"If he fished."
Jake slowed when they passed the new Chalo Nitka Park. People in bright plaid shirts and jeans, in Seminole traditional dress and in comfortable gear migrated in a kaleidoscope of color. "Those booths look like the Seminole 'chickees.'"
"They're modeled after the traditional homes. The floats and cars in the parade will have palm branches tied around them. Even the food will reflect Indian life. Want to try some swamp cabbage?" She relaxed as they resumed the more or less comfortable relationship that they'd fallen into before today.
Jake signaled a turn with his arm out the window. "I've eaten worse."
"It's like a potato with crunch." She laughed, glad he was picking up the mood.
"How're you going to cook it?"
''How do you feel about nouvelle cuisine?"
"Come again?" He switched off the engine.
"Thinly sliced swamp cabbage with a sprinkling of sea salt served over lightly grilled Okeechobee cat?"
"You're kidding, right? No?"
"Relax, Donnelly. I'll spare you the nouvelle, but you'll enjoy the rest of it, fried cat, raw or boiled swamp cabbage." Sarah grinned at him and stuck her feet up on the rusty dash. "Speaking of nouvelle, this truck could use some saucing up."
"It runs."
"Barely."
"Never, ever, insult a man's wheels, sweetheart," Jake growled, reaching his hand over and pulling her closer to him.
"That's about all this is. Wheels, antenna, brakes—it has brakes?" Sarah asked, alarmed.
"I don't know. I just let it run till it's out of gas and then I stop where it does."
"You said you'd made money consulting, so why this— uh, this—very interesting vehicle?" Sarah surveyed the interior of the cab with a wrinkled nose.
Springs coiled out of slits in the vinyl seats. Corroded bolts and hinges merrily flaked rust with each bouncing jolt. Wires draped in a decorative festoon under the dash.
"It's hard to explain."
"I'll just bet." She loved teasing him. She thought he'd probably seen little of the lighthearted side of life. "Kidding aside, Jake, how did you wind up with this antique? Not that it doesn't have character."
"I'd just gotten back from a job, I was in a hurry, it was late at night, and nothing much was open. I didn't have much cash in my pocket, so that's why this rolling wreck." He patted the steering wheel affectionately. "I'm starting to like the old girl. She grows on you."
"That I believe," Sarah said mournfully as she un-snagged her shorts from a roaming spring coil. "I wish this classic rust bucket had seat belts, though."
"Beggars can't be choosers. The three of us would never have fit in your windup toy."
"You mean j>ow wouldn't have fit."
Jake wrapped his fingers around her knee and laughed. "Yeah, I thought I was going to be shifting my toes when I drove it. How far do I go?"
Sarah's knee was liquefying where his palm cupped it. How could she be so susceptible to his every touch? "Past the post office at First Street, until you start seeing crowds." She lifted his hand up and thumped it on his own knee.
He slanted a look. "Like that, huh?"
"You need both hands to drive this gem," Sarah declared and folded her hands primly in her lap. It would do him good to suffer a little. Of course, she thought gloomily, missing his warm grip, she was suffering, too.
"Damnation," Jake burst out as they pulled off the road. "Is every kid in Florida here?"
All up and down the banks of the Caloosahatchie, kids stretched in a long line. Sarah watched Jake's face as he searched for Nicholas. Jake didn't know it, maybe couldn't admit it, but he loved the child. Every anxious turn of his head betrayed him. Finally, he rubbed his neck and turned to her.
"How are we going to find him?"
"Easy," she said in a superior tone. "We'll find Buck."
"That's going to be easy?" Jake surveyed the elbow-to-elbow mass and throngs of children screaming around tables set up with rows of trophies.
"If you know what you're doing," she said smugly, taking his arm. "Remember, I'm the guide in these parts."
"I'm not proud. Lead on." He tucked his arm under hers.
Sarah wondered if he'd intentionally made sure his forearm was snagged in close to her, grazing her breasts.
i
"Here," she said, sliding his wrist down, "this will be more comfortable."
"Think so?" His eyes narrowed.
She only shook her head as he worked his hand back up her arm. His constant need to touch her was enormously seductive.
Holding her close to him, his thigh muscles brushing the skin of her bare thigh, he said, "Okay?"
She surrendered and let his arm remain, a humming electrical cord binding them.
As they sauntered over muddy ground down to the river-banks, Sarah spotted Buck. "Hey, there, Yucky Bucky!"
A reed-thin, red-haired man with a straw cowboy hat pushed up on his head looked over. "Hey yourself, Scarey Sairy." He bent down to Nicholas, who was huddled between his legs dangling a fishpole in the murky Caloosa-hatchie. When Sarah called out, Nicholas gazed at them and grinned around the tag end of an ice cream cone sticking out of his mouth.
Sarah wanted to run to him and give him a rib-cracking hug, but it wasn't her right. She trailed behind Jake, who lifted Nicholas up by the seat of his britches.
"Catch anything, kid?"
"Sure, Jake, the best. Look in the bucket."
"Hi, Nicholas." Sarah allowed herself a kiss on his cheek which, bless his little-boy heart, he refrained from scrubbing off.
"Go see, Sarah. I got the best catch of the day. Buck said so."
"He did?" Sarah cocked her finger at Buck. "What have you been pulling now?"
Buck ambled over, his thumbs hooked into the skintight, faded Levi's painted on his frame. A silver buckle fastened a belt that rode low on lean hips. He nodded to Jake whom he'd met earlier when he picked up Nicholas.
"Pest," Buck said to Sarah as he leaned down and planted a smacking kiss on the top of her head. "Y'all showed up too soon. Nicholas and I had great plans for his catch." He draped an arm around her shoulders and scrutinized her. "For a skinny runt, you don't look too bad. Legs are still decent," he faked a leer. "Sorry I missed you this morning."
"I was in the shower. You should have stayed. I'd have cooked." Sarah prodded him in the ribs. "You could use some food on these bones. Haven't talked your current honey into cooking for you yet?"
"Like Atlanta, sugar, she's gone with the wind." Turning to Jake who'd joined them, Buck confided, "She ever tell you why I call her 'Scarey Sairy'?"
"No." Suddenly a stranger behind the mirrored sunglasses he'd put on, Jake glanced at her.
"Come on, Buck, don't do this," Sarah laughed and tried to pull away.
"Nope," he chivvied her, "you're not going to escape. Jake's got to hear the story."
"Can't wait." Jake's voice went so flat it was below sea level.
Sarah leaned toward him, knowing Buck's arm around her and the shared reminiscences were leaving Jake on the edge of the camp fire again. She didn't like the image of a lonely Jake prowling at the fringes of warmth and comfort, so she slipped her hand into his. "Don't believe a word Buck tells you. He wouldn't know the truth if it came wearing a name tag."
Buck pulled at the braid of hair hanging down her back. "See this hair? Well, Sarah was the littlest of the cousins, the only girl, so when she had a fever and lost all her hair, we ganged up on her. Nothing serious, but you know how mean kids can be. For months after she sprouted new hair, she was Hairy Sairy, Scarey Sairy, until one day she lit into us with a bunch of mud pies. You were something, Sarah,
flinging mud pies left and right.'' Buck chortled. "You have a temper once you cut loose."
Sarah laughed. "I was tired of it. Anyway, you were all bigger! Gosh, our folks were furious. At least," she rejoined, "my ears didn't stick out like yours!"
"See what I mean?" Buck appealed to Jake. "We were span
ked, but Miss Priss went for ice cream." He turned to Nicholas. "Speaking of ice cream, this guy's had two double-dippers."
"Buck! You didn't!"
"Aw, why not? This is special. Let him pig out to his little heart's content. The kid can sure put away the food. Eats as much as you did, little pig." He pinched her nose. "Kid could even be yours, same kind of stubborn grit." He winced. "Damn, Sarah, I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget."
The old, familiar pain twisted inside, but she knew now that it was the reverse side of the coin and she could live with it. "Don't worry, Buck. Everybody's walked on eggs around me for so long, it's second nature, I guess. Really," she insisted as he frowned, "it's okay. I buried myself alive in Mama and Daddy's house too long, Buck."
He hugged her tightly and whispering into her ear, teased, "Does Tough Stuff over yonder have anything to do with it, Sairy?"
Jake didn't like the way Buck was hugging Sarah. Cousin or not, Buck was entirely too free with the hugging and kissing. Gut deep, Jake figured Buck was laying it on. He'd seen the shrewdness behind the country-boy blue eyes. With that combination, Buck would be a terror in a courtroom.
Jake didn't underestimate him. Buck, for reasons of his own, had proceeded to see which of Jake's buttons he could push. Uncomfortably, Jake admitted to himself that Buck was too successful. All of Jake's buttons were down.
Jake was relieved when Sarah changed the subject. "What about Nicholas's prize catch?"
Looking in the bucket, Jake asked, "What do you suppose their plans were? This is a frog."
"Buck?"
"There's a pet parade at one, remember? Nicholas and I thought the frog had a better chance there."
Buck's guileless smile made Jake's teeth ache.
Sarah looked at Jake. "Well, I don't know. We'd need something to put it in."
"Kid sure likes frogs," Buck said with a bland look at Jake.
"What do you think?" Sarah's parted lips distracted Jake. At least she was looking at him now, and not Cousin Good-Old-Boy-But-Watch-Your-Wallet Buck.
"Sure." Jake dropped the screen lid down. "We'll find something for the frog in town." He urged Sarah forward. "Let's get Nicholas."
With a forefinger, Buck dipped his hat back farther on his head and saluted Jake. "Be seeing y'all later, then?"
The knowing look in Buck's eyes was like a fingernail screeching down a blackboard. Jake reined in primitive impulses and stomped down all kinds of territorial imperatives. "We'll look for you."
"You do that." Buck winked at Sarah. "Bring Nicholas around any time. I like him. Sarah, will you be seeing him after he goes home?"
"I hope so."
Jake hated the small catch in her voice. What a mess.
"When did you say y'all were heading back?" Buck straightened up and his sharpened gaze reminded Jake of a fox on the scent of prey. Buck would go for the jugular.
"I didn't." Jake smiled viciously just for Buck. "But I'll let you know." Jake made sure Buck saw him curve his palm over Sarah's hip bone.
"You do that," Buck said in a level voice. "And in the meantime, take good care of Miss Priss. We're kinda fond of her, even though she's not much bigger than a minute."
J
Jake acknowledged the warning with a nod. He knew what Buck was telling him, and if it weren't for the fact that Buck had gotten under his skin, Jake would like him. Wasn't Buck's fault Jake was on edge.
Not too many men had had the nerve to confront Jake, much less mount a frontal attack. A sneaky admiration shaped his attitude toward Buck. "I won't let anything hurt her."
Buck surveyed Jake. "Don't guess much could get past you." The underlying meaning was clear. Buck inclined his head toward Jake's arm before leaning down and kissing Sarah. "She looks to be in good hands."
"Nice talking with you, Buck." Jake wanted to leave while he could still act like a civilized man. He had to think about the emotions Buck was stirring up in him.
"Good seeing you, Scarey." Buck shoved his hands in his back pockets and, whistling, strolled towards a slim blonde surrounded by kids dangling fish on stringers.
Even though it was pleasant along the river, sweat pooled on Jake's neck. Nerve endings bristled all over his body. He wanted to run. His inner clock was ticking away like a bomb.
Sarah wandered over to Nicholas who squatted on the bank. Light dappled her legs, and shone in a nimbus around her and the boy. The mother and child looked far away and unreal to Jake, like a painting he'd seen in a museum, all muted colors and hazy contours.
Reaching them, he looked at Sarah's tender smile as she lightly touched Nicholas's hair and tweaked his ear. Such yearning and sweetness on her face. So much regret in the way she smoothed Nicholas's hair behind his ear. Jake saw everything in a painful flash.
He'd run out of time.
Chapter Eight
J ake waited for the right moment.
"When am I goin' to see real live Indians?" Squeezed between Jake and Sarah, Nicholas bounced on the truck seat.
Jake drove with his arm across the back so that he could keep the light material of Sarah's sleeve between his fingers. It was his anchor.
Now. Challenge her. Once he told her, though, he thought moodily, he'd lose Nicholas, and he couldn't bear shattering the look on her face as she watched her son. Not just yet. He couldn't tell her in front of Nicholas. There would be a better moment.
Pointing to a small girl dressed in a long, horizontally striped cotton skirt with red, black, and yellow stripes circling the material in varying widths and designs, Sarah answered Nicholas. "The Brighton Reservation is in Glades County. A lot of the kids you were fishing with are Semi-noles."
"Where are their bows and arrows?" Nicholas wasn't happy. Peaceful Indians weren't his idea of adventure.
Sarah changed the subject. "Did you know the Semi-noles are the only undefeated Indian tribe, Nicholas? Maybe you'll see the chief of the Seminoles at the parade."
"Well, that's something, at least," he said. "When are we going to the alligator wrestling? And the rodeo?"
Jake couldn't work up a smile when Sarah looked to him for help as she said, "I think some food first—not ice cream!—before the pet parade, right?"
"Yeah." Stopped in traffic, Jake looked out at the people passing on the sidewalk. Backed by the four pillars supporting the triangular Greek pediment of the courthouse, a small woman waved at them.
"Hey, Crystal Drake!" Sarah called out.
Royal palms, cabbage palms and live oak trees framed a picture straight out of Norman Rockwell, Jake thought, unaccountably provoked by its stability and peace. "This town looks just the way I'd imagine an old, Southern town."
"That's why I stay here. Too much of Florida has been homogenized by tourism and growth. I like a small town." Sarah split a piece of cinnamon gum three ways, handing Jake a square.
He folded it into his mouth. The flavor bit his tongue and he welcomed the sharpness because it pierced the numbness suffocating him.
It should be raining. Then he and Sarah could go home and talk. Once he'd forced the truth from her, who knows? He would kiss her and make her want him, kiss her and touch her until she understood that nothing else was important except the sweetness pouring through her. Not what she'd done, not what he'd been. Nothing was as important as what he could be with her, what she could be with him. He slapped his palm on the wheel.
"Jake?" Worry flowed under her nighttime voice.
He managed a twisted smile. "I'm hungry, too, I reckon." That was the truth of it. "Where do you want to eat?"
She chewed on her thumb. Had Nicholas picked that habit up from her? "How about hitting the food booths after we fix up Froggie here?"
"Soda?" suggested Nicholas.
"Why not?" Sarah tapped his nose. "You're already wired for sound, so how much more harm can a large dose of absolutely calorie-laden, nutritionally empty junk do you?"
"I don't know," he replied earnestly. "Let's see."
Sarah rolled her eyes at Ja
ke. "Want me to tie a string to him so you can reel him in off the ceiling tonight when you're ready to sleep and he's not?"
"He'll crash." Jake glanced down at Nicholas who was banging on the bucket lid. "I think. If he doesn't, I'll send him in with you."
He tried not to think of Sarah in her bed.
She stretched her arms forward and up. The paler skin of her underarm lured his eyes. He wished he could follow the pale line to its disappearance down the sleeve of her blouse and farther. Of its own volition, his finger knuckled the underside of her slim arm. She shivered, and her eyelashes drifted down momentarily.
"Cold?"
She shook her head.
Jake curled two fingers over the curve of her shoulder and refused to think of where he wanted to touch her and how much.
Until he faced her with the truth he had to guard against the lure of her. He couldn't allow himself to think about touching her that way. Couldn't afford to, his damnable inner voice whined. He wanted it over.
They found a cage for the frog and gave in to Nicholas's plea that they buy a tiny dog sweater and tam-o'-shanter for F. Roggie, as Nicholas dubbed him. Jake found himself
cursing dogs and frogs as he worked the small sweater over F. Roggie's bulbous head.
"I don't think he has the neck for sweaters," Sarah snickered when only the frog's unblinking gaze was visible.
"No. Froggie's okay. I like him and he likes me." Nicholas eyeballed F. Roggie. "Is the sweater hurting him? He looks like he don't like it."
Jake decided to rescue Sarah who looked as though she needed a few seconds to steady herself. Every time she looked at the frog, she giggled.
Before he could speak, though, she gasped, "We'll wait and put the sweater on in time for the parade. I don't think he likes formal clothes." She kept looking back and forth from the frog to Jake and laughing.
"All right. What's so funny?" Surprising himself, Jake laughed with her. He'd never had this sense of shared laughter and companionship until Nicholas—and Sarah. It wasn't just the physical attraction he had to resist, it was everything about her.
"Courting," she giggled again. "Remember that old song? 'Froggie went a-courtin'?"
"I remember." Her smile melted some of the ice encasing him. "But green's not my color."
Jake's child Page 12