A Message for Julia (12 page)

He didn't finish his sentence.

“Is to see if he's dead?” she finished for him. Just saying it hurt.

“Yes and no.”

She stood impatiently. “What do you want, Jace? Money? Absolution? Information? I can't give you any of that.”

“I don't want a damned thing from you.” He turned away. He tossed the coffee cup into a nearby trash can, the contents splashing over the rim. “You're not why I'm here, so get over yourself.”

“That's enough.” Shirley stepped forward, surprising them both. “This isn't the time or place to rehash the past. We've got enough going on.”

Jace glared at them both and left the tent. Julia looked over at Shirley. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You're welcome,” Shirley said without any warmth or feeling. “But I didn't do it for you.” She turned and walked away.

Julia stared after both of them, drained and fed up with being here, with all these people, with all this noise, with everything and everyone.

She just wanted it to be over.

But she feared the outcome too much to make it a true prayer.

Saturday Morning, Thirty-Nine Hours Underground

L
INC KNEW, AS THEY ALL DID
, that time was running out. Even with the drills overhead, it was hard to keep up their spirits.

“Hey, Casey,” Zach said. The sound of his voice surprised the others. The desperation in it didn't. “Next weekend's that fishing competition up at Trout Lake. I'm game if you are.”

Casey only grunted an answer, but for some reason it was enough. Linc, and, he hoped, everyone else, took reassurance from the fact that Casey was still with them.

Hopefully heading to Trout Lake next weekend.

Trout Lake. Linc knew the men were trying to find memories to distract themselves. Positive things to think about. Good thoughts to go out on.

Linc didn't have to work at it. There were no stronger memories for him than that lake. With Julia.

The week at the cabin with her felt like a lifetime ago. Earlier, he'd avoided thinking about it, but now with the end so close, he had to face it, had to go anywhere but here.

He'd been a different person then, which, looking
back, probably wasn't a good thing. That guy had been alive and caring. The changes in both him and Julia had been gradual. Had either of them even really noticed? He realized that the wedge between them had begun sometime after they returned from the lake.

He recalled that first night as one of the highlights, albeit a bittersweet one, of their life together. He let his mind go there, let his memories comfort him.

He'd lain beside her, listening to her sleep. That was why he'd taken her to the cabin—sleep was what she desperately needed—and yet his heart and body hadn't cooperated. They wanted more. So much more.

Maybe it was the quiet in the mine, or the desperate situation, or just being away from Julia, but the grief he'd locked away suddenly sprang loose.

Julia had wanted a baby as long as he could recall, but until the tiny life became reality, he'd felt disconnected from it all. They'd celebrated the coming child as couples do, but the difference in his life was minimal. It was
her
body experiencing the changes.

And then came that awful day. Julia had been in the nursery, putting up the duck-and-kitten wallpaper border she'd spent days searching for, when the first pain had hit.

He'd rushed her to the hospital, all the time feeling so inept. He'd never get over the sense that he should have been able to do something to help her, to help
them.
It was that same sense of helplessness he'd felt when his father had been trapped. His inability to take care of the people he loved made him feel inadequate.

The doctors had fought to save the baby—his son—but in the end, they'd failed.

And he'd nearly lost Julia, too.

Linc didn't know when the tears came or when he fell asleep. He let his mind escape. Then suddenly she was with him and they were at the cabin. Together.

Sleep-mussed, alive and incredibly beautiful, sipping at his leftover whiskey, she looked at him with a desire in her eyes that eclipsed his own.

The firelight was dim, but it provided enough illumination that he could see her clearly—very clearly. His Julia was as beautiful as ever.

He knew her. Knew so much about her. The feel of her soft skin. The taste of her kisses. The sound of her sweet cries of fulfillment. What it felt like to be inside her.

Linc stood, half-afraid that if he sat so close to her much longer, watching her, needing her, he'd do what he'd sworn he wouldn't.

This week was about her, about her recovery. That may or may not include making love, but it would be her choice. Her decision.

Not his, and most certainly not at the level of intensity his body was asking for. He ran a hand through his hair. Maybe he should go for a run around the lake. He had to relieve this pounding need somehow.

She stopped him, pressing up against him, her body hot against his. She stood on tiptoe and gently kissed each of his eyes.

Linc stifled a groan.

Did she have a clue what she was doing to him? She'd
always been the one to take the first step in their relationship. She'd had to dare him to kiss her. The night she'd stomped across campus…

She'd led the way and he'd so very gladly followed. Not because he didn't want her. But because he wanted her too much and was scared of hurting her. Scared of screwing up the best thing in his life.

But this time was different. He didn't know where she was headed.

“So, you think you're ready?” His voice cracked.

“Oh, yeah.” She gave the waistband of his pajamas a hard tug and he smiled back.

“But not yet.” He pulled her closer, if that were possible, and lowered his head to kiss all the way from her ear to her collarbone. “Or we'll be finished before we even get started. It's been too long.”

“Way too long.”

His lips devoured hers, and he couldn't seem to hold her tight enough. He had no intention of ever letting go.

Julia sighed in contentment, and Linc reveled in the feel of her hands sliding down his spine, to his lower back, over the waistband of the damned pajamas. What had he been thinking when he'd packed them? Not this.

He pulled back, wanting to see her face. The fireplace flames reflected in her eyes, casting warmth through her and to him. He trailed kisses over her eyes and her cheeks.

Julia leaned back as well, pressing her hips tighter to his, letting the light play over the slope of her breasts.
He moved lower, parting the loose robe. His lips closed over her nipple and his tongue danced over the pebbled tip.

She cried out and pressed her fingers against the nape of his neck, urging him on.

He was more than ready to oblige.

Her clothes fell away, scattering across the rug in a haphazard pattern. His robe and pajamas joined the mix and somehow they were stretched out in front of the hearth.

Their bodies bathed in the dancing firelight, they both looked their fill, something he hadn't done in a long time.

Every inch of her glowed. She was ready for him. Very ready, but Linc wanted this to last.

He moved slowly down her body, alternating kisses and licks to the shadows and valleys. Of her breasts. Of her waist. Of the marks that would always be a reminder of what her body had been through. Slowly, softly, reverently, he kissed each of the tiny lines.

Her fingers clung to him, at first running through his hair then curling and gripping his shoulders as her desire escalated.

“Linc. Please. Now.”

“Patience,” he whispered, though he had every intention of giving her what she wanted. His need matched hers. He wanted to fill her, to feel her around him as her tension built.

Unable to hold back, he thrust into her. He wanted to give, yet selfishly knew he'd relish the outcome as much as she did.

They moved together. The same rhythm, the same pace as they'd done for ages but different this time. Sweeter. Stronger. As if they were now even closer in tune.

He tried to hold back, to move carefully, but Julia matched his moves and urged him on. Clenching his teeth, he barely kept control, feeling her release building higher, tighter. And then it crested through her, and she cried his name. He was lost in her, fully and completely.

Moments passed as they returned to earth. The fire popped and Linc's mind clicked back into gear. His breath ragged, he lifted himself off her, leaning on his elbows to peer down into her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For?” He gave her his best wry grin.

“For everything.”

He kissed her then, softly, gently, and knew that he'd never been more afraid. He swallowed hard and buried his face against her neck. “Ah, babe. I'm sorry.”

“What?”

He doubted she could have been more shocked if he'd dumped cold water on her. He knew he had to explain. They should have had this conversation before making love. “We didn't use any protection. You could get pregnant.”

She stared at him. “And that's a bad thing because…?” She pushed, and he let her move away.

He grabbed her robe and handed it to her, then pulled on his own. “It's too soon. Besides, I'm not sure I can go through that again. I certainly don't expect you to.”

“And you thought we would come up here for a whole week and not make love?”

“No. I brought stuff.” He thought about the box of condoms at the bottom of his suitcase.

Julia yanked hard on her belt and stood. She picked up the whiskey glass and nearly took a drink. She stopped with the glass against her lips, as if she wasn't sure she could stop once she started, then crossed to the sink to dump it out. She took her time rinsing the glass before turning to face him.

“It's not your fault. Mine, neither. I need you, Linc. Don't you want me?”

He hesitated, knowing his answer would hurt her. “I'll always,
always
want you.” He stepped closer to her, but didn't reach for her. The very thought of not wanting her was painful. “But I'm not sure we're ready for that yet.”

It had taken three years for Julia to get pregnant once they'd decided to start a family. Even she had nearly given up. He couldn't watch that hope die again.

“Oh, Linc. I can't live afraid of what might happen. I'm more afraid of what we'll miss out on.” She faced him and reached out to run her fingers along his jaw.

He flinched, not because he didn't want her touch, but because he did. Too much to resist.

Her voice was so quiet that he had to strain to hear her. “I want to have your baby.”

“I know.”

“A child would be a part of both of us. A part of you that I'd always have.”

He found himself reaching for her again, agreeing to
keep trying. Agreeing to anything that would take the hurt away.

Linc jerked painfully awake. Julia's words echoed through time and the dark, cold mountain where he now sat huddled.

He hadn't kept that promise. Despite trashing the box of condoms, Julia hadn't gotten pregnant in the months since. She wanted to see a fertility doctor. That's why the distance grew between them, why the arguments began.

Linc truly believed that if they were meant to have a child, they would. Julia did
not
agree. Maybe he was avoiding reality, but so was she. Even a doctor couldn't guarantee everything would work out. Linc saw only the heartache waiting for them if they went down that path.

Now, sitting here in the chamber that would most likely become his grave, his emotions waffled back and forth. He was thankful he wasn't putting a child through what his father's ordeal had put him through. And yet…Julia so wanted a baby, and he'd failed her. He hadn't left her with that piece of himself she'd asked for. Linc's throat tightened up. This time Julia wouldn't be able to kiss the tears away.

Saturday Morning, 5:30 a.m.

A
NGER, FRUSTRATION AND JUST
plain stress all compelled Julia to follow Shirley. “What the hell do you mean you didn't do it for me?” She reached the woman's
side and grabbed her arm. “You're not walking away from that kind of a comment.”

“How
dare
you.”

“How dare I what? Question you? Follow you? Try to understand what's going on?” Disgusted, Julia shook her head. “Give me a break. You don't care about anyone else's feelings, do you, Shirley? You just want everyone to be calm. Well, I
can't
be calm.”

Julia glared at Shirley. Shirley made her feel uncomfortable and unwelcome, especially since she'd talked to Ryan about not going into the mine. The lasting effects of that hostility reached out now.

Julia stood her ground and realized all too quickly that every eye in the tent had turned toward them. There was no going back now. “Is it just Ryan or is there something else? I get the feeling your animosity has something to do with my husband's job,” she added.

“You're damned right it does.” Shirley leaned in close. “Since the accidents over the past couple of years, the government has become paranoid. The inspectors, like your husband, are too powerful.”

Julia stared in shock. “So, you think it's okay for mine owners to get away with risking their employees' lives?”

“That's not what I said.”

“It's what you meant and exactly what's happened for years.”

“What do you know?”

“I know plenty.” Julia felt the blood rushing through her body. Now she saw what Linc was up against every day. She didn't know how he kept doing it, but she was
proud of him. “Does the name Alton Mining ring any bells?”

She refused to look at her father. She didn't have to wait for Shirley to answer. The color drained from the older woman's face. “I see it does. My father owned that mine.”

Everyone in the industry had heard of the Alton Mine tragedy that had killed fifteen men and trapped ten others for two days. The accident had caused the creation of an entire system of mining regulation, the system that now required men like Linc.

“I know both sides of this industry. My husband does what he does because he believes in it. Because his father was one of the men who died.”

Shirley's eyes shone but Julia didn't take time to consider why. She barely breathed, much less thought.

“Every mining law in this country is written with honest, innocent men's blood. Linc works to make sure that blood wasn't shed in vain.” She stopped, the stricken look on Shirley's face telling her she'd gone too far. Her hand flew to cover her mouth as she became painfully aware of what she'd said.

Silence was the only answer for a long time.

Mamie stepped forward, leaning heavily on her walker. “Julia, you don't know.”

“Don't know what?”

“It's no one's business,” Shirley said.

Julia rounded on her again. “It sure is if it's why you treat me like a second-class citizen. We're all in this together, Shirley. Everyone is at risk of losing someone they love.”