Sunrise Canyon

by Janet Dailey

  Kira’s throat tightened. “Maybe he can’t. Maybe they need him. Or maybe he’s sick.”

  Paige closed the baby book. “Or maybe he doesn’t want to,” she said.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It was still raining when Jake drove into the yard. After a stop at the front steps to let Dusty out, he pulled around to the vehicle shed and parked the Jeep next to Kira’s Outback.

  The yard was empty, the barn door closed. Kira and the others would most likely be in the house, keeping warm and dry while they waited for dinner.

  With a mutter of impatience, he stepped out into the rain. The need to question Kira about Wendy was eating him alive. But he had little choice except to wait until he could catch her alone. For now, since he wasn’t hungry and didn’t feel like socializing, he would just go to his cabin. It would feel good to pull off his wet boots, stretch out on the bed and maybe watch something on the antiquated TV.

  He splashed across the graveled yard. The rain was coming down so hard that by the time he reached the cabin door and unlocked it, he was wet to the skin.

  Inside, the cabin was cold. There was an electric heater below the window, the kind Jake had seen in motel rooms. He switched it on and turned the heat dial up all the way. Shivering, he stripped off his clothes and hung them over the back of a chair, pulled on his sweats and propped himself on the bed pillows with a quilt over his legs.

  As the room warmed, he could feel his tension easing some. But the questions about Wendy kept his thoughts roiling. Alone in the stillness, with the rain droning overhead, Jake could feel himself becoming more agitated—a danger signal. He needed a distraction. Anything.

  He found the remote on the nightstand, clicked on the TV and scrolled through the channels. Not much available—infomercials, college basketball, which he didn’t care about, and a kiddy channel showing SpongeBob. He finally settled on a local cooking show, which featured an annoying woman with poufy blond hair. Even that was better than the silence.

  Closing his eyes, he let the gushy voice flow into his head, filling up the dark hollows like water until, finally, blessedly, he began to drift.

  * * *

  In the house, dinner was long over, but with the rain still misting outside, most of the students had chosen to stay by the cozy fireplace or to share video games on the big-screen TV in the den. Paige had fallen asleep and had been carried off to bed. Dusty, who’d skipped dinner, had taken refuge in his corner armchair, with one of the large-print Western novels he enjoyed. That was where Kira found him.

  He glanced up from his book as she stepped close. “How was Jake today?” she asked in a low, private tone.

  “Fine. We ran some errands and had a good steak dinner. I think he enjoyed the break.”

  “Did anything seem to be bothering him?”

  “I asked him. He said everything was fine—including his relationship with you.”

  “But he didn’t come inside tonight.”

  “I told you, we had dinner. He was probably just tired.”

  Dusty’s gaze dropped to his book again. Kira sighed. The old man might not be worried about Jake, but she still was.

  “I’m going out and check on him,” she said. “If I don’t come right back, don’t worry. Maybe he’ll feel like talking.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that.” Dusty spoke without looking up. “Jake strikes me as a man who plays his cards pretty close to his vest.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Kira grabbed a light rain jacket from the coatrack by the door and went outside. The rain had slowed to a light drizzle. Stars glimmered through the parting clouds.

  The security light came on as she strode across the yard. She could see Jake’s cabin, faint light flickering through the curtained front window. That would be from the TV. Everything else appeared dark.

  She gave a light rap on the door. There was no answer. Maybe he’d fallen asleep with the TV on. Or maybe he was in the bathroom. Cautiously she turned the latch. The door was unlocked. She opened it a few inches.

  “Jake?” There was no answer, no sound except from the TV. The door creaked as she opened it a few more inches and stepped into the warm room. She could see Jake now, sprawled on the bed in ragged gray sweats, half-covered by the quilt. He appeared to be fast asleep.

  For a moment, she stood gazing down at him. His hair clung to his forehead in damp curls. Rumpled and unshaven as always, he looked exhausted. Was there a chance he’d taken some kind of medication? Kira was weighing the wisdom of checking in the bathroom, when he opened his eyes.

  He blinked drowsily, as if unsure of where he was. Then, suddenly, he jerked bolt upright, wild-eyed and wary.

  “It’s all right, Jake,” Kira said in a calm voice. “It’s me. It’s Kira. You’re fine.”

  The fight went out of him. He exhaled, sagging back against the pillows. “What are you doing here, Kira?” His voice was a muzzy growl.

  “Sorry I woke you. I just came by to make sure you were all right. Now I’ll leave.” Kira turned toward the door.

  “No—stay. Just give me a minute to get my bearings.” The remote lay next to him on the bed. He picked it up and turned off the TV. In the dark room, Kira could see him silhouetted against the white pillows.

  “I’ve been waiting for the chance to ask you something. It’s about Wendy.” He reached down to smooth the wrinkled quilt. “Sit down. I won’t bite you.”

  Feeling uneasy, Kira pushed back her rain hood and sat on the edge of the bed. She hadn’t expected this, and she had no idea what Jake meant to ask her. But she couldn’t help feeling that something was about to change.

  “I need the truth,” he said. “Will you give it to me?”

  “I will if I know the answer.” She fell silent, waiting.

  “When you told me about the accident, you mentioned that Wendy wasn’t drinking.”

  “I told you she didn’t seem drunk. I can’t say for sure whether she’d had any alcohol.”

  “Then this is what I need to ask you. Did you have any reason to believe Wendy was pregnant?”

  Kira took a moment to let the words sink in. She should have been prepared for Jake’s question. But it had slammed into her, catching her off guard.

  “Kira?”

  “Yes,” she said, knowing that nothing but the truth would satisfy him. “I knew Wendy was pregnant. She told me the week before the accident.”

  “And the father?” His voice was cold enough to be frightening.

  “Nobody you’d know. She called him ‘Drake.’ I don’t even know whether it was his first name or his last name. She was going to bring him around to meet me, but . . . the accident happened first.”

  “So this wasn’t just a one-night stand. It was serious.”

  “Yes.” Kira was grateful for the darkness that hid his face from her as she spoke. “Wendy had divorce papers drawn up and ready to file. She was going to give them to you when you came home.”

  Jake’s silence was broken only by the patter of rain on the tile roof of the cabin. Kira kept still, waiting for him to speak again.

  “Was he at the funeral—this man, Drake?”

  “I wouldn’t have known if he was,” Kira said. “I’d never met him.”

  Silence again, and the whisper of rain before he spoke. “You can go, Kira. Don’t worry about me. . . . I’ll be fine.”

  “How can you be fine after what I just told you?”

  “Why shouldn’t I be?” he said. “Knowing what Wendy did won’t make any difference. It won’t bring her back.”

  She rose, put up her rain hood and moved to the door. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

  He dismissed her with a mutter of impatience. “I’m not one of your students, Kira. Go back to the house and leave me alone. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She left him then, closing the door behind her and splashing across the yard in her rain-soaked sneakers. Jake had insisted he’d be all right. But the kind of news she’d given him would devast
ate most men. He’d been calm and controlled, but she hadn’t missed the undertone of wounded anger in his voice.

  This wasn’t a safe time for him to be alone. But as he’d angrily reminded her, he wasn’t one of her students. She had no right to make choices for him.

  That didn’t mean she wasn’t worried sick.

  She returned to the house, leaving her dripping shoes on the front porch. Dusty and Consuelo had gone to bed. The students were still inside: Faith and Brandon were playing games on their phones; Calvin was on the couch reading a book; the others were watching a sitcom in the den. Kira roused them, saw them into their jackets and watched from the porch as they crossed the yard to their cabins. Once they were safely inside, she went back into the house and spent a few minutes putting the rooms back in order. That done, she checked on Paige and listened at Dusty’s door for the sound of his snoring. She even checked the doghouse on the back patio, where she found Tucker curled in cozy sleep, his legs twitching as he dreamed.

  Everything was peaceful, everyone safe.

  Except Jake.

  * * *

  It’s over. She’s gone. It doesn’t matter anymore. . . .

  Lying on his back, staring up into the darkness, Jake let the words flow like water through his mind.

  It doesn’t matter... Maybe if he repeated the thought long enough, he’d begin to believe it. But it wasn’t getting any easier. He kept remembering Wendy’s lovely face on Skype, her lying lips telling him how much she loved and missed him, while she was thinking about her lover the whole time.

  Drake.

  Jake wanted to beat the man to death with his bare fists.

  He imagined Drake and Wendy making love, her long, white legs clasping his hips as he pumped into her, her cries of pleasure as he brought her to a shattering climax.

  The son of a bitch hadn’t even cared enough to use protection.

  It’s over. . . . It doesn’t matter . . .

  Jake tried to concentrate on the words, repeating them like a mantra, but he could feel the rage building inside him. Wendy had betrayed him, betrayed her marriage vows and her family. But angry as he was, he couldn’t blame her. Even with a baby to take care of, she would have been lonely, starved for attention and excitement. And during his last time home, he’d been withdrawn and unsympathetic to her needs, the man he’d once been already lost to the war.

  He couldn’t even blame the bastard who’d taken advantage of her. Who could resist a woman like Wendy? Whether she was married or not, what man could look at her without wanting her?

  His real fury was focused inward, on himself.

  A beautiful, passionate woman, left alone too long—how could he have missed what was happening? He’d taken Wendy for granted, drawing on her strength, her love, to give him courage—and he’d given her next to nothing in return. Everything had been about him, about the war, about the danger and his homesickness.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid!

  It was as if he’d killed her himself.

  The darkness was closing. Desperate for distraction, Jake found the remote and switched on the TV again. By now, it was after midnight. Nothing was on the air but infomercials, a tacky jewelry sale and, on the last channel to come on, a wild-eyed evangelical doomsday rant that became part of his nightmare. Outside, more rain had moved in, hammering the roof and lashing the windows with a sound like AK-47 fire. Jake’s head amplified the racket to a scream of sound.

  Incoming!

  He had to end it, had to make it stop. . . .

  Lunging off the bed, he grabbed a wooden chair and smashed it with all his strength into the TV screen.

  * * *

  Kira had tried to sleep, but she’d been too concerned about Jake to relax. After what seemed like hours of restless tossing, she’d thrown her flannel robe over her pajamas and stepped out onto the front porch. From there she could see across the side yard, through the pelting rain, to Jake’s cabin. The flicker of light through the curtain had been reassuring. Maybe he was just watching TV. Maybe he was all right.

  Or maybe not.

  The window curtains were closed, but the light that filtered through told her the TV was still on. Suddenly, outlined against the curtains, a silhouette rose and swung something hard. Almost in the same instant, the window went black.

  She’d left her wet sneakers on the porch. Pulse slamming, she jammed her feet into them and plunged down the steps. As she raced out into the rain, the security light came on, its gleam reflecting in the rain-specked puddles.

  She was halfway across the yard when Jake’s door opened. Barefoot and still wearing his sweats, he walked out into the storm and stood under the gutter spout that drained the water off the roof, letting the water stream over his head and down his body.

  Was he trying to calm himself? Maybe wash away some awful memory? Did he even know what he was doing?

  She hesitated. Jake didn’t appear to be injured, thank heaven. But if he was having a severe episode, he could be like a wounded animal—a danger to himself or even to her. In a treatment center, like the one where she’d trained, she’d have called for someone to back her up before approaching him. But he could be in pain and needing her help—and this was Jake, a man she’d come to care deeply for, maybe even to love, if such a thing was possible.

  Speaking his name, she walked straight toward him. Rain streamed down his face as he watched her come. His dark eyes were lost in pits of shadow. Kira’s own eyes felt the sting of tears, blending with the rain. This good man had wanted nothing more than to serve his country and return home safe to the family he loved. Through no fault of his own, he had lost everything.

  He stood rigid, not responding as she opened her arms, pulled him close and drew him away from the pouring water. She could feel him quivering against her, feel his heartbeat galloping hard, driven by the adrenaline pumping through his body.

  “You’re cold, Jake,” she said gently. “Let’s go inside and get you warm.”

  He mouthed a string of profanities, but he didn’t fight her as she turned him toward the open doorway of the cabin. Still swearing, he allowed her to guide him onto the stoop and over the threshold until she was able to let go and close the door behind them. The security light shone through the loose weave of the curtain, illuminating the upended chair and the broken TV, with a gaping, glass-edged hole where the screen had been.

  Glass shards were scattered on the floor. Jake wasn’t wearing shoes. He could have glass embedded in his feet and not even be aware of it. She would have to check, but first she needed to get him calm and comfortable.

  She thought about flipping on the overhead light switch next to the door, but decided to wait. The sudden brightness might startle Jake.

  He was shivering in his rain-soaked sweats. Kira noticed a basket of clean, folded laundry on the luggage rack next to the bathroom door. After rummaging for a towel, a cotton tee and a pair of boxer shorts, she hurried back to him. “We’ve got to get you out of those wet clothes. I’m going to need your help. All right?”

  When he didn’t answer, she grabbed the hem of his dripping sweatshirt and pulled it partway up. His skin was icy. At the touch of her fingers on his bare ribs, he shuddered as if coming to life. With a rough exhalation, he took over the job, pulling the sopping garment over his head, then tossing it on the tile floor.

  The soaked sweatpants would have to come off next. Kira tugged at the knotted cord that held the waistband, preparing to avert her eyes when the pants dropped. He pushed her hand away. His chilled fingers fumbled with the tight, wet knot until, with a muttered curse, he yanked the frayed string with his fist and broke it.

  The uneasy moment was saved when the timer turned off the security light outside, plunging the room into darkness. Stepping back, Kira heard the sound of fumbling, heard something wet dropping to the floor. Moments later the three-way lamp on the nightstand came on low, throwing a soft light into the room. Jake had turned it on. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, wear
ing the shirt and shorts and toweling his wet hair. His eyes were bloodshot, his expression unspeakably weary. The worst of the episode appeared to be over, but the haunted look was still there.

  “I can handle this.” His voice was a rasp. “Go back in the house.”

  “Not yet.” Kira stood her ground. “I’m not leaving until I know you’re all right.”

  “I’ll be fine. And I don’t need a damned audience. I like to keep my craziness private.”

  “I’ve seen far worse,” she said. “Right now, I need to look at your feet. You could’ve stepped on glass from the TV.”

  “I’ll look.” Still sitting, he inspected one foot, then the other. “No glass. And I’ll pay for the TV.”

  “Don’t worry about it. That old set was junk before you broke it.”

  “I’m not your charity case. I’ll buy you a new one.”

  Kira hung the wet clothes over a rod in the shower, then found a broom and dustpan in the back of the closet and swept up the broken glass. She was wet, too. The rain had soaked her bathrobe and dampened the pajamas she wore underneath. Even in the warm room, she was beginning to shiver.

  “You need to get some sleep, Jake.” She replaced the broom in the closet.

  “I can handle this like I always do. So leave me the hell alone.” He was a wounded animal, still defiant.

  “I’ll leave when you’re calm and resting—really resting.”

  “I’m not your patient—or your problem!” he snapped. “Why can’t you just mind your own damned business?”

  “Because I care. I care about you. And I want you safe.”

  Had she pushed him too far?

  His expression darkened as he rose and moved toward her. Kira resisted the impulse to back away. She couldn’t let herself believe that Jake might hurt her.

  Facing her, he caged her jaw between his hands. His eyes burned into hers. “Sweet Kira.” The words held an edge. “Taking care of everything and everybody. Tell me something. Who takes care of you?”

  Her heart seemed to stop as his lips closed on hers in a deep, rough, searching kiss. This was a mistake, the voice of caution shrilled. The man had no real feelings for her. He’d learned that his wife had been unfaithful, and he was reacting to the pain, that was all. He wasn’t in his right mind.