observed, “I am so screwed.”

  Speaking triggered another cough that was longer and harder than the last and left him seriously wondering if he might have broken something else. Maybe a hot drink would help. Soothe the cough tickle away. He walked into the kitchen, filled the kettle with water, and set it onto the stove.

  While he waited for the water to boil, he brooded over the truth he’d avoided thinking about since the accident. What the hell was he going to do?

  Face reality, that’s what.

  This was bad. Hell. Love was hell. Hell was exactly what he deserved.

  He’d lied to himself. Right from the very beginning, he’d lied to himself. He’d known he was playing with fire. Friends and sex never mix. He loved her, and although she’d never said it, he knew she loved him, too. She showed it every hour of every day.

  So what the hell are you going to do about it?

  Nothing, that’s what. Even if he wanted to throw caution to the wind and take a run at happy-ever-after again, he couldn’t … wouldn’t … do that to her. Because he loved her, he had to give her up.

  Not because he actually believed that he was cursed with bad luck—he knew that was an easy way to kid himself and deflect others. Yes, he’d had a run of bad luck. No doubt about it. But did he honestly believe that daring to commit to something permanent with Caitlin would doom her to being swept up in a freak tornado or hit by a car or fallen upon by an angel-sans-wings? No.

  The bottom line was that Caitlin deserved someone better than him. She needed someone she could trust. Someone she could count on being there when she needed him. Someone who wasn’t a ticking time bomb.

  He was close to exploding now. Closer than he’d been since he’d crawled his way out the last time. If he hadn’t had that one moment of strength that allowed him to dump the Percs again, he’d be swirling down the toilet bowl himself right now.

  It was going to happen. Someday. Sometime. He’d fight the good fight for as long as he could manage, but eventually, he would tire and weaken. He would surrender, and when that happened, there would be no coming back. Not again. He knew it in his soul. His sobriety, his life, was one weak trigger moment away.

  He loved Caitlin too much to tie her to the disaster in waiting that was his future. She deserved so much better, so much more. She deserved a happy-ever-after that actually lasted ever-after.

  The kettle began to whistle, and as Josh poured boiling water into a Tarkington Automotive mug, Penny’s whining caught his notice. She stood at the back door, her attention locked on something outside. Had she been able to shake her tail, he knew it would be whipping up a wind.

  He opened the door and she dashed off, surprisingly fast in her two-wheel chair. He figured she was after a squirrel or maybe a bird. Dachshunds had been bred as hunters, and Penny’s disability did not affect those instincts. Just last week, she’d managed to take out a bird, which spoke to the truth of “bird brain.” How dumb must a bird be to allow a dog in a squeaky wheelchair to sneak up on him.

  When Penny disappeared around his outdoor kitchen, he turned away from the door opened his walk-in pantry in search of teabags. As he reached for a box of Earl Grey, the need to cough overwhelmed his ability to stifle it. In order to minimize the pain, he tried to hold himself completely erect during the event. Coughing with broken ribs competed with withdrawal in the pain department. Pain awoke the cravings.

  He very much feared that having Caitlin Timberlake around was the only thing keeping him sober.

  Furious and hurting, he sw
ept a row of canned goods off the shelf. They clattered to the floor. He panted like Penny after a run up the hill.

  He needed to let Caitlin go. He needed to break this off, to send her away. He needed to save her from himself. But dammit, he wanted just a little more time. He wanted to make love with her one more time. He couldn’t do that now. The pain wouldn’t allow it.

  The devil whispered in his ear. There are ways. There are positions you could manage. You could do it if you refilled the prescription. That’s all you’d have to do. Refill the prescription, grovel a bit, and lure her into bed. You could do it.

  Barking from outside yanked him from his reverie and he exited the pantry to look through the window to see … trouble. Penny had slung her tires going over his stepping-stone walk and now she’d managed to get herself caught in his woodpile. Josh muttered a curse, lifted his coat from its hook in the mudroom, and then tossed it aside because he couldn’t put it on by himself. He stepped into his backyard coughing, hurting, filled with despair, and trying to pound his demons back into submission.

  Penny’s path through the backyard was obvious. From the spot where her wheelchair lay tipped over beside a stone, she’d carved a path through the snow to his outdoor kitchen. There, she’d dragged herself up to and over rough bricks and mortar barely softened by a scant two inches of snow. The streaks of blood began just beyond the patio furniture where she’d dragged herself over the cast iron chair’s L-shaped legs. “Oh, Penny.”

  It was a problem with her. She couldn’t feel her belly and legs, so when she escaped her wheelchair and dragged herself, she scraped her skin raw. But dang it, she’d managed to climb the woodpile! What was she after? Not a skunk, he hoped. Please, not a skunk.

  She continued to bark, continued to claw her way across snow-dusted logs. “Stop that, Penny,” Josh called. “Stop before you hurt your—”

  Logs rolled. Crashed. Penny yelped. Josh spat a curse.

  A fox scurried out of the woodpile.

  “At least it’s not a skunk.” A cold breeze battered Josh as he hurried toward the woodpile taking care to secure his footing. The last thing either he or Penny needed was for him to slip and fall. She was trapped in the center of the woodpile with at least six heavy logs on top of her. Her pained whimpers shot arrows into his heart.

  Josh looked around for help. Nobody in sight—not exactly a surprise since the garage was closed and the temperature hovered in the twenties. He was on his own. His surgeon had told him not to lift anything as heavy as a gallon of milk or risk tearing his stitches, but what was he to do? Let his dog be crushed or freeze to death?

  He studied the woodpile that stood shoulder high. He couldn’t lift the log that had shifted and blocked Penny’s exit for fear of bringing the whole thing down. He’d have to start from the top and work his way down to her. And of course it was the part of the stack that had the heaviest logs. He’d need to be careful about the order of their removal too, so as not to risk a collapse.

  This is going to hurt like a sonofabitch. Praying he wouldn’t hear or feel the pop of stitches or staples, Josh gritted his teeth, tugged the top log, and dropped it to the ground. It took him ten long minutes to free his dog, and by the time he lifted Penny into his arms, he was breathing hard and sweat ran in rivulets down his temples. He hoped he could get back to the house without passing out.

  Although, he’d heard that freezing to death was a good way to go. You just go to sleep and go away.

  Penny whimpered. Her warm, sticky blood slid across his forearms. She had some bad abrasions on her belly. He’d need to tend to them before he crawled back in bed or into a snowdrift to die. Upon reaching the stepping-stone walk, he stared at Penny’s wheelchair and wondered if he had the intestinal fortitude to bend over one more time to pick it up.

  If I do it and fall down and can’t get back up, that’s not suicide, right? I’m caring for my dog.

  He figured he must be delirious from the pain when he heard Celeste speak to him. Now, don’t be silly, Joshua.

  He let out a cry like a warrior on a battlefield as he bent and scooped up the wheelchair by the frame. He carried it and the eight-pound dog into the house, then sat Penny into the kitchen’s farmhouse sink. He was vaguely aware that his hands were shaking as he washed the scrapes and applied the ointment Lori had prescribed for situations like these. He was acutely aware of the pain in his gut as he carried the dog to her bed, and of the coughing fits that wracked him as he rinsed the blood from his sink. As his whole body began to shake when he changed out of his bloodstained shirt and the thought of lying in the snow took hold, he accepted that he could take no more.

  The war was over. The battle lost. He picked up the phone, dialed the local pharmacy, and surrendered. Maybe it’s better this way, he told himself as he warmed up his tea and sat at the kitchen table to drink it. The choice had been made. The die cast. The Rubicon crossed. It was too late to second-guess himself. Too late to indulge in maybes or what-ifs.

  It was time for Caitlin to go home.

  * * *

  “I should have stopped by the yoga studio for a class before coming here,” Caitlin muttered as she approached Josh’s house. If she were in a cartoon, she’d be Wile E. Coyote’s round black bomb with its sparkling, steadily shrinking fuse. She was about to explode.

  She’d made the twelve-minute walk from Angel’s Rest to Josh’s house in eight minutes thirty seconds, fueled by adrenaline, her thoughts whirling like falling leaves on an autumn wind. She had questions, lots of questions, and she wanted answers. Immediately. From her father. From her lover. She was tired of being kept in the dark by the men in her life. When I finish with Josh, I’m going up to Heartache Falls and having it out with my dad.

  But first, Josh owed her an explanation. She intended to be calm, cool, and collected when she showed him the magazine article and asked her questions. After all, she could be way off the mark.

  She didn’t think she was, though.

  She opened the front door and stepped inside, pulling off her gloves and tucking them into her pockets. He wasn’t in the family room. She checked his office, then the media room, and finally, the kitchen.

  He was sitting at the table staring down into a mug of something hot. He didn’t look up when she came in, and his lack of attention fanned her smoldering fuse. She demanded, “Are you J. B. Trammel?”

  So much for calm, cool, and collected.

  Her heart pounded. Her mouth went dry. A full thirty seconds passed before he answered with a simple, “Yes.”

  Caitlin released a heavy breath and tried to absorb the news. Josh was J. B. Trammel. She gaped at him, waiting for further explanation—explanation that never came. He didn’t give her anything. Didn’t say a single word. She wanted to smack him. In the ribs! “‘Yes’? That’s all you’re going to say?”

  He shrugged slightly and after a long pause asked, “Want my autograph?”

  She couldn’t explain why, but that hurt more than anything. It sliced right through the defense of anger and wounded her heart. She stood there speechless, trying not to cry, wondering how life had taken such a fast, terrible turn when he finally spoke again. Rather than providing answers, he casually asked a question of his own. “How did you find out?”

  She pulled the magazine folded to the article out of her tote and dropped it onto the table in front of him. His lips twisted in a wry grin. “Ahh. I was cute, wasn’t I? They told me I was an angel.”

  Finally, she found her voice. “Has it all been a lie, Josh? Or, should I call you J. B.? Is it some sort of Hollyweird experiment? Go live like the common folk for a while to add authenticity to a role? How could you do this to us, to me and the people of Eternity Springs who invited you into our lives and hearts? Why the masquerade? Does Brick know the truth about you? Has he been lying to us, too?”

  Again, there was a long pause before Josh responded. “Brick doesn’t know. He’s never known. The Christophers respected my privacy. Will you? Are you goi
ng to out me, Caitlin?”

  “Why shouldn’t I? I’m not a liar, unlike someone else in this room. Why shouldn’t I let everyone in town in on your little secret? Explain it to me, Josh. Make me understand!”

  “Technically what I’ve told the people of Eternity Springs is the truth—just not the whole truth. I am Josh Tarkington just as much as I am J. B. Trammel. Why I have two separate and distinct lives is my business. My privacy is important to me, and I told you from the beginning not to have expectations where I’m concerned. You’re my friend, not my wife. There are limits to what friends need to know.”

  Caitlin took the words like a blow and she reached for a chair back to steady herself. It only got worse.

  “I’ve enjoyed your company,” he went on. “I really enjoyed the sex. But I’m afraid I haven’t been at my best of late, so I didn’t notice the signs. I think the events of the past month gave you the wrong impression about where you and I might be headed. It’s getting a little too … domestic … around here. I appreciate having had your help. You’ve been a great friend and a real help to me, but I’m getting along fine now. I think it’s probably time you moved back home.”

  She sucked in a breath. “You’re breaking up with me.”

  “I’m a selfish bastard. I enjoyed you and I let it go too far for too long. I’m sorry, Caitlin. It was poorly done of me.”

  He’s breaking up with me.

  Her knees went weak and it was all she could do not to double over from the blow. Suddenly, she wanted away from Josh J. B. Trammel Tarkington as fast as she could possibly manage. She was going to cry, and pride wouldn’t let him see her tears.

  Without a word, she fled the kitchen, blinking back tears, her heart breaking, her stomach churning with a combination of fury and hurt unlike anything she’d felt before. In the guest room she opened the closet and yanked her suitcase from a shelf. Luckily, she didn’t have all that much to move since she’d only brought everyday items with her. It took her less than five minutes to empty the closet and bureau drawers. In the bathroom, she tossed makeup and toiletries into a backpack.