Faithless Angel (21 page)

He cut the mower engine, planted one hand on his hip, and faced her.

“Hungry?” She held up the plate of brownies.

He shook his head and wiped at the sweat dripping down his temples.

“How about thirsty?” She held up a glass of lemonade, then patted the spot next to her. “Take a break.”

“I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“You work too much. Besides, it’s my yard, so that makes me the boss. I’m ordering you to take a break.”

He strode toward her but he didn’t take a seat. 0Instead, he simply stood there and took the glass of lemonade she held up.

Tilting his head back, he gulped the contents of the glass. Liquid dribbled down the corners of his mouth, and Faith took a sip of her own lemonade to soothe her suddenly dry throat.

“Thanks.” He handed her back the empty glass.

“You sure you don’t want a brownie?”

“No, thanks.”

“How about a sandwich? I could rustle up some bologna and cheese. Or maybe some roast beef. My fridge is full now.”

Another shake of his head.

“Then what do you want? I mean, I know you live
for lawn maintenance, but that’s not what keeps you coming back. At least I don’t think so. So what is it, Jesse? What do you
really
want?”

He gave her a pointed stare. “I really want you to come to Faith’s House with me today.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“We’ve had this discussion before.”

“This isn’t a discussion. I’m not asking you, Faith. I’m telling you.” His jaw tightened with determination. “Those kids need you. Are you blind? Couldn’t you see how much they missed you night before last?”

“That’s because I haven’t been gone for very long. They’ll forget about me.” They will, she added silently, desperately trying to sway that traitorous part of her that insisted otherwise.

He looked ready to throttle her. “You can’t just walk away.”

“I’m not. I’m turning things over to a very capable person—Bradley—then I’m retiring, and it’s none of your business.”

“It is my business,” he muttered, then swore. “It is.”

“Why? Why does it matter to you, Jesse?”

“Because.” He stared down at her, his gaze reflecting the sun that streamed down around them. His eyes burned hotter, whiter, a pulsing iridescent heat that drew her, called to her.

Impossible
. It was obviously a trick of the light. She raised a hand to shield her eyes and blinked.

On the fourth blink, his gaze cooled and she found herself staring into dark, mysterious pools that revealed not a hint of the thoughts racing through his mind.

“If you’re going to tell me that the kids need me,
don’t. They need somebody who doesn’t hold back, and I’m afraid that’s all I can do now. I can’t give one hundred percent.” Her voice threatened to crack and she swallowed, as if that could make saying the words easier. “I don’t want to hurt anymore. And that’s what caring does. It hurts.”

He wanted so much to argue with her. She could see it in his eyes, in the tension that filled his powerful body, but he didn’t say anything. He just glared at her, as if he could exert his will on her with those unnerving eyes of his.

“So you’d just rather look out for number one,” he finally muttered.

“Exactly.”

“And if a few people get lost by the wayside, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. But somebody else can play hero and pick them up.”

“And what if no one does?”

“Someone will,” she insisted. “Someone like Bradley. Like you.”

He laughed then, the sound bitter and pained, and she had the urge to draw him into her arms.

“I’ve never been much of a hero.”

“You saved me from Daniel.”

“It’s my job.”

“It wasn’t. Not then. You risked your neck before you had the job.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“Because you’re like Bradley. You can’t resist a cry for help.”

“
Your
cry,” he said, his words ringing with an honesty that reached out and tugged at her heart. “I can’t resist your cry for help.”

“Well, I’m through crying and I’m through with the kids.” Her voice softened and she rubbed at her
suddenly tired eyes. “You don’t know me around kids. I get close and
bam
, I’m sucked into their lives. I have this constant need to nurture, to help.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to be wrapped up in someone else’s life. I don’t ever want to feel the way I did when they put Jane into the ground. I felt my soul ripped away. I—I don’t ever want to feel that way again, and that means keeping my distance.”

“You’re running away,” he said.

Her gaze collided with his. “I’m not running away, Jesse. I’m
turning
away. I’m not capable of opening myself up and putting other people first anymore. That part of me is gone. I’m just plain old selfish Faith.”

“This wasn’t selfish.” He held up the glass of lemonade and indicated the plate of brownies.

“Oh, no?” She raised an eyebrow at him, a grin tugging at her lips. “And you think I’m the one who’s blind?” When he looked bewildered, she went on, “I wanted an excuse to come out here. To get close to you. I …” She swallowed. “I keep thinking about last night.”

Something ignited in his eyes the moment the words were out of her mouth. She glimpsed desire, desperation, hunger, and …

“I’ve got grass to cut,” he muttered, turning away before she could see any more.

Anger rolled through her. “And you think
I’m
the one who’s running away? You could teach me a thing or two.”

“I’m not running from my responsibilities.”

“No, you’re running from your feelings.”

He whirled. “If you think pissing me off is going to get me off your back about the shelter, then think again.”

“Faith’s House was the farthest thing from my mind. I’m talking about you and me.”

“There is no you and me.”

“I don’t think I ate by myself last night.”

“Last night was last night. This is today.
Tomorrow
,” he said, the word hanging between them, a reminder of what had happened. What hadn’t happened.

He finally shrugged and turned back to the the lawn mower.

“You won’t forget what happened last night,” she told him, her gaze riveted on his back.

“I already have.”

“I couldn’t sleep at all.”

“I slept like a baby.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Liar.”

He straightened and wiped at the perspiration beading his forehead. “Look, Faith. Last night was …” He shook his head. “It shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry it did. It was a mistake.”

“One you don’t intend to repeat?”

“I can’t.”

Faith resisted the urge to break the platter of brownies over his head. “And why is that?”

“Because I don’t want to,” he ground out.

And he thought she was being stubborn? “You’re a liar, Jesse Savage. You want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything.”
Just like I do
, she added silently.

He stiffened, the muscles in his arms bunched tight as he simply stared at her for a long moment.

“What I want more than anything,” he finally said, his voice fueled with a sudden desperation that melted Faith’s anger like an ice-cream cone beneath the blazing Texas sun, “is for you to go back to the kids, to Faith’s House where you belong. You’re
their foster mother. Their role model. Their
savior
.”

She closed her eyes for a long moment, fear battling with the sudden desire to do as Jesse asked, to go back to the kids, to be there when they needed a shoulder to cry on, to listen to their problems and their pasts, to help them—

She shook her head. “You’ve got the wrong person,” she managed, though saying the words hurt with the effort. “I’m nobody’s savior.” Then she stood and walked inside.

“Wait—” Jesse hit the steps behind her, but Faith closed the door.

Tears flooded her eyes as she slumped back against the door and slid to the floor, her knees bunched against her chest.

A collage of images played through her mind, faces from the past, kids whose lives she’d touched so briefly, and it hadn’t been enough. They’d found their way back to the streets. They hadn’t wanted a savior, but Faith had kept going, kept trying.

But Jane had been different….

Faith buried her face in her hands and let the memory return, almost eager to be reminded of her powerlessness, almost pleased to see the bald proof that Faith Jansen couldn’t save anyone.

“Good morning, Faith.” The nurse came up beside Faith, who stood in the hospital lobby waiting for the elevator, a stack of magazines clutched in her arms
.

“Morning, Betty. Did you hear about yesterday?” The doors opened and Faith stepped into the elevator. The nurse followed
.

“Can’t say that I did.” The doors closed and the nurse turned a questioning gaze to Faith. “It was my weekend off. I just came on duty. What happened?”

Faith couldn’t hold back her smile. “She squeezed my hand.”

“Oh, my! That’s wonderful!” The nurse’s smile eased some of the chill that had settled into Faith’s bones over the past several days since Jane had been hit by the car. “You just keep on reading to her like I told you. That girl will come out of it yet. Four days isn’t very long. I’ve seen ’em wake up after a month or more. You just keep the faith, honey.”

Faith nodded. “I’ve got the latest issues of all her favorites right here. An afternoon with
Teen Beat’s
hottest hunks and she’ll be opening her eyes next.”

A bell sounded and the doors opened to the third floor. The nurse stepped off the elevator and turned to Faith. “I bet the whole floor is buzzing about the breakthrough. I’ll try to get up later on my break to see you. Congratulations!”

The doors swooshed closed. Faith leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. Her smile broadened. She could still feel the slight pressure of Jane’s fingers against her own. Just a faint movement, but enough to let Faith know the girl was still with her. Still alive. Still fighting
.

Jane was a fighter, all right, and so was Faith. She wouldn’t let the girl give up. It didn’t matter that the doctors said Jane might never wake up, that her injuries were too severe, that she was just lingering until her poor body gave out completely
.

There was always a chance. Hope. The hand squeeze proved it. Jane would beat the odds as she had when Faith had first met her. The girl had overcome a deep stab wound to the chest, healed after a lengthy surgery, and survived the nightmares that had followed. Jane had made it through then, and she would now. Faith would see to it. She would keep the faith
.

The elevator doors opened again and Faith got off,
heading down the hallway of Ben Taub’s trauma unit
.

Yesterday a hand squeeze. Today … Maybe Jane would actually open her eyes. Maybe she would move her lips. Maybe she’d even say something
—

The thoughts screeched to a halt when Faith reached the open doorway of Jane’s room. Shock bolted through her as she stared at the empty hospital bed. She closed her eyes, praying she was seeing things. But the truth pounded at her, burrowing inside and killing all hope
.

There were no familiar sounds: no hum of the respirator, no steady beat of the heart monitor, no morning talk show blaring from the television set. There was nothing but a chilling silence that sent goose bumps racing along her nerve endings
.

“Ms. Jansen,” came the deep, emotionless voice of Jane’s doctor. “I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”

“Where is she?” Faith asked, the question no more than a rush of breath
.

“Early this morning, I’m afraid …” He paused, the brief hesitation like the final seconds before an execution. “I’m afraid she just couldn’t hold on any longer.”

No!
The cry exploded inside her head and shattered her control. Then came pain, gripping every inch of her body, squeezing her heart, strangling her soul. Not Jane!

But even as denial snaked through, the truth surrounded her in the stark white sheets of a newly made hospital bed, the soft, undisturbed purr of the air-conditioning, the stinging scent of the freshly sterilized tile floor, the small sack of stuffed animals and clothes that the doctor placed near her feet
.

“Here are her things. I had hoped to talk with you before you found out this way….” The doctor’s
words faded into a blur as the magazines slipped from Faith’s numb fingers. The floor started to tilt
.

Her lungs burned with each breath. Her head throbbed. She clutched at the door frame to keep from falling, as if she could hold on to herself, to Jane
.

But it was too late
.

The knowledge beat at her brain until she wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come
.

“She was wearing this,” the doctor said. “I wanted to hand it to you myself. I was afraid it might get lost among all her other stuff.”

“Aw, hell.”

Jesse’s soft words jarred Faith back to reality, to the floor where she sat, the door at her back, and the man on the other side. So close. She felt the pressure of the door against her shoulder blades and knew he sought to touch her, compelled her to open the door, throw herself into his arms, and cry out her troubles.

And everything would be all right.

Then she could go back to Faith’s House. To her life—

But then the pain would come all over again. With some other child. Some other lost soul. The pressure against her back ceased and she knew Jesse had gone.

She forced her eyes open and climbed to her feet. Rushing into the bedroom, she hurried over to the jewelry box and threw back the lid. Nestled inside was a gold half circle attached to a matching chain.

She was wearing this
….

With trembling fingers, Faith picked up the piece of jewelry. It was a friendship circle, or rather half of one. The circle came cut in half to be shared between two friends. Jane had worn one half and given
the other to Faith as a present. As long as they each wore their half, their friendship could never be broken, the bond between them could never be severed.