Saint (40 page)

“Give,” he commanded hoarsely against her
throat. “I won’t settle for part of you, I want all of you.”

“There is no more,” she moaned.

One soapy hand delved between her thighs,
slick, warm, titillating, sending a shaft of pure unadulterated desire bolting
through her body. If only he had turned this charm on her—this raw
scintillating side he’d recently revealed—when they’d first met, she would have
shouted for joy. But he chose now. Now, when she didn’t want to feel, when she’d
finally reached a place where she could function without exerting too much
effort.

He was gentle and giving, urgent and open.
Seth was living again, while she was struggling just to survive inside herself.
But he wanted to do more than please her body, he wanted to invade her
thoughts, be a part of her, and she couldn’t let that happen.

Oh God, how was he doing it? How was he
living again while she remained trapped in this void? Afraid to leave, afraid
to stay.

“Don’t go there,” he demanded softly,
sensing, as he always did, what was happening in her mind. “Focus on me. On
this moment.” He lifted her up and came into her. “This. Us.”

The screams echoed in her head at the same
time she exploded into climax, he right behind her. “Nooooooo!”

He caught her against him as she collapsed.
For a heart-stopping moment she thought he was going to say the one thing she
couldn’t bear to hear. Please God, don’t let him say it. Don’t let him ever say
those words.

Seth reached over and turned off the water,
which was starting to turn cool, then wrapped Maria in a thick towel and
carried her to the bed. He held her close against him while she cried,
gut-wrenching sobs that racked her petite frame. Six weeks had come and gone,
and though she’d made progress, she still had a long way to go. In another six
weeks, possibly sooner, he wouldn’t be able to keep the truth from her. She
would see it, feel it.

“Ria, do you trust me?” he asked when her
sobs had died down to hiccups.

“With my life. You already knew that.”

“But not with your heart. You don’t trust
me with that, hmm?”

“Please don’t,” she whispered against his
chest.

“Ria, if I could carve out the images in
your mind, I would. You have to let it go. Let it out. Don’t learn to lock it
down like I did. Don’t hate yourself for surviving. I couldn’t help Carolyn,
but I can help you if you let me.”

She went stiff at the mention of Carolyn’s
name. “You don’t know…you don’t know the things I know.”

He couldn’t very well expect her to talk
about her debilitating experience if he held back his own ordeal. “Carolyn was
pregnant at the time, only I didn’t know it until the box containing the embryo
arrived on my doorstep. I’d already received several other packages with…you
get the picture.”

A fresh stream of tears slid down her
cheeks. “No…you don’t know the things…she did. You didn’t…hear her screams—”

He gripped her by the shoulders, bringing her
up to eye level. “Listen to me. You didn’t hear Carolyn’s screams. You only
imagine you can hear them because you were in the same room where she died. I
imagined far worse than anything that bitch could ever have told you. If you
believe anything Nina Juarez said, then she controls your thoughts. Did Nina
know you belonged to me?”

She shook her head.

“Then why would she tell you about Carolyn?”

“She…she…described them…in detail.”

“Them…? Aw shit.” He growled, gathering her
close. “You have to tell me, Ria. Did she mention names?” How many others had
suffered the loss of loved ones at Nina’s hand without knowing the outcome?

“Just Carolyn. And a man named…Jared
Dempsy. She s-said he was her fr-fr—”

“Shhh,” he crooned softly, stroking her
hair. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not okay!” Her fists beat into his
chest, disconnected phrases tumbling out in no particular order. “She’s gone
and I’m here with you and…she’s in my head! They’re all in my head—Francis and
Ray and Buck—and, oh God, the things that monster did to them! The things he
did to her. I shouldn’t have listened…they’re all dead… I didn’t know about the
baby…there was so much blood…I could taste it…smell it…”

Her anguish knifed through his gut to the
very core of him. He let her work out her frustrations on him, relishing each
blow because he knew when it was done she would start to heal. He knew the
impotent rage welled up inside her, had heard those same voices echoing through
her head. Seth knew the face of every man he’d slain and every soldier he’d
watched die.

When Maria was totally exhausted and
leaning limply into him, he drew her back on the pillows and kissed her
tenderly. “You must hate me for letting you get in so deep. For leaving you
alone and vulnerable.”

She turned her face into his neck. “I don’t
hate you. I hate all of them for not fighting back harder. I—I did so little to
stay alive. And I put you through that hell all over again. How can you stand
to be near me?”

“Because,” he whispered against her temple,
“I can’t stand not being near you.”

She pressed trembling fingers against his
lips. “Don’t. I can’t.”

“I think you can. I didn’t dream I’d ever
get to this point, ever be able to feel this way again. And I’m not going to
let you grow into a cold, bitter woman if I can help it. To watch you go
through this—” He captured her fingers and held them. “It’s killing me inside.
I know you’re scared, baby. I felt the same way every time you came near me in
the beginning.” He kissed the top of her head and left the bed to dress. “Get
some sleep.”

What had he expected, for her to fall into
his arms and say I love you? It had taken him six years to get to this point
and he was trying to push her through the process in less than three months.
She’d made amazing progress so far, but he knew that was because he’d been here
to force the issue.

He ate alone that evening. Maria was
sleeping peacefully for the first time in weeks and he didn’t have the heart to
wake her. She needed peace where she could find it. Perhaps if she couldn’t give
herself to him, she could give part of herself to someone who couldn’t be
denied.

* * * * *

“Why don’t you pick out one of the upstairs
bedrooms for Bethy and I’ll get started on it,” he suggested the next day. “It’s
time she came home.”

Maria chose a room at the opposite end of
the hall by the window that looked out over the front lawn. She wanted Bethy
close, yet far enough away that the little girl wouldn’t hear the cries only
nightmares can bring.

“This doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to anything
permanent,” she said haltingly.

“Yes it does.”

“How do you figure?”

“You’re still here.”

Seth worked diligently on the little girl’s
room for the next two weeks. Maria slept through at least half that many
dinners. It was all she really seemed interested in at present. But that was
normal, given her depressed state and physical condition.

On one of the evenings she did manage to
stay awake, he built a fire in the fireplace and turned on the radio. “Come on,”
he held out his hand when a slow ballad started, “Dance with me.”

She stared at him with doe eyes. “You like
to dance?”

“I used to like doing a lot of things. I’d
like to do them again, with you.” He grasped her hand and pulled her from the
couch and into his arms. They moved slowly around the floor, the crackling of
the fire and the soft music creating an intimacy he knew she was uncomfortable
with.

He decided to keep the conversation in safe
waters, for now. “Tell me about Bethy.”

“Mmm, Bethy. Well, she’s a typical five-year-old
going on fifteen. Joan told her the story of Joan of Arc, and even though she
definitely doesn’t want to be burned on the grill, she’s decided she wants to
be a general when she grows up. He even managed to scare up a pair of
camouflage pants and a shirt in her size.”

He tried to picture the small girl wearing
war garb, ordering around a man half the town took care to avoid and he chuckled.

“You won’t think it’s so funny when she
insists you call her General Carvania. And she made Joan have tea with her. I
hope you like tea.”

“Hot or iced?”

“Invisible.”

“Ah,” he nodded in understanding. “Well,
Joan has a way with kids. It’s too bad he never married again and had some of
his own. He runs a shelter for the kids in town, so I guess that satisfies him.
What?” he asked when she began to chew on her lower lip.

“Nothing.”

“If you’re worried about Bethy spending
time with Gabe—”

“No, it’s not that.”

“What then? Come on, Ria, don’t make me
drag it out of you.”

Sighing heavily, she said, “I guess it
really doesn’t matter if I tell you now. But you have to swear never to mention
it to Joan.”

“Oh,” he caught on when she continued to
wait expectantly. “You really want me to swear. Okay I swear.”

“Lolita and Joan, well they sort of…got
together and…Lolita thought she might be in the family way. She came over to my
house the night… Well, anyway, she’d bought one of those over-the-counter
pregnancy tests and it turned out positive. She was planning to keep the baby,
but worried that Joan would find out and do something rash. When she visited me
in the hospital she told me that she’d repeated the test and it was negative.
False alarm.”

Seth felt as though someone had punched him
in the stomach. The test Francis found while searching her house hadn’t been
Maria’s. It was Lolita’s.

“Seth?” she queried softly when he went
still.

He let out the breath he’d sucked in. “Wow.
Joan and Lolita. That would’ve taken some getting used to.”

Her lips twitched, almost giving way to a
smile. Almost.

“I guess I’m pretty boring compared to the
rest of them, huh?” he mused. “All Francis ever had to do was smile and the
women flocked to him. Joan’s having illicit affairs with strippers and Gabe’s
going to be a father. Even Bethy outranks me.”

“Poor baby.” She moved away to settle back
down on the pillowed sofa. “Gabe told me once that his wife was the meanest
little filly in Texas.”

“Gabe’s wife doesn’t have a mean bone in
her body.” He lowered himself down beside her, propping his socked feet on the
new glass coffee table.

“Seth, what about your teaching job?”

“What about it?”

“Well, I mean you bought this house and you’re
fixing it up like—”

“Like I intend to stay permanently?” he
finished for her. “I remember the first time you saw this house. You had this
strange glow in your eyes and even though none of us could see it, you saw the
charm this old place has. You told Gabe this house could do things for a woman
that a man could only dream of doing. I couldn’t think of a more perfect place
to bring you. I know what it’s like to crave a slow, easy pace with little or
no complications.”

“You quit your job at Murray State?”

He shrugged. “I took a leave of absence. A
fellow professor is covering for me. He’s only part-time, so it wasn’t a
strain. I’m not draining my resources if that’s what you’re wondering. I made
combat pay plus bonuses before resigning my commission, pulled in several good
pay years with government assignments after that and invested wisely. After
Carolyn died I didn’t need much. Aren’t you going to ask me if I killed Benito
Juarez?”

Her eyes turned leaden as she stared at the
fireplace. “I hope you did,” she replied bitterly.

“Marry me.”

“Drop dead.”

* * * * *

For the next two days he kept the radio
tuned to news channels, letting the outside world invade their privacy.

Maria turned it off. He turned it back on,
saying, “One of us has to keep up with what’s going on beyond the boundaries of
this property.”

“Why? It’s the same old thing, kids killing
kids, robbery, murder…”

“It’s called life,” he countered. “And life
goes on whether you want it to or not. It’s a choice between wasting quantity
or making the most of quality. I used to think I could bury my head in the sand
and ignore life but then this civic-minded ball of fire landed on my mountain
and blew that theory to hell. Not because she cared enough to try to make a
difference, but because she was willing to give heart and soul making the
effort. Not many people stick to their convictions when the going gets rough.”

“Right,” she gave a short, harsh laugh. “This
from the man who said ‘cut your losses and run.’”

“You should have but you didn’t. You went
the distance, Ria, and it did make a difference. You’re holding onto the wrong
end.”

The next morning over breakfast she seemed
to be mentally wrestling with a dilemma. “I, uh…thought maybe I’d send out a
few freelance pieces and see what happens.”

Seth wanted to shout with relief. Finally,
she was interested in something outside these clapboard walls. Something
outside herself. But his joy was tempered with sudden unease. Freelance
journalists traveled. “And what if something does happen?”