Secrets Rising

by Sally Berneathy

  Then hold her until the wounds healed.

  She stood abruptly and walked over to the dresser, her eyes meeting his in the mirror, as if she couldn't talk to him directly. "I know my parents loved me." Her voice was soft but firm. "They loved the whole world. They were wonderful people, and I was damned lucky they took me in after my real mother tossed me aside. But that's what they did, took in outcasts. Our guest room was always full. A battered wife. A family out of work. If they had kids, the kids shared my room. I used to hate myself for being so petty about wishing those people were gone and I had Mom and Dad and our house all to myself. I realize now that I got more than I deserved."

  "Rebecca, they loved you. That's more than a lot of people ever get. They only stopped loving you when they died, and their deaths don't change the past. They were there for you. They cared about you. Doris cared about you, and then she stopped though she didn't die. You don't know why she stopped, and you don't need to." He slapped the door frame. "Damn it, Rebecca, you've got to learn to love and let go. Enjoy it while it lasts and forget about it when it's over. Nothing lasts forever, especially something like love, an emotion that hinges on a thousand other factors, factors over which you have absolutely zero control. You need to live in the present and let go of the past."

  "Love and let go," she repeated. "Enjoy it while it lasts. Like you do?"

  "Yeah, like I do." And then, for some reason, he could no longer bear to look into the reflected image of her smoky green gaze. He turned away. "I'm in room 287 if you need me."

  He left, closing the door behind him.

  ***

  Jake yanked the covers off his bed, stacked both pillows behind his head and stretched out, still wearing his jeans. He wasn't sleepy and, though he was exhausted, he was too wired to think about resting.

  This case, a simple matter of locating Rebecca Patterson's parents, had turned into one of the most complicated, and certainly the most frustrating, cases he'd ever taken on.

  Something was definitely going on with Doris Jordan, and he wasn't basing that solely on his impression of her state of mind when she'd sent them packing. She wasn't the type to turn against someone because of that person's heredity. No, it would have to be something pretty big to make Doris act the way she had...to cause such a well-adjusted, self-confident woman to become confused and frightened and rude.

  Nothing in this case made sense.

  Especially not his reactions to his client.

  Rebecca was fragile and vulnerable and had just received from Doris one of the many blows he'd warned her to expect. That should reinforce her decision to return home tomorrow as soon as she could make arrangements for her car. Her leaving would solve a lot of his problems.

  His head would clear when she was gone. She had a way of keeping his hormones stirred up, his mind in a fog, going off in directions that made no sense, constantly thinking about her, unable to focus on what he needed to focus on.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  He knew it was Rebecca before he opened it. He could feel the energy, the tension of her nearness the way he'd felt the approaching electricity in that storm.

  She wore a white satin robe, belted at the waist. Her skin glowed and her hair was damp at her cheekbones as if she'd just showered. She looked up at him, and in the glare of the outside light, the sadness and vulnerability that had been a part of her expression since the first time he'd seen her appeared to have been replaced by a brittle hardness. "Make love to me," she said.

  He gulped, not quite certain he'd really heard her. "What?"

  "Make love. Have sex. Do it. Whatever phrase you want to use. Tonight. The last time I'll ever see you. For an hour, let's be lovers...or sex partners, if you prefer that terminology. In the morning we'll let go and be on our separate ways. Like you said."

  He stared at her, trying to determine if she was serious...afraid to believe she was serious.

  For a moment her expression faltered. "Don't you want to make love to me?"

  He stepped back and allowed her to enter then closed the door and turned to face her. She stood two inches away, so close he caught her scent of honeysuckle and roses and summer, felt the current that sparked between them...so close he had only to reach for her and pull her into his arms. He held his hands rigidly at his sides.

  "God, yes, I want to make love to you. I wanted you the first time I saw you. Since that day in the park, I haven't been able to think about you without wanting you."

  So why was he hesitating? Because suddenly he wasn't sure he could love and let go?

  Because suddenly he was afraid she could?

  Where the hell did he come up with such strange stuff? Of course he could love and let go. And if Rebecca could, too, that was what he wanted. He could make love to her without worrying about anybody getting hurt when it was over.

  He drew her into his arms and kissed her. She returned the kiss with an intensity that amazed him even after their lovemaking in the park.

  Suddenly his desire blazed beyond control. He deepened the kiss, holding her tightly with one hand, unwilling to break the contact even as he fumbled with the tie of her robe. Her fingers joined his, tugging at the knot, even as her mouth clung to his and her tongue danced with his, moving in and out, back and forth, in pale imitation of the dance that was to come.

  She hadn't been shy last time, but tonight she was bold, voracious, meeting him on an equal footing.

  The knot loosened, the sash fell away, and her robe opened. His hand touched bare, satiny skin at her waist. He slid his hand upward, around her breast, over the swollen nipple. She'd worn nothing beneath the robe, not even the skimpy gown he'd seen her in the first night. A minute ago he'd have sworn he couldn't become more aroused, but he was.

  She tangled her fingers in the hair on his chest, then slid them down, stroked the bulge in his jeans and struggled with the zipper. Unable to stand the pressure any longer, he moved away from her, yanked off his jeans and shorts, and pulled her onto the bed with him.

  He could wait no longer to bury himself inside her, to be joined with her, to feel her hot slickness, to relieve the tension and ride again that storm of ecstasy, arriving at the peak with her around him and beside him.

  As he entered her, the single thought shot through his mind that this was even more incredible than the first time. After that, all thought processes became lost completely in overpowering sensation.

  He thrust hard, almost angrily, and she met him in the same fashion. Together they raced to that white-hot pinnacle. He cried out as he exploded over the top and heard her do the same. The aftershocks seemed almost as potent as the initial quake, and for a moment, he thought they might go on like that all night.

  Finally he calmed and rolled over, pulling her on top of him, unwilling to break the connection. For a few moments they lay still, her heart pounding against his, the rhythm gradually slowing.

  He pushed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead gently, the storm abated for the moment.

  "Rebecca," he whispered.

  "Hmm?"

  He had no idea what he wanted to say. That was incredible. That was the best. You're the best. We're the best. It all sounded so inane, so inadequate. And it wasn't really what he wanted to say, anyway.

  She pushed upward, and his arms tightened around her reflexively. "Don't go," he heard himself say and was astonished at the edge of panic in his voice. No sex could possibly be that good.

  "I need a drink of water."

  He released her and allowed her to leave him. Sitting up, he watched her walk across the room, recalling his first impression of her as willowy. She was. Tall and sleek with flowing curves and an easy, elegant grace as she moved, barefoot, totally nude, to the bathroom.

  At the sink she ran water, tilted her head back and drank, then refilled the glass. She returned with the tap water and sat on the bed beside him, offering it to him.

  "Thanks." He took the glass from her and drank. The water was
tepid and flat but the act of drinking from the same glass she'd placed between her lips was inexplicably, unbearably erotic.

  "Well," she said, and he knew from the single word, from the way she held her head, from a thousand little things about her, that, their passion expended, she was suddenly uncomfortable. "I guess I'll see you in the morning." She stood, then bent to retrieve her robe from the floor.

  "You're leaving already?" There it was again. That trace of alarm in his voice. What the hell? He smiled lazily and reached a hand toward her. "That was just the appetizer. You can't go before the main course."

  She hesitated then dropped the robe, returned his smile and came back to him. As she slid into his arms, Jake marveled at how perfectly she fit there, how good she felt. This time when they made love, he was able to restrain himself, to go slowly and tantalizingly, inflicting exquisite torture on both of them, caressing every inch of her delectable body, bringing her to the summit again and again until he finally joined her.

  Afterward he turned off the light and held her. Her body against his still felt good even when they were both satiated, so good it was almost frightening.

  But she was leaving in the morning. They could share a night of pleasure then move on. He'd done it plenty of times before.

  Though he couldn't remember that any woman had given him so much pleasure, was still giving it just by lying next to him in his embrace.

  Tomorrow. She was leaving tomorrow.

  Enjoy it while it lasts.

  Love and let go.

  His arms tightened about her and he drifted into a deep sleep.

  ***

  Rebecca disentangled herself from Jake's embrace and slipped out of his bed.

  She wanted to spend the night with him, wake in the morning and make love again, have breakfast together, smile at each other over their scrambled eggs. But she knew that wasn't the way things worked with Jake...or, it appeared, with anybody she was involved with. He was right. She had to learn to love and let go.

  Fumbling in the dark, she found her robe, put it on and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

  Back in her room, the still-made bed mocked her with its emptiness and sterility. The sheets on Jake's bed had become soft and crumpled, scented from their lovemaking.

  She changed to a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and went out to the pool. It was small and square, functional rather than aesthetic, but the quiet water tempted her. A late night swim, gliding through the water silently, would have been wonderful, but she hadn't brought a suit.

  Instead she sat on the concrete at the deep end and dangled her bare feet. It was almost two in the morning. The sun's warmth had long since dissipated leaving the water cool, even a little chilly.

  All around the pool...all around her...doors were closed with people sleeping behind them. She was alone...at the pool, in her life. Jake slept in a room on the other side of the complex. They'd made incredible love, their very souls had seemed to touch. And then it was over.

  Love and let go.

  Some people were able to hold on. Like her parents. Their love for each other had always been obvious. They'd had so much, it had spilled over to encompass everyone.

  After this past week of experiences with Jake and people who might be her blood relatives, she needed to reassess her outlook. Perhaps she'd been wrong in thinking she wasn't special to Brenda and Jerry Patterson. True, everyone was special to them, but that didn't negate her relationship with the two of them. It just meant they'd been unusual people, people with enough love to go around.

  Not everybody had their ability. Her biological parents had apparently been lacking. They hadn't even had enough for their own daughter.

  She'd felt close to Doris and to Jake, but some element had been missing there, too.

  Rather than bemoaning her lack of natural parents, she should feel grateful for people who'd started out as strangers and then became parents who'd possessed the ability to care for her.

  She began this search to find her identity, her past, to find her life and take control of it. Doris and Jake had both told her the past wasn't important, only the present and the future.

  She needed to go home. Be glad she'd had her parents to care for her but realize they were gone. Find her own future, turn loose of the past. Tell Jake to stop searching for her biological parents. Judging from what she'd found so far, she was better off not knowing.

  For the first time, she felt as if she really was taking charge of her life, making decisions, not being swept along by circumstances.

  Nobody was going to fill the empty spot inside her, give her an identity. Nobody but herself. She'd counted on Jake, on Doris, on parents she'd never met...and all had failed her. The only person she could count on was herself.

  Tomorrow she still had to deal with getting her car towed from Doris' house. She would probably have to face Doris one more time, and that would hurt.

  She'd have to face Jake, too. As after the first time they'd made love, he'd undoubtedly be cool and impersonal, as though the events of the night had never happened. And that would definitely hurt.

  Love and let go.

  From the strength given to her by Brenda and Jerry Patterson, from the core of genuine love they'd shown her, she'd have to find the courage to do that.

  As she stood, ready to go back to her room and try to get some sleep, an eerie sensation darted down her spine, as if she wasn't alone, as if somebody was watching her. She froze, poised on the edge of the pool.

  A shadow moved over by the stairs on the second floor.

  A shadow. That's all. She was imagining things.

  From behind her she thought she heard something, a faint movement of the air. She started to turn in that direction—and a weight shoved against her back, sending her splashing into the pool.

  She gasped in surprise, swallowing some of the chemically treated water that engulfed her. For an instant she was a kid again, being pushed into the community pool by one of the boys.

  Instinctively she held her breath and pushed upward. Through the distortion of the water, she saw someone in black kneeling over the pool, reaching for her.

  Jake? Had he pushed her in? Surely that's all it was. No reason to worry. Jake had followed her, playfully pushed her in the pool. Now he was going to help her out.

  She reached upward, planning to grab his hands and pull him in with her.

  But the hands eluded her, grasping her hair near the scalp and pushing down, holding her head underwater, and suddenly she realized this was no rough-housing event. She could drown.

  Someone was trying to kill her.

  She fought against the hands, trying to pry up the fingers. Big fingers. Strong fingers.

  Every movement yanked her hair and increased the pain. She needed to breathe, hadn't been prepared to stay down this long, hadn't had time to take a deep breath.

  Panic seized her, threatening to steal any chance she might have.

  She refused to give in, resisted the urge to flail wildly, forced herself to think. She couldn't free herself from the grip of steel. Instead, she focused on the little finger of one hand, on using both her hands to bend back that little finger, as far back as she could, to break it.

  Suddenly the pressure on her hair released and she surged upward, gasping for air.

  Something hit the side of her head and she heard a loud explosion. A shot? Was she dying?

  At least she'd made love with Jake one more time.

  Cold darkness rose up to swallow her.

  Chapter 20

  Jake halted with his fist in mid-air, poised to knock on Rebecca's door.

  A gunshot exploded from somewhere close, the sound bouncing and echoing until he couldn't be sure of the source, whether it came from inside her room or outside.

  "Rebecca!" An image of her bleeding, dying, burst into his head. Without a second thought, he kicked down the door and charged inside, his gaze sweeping the empty room. Her bed hadn't been slept in.

 
Come to the pool, she'd said on the phone.

  He sprinted across to the patio door, found it unlocked and shoved it open.

  A few people had stepped out of their rooms and were looking around curiously, apparently roused by the noise, but he didn't see Rebecca.

  Until he checked the pool.

  At the deep end a body floated near the bottom, blond hair swirling in the still-moving water.

  Rebecca!

  Oh, God! She couldn't be dead!

  The waves and ripples told him she hadn't been down there long. There was still hope. There had to be hope!

  His heart clenched painfully as he dove into the water, but he ignored the sensation, ignored the fear that threatened to paralyze him. Emotions would hamper his efforts, could cost Rebecca her life. He fell back on his police training, focused on dealing with the emergency, assessing the situation and taking appropriate action to guarantee the best possible outcome.

  He grabbed her about the waist, one part of his mind noting that he saw no blood staining the water, no evidence of a gunshot wound, while the other part did something he hadn't done since he was a child...prayed to a God he'd given up on years ago.

  He dragged her onto the rough concrete, checked for pulse and breathing, found none and began CPR, concentrating on the action, not thinking about the fact that this was no stranger, this was Rebecca, the woman he'd made love to and held in his arms a short time ago.

  He knew how to do this. He'd done it before...saved drowning victims...lost drowning victims.

  He couldn't lose Rebecca!

  Forget it was Rebecca. Concentrate!

  If he didn't maintain his control, if he let himself think about who the victim was, he had no chance of saving her.

  "Is she okay?" someone asked, and in his peripheral vision he saw that a small group of people in their night clothes had begun to gather around them.