The Hijacked Wife

by Winn, Bonnie K.

  The pastor chuckled. “Nothing like a warm summer night for young love.” He scratched his graying head. “Seems I remember what that was like.”

  “I suspect it’s not all memory.” Jack’s voice was even, mildly joking as he replied, and Summer wondered if he had at all been affected as she had.

  Pastor Steiger smiled. “I suspect you’re right.” He tapped his pipe against the railing. “I won’t disturb you two, just had to get away from the danged computer before I pitched it out the window.”

  “Problem?” Jack asked.

  “Yes, but I don’t know if it’s me or the computer. Had a specialist out here the other day and he did some programming, said it was all fixed up, but I swear it’s worse than before.”

  “I’d be happy to look at it for you,” Summer offered.

  “You know about computers?” the pastor asked, a note of hope rising in his voice.

  “They’re my speciality,” she replied, watching Jack’s brow rise in surprise.

  “It...” Jack’s voice trailed off to a sputter, which he covered by coughing.

  She enjoyed the satisfaction of surprising Jack, knowing he didn’t dare question her in front of the pastor. After all, one would expect that he would know what his wife did for a living. “I’d be happy to take a look, Pastor.”

  “Now, I don’t want to interrupt...but I have to say I’d be awfully grateful if you could make some sense out of the thing. I’ve got to run a budget report and right now I don’t think I can get it to even tell me our bank balance.”

  “No problem.” Summer edged past Jack, unable to resist shooting him an enigmatic look. “Let’s go see what’s hanging it up. Could just be a coding problem, something in the software, but we’ll run a diagnostic check.”

  “You’re a miracle straight from heaven!” the pastor declared. “I was telling Jack he was heaven-sent, but I didn’t know the both of you were. So you’re a computer whiz?”

  She grinned. “Let’s just say I get along with computers like you do with your parishioners.”

  “I hope not. Hate to say it, but some of them are pure knot heads.”

  A few hours later, Summer stretched as she made her way to the cottage, easing the ache in her lower back. She wasn’t certain what sort of “specialist” had worked on the church’s computer, but the man had made a mess of things.

  Low lamplight illuminated the interior of the cottage as she slipped inside. Careful not to wake Jack or Danny, she tiptoed toward the closet to grab her gown.

  “Got the computer back in business?” Jack’s low voice rose from the near darkness.

  Startled, she clutched the wall, relieved it was Jack and not one of their pursuers. “You scared the life out of me!”

  “You didn’t think I was Fisher or Wilcox?” Jack’s tone was a cross between disbelief and amusement.

  “Is that such a leap?” Summer’s hands fluttered toward her chest where her heart still pounded. “In case you’ve forgotten, they’re an unsavory pair, and we are running from them.”

  Jack rose from the low, overstuffed chair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Summer took a deep, cleansing breath to even out her racing pulse. “It’s okay. No more surprises, though.”

  “Like yours?”

  Puzzled, she stared at him through the filtered light. “What do you mean?”

  “Computer whiz? That doesn’t exactly tally with being a boat mechanic.”

  “Why not? Do you think most mechanics are illiterate?”

  He snorted impatiently. “Of course not.”

  “Auto mechanics are required to have a lot of training.” Deliberately she made her voice noncommittal. “Surely you know that cars are computer controlled.”

  “You’re not an auto mechanic,” Jack pointed out.

  “Nor a boat mechanic.”

  He stared at her. “What do you mean?”

  “I help at my mother’s shop, but that’s not my chosen career.”

  Jack plowed one hand through his hair. “Then what is your job?”

  “A computer-security programmer,” she replied, enjoying the edge of surprise she’d held over Jack.

  But he didn’t seem amused. “Why are you just now telling me?”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  Impatiently Jack made a gesture of frustration with his hands. “You were working on the boat—”

  “And you assumed that was the epitome of my ability—that I didn’t have to be able to excel in intellectual pursuits.”

  Jack had the grace to look chagrined. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Yes, at the time you did.”

  He moved a bit closer, and she could see the regret in his eyes. “I’m sorry for that. But you’ll have to admit that most women can’t repair a boat engine.”

  Summer smiled. “Most women didn’t grow up in their father’s shadow. I learned the ins and outs of a boat engine the way most girls learned about makeup. I guess I’m still a slow learner in that category.”

  He reached over to tip up her chin. “Not from what I see. You look ... just fine, Summer.” His voice deepened a shade. “Just fine.”

  It wasn’t a raving declaration, but somehow it suited her needs and Summer smiled again. “So, you’re surprised that I use my brains instead of my brawn?”

  A slow smile eased over his face. “Not so surprised.” Jack’s glance strayed over her feminine form. “Just wondering what you’re doing on Edisto Island if you’re a hotdog computer specialist.”

  “I’m lucky. I telecommute, so it doesn’t matter where I live.”

  “But couldn’t you advance your career faster if you were in the city?”

  Summer shrugged. “Probably. And someday I hope to have my own consulting firm, after I find another capable mechanic to help at my mother’s shop. But it’s not worth the trade-offs.”

  “Such as?”

  “My family’s on Edisto—which amounts to my mother and the people she’s collected over the years, like Lloyd, who doesn’t have any family of his own. My mother would never admit it, but she needs me. Not just with the shop, but because she’s getting older. I can’t imagine living far away, leaving her alone, not being able to see her, to check on her.”

  A shadow passed over Jack’s face.

  Horrified, Summer realized what she’d just said. “Jack, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about your family.”

  He shrugged.

  Impulsively Summer laid a hand on his arm and she felt the automatic flinch. But she was offering comfort and refused to be deterred. “Jack, everyone has different challenges, different solutions. I didn’t mean to sound glib about my mother. Actually...” She drew her courage together. “I gave up a lot to stay on Edisto—not so much with my career, but in other... ways.”

  “Did that other way involve a man?”

  Startled, she looked at him for a moment before lowering her eyes. “I’m afraid so. When I wouldn’t leave Edisto, he thought I was far too backward to fit in the sophisticated network he was establishing.”

  “And was it worth it?” Jack asked quietly. “Giving him up?”

  For a moment, she could scarcely remember the pain Tyson had caused. Somehow it had dulled more than she had expected. Yet she probed the quiet questions in his eyes, wondering what had placed them there. “As I said, there’s give and take. But...I think I made the right decision.”

  Her answer vibrated between them.

  Gazing into her eyes, Jack realized that if in some part of his mind he had wondered if they could have a future together, she’d just killed that hope. Family was too important for her to ever become part of his life. Always running, never being able to contact those she loved, she would be miserable. True, it wasn’t a choice he would have voluntarily made, either.

  “I thought I’d made the right decision, too,” Jack answered finally, unwilling to let her know just how far his thoughts had strayed. When had she managed to sneak into tho
se thoughts? he wondered. And how had he not seen it coming?

  “Of course you made the right decision.” Summer gestured toward Danny, sleeping peacefully in the portable crib. “He’s worth everything.”

  “That’s never been in question.” Jack paused, considering again how she had infiltrated his thoughts. “I see how important family is to you.”

  “But family’s equally important to you, as well!” She gazed at him earnestly, her eyes darkening to nearly jade. “Just as your duty to yourself and your beliefs is. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been willing to sacrifice as you did to stand up for those beliefs.” Again her glance strayed toward Danny. “It’s evident how much you treasure your son, how you want to raise him with the same strong sense of right. Could you have lived with yourself if you’d turned a blind eye, refused to become involved?”

  “No,” Jack admitted, feeling a wave of pain that had never completely faded. “But by involving Linda, I stole his mother, something I can never replace.”

  “You did not!” Summer denied hotly. “Those criminals stole Danny’s mother. And Linda wouldn’t have married you if she valued a man of lesser principles. She wouldn’t have wanted Danny raised to be a coward and weakling. She believed in you, Jack. Can you do any less?”

  Slowly he shook his head.

  Summer gentled her voice. “What kind of future do you see for yourself, Jack?”

  A charged silence hung between them for a few moments, then he met her eyes steadily. “A future for Danny that doesn’t involve running and moving constantly. I want my son to grow up free, strong and courageous. And I’m afraid it won’t be possible.” He refrained from telling her that he longed to fill the empty place in his heart...that he didn’t dare open himself to that kind of hurt again.

  “I don’t know exactly how, but I know you’ll manage it,” she replied.

  Surprised, Jack realized there was true solace in her words, advice that rang true. For the first time, he felt some measure of peace about the decisions he made. “You sound very sure.”

  Summer’s voice softened, as gentle as the breeze that fluttered at the windows. “You made the supreme sacrifice. And that sacrifice must count for something.”

  Jack turned toward Danny. “I intend to make sure it does. And nothing’s going to stand in my way.” He felt the chill his words carried. “Nothing.”

  Chapter 13

  “You and Summer have to attend!” Mary Steiger had insisted, refusing to accept any of the excuses he had offered. In fact, the pastor’s wife insisted on baby-sitting Danny.

  Her words rang in Jack’s head as he glanced around the church hall. For the night, it was decorated to resemble an 1850s church dance. The next day, following historical tradition, they would have a box supper on the church lawn.

  Jack had hammered up calico festoons, hauled in bales of hay and assembled long tables to hold the cider and an assortment of pies, cakes and homemade taffy. He had to admit it looked both festive and fairly genuine. He also had to admit he didn’t want to be here.

  The key to their safety was in maintaining a low profile. Uneasily he glanced around the relaxed group of parishioners clearly enjoying the event. None of the townspeople presented a threat, yet he didn’t want to do anything that would make Summer and himself stand out in their memories.

  “You keep scowling like that and everyone’s going to wonder what’s wrong with us,” Summer chided from behind a glass of bright red punch.

  Jack turned to her, his uneasiness momentarily distracted. Summer wore a dress that Mary Steiger had insisted on loaning her. While it was a perfectly proper historical costume, the well-fitting silk hugged Summer’s curves in a way Jack had never seen her dressed before. The thrust of her breasts, the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips—hers was a silhouette that made his throat dry in appreciation.

  Keeping with the 1850s theme, Summer had drawn her hair back from her face, letting it glide over her shoulders in soft curls. She had fastened it with an emerald ribbon that matched her dress and emphasized the color of her eyes. A gold locket nestled between her breasts, winking out an invitation Jack found difficult to ignore. Her lips were full, and as he painfully remembered, luscious to the touch.

  “Jack,” Summer repeated, reaching out to touch his arm.

  Jerking his attention back to her face, he cleared his throat. “Yes?”

  “The props are so authentic and well put together. The pastor said he couldn’t have done this without your planning and imagination.”

  At the moment, Jack cursed that imagination. Since they had been on the run, it had been torture each time he and Summer had slept in the same bed. Now with Summer’s tantalizing image making the situation more complicated, he wasn’t sure he would be able to keep to his side of the bed. And the tiny cottage they’d been assigned had the smallest bed yet. Couldn’t Mary have loaned her a shapeless calico dress that didn’t fire the imagination?

  “It’s all decorated wonderfully!” Summer enthused, clearly enjoying the party.

  “It doesn’t look nearly as good as you do,” Jack replied, daring to say aloud what he was thinking.

  Flustered, Summer smoothed a hand over her hair. “T’m not sure if you’re being sincere or merely kind, but thank you. Mary insisted on the hairstyle and dress. I was afraid I’d look ridiculous.”

  “You may look many things, Summer Harding, but ridiculous isn’t one of them.”

  Further flustered, she glanced down at her cup of punch and then away. But her thoughts fled instantly to the kisses they had shared, the magic Jack had created with a simple touch.

  Frances, one of the women Summer recognized from choir practice, materialized at her side. “Now, now! What are you two doing on the sidelines? Newlyweds should be dancing!”

  As much to escape the woman as not to attract further attention, Jack held out his hand to Summer. “You heard the nice lady. Dance?”

  Summer stopped short of curtsying, but accepted his outstretched hand. “Delighted.”

  It was a public dance, a church dance, the setting very proper, the mood certainly chaste. But when she stepped into his arms, Jack was hard-pressed to remember any of those things. Instead his body responded to the soft crush of her breasts against his chest, the impossibly small span of her waist beneath his encircling hand. While they moved to the slow beat of the music, Jack could feel their exchange of heat, the rhythm of their bodies as they moved like one.

  Even the touch of Summer’s hand in his marked the contrast of larger to smaller, stronger to weaker, male to female. Her skin was soft, her fingers long and nimble. The tips of them curled within his hand, and he found himself feeling irrationally protective.

  Summer angled her head closer to his, and he inhaled her uniquely fresh aroma, the scent of roses and sunshine. Circling the floor, Jack suspected he would remember that fragrance long after they said goodbye.

  Something swift and unexpected tightened in his gut at that thought. Despite how often he’d told her that she must leave for her own safety, he wasn’t ready for goodbye.

  Responding instinctively, he drew her closer and felt Summer’s surprise as she stiffened.

  She tilted her head back. “Jack?”

  “We’re supposed to be newlyweds, remember?” he responded gruffly, not allowing her to draw away.

  Summer nodded her head next to his, the soft, shiny hair gliding across his cheek.

  Jack wondered about the man she’d been involved with. Had she been in love with him? Was she still?

  Her hand still curled trustingly within his, and he wondered, too, if she was still hurt over the broken engagement. The man was clearly a fool. Jack decided.

  Summer tilted her head back a fraction. “Do you suppose they had worries like ours back in the 1850s?”

  “You thinking of a little time travel?”

  She laughed, a gentle, infectious sound. “No. Just thinking that times must have been simpler, so perhaps the worries were, too
.”

  “No electricity—therefore no computers for you. A woman couldn’t help with the family boat business. It would have been unacceptable female behavior. No social programs for the needy, no cure for most diseases, a civil war looming on the horizon. I don’t know ... all in all, I’d say they had their worries, too.”

  “I suppose they did—their own brand of Fisher and Wilcox. I was just thinking that it’s too bad life isn’t always like this dance tonight...simple, uncomplicated...but I guess that sounds silly.”

  “Not so much,” he replied, his gaze drawn into her bottomless eyes. They reminded him of the sea, a multitude of shifting shades that came together in one glorious burst of color. “Maybe for tonight, we could pretend that this is how our life is.” Jack paused, not daring to voice the rest of his thoughts: that in a different life he could be holding her in his arms, that she could be his wife in every sense, that there were no barriers keeping them apart. That there would be no goodbyes.

  “I’d like to pretend—” Summer’s eyes met his “—even if it is only for the night.”

  Time passed. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours... Jack couldn’t say. Only when the band took a break did he reluctantly release Summer.

  “Okay, folks, we’re going to play a few parlor games,” the pastor announced.

  Moans and groans echoed through the hall.

  “None of that! You all wanted a genuine 1850s party. Well, that’s what you’re getting. For those of you who didn’t major in history, there weren’t any VCRs or CD changers back then. They had parlor games.”

  Laughter punctuated his words.

  The pastor smiled. “It won’t be as bad as it sounds. In fact, you young folks might decide it’s better than a video arcade.”

  While most of the kids pulled faces and rolled their eyes, the ladies organizing the party began lining people up for the first game.

  Pastor Steiger raised his voice to be heard over the babble and chatter. “The object of the first game is to pass an apple from person to person—without using your hands. I’d suggest that if you have your eye on someone special, get in line behind him or her.”