"You like picnics?" she asked.
"Only if they include the food from the important food groups … thick sandwiches, potato salad and chocolate cake for dessert."
She laughed. "Ah, a fellow chocoholic."
"Definitely. I've been known to eat a handful of M&Ms and call it lunch, much to Lillian's disgust."
"Lillian?"
"Lillian is the feistiest sixty-two-year-old woman you ever want to meet. I hired her as a secretary six months ago, and she's become both a friend and a nagging surrogate mother figure."
"If she makes you eat more than M&Ms for lunch, then she's definitely worth her weight in gold," Savannah observed.
"And she reminds me of that every day," he replied.
His eyes had lightened, the darkness that had clung to them gone the longer they spoke of mundane things. "Tell me what else you like beside picnics," she said, wanting the pleasant conversation to continue.
He leaned back in the chair and stretched his long legs out before him, his gaze going to the rose bushes in the distance. "I like pepperoni pizza and a warm fire on a cold winter night. I like walking the land of Riley Estates and envisioning what will eventually be built there. I like getting up early enough to see a sunrise. Now, your turn."
For a moment her mind went blank. It had been so long since she'd thought about the things that brought her pleasure. "I like mushroom pizza," she began. "I like curling up with a good novel, working at the Cherokee Cultural Center and cats."
"Cats? I didn't see any cats when I was at your house."
"That's because I don't have one." She and Jimmy had talked about getting a cat many times, but had never gotten around to actually doing it. It was one of the promises they'd made for a future time … like anniversaries … and children … and love forever.
"Why not?" he asked.
"I don't know. I guess it's just one of those things you talk about but never actually take the time to do." h truth, after Jimmy's death she hadn't wanted to be responsible for any living thing.
"Life is pretty short," Riley said. "If you want a cat, you should get yourself one. They're pretty low maintenance from what I hear." He tilted his head and studied her for a long moment. "I would bet you're a low-maintenance kind of woman."
"What does that mean?" she asked, unsure if the observation should offend her or not.
"It's easier to explain if I tell you what a high-maintenance kind of woman is like. Take Patsy, for instance. She was definitely high maintenance. We couldn't go out if the wind was blowing and might mess up her hair. If it was too cold her lips got chapped, if it was too warm she felt faint. And I can't tell you how many meals got sent back to the kitchen when we ate out because they didn't meet her requirements."
Savannah laughed. "My hair is too short to get messed up in a tornado. I have chapped lips most of the time and I've never met a meal that I didn't like."
Riley grinned. "Definitely low maintenance and that's a nice thing."
They continued to talk as dusk shadows deepened and Clay turned on lights in the house that radiated out to the back patio. The dark of night finally swallowed up the purple shadows of night and still Clay worked inside and still Riley and Savannah sat outside, talking and then falling into occasional comfortable silences.
The tension she'd felt radiating from him when she'd first come outside was gone and she sought to continue with a topic that would further relax him. "What's your favorite season, Riley?"
"Any of them except winter. For a builder the enemy is always winter. What about you? What's your favorite?"
"I love the one we're in," she said without hesitation. "Jimmy used to tell me that I was probably the only woman on earth who didn't complain about the cold in the winter, the heat in the summer and the wind in the spring and fall."
"Jimmy … he was your husband." Curiosity lit his eyes. "Tell me about him."
It was odd, to have somebody ask about him. Since the time of his death nobody had wanted her to talk about Jimmy. Move on, they'd told her. Don't dwell on it. Now he wanted her to tell him about the man who had been her best friend, the man she had intended to spend the rest of her life with.
"I'm not sure where to begin," she said, fighting the grief that always accompanied thoughts of Jimmy.
"How did you meet him?"
"That's easy. When I was four, my mother and Jimmy's mother decided to do something to honor the Cherokee heritage. They were instrumental in getting the cultural center in Cherokee Corners started." As she spoke of distant days of childhood, some of the grief subsided. "Anyway, Jimmy was four years old, too. From the very beginning, we were great friends."
"That must have made his loss doubly hard," he said, his voice so soft, so gentle it brought a sudden burn of tears to her eyes as she nodded.
Jimmy. Dear Jimmy, her heart cried. "There are times it's still so hard. He was so much a part of my life. He was such a good man … a kind man."
"What did he do for a living?"
"He'd been a salesman, but he wasn't very good at it. He didn't like to push people, wasn't aggressive enough to be in sales. So, we'd agreed he should take some time and go back to school. He was driving home from night classes the night he crossed the old bridge and hit the guard rail."
Emptiness. She could still feel the emptiness she'd felt when the officers had arrived on her doorstep to give her the news. It had been a cold, hollow emptiness that, at times, still held her in its grip.
She'd thought of taking Riley's hand to offer support when she'd first come outside. But now it was he who reached for her hand, and she welcomed the warmth that seemed to flow straight to her heart.
"There are times you wonder how much suffering the human spirit can endure."
"I guess everyone's threshold for suffering is different. There are some nights I climb up in the girders of that old bridge and stare at the water beneath and wonder if I've finally reached my threshold of pain." The moment the words left her lips she was appalled that she'd confessed such a thing.
Before she knew what was happening, Riley stood and jerked her up before him. His fingers bit into the skin at her shoulders. "My God, Savannah. Surely you don't go up there and contemplate … even entertain for one moment the desire to … to…" He broke off, as if finding the thought too horrible to be spoken aloud.
He grabbed her to his chest, wrapped his arms around her and held her tight against him. She wanted to protest, but his arms were so strong, his chest so broad, and it had been so achingly long since she'd been held.
"If you ever, ever feel desperate and as if you can't go on, you call me. I'll help you get through the dark hours until you get strong again."
His words once again brought tears to her eyes. How long had it been since anyone had cared about those dark hours? Her family members had long ago quit talking about her loss, as if to stop speaking of it would make her heal more quickly.
His body was so warm against hers, and the warmth, coupled with the pleasure of their conversation, made her linger in his arms when she knew she should move away.
His scent, that bold masculine fragrance filled her senses at the same time her fingers itched to touch the rich darkness of hair at the nape of his neck.
She fought the impulse and started to step out of his arms. But when she raised her head to look at him, her breath caught in her chest and she couldn't move an inch. Desire. It radiated from his eyes, a rich desire that drew her into the blue depths.
She knew he was going to kiss her, knew she should step away, break the moment, stop it from happening. But before she could do any of those things his lips were on hers.
Hot and hungry, his mouth demanded … and got a response from her. She was helpless against the sensual assault as his tongue touched first the tip of her teeth, then slid beyond. It was wrong—desperately wrong—but it felt so right, so wonderfully right.
The kiss seemed to last both a single moment and an eternity. She wasn't even sure if he was th
e one to end it or she did. She only knew that one moment his mouth possessed hers, and the next moment it didn't.
She stumbled back from him with a surprised "Oh."
"Savannah."
"I've done everything I can here." Clay's voice boomed from the back door, interrupting whatever Riley had been about to say.
He stepped outside and looked at them expectantly. "Are we ready to take off? I've got some tests I'd like to get to right away."
Couldn't Clay feel the tension in the air … the thick, sexual tension that crackled and snapped between her and Riley? Savannah could certainly feel it. Not only could she feel the invisible tension, but her lips still felt hot and her heart pumped an irregular rhythm and she found it impossible to meet Riley's gaze.
"I'm ready when you are," she said to Clay. She forced herself to look at Riley. "Thank you for letting us in here."
His eyes held a dozen unspoken questions and the whisper of a still-simmering desire. "You'll let me know what you find?" he asked Clay.
"Of course," Clay replied.
"And, Savannah? I'll call you?"
She hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Okay."
For once in her life Savannah was grateful Clay wasn't a talker as they drove back to Cherokee Corners. She didn't want to talk. Over and over again she replayed those moments when his lips had been on hers, when his arms had held her tight. Over and over again her body flushed with heat as she remembered the bliss of his kiss.
It was nearly eleven by the time they got back to Clay's house and Savannah got into her car to drive home. She was nearly home when she realized it was Saturday night … her night to go to Jimmy.
Guilt ripped through her as she realized she'd nearly forgotten. The blackness of despair crept over her, through her. How could she have allowed one simple little kiss to make her forget Jimmy?
Riley had told her to call him when she felt like going to the bridge, but he didn't understand … couldn't understand the despair that drove her there. Nobody could understand.
Tonight her despair was worse than ever as she thought of how easily she'd fallen into the sensual play of Riley's lips on hers. She felt as if she'd betrayed Jimmy, her husband, the love of her life.
Before she knew it, she was at the old bridge, and it took her only minutes to climb the familiar path amid the girders over the dark water of the Cherokee River.
Shame washed over her, not the shame of kissing another man, but the shame of enjoying the kiss of another man. She had promised to love Jimmy through eternity, had vowed that he would always be the only man in her heart.
"You're my woman, Savannah." Jimmy's deep voice echoed in her head. "We were destined to be together … forever … for always."
For just a moment she'd allowed herself to indulge in the possibility of another relationship, another man. Jimmy deserved better than that.
"I'm sorry, Jimmy," she whispered, looking to the water beneath her.
She was overwhelmed, guilt ridden by the fact that she'd enjoyed Riley's company, enjoyed his kiss. She was twisted into knots by the trauma and uncertainty of her parents' well-being. Things had become just so hard. Life had become so difficult.
Her mother was gone, her father in a state of limbo and she was lonely … so very lonely. Why hang on? Why face another day? What was the point of getting up in the morning? Going on with her empty life?
"Jimmy." She tried to feel the same anguish she'd felt the last time she'd been here, the strong desire to jump and join him in the spirit world. She closed her eyes against the tears that burned.
If she did jump she would be in the arms of her husband forever. She wouldn't have to deal with the unanswered questions where her father and mother were concerned. She could just let go … let go of life and be released from all pain.
But when she looked down at the river, it was Riley's face she saw reflected on the water. His blue eyes shone like stars in her mind, his smile like the sun lighting up the sky. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed again, not wanting to think about him.
Jimmy … that's who she should be thinking about. Jimmy, who had loved her so deeply, who had been her soul mate. Jimmy deserved her love, her devotion.
The ringing of her cell phone shattered the silence of the night and her thoughts. She ignored the first four rings, but whoever was trying to get in touch with her was persistent, for the phone kept on ringing.
She finally answered.
"Savannah?" A subdued excitement filled the voice of her sister, Breanna. "You've got to get over here to the hospital. Daddy's waking up."
* * *
Chapter 7
«^»
By the time Savannah arrived at the hospital, Scott Moberly was skulking around in the lobby. "Hey, Savannah." His boyish features lit up as he spied her coming through the double door. "I heard your father's waking up."
"That's what I've heard, too." Savannah didn't stop her progress toward the door that led to the patient rooms.
"Will you tell me what he says…"
Scott's voice disappeared as the door closed behind her. Ahead of her, down the distance of the long hallway, she saw a group of people gathered outside her father's door. Breanna and Adam were there, as well as Clay and Glen Cleberg.
Breanna and Adam saw her first and hurried to meet her. "Dr. Watkins is in there with Dad now."
"How's he doing? Can he speak? Has he said what happened to him? To Mom?" The bridge she'd just climbed down from seemed very far away as adrenaline pumped through her.
"We don't know anything yet," Adam said. "The doctor has been in there with him since we all arrived."
The three of them joined the others who stood just outside the closed door.
"Who called Moberly?" Savannah asked. "He was perched like a vulture in the lobby when I came in."
"The little twerp was hanging around at the station when the call came in about your dad," Glen explained. "I'd put the word in that I wanted to be notified immediately if there was any change in Thomas's condition."
Before anyone could say anything else, Dr. Watkins stepped out of the room and into the hallway. They all converged on him, and he held up his hands to silence them.
"He's awake and he's talking. But it appears he's suffered some damage to his motor control. He's confused and a bit disoriented, so we're going to make your visits brief. You can go in a couple at a time for a few minutes."
It was decided that Breanna, Adam and Clay would go in first. "I do not want him upset," Dr. Watkins said. "I know you're all eager to get some answers, but I don't want him pushed. He's quite fragile right now, and I won't have him set back by everyone demanding more than he can give at the moment."
He followed the first group into the room while Savannah and Glen remained in the hallway.
"When are you going to let Clay come back to work?" she asked her boss.
"I thought maybe he already returned to work without my notice. The CSI van was missing for several hours this evening." He cocked an eyebrow. "Want to tell me what that was all about?"
Instantly her head filled with the memory of Riley's kiss, that heavenly, hot kiss that had given her a moment of pleasure and more time of torment.
"Savannah?"
Even though she knew he'd be irritated, she told Glen about going to Sycamore Ridge and Clay reprocessing the old Frazier crime scene.
"That case is closed," Glen exclaimed. "Your afternoon there was a waste of time."
"Maybe," she agreed. "But keeping Clay out of his lab and away from his work is a waste of his talent."
"You James people hang tighter than anyone I know," Glen said irritably. "I've already heard it all from your sister when she got here."
"Clay needs to work. That's all he has at the moment to keep him sane."
"I'm releasing the house tomorrow," Glen said. "We've done all we can there. And if I know Clay, the minute I tell him the house is released he'll be over there reprocessing that scene." Glen shoved his hands
in his pockets and leaned again the wall. "Who knows, maybe he'll be able to pick up something we missed."
Before they could speak further, Breanna, Adam and Clay filed out of the room. Breanna was teary-eyed but smiling, and Adam leaned over and whispered something in her ear and her smile grew brighter as love for him poured from her gaze.
A thick shaft of envy struck at Savannah's heart. How lucky Bree was to have someone to hold her hand, support her and love her.
She thought of Riley's hand … so big … so warm and with just enough rough edges to be interesting. She frowned. Why was she thinking of Riley's hand? She should be remembering the feel of Jimmy's hand holding hers.
Dr. Watkins appeared at the door and motioned to Savannah and Glen. Savannah went in first and her heart swelled to fill her chest at the sight of her father's familiar blue eyes gazing at her.
"Daddy," she said, and rushed to his side as Glen remained standing just inside the doorway.
"Savannah … my shining Silver Star." Although the words were slurred, they were intelligible, and a vast relief swept through her. He was lucid enough to know who she was, to remember her Cherokee name, and he could talk. At the moment nothing else seemed quite as important.
She took his right hand, which remained limp and unresponsive in hers. "You've had us all so very worried."
"Sorry." His eyes held bewilderment. "Where's your mama … why isn't she here with me?"
Savannah exchanged a look with Glen, who stepped up to the foot of Thomas's bed. "Do you know how you got hurt, Thomas?" Glen asked.
Thomas frowned and with his left hand reached up and touched the swath of bandages on the back of his head. "Did I fall?"
"Don't you remember?"
Panic filled Thomas's eyes. "Am I supposed to remember?" His frantic gaze went from Glen, to Savannah, then back to Glen. "Where's Rita? She'll remember. I don't … I can't…"
"Shh, it's all right, Dad," Savannah assured him, and shot a warning look to Glen. "You just rest now. You rest and get better, stronger. That's what's important."
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