Jake's child

by Lindsay Longford

  "Sarah?" Jake touched her and his eyes narrowed as though he'd seen something unexpected in her face.

  Sarah welcomed Nicholas's interruption.

  "Jake, I got an owie," Nicholas whimpered.

  "How'd you do that, sport?" Jake looked at the hook lodged through Nicholas's forearm. "Da—Hurts like a son of a gun, I'll bet, huh?" he said as Nicholas's whimper turned to a full-fledged yowl. "Just hang on, we'll have it out in a minute."

  Jake's color faded to a sickly brown when he examined the hook piercing the thin arm, and perspiration soaked his dark hair. He wiped the sweat off his face with the back of his arm. "Do you have any pliers?"

  Sarah felt the faint tremor as he took the pliers. She knew, as Jake did and couldn't face, that Nicholas was going to hurt more before the hook was out. The barbs lodged in the flesh were going to have to come out one way or another, and Nicholas was ready to pitch into hysterical tears.

  "Want me to do it, Nicholas, while Jake holds your arm steady? Jake's so strong that I think he'll steady you better than I could." Sarah kept looking right at Nicholas and talking to him in a low voice. The rapidity with which Jake slapped the pliers into her palm told her of his relief.

  Sarah rubbed her nose as she looked into Nicholas's woebegone face. She wished she hadn't volunteered, but she'd had no choice. They'd needed her. She wanted to tuck Nicholas's hair behind his funny little ears.

  "I won't lie to you, Nicholas. This will hurt. You can handle it, though, okay?" Sarah turned his arm towards Jake and gestured for Jake to hold it so that Nicholas could see. "I'm not going to hide anything from you, honey, and we're going to work really fast so that it won't hurt long. You can help."

  "What 'cha want me to do?" he bawled, tears raining down his cheeks, "'cause it hurts like hell." His small mouth was screwed up as he tried to keep the sobs inside.

  "Oh, sugar, I know it does. It's going to be better in just a minute, though." Sarah wanted to bawl herself. "Now listen, I think you'll want to watch so that you can tell everybody how brave you were. And I want you to raise your other hand if I'm making it worse, okay? Can you do that?" Sarah smoothed his hair away from his forehead and kissed him. Fishy and sweaty, he leaned against her and she ached to draw him closer.

  "Sure," he gulped.

  "I also need your help with Jake." Sarah worked quickly to snip off the line from the eye of the hook, leaving the barbs still buried. Fashioning a loop out of the fish line, she took the loop and slid it between the shank of the hook and Nicholas's skin up to the bend of the hook.

  "What do you want me to do with Jake?" Nicholas turned his head just as Sarah slipped the loop around the curve.

  "Well, you know how tough guys are. Sometimes you have to watch them. A lot of times they faint." Sarah kept talking as fast as she could while she worked.

  "Not Jake," Nicholas insisted through his tears, clearly astonished that Sarah could suggest such a thing.

  "Probably not, but keep an eye on him for me, will you?"

  Nicholas fixed his eyes on Jake.

  "I'd sure hate to have to fish him out of the lake." Sarah pressed her index finger against the eye of the hook, holding it firmly against Nicholas's skin as she snapped the metal shaft back out its entry point with a clean movement of her left hand that sent the hook sparkling into the water.

  Just as she pulled on the shaft, Jake, with a quick look at her, flopped onto the dock.

  "Sarah! Jake fainted!" Nicholas squirmed, his injury forgotten.

  "Really?" Sarah gave Nicholas a big kiss and hug before turning him loose. Her hands were shaking.

  Nicholas scrunched down and lifted Jake's eyelid.

  "How's your owie, sport?" Jake sat up. A thin, white line outlined his hard mouth.

  "You teasing me again, Jake? Or did you truly faint?" At Jake's wink, Nicholas sniffed, "I don't like this teasing stuff. And anyway, when you gonna take out this damn hook?"

  When Sarah and Jake burst out laughing, Nicholas frowned. "What's so funny?"

  As Sarah took Nicholas's hand, Jake reached to him. Their three hands met, Jake's broad and dark, hers slim and tanned, both protectively tented over Nicholas's grubby little fist.

  Jake's somber gaze met hers. "Sarah—"

  "Yes?" She waited.

  "Nothing. Nothing, at all." Jake's cheek brushed Nicholas's forehead, a swift gesture. Holding Nicholas, Jake leaned over, kissing her hard on the lips, a puzzling, angry touch that melted her bones.

  Chapter Seven

  bo Jake began his uneasy courting of Sarah.

  The days were ruled by blue skies and sunny days, Jake's nights by doubt and longing.

  Sarah said now that it was warm, they could go fishing for shell crackers. Wearing his bandage like a badge of honor, Nicholas allowed as how he wasn't sure he wanted to fish anymore. As for Jake, he was going crazier by the minute.

  He tried to convince himself that the storm clouds on the horizon would blow past, but he was edgy and touchy. Tension rode him with roweled spurs.

  He told himself that he had no choice, but he remembered all the times in his life when things had gone wrong— and the stakes had never been this high.

  He chewed antacids by the handful, hoping the clawing in his gut would ease. It didn't.

  He tried to stay away from Nicholas. He couldn't.

  He tried to keep his hands and mouth off Sarah. He didn't.

  He reminded himself by the hour that she was the enemy, but he couldn't be near her without wrapping his arms around her, pressing her up against a wall, a door, anything, and kissing her until his breath labored and his blood beat hard and thick.

  She danced before him in butterfly colors, trailing wisps of green and yellow and pink in her wake, tossing shy smiles in his direction before hurrying off and taking all the color with her.

  One day he found himself in her bedroom breathing in the scent she'd left behind. Dust motes danced near the window. Her dresser was tidy, but the essence of Sarah lingered, and he gripped her cotton nightgown hanging on the back of the door until his fingers cramped.

  The false days crept by for Jake and his role became ter-rifyingly comfortable. He found himself trying to surprise those throaty, little laughs from her and knew something had to break soon. He hoped it wouldn't be him. He wanted Sarah anywhere, everywhere. He wanted her bound to him, so bound that he could break her and free himself.

  Yet in the still of the night, as Nicholas slept in the bed across from him, a nasty little voice kept Jake awake. "Yeah, you're responsible for Nicholas, but you want her, too. That's why you're staying. Who're you kidding, chump?"

  Waking up tired and frustrated, Jake crawled out of his twisted sheets and forced himself through days where he swung between go and stay, anger and desire.

  Today was no different, he thought sourly as he scraped leaves into a pile. Nicholas had gone off with Sarah's cousin Buck, and Jake couldn't forget for a second that he and Sarah were alone. He was keeping as firm a grip on his hunger as he was on the rake he worked so ruthlessly through the grass.

  Sarah opened the screen door. "What's this?" She thrust the lumpy package she'd found on the kitchen table toward

  Jake. Looking up at her, he shaded his face, and she let her eyes linger on the muscles outlined by his close-fitting T-shirt, let them drift down over the sprung-hip stance that pulled his jeans tight over his pelvis.

  Large and solid, he moved towards her, first leaning the rake against the oak. "A present.'* His grin was sly, and her breathing quickened at his look.

  "You shouldn't have!" She traced the knobbly outlines of the brown-papered present.

  "You're right. I shouldn't have." He came close, walking right into her space, surrounding her with him, sliding his big palms over her shoulders and down her back, swooping them over her hips, her thighs, and inching up her rib cage, teasing and coaxing, making her quiver with the slightest skimming graze of his fingers or lips. She vibrated to his presence like a tuning fork.r />
  He'd been doing that for the last two weeks. Imprinting her with himself until she craved the sight and touch of him.

  "So why did you?" Sarah brandished the package at him and pushed her hair back from her ear.

  "Um, much better." Jake nibbled on its outer curve.

  The flick of his tongue against her skin turned her to hot butter. If he were toast, she'd be sliding all over him in a golden, melted flow.

  "Jake." She turned her lips to him. His taste had become as necessary to her as breathing, the hot, male taste of arousal that told her how much he wanted her. A taste, too, of disquieting hostility.

  Even so, Sarah slanted her lips to his, answering the urging of his lips and seeking tongue.

  Jake's mouth consumed her, heat on heat, burning her to a crisp. He lifted her off her feet, pulling her to him. All along the length of his body, his strength and hardness supported and seduced her. Frantically she moved her head, moved against him. Need coiled and twisted inside her and the key was Jake.

  The package thudded to the wooden planks, bounced.

  "Hell." Carefully Jake let her slide down his length, and she burned, burned against him. He settled her against him while their breathing slowed.

  Sarah leaned on him and pressed her lips to the black hair that curled over the neck of his white T-shirt. He smelled so good.

  "Don't," he muttered, pulling her tight to him.

  She blew gently into the black curls and heard his heart thunder under her ears in response. "Why not?" she murmured, knowing, but unable to resist the temptation of her senses.

  "I'm trying to do this right. Give me some help."

  "You're doing everything perfectly. Don't stop." She burrowed her nose where the strong muscles of his neck met his broad shoulders. She turned, pressing her lips to him, biting lightly at the rugged strength, tracing the tendons with her mouth.

  His shudder resonated through her.

  "Want me to stop?" she whispered.

  "Hell, no. Yes." He swayed with her for a moment before pulling her against him as he leaned on the door. His sigh was heavy. "No wonder courting went out of style. Too hard on the nerves."

  She laughed up at him. "But you have nerves of steel, hero man."

  Sarah smoothed the dark circles under his eyes. The situation was explosive and until today she'd been avoiding him when she could. "You're not sleeping well."

  "You got that right." At her murmured regret, he snacked on her nose. "It's all right. I'll survive. Maybe," he added as she slipped her arms around his neck. "Take a look at your present." He bent and picked it up. His smile was hesitant as he handed her the bumpy package, almost as though he were as surprised by the present as she.

  "You're really taking this courtship seriously, aren't you?" She peeled back paper from the top.

  "I'm very serious." He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes where emotions warred.

  "I know." Yes, he was serious, but something was cracking him apart. Every time he was near her he gave off an air of desperation that troubled her and kept her from completely surrendering to the power he increasingly wielded over her senses.

  She wished she could read him as clearly as he read her. One week had stretched into two, the weeks carving new grooves in his weathered face. He was a man in torment and it showed.

  "I know," she repeated in an effort to ease the turmoil she sensed. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, letting her lips linger against his, giving whatever comfort she could. "Now let's see this present." She stripped away a swath of paper. "What in the world?" She flourished a bright red can of WD-40 oil.

  "I have plans." He shifted uncomfortably.

  "A porch swing." She'd never suspected a sense of whimsy hid underneath Jake's roughness. Flirting, she stroked his chin with the can. "In the meantime, what about making use of the swing on the tree?" She quirked an eyebrow at him. "It tilts, though."

  "Appropriate. That's how I feel every time I'm around you. Like the whole damn world has tilted and I'm sliding off the edge." His words sounded torn from him as he grabbed her arm and the WD-40 cartwheeled to the floor. "C'mere."

  Curled on his lap in the swing with her arms around Jake's neck, Sarah tried to think of a way to continue a discussion begun two nights earlier and stonewalled by Jake. "We have to pick up Nicholas and head over to the Chalo Nitka pavilion. You don't mind that he went off with Buck,

  do you?" She finger-walked under Jake's shirt over to the spot on his ribs that he found so fascinating on hers.

  "No. Of course not."

  She heard the reserve. "Do you miss not having any family?"

  "You don't miss what you don't know." He pushed against the ground, and his thighs moved under hers.

  "You never found out why your mom left you?"

  "It's not important. I made out okay." He dug his heels in the sand and slowed them. Bitterness echoed in his voice.

  "How old were you?"

  "Hell, I don't know. Nicholas's age, maybe seven."

  "I see." That explained a lot.

  He frowned at her. "There's nothing to see. I said it wasn't important."

  "Of course not." Sarah could work out for herself how a six-year-old boy must have felt. "And later you lived with—?"

  "Relatives." Off-limits signs sprang up around his clipped words.

  Sarah wouldn't give up. "Until—?"

  His muscles tensed under his shirt. "Look, in a nutshell, here it is. I ran away, joined the army, and I've been working as a consulting engineer for most of my life. The army's been my home. Okay?"

  "Where did you work?"

  "Here, there. Who cares? I work hard, I earn good money, I pay my taxes. Okay?"

  Jake didn't go in for details.

  "Poor Jake," she crooned, tiptoeing her fingers up his spine. His rough hand was sliding up and over her bare knee.

  "Poor Jake, nothing. It's not your pity I crave at night when I'm lying there looking at the ceiling." He traced a circle on the underside of her knee.

  Sarah stroked his back with the lightest of touches and changed the subject. "Do you think Nicholas is going to enjoy the small-fry fishing contest? He didn't have to fish."

  Jake pumped the swing high. "He wants to do everything. Nonstop. All day."

  "Buck's a wild man. Nicholas will be crazy about him. Actually," she mused, "he reminds me of Buck in some ways, same energy, I guess."

  Jake moved suddenly, leaving her breathless. "I don't want to talk about your cousin," he breathed into her mouth, his tongue outlining her lips. "I've got better things to do with your mouth."

  He curled his tongue around hers and chased all thoughts from her head.

  She strained against him, wanting more than he was giving her, wanting something she sensed just over the horizon. Gripping Jake's face, she rained kisses all over his face, straining past the barriers she sensed in him, needing to comfort the child he'd been. "Jake," she whispered against his skin, "Oh, Jake."

  The swing swooped up and out and her legs entwined with his and she felt him beneath her.

  "Sarah, sweetheart, stop. This isn't working." Jake slowed the swing.

  She moved against him. "Oh, I don't know. Seems to be working," she kidded.

  He groaned. "Yeah, that's the problem."

  "Or your solution?" The words popped out.

  He stood up, supporting her until her feet touched the ground. "It's not like that."

  "No?" Embarrassed but determined to have her say, Sarah ploughed on. "It seems to me that you use the attraction between us to avoid discussing issues. I'm not trying to pin you down, Jake, but I need to know what's happening with us because it's not like anything I've ever known." Miserable, she creased the front of her shorts.

  He turned away from her and folded his arms. "I told you my intentions. You know what they are." When he looked at her again, the walls were up.

  This was the Jake that kept her off balance.

  " A courtship."

  "
A courtship," he concurred, glancing away.

  'To what end?" The mockingbird in the xoria bush whistled its echo.

  He shrugged. "I don't know." His cheekbones were a knife edge in the grooves of his face.

  4 'But what do you want me to doV

  "Nothing."

  Sarah held her hands out to him in supplication. She needed words from him, words she could build on, she realized in surprise.

  She wanted to build on the feelings Jake had freed in her. Unnamed and unidentified, as they were, she wanted them to grow and flower into—whatever. Something. But a plant couldn't grow without nourishment, and chemistry wasn't nourishment enough.

  "Sarah, don't look at me like that." Jake groaned and folded her in his arms. Against her, his heart beat steadily and surely.

  There, held close to his heart, warmed by him, she was answered by his body in an old and wordless language until a cloud passing over the sun chilled her.

  "We'd better go get Nicholas," she murmured, rubbing the goose bumps on her arm.

  Jake's finger trailed down her arm, but he released her. "Yes." He looked up at the sky for a long time. "Let's go get Nicholas."

  Bumping out of the driveway, they headed towards Moore Haven in silence.

  Jake drummed a rhythm on the dashboard of his truck.

  Sarah, what are you doing to me?

  Sarah tucked her knees under her and looked at the hyacinths in the ditches.

  / like you, Jake Donnelly, but I don't trust the way you make me feel.

  Jake twitched on the radio. A melancholy song filled the truck.

  Oh, Sarah, if you were only what you seem to be.

  Sarah glanced at Jake's hand on the dial as the words of the song plucked at her. "No, leave it on," she said as Jake started to turn off the radio. His eyes were hooded and she looked away.

  Where's it all going to end, Jake?

  When the song's notes died away, Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat.

  "Where to?" Jake's words cut the silence.

  "Highway 27, past the park and down to the river. The kids will be fishing south of the city docks. That's where the trophy tables are set up." Sarah fiddled with the door handle. "I wonder how Nicholas did."