A Heart of Stone

by Lyn Cote

  A blue Jeep careened around the corner and swooped down on her. She turned her head. “Cash!”

  The brakes screeched. He leaped out and he was there, in front of her. Before she could speak, he began shouting at her, “Hallawell said you were just scratched. Is this what he calls scratched! If I’d known you were this bad, I would have come right away. How could they let you leave like this? I’m taking you right back in there—”

  Suddenly feeling like a fretful child, she whimpered, “No, I want to go home. I want Angie.” She tried to describe all the worries of the whole long, torturous day, but her words were garbled by gasps and tears. “Angie?”

  “Angie’s fine. She’s with Lucy at your parents’ place.” His strong arms went around her, and he hugged her close. He placed fervent kisses on her forehead and mussed hair. “I’m here now. Hush. God’s been good. Everyone’s fine.” His lips and gentle words soothed her.

  She rubbed her face against his dirty, wrinkled shirt-front. He was so real she was comforted at last. She heaved several deep sobs, then she released a sigh. The tension left her so suddenly that she leaned limply against him.

  “I’ll take you home now.” He swung her up into his arms, carried her to the passenger seat of his Jeep and hooked her seat belt for her. Then he drove smoothly through almost-empty, darkened streets. Large branches, and in some places trees and light poles, lay beside the road. Fortunately the nearly full moon was out.

  Jane insisted as strongly as she was able, “I want to see Angie.”

  “She’s fine.”

  Jane said, “I want—”

  “I had to give in to Lucy and your mother. I tried to bring Angie, but they wouldn’t let me out of the door with her.”

  “Are you sure she doesn’t need me?” Jane leaned her head into her hand.

  “It’s dangerous to be out. There are lines down all over, and, as if this weren’t enough, more storms are heading this way tonight Lucy said Angie was already asleep and would be better off with them, but that I was to get you home." He inflected the words to mimic her grandmother’s emphatic way of speaking. This persuaded Jane as nothing else might have. She slumped back against her seat. Everyone was safe. Thank the Lord.

  She asked, “Where were you and Angie when the storm hit?”

  “At Lucy’s. After the all-clear was sounded, the three of us went straight to your parents. Then I headed into town to check on you, but Hallawell flagged me down—”

  “Roger did find you then?”

  “He told me where you and Tish were and that you were scratched up, but okay. I was going to come for you right then, but he asked me to help him—”

  “Help Roger?”

  “There was a lot of territory to cover. The rangers, sheriff’s deputies, civil defense, all of us were stretched pretty thin. So after I stopped back to tell your family about you and Tish, I cruised two camping areas, then met Hallawell, and we patrolled together. He’s still out there, but he sent me to get you. I stopped to get Angie before coming for you. After losing the argument with your family over bringing Angie with me, I came right to the medical center for you.”

  “I love you. I’ll marry you.” Her declaration slipped out naturally.

  At first the man beside her did not react to it. Moments passed. Then he stopped the Jeep. He tugged her face to his and kissed her.

  Cash’s kiss had an effervescent effect on Jane. Inside her, an unseen current bubbled up from her toes, lifting her, making her feel as though she floated near him, weightless.

  He ended the kiss, murmured, “Jane, God knows how much I love you, but I have to get you home now.” He gave her a heartening embrace before he turned to the wheel.

  Soon he drove down her drive. After parking, he led her to the back door. A cold rain began falling, dampening and chilling them. But when she saw by the light of the veiled moon that her snug house was unscathed, warmth filled her heart. Inside her house the floating sensation, which had carried her in, abruptly deserted her. She slumped against Cash.

  “Don’t fade out on me now,” he whispered. He touched the light switch on the kitchen wall out of habit. When no light flashed on, he grumbled, then swung her into his arms again and cautiously made his way through the dark house to her bedroom. He left her sitting on the edge of her bed.

  She heard him making rustling noises in the dark, but she did not feel compelled to make sense of them. Her family was safe, she was in her bedroom, and Cash was with her. Gratitude filled her.

  After leading her to the bathroom, he sat her down on the edge of the tub.

  He rested his hands reassuringly on her shoulders. “I’m going to wash your face and put some antiseptic on those cuts and nicks.” In the low light, he opened the medicine chest over the sink.

  Jane closed her eyes, letting Cash smooth saturated cotton over her face and dabbing here and there. Even the stinging of the alcohol did not rouse her completely.

  Cash said quietly, “I was so worried about you. We will never let things come between us again.”

  She smiled and nodded. She wanted to answer him and tell him again that she loved him, but a day of panic and fear had exhausted her. She walked barefoot across the hall. Cash turned back her comforter for her and she slid between cool percale sheets.

  “Don’t go,” she murmured.

  * * *

  “Don’t worry. Go to sleep.” He sat down on the bedside rocker.

  In the dancing shadows he watched Jane fall asleep. The woman he loved had been spared. She had said, “I love you. I’ll marry you.” She was his at last. Intense gratitude consumed him. He felt so many emotions he couldn’t name them all.

  When she was completely asleep, he drew close to her. Her natural scent and the fragrance of her soap had cast their power over him. Just gazing at her brought him intense pleasure. As she breathed evenly, he bent and kissed her cheek. Thank you, Lord. Please make me worthy of this precious woman. At last he sat back down, propping his feet on the padded ottoman and fell asleep, deeply satisfied, content.

  Chapter 15

  At first Jane’s eyes merely registered light, filtering through her lashes, but the warm, morning sunlight gently nudged her into consciousness. Then she heard the noisy, chattering chickadees on the boughs of the maple tree outside her window. She yawned. She stretched. She sighed. Rolling over, she buried her head into her fluffy down pillow.

  Cash, her mind formed the name. Cash is here with me. She sat up.

  She was alone. “Cash,” she called softly, then louder, “Cash!” His name drew no response. Her face felt tight, dry. She touched it gingerly.

  Rising, she walked into her bathroom. A note taped on the medicine cabinet mirror read: “Jane, I had to go out to the site to assess damage.” She pulled the note off and read it again. All the fear and frustration she had struggled with the day before cascaded through her like white water surging over a rocky riverbed. As a business owner, she understood but... Cash, I want you. I need you—here.

  Warm tears slid down her cheeks. “How can I go to Angie?” she asked aloud. The ache of loss stunned her with its force. She needed to drive with Cash to her parents’ house to see Angie and the rest of her family, to see them safe and whole. She needed to feel their arms around her, smell Angie’s fresh-from-the-bath, baby-powder fragrance.

  As Jane wiped her fingertips over her cheeks, she felt the scratches on her face. She looked into the mirror at her reflection and drew in a sharp breath. Dried blood starkly delineated each small nick on her forehead, cheeks and chin. A few deeper cuts were perilously close to her left eye.

  A vision from the day before of the parking meter piercing her display window sent a chill down her back. For a moment she felt the savage wind, the flying glass, heard the wind’s roar. She felt weak, and rested her elbows on the sink’s rim. “Dear Lord, anything might have happened to us. Anything! Thank You. Thank You for Your protection. Dear Lord—”

  Again, images of the ones she loved
most came before her, tugging at her heart. Oh, Cash, why didn’t you wake me?

  Finally she forced herself to straighten up. Reaching into the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, she selected a tube of antibiotic cream. She applied it to her whole face, and it eased the tightness of her abraded skin.

  Then, with a sigh, she walked across the hall and into her room again. Letting her clothes match her mood, she tugged on old jeans and a faded, navy T-shirt. She made herself walk downstairs to her kitchen for breakfast, just as if it were any morning.

  Another note lay on the table: “Coffee is on the stove, Cash.” She had already smelled the coffee as she walked down the steps. Lifting the pot, she felt it was still hot. She’d just missed Cash.

  For a few fleeting seconds she visualized herself bathing Angie in the sink on the morning after they’d slept in the basement during the storm. She remembered the sleek texture of Cash’s skin as he had surrounded her with his arms while he had splashed his hands in the water with Angie. She shivered.

  Her longing for Cash, Angie, everyone, gripped her. But she couldn’t go to them. Cash had driven off in his Jeep, and her SUV was at the medical center. She lifted the receiver of the wall phone. It was dead. And who knew where her smartphone had blown?

  She poured herself a cup of coffee, but after a few sips she made her decision. Clattering her cup onto the countertop, she jotted a quick note: “At my shop” and slammed out the front door.

  Outside step by step, evidence of the storm’s destruction slowed her and brought a deep soberness to her. Downed branches and large limbs were scattered over the sidewalk and streets. Windows had been boarded up against the night’s rain. Two cars on Main Street lay “beached” on their sides.

  In spite of this, her arrival at the shop jolted her. Someone had boarded up the front display window. Touching her face, she thought of Mel and unlocked the front door. Inside, she propped the door open on its catch.

  The bizarre wreckage inside the shop halted her. Clothing racks were down and scattered. What remained of her current inventory was sodden, twisted and already beginning to smell of mildew. Fighting tears, she took deep breaths and passed a hand over her eyes. “It’s only things, Jane,” she said aloud to herself. “Only things, and to quote Grandmother, ‘Hard work is good for the soul,’ so don’t just stand there, get busy.” She marched briskly to the rear.

  To encourage a cross breeze through the shop, she propped the back entrance open with a broken chair. With a flourish, she flipped on all the switches by the back door. She had power! Electric lights and a ceiling fan whirred to life. “Excellent,” she said with a sigh. Ever so slightly her spirits lifted.

  Stepping carefully over the littered floor, she opened the utility closet, whose latch had held against the wind. From it, she pulled trash bags, a broom, mop and bucket. She paused momentarily to survey the task before her. Then she vigorously slapped open a large, brown plastic bag and began picking up trash blown in after the window broke.

  Roger Hallawell found her bent over, carefully picking up a large pieces of glass. “Jane?”

  She stood up. “How are all the children you brought in yesterday?”

  “I just came from seeing them at the medical center. They were bruised up pretty bad. A few had broken bones, but they’re doing okay. Except for the girl I carried in, they’ll all be going home by eleven.”

  “Oh, I’m glad to hear none of them were seriously hurt.” She smiled at him.

  “I’m off to take stock of damage to my site.”

  “I’m doing a similar operation here.” She motioned around her shop and put her hands on her hips.

  “I stopped here on purpose.” He paused and scanned the littered floor.

  She waited, still looking up at him.

  “I was in the wrong about Eagle Shores, about Langley,” he started hesitantly. “I wasn’t quite honest and I didn’t play it very smart.” He halted.

  She remained silent, not knowing how to respond to him politely.

  He started again. “Yesterday when I watched a tree take that shelter down, I suddenly realized there was more to life than beating the competition. People were counting on me. They needed me.”

  Before she could reply, Uncle Henry and Tish bustled in the back door. “Jane!” Henry called.

  “How’s Aunt Estelle?” Jane asked.

  “Out of intensive care,” Henry answered. “We were there when she was moved this morning. She’s feeling better, but so tired. I thought we should let her rest. Tish suggested that we come and give you a helping hand. Jane, you were a godsend yesterday.”

  With a rueful smile, Tish shyly kissed Jane’s cheek, and Jane pulled her close for a quick hug.

  “I’m glad you came,” Jane said.

  Tish nodded, then began picking up branches, leaves and unrecognizable debris.

  As Roger moved as if to leave, Jane caught his arm. “While I have you two men here, would you lift a few of the heavier racks and see if we can get them to stand up?” Jane pointed to a couple of racks that had clumped together in a convoluted mass.

  Henry came over to help Roger. They hoisted up a long metal pole and held it while Jane unwrapped coils of skirts that were tangled around them. She said, “This reminds me of trying to unravel a twisted necklace from my jewelry case.”

  Cash strode in the back door and came to her. “Here let me help with that.”

  At the sound of his voice, Jane’s pulse raced. But the presence of the others forced her to abandon her first impulse—to rush into his arms.

  As the other men supported the middle of the metal bar, Cash found a part of another rack had become enmeshed in the overall tangle and then he managed to disengage it.

  Jane’s eyes kept drifting to Cash’s face, looking for a lingering spark of the concern he had shown so fully the night before. But all she read was deep concentration on the task at hand. The skirts from the twisted racks were finally separated into individual lumps on the floor. The three men carried the mangled metal tubes out to the alley and stacked them near the overturned Dumpster.

  Hallawell and Cash talked briefly about yesterday’s search. Then Hallawell excused himself to go to his own site.

  Cash walked him to the back entrance. “Call if you need any more help.”

  Jane felt a surge of pride in the man she loved. After shaking hands with Cash, Hallawell left.

  “It’s amazing, isn’t it, Cash,” Henry said, “how two of the display cases shattered, but one remained intact? Was there much damage at your site?”

  Cash shrugged. “Not much. Just a lot of limbs down in a sea of mud. Let’s get this rack up.”

  Jane listened and waited. Still, Cash made no effort to approach her for a welcome kiss or personal comment. Had she misunderstood last night or dreamed it?

  * * *

  Cash hadn’t realized Jane might not be alone when he came. How could he speak to her about their future with Henry and Tish hanging on every word? He gritted his teeth in frustration, but went to help Henry.

  * * *

  Silently unhappy, Jane again unwound each pair of slacks from around the bent circular rack. As Cash talked her through some of the worst tangles, she recalled her anxiety yesterday morning, when Cash had come to take Angie. Earlier in the year she had equated losing Angie with losing Dena. Now she saw clearly that Angie, Cash and Dena were tangled together in her heart like the twisted clothing that she held in her hands.

  After last night she could not bear to go backward in her relationship with Cash. God, help me. Tell me what to say or do. I love him. Does he want me, too?

  Her mind ached with doubt, and she needed a few minutes of solitude. She finished unwinding the last pair of slacks. “I have to go downstairs,” she said over her shoulder. “It just occurred to me that I left the place wide open last night. I have a cash box and a lot of new fall inventory downstairs.”

  “The sheriff had his men out patrolling all night,” Henry said.

/>   In the basement not a thing had been moved out of place. Her newest shipment of wool blend slacks and turtlenecks, awaiting tags, hung against the unfinished concrete wall. Jane shook her head over the contrast above and below the top step.

  She used the quiet to try to get her emotions under control. Cash had proposed twice, but she had refused him twice. What if he didn’t propose again? She racked her memory of last night. After her words of love, he had kissed her, but then her memory failed her? Were they engaged?

  Momentarily she pressed her fingers to her temples, willing away the headache that was trying to come. She wanted to have a time alone to talk with Cash. But in another sense, she wished to hide from him, afraid of what he might say if she hinted at marriage. She sighed in exasperation.

  She still had trouble believing Cash loved her. So much had happened yesterday. And he hadn’t come in and approached her like a man in love.

  Standing in the middle of the basement, she pulled up her reserves of strength and cast her concerns on God’s broad shoulders. Cash might not love her yet, but he had not failed her. He had come for her the night before, and he was here now working hard to restore her shop. She was determined to make him love her or at least to make him happy if he married her. In any case hiding in the basement was no good. She had to go upstairs.

  She started resolutely up the flight of steps. Pausing on the top step, she touched the old-fashioned bolt lock. She didn’t want to think about what would have happened to Mel and her if this bolt had not held yesterday’s wild wind at bay.

  As she emerged from the stairwell, she came face-to-face with Cash. She looked up in surprise, nearly blurting out her musings to him.