Jake's Bride (21 page)

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Jake sought refuge in his office and stared out the window, feeling numb.  He didn't know what to believe anymore.  He couldn't think.  He couldn't feel.  He could only ache without knowing why.  The sun moved toward the west, its rays fading from the office.  Without its warmth, the December air coming through the window became cooler.

He glanced at his watch.  Christopher was usually up by now, peeking into the kitchen to see what his mother was cooking, or slipping into Jake's office to see what he was doing.  Concerned, Jake went upstairs and pushed open the door to Christopher's room.

His son wasn't in his bed.  Or in any other part of the room.  Jake looked from corner to corner, from toy box to bookshelves.  No Christopher.  Maybe he was in Sara's room.  What used to be Sara's room.

Jake pushed open the door and stepped inside.  It still looked like her room.  Her mother's perfume bottles sat on the vanity.  A book she'd started before their trip to Las Vegas lay on the nightstand.  A pair of black espadrilles sat by the chair.  Her wicker handbag hung by its handle on the closet doorknob.  Most of her belongings were still in this room.  He hadn't suggested she move everything over and she hadn't asked.  A pang of regret stung a place on his heart that hurt already.

He checked his room next, both bathrooms, and still didn't find his son.  Worried, he called Christopher's name over and over then rushed downstairs.  He examined every room, every corner.  The kitchen door stood open.  He pushed the screen door and plunged onto the back porch calling, "Christopher," over and over again.

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Slowing her stride, Sara tried to calm herself, tried to believe she and Jake still had a chance.  Why was he so determined to believe the worst of her?  Why couldn't he take her at her word?

She didn't have an answer when she returned to the front door, out of breath, and still hurting.  Taking a few deep breaths, she opened the door and went in.

Jake rushed in from the kitchen.  "Have you seen Christopher?"

"Christopher?  No.  Why would--?  Where is he?"  Her voice rose with the panic she saw on Jake's face.

"I don't know.  I can't tell you to stay calm because I can't.  God, Sara, what are we going to do?  I've looked everywhere.  I'm ready to call Gillian and the police.  What if he wandered into the yard and somebody took him?"

Jake was the private investigator, the former cop who knew all about the dark side, about what could go wrong rather than right.  She'd taught Christopher boundaries.  He couldn't  have broken through all of them.  "Tell me what happened."

Jake paced across the living room.  "I went upstairs to get him up, and he wasn't there."

"He doesn't take a nap everyday."

Jake stopped for a moment.  "Of course, he does.  We put him in his room--"

Shaking her head, she explained, "Some days he falls asleep.  Others, he reads or plays."

After a tense pause, Jake mowed his hand through his hair.  "All right.  Maybe he wasn't napping.  But he should still be in his room."

"Not if he heard us arguing.  Not if he got scared."

The worry in Jake's brown eyes changed to panic again.  "So we're back to where he would go.  Honest to God, Sara..."

"Did you check all his hide-and-seek hiding places?"

"What are you talking about?"

"When we play hide and seek.  When you two play in the yard he always hides behind the crepe myrtle or next to the shed or under the sliding board.  He has hiding places in the house, too.  We play while you're working."

"Where?"  Jake was already heading for the stairs.

"Jake, if he's scared, I don't want to scare him more."

Jake stopped on the first step.  "All right.  I'm calm.  Now show me."

Sara crossed to him and gave him a gentle push.  "Look under your bed."  His body tensed under her hands and she remembered every word of their disagreement.  Then he climbed the steps, moving away from her touch and she sighed, telling herself to handle one crisis at a time.

Christopher wasn't under the bed or in the bathtub or behind his toy box.  Sara went to the closet in her bedroom, Jake tight on her heels.  Opening the door, she flicked on the light and almost collapsed from relief when she saw two small stockinged feet on the left side of the closet.  She alerted Jake by pointing.

When he saw Christopher's feet, the relief on Jake's face was obvious.  So was the love as he sat down on the floor.

Sara pushed her clothes aside and curled up next to their son, too.  "Watcha doin'?"

"Nothin'."

"We couldn't find you.  We were very worried."

Jake tapped Christopher's foot because the three-year-old was staring at his lap and wouldn't look up.  "You shouldn't hide from us."

"You yelled at Mommy."  His big brown eyes were shiny, and Sara could imagine what Christopher's accusing look was doing to Jake.

"And I yelled back," she added.  "Christopher, your dad and I had an argument.  Adults do that some times.  We didn't mean to scare you."

"You did."

Sara slipped her arm around him, tucking him close to her side.  "We're sorry.  Especially today.  Christmas Eve is special.  We want you to be happy, not afraid."

"Are you and Daddy still mad?"

She couldn't speak for Jake, and she wouldn't lie to their son.  "We have to talk some more before we know.  But I'll tell you what.  Your Dad and I will forget about being mad at each other until after Christmas.  Christmas isn't a time for being mad.  It's a time to give lots of love and hugs and kisses."

"And presents," Christopher added.

"And presents," Jake agreed, holding out his arms to his son.  "C'mon, partner.  Let's go get your sneakers.  You and I can play ball while your mom gets supper ready."

Christopher moved from Sara's side and went willingly into Jake's arms.  "Okay."

Jake's brown eyes met Sara's over Christopher's head.  Nothing was settled, and the tension from their argument still vibrated between them.  But they would both do whatever they could to make their son feel loved and secure.

Before Sara cleaned up the mess on Jake's bed, she called her lawyer to find out exactly what was going on with her mother's property.  Expecting to get his answering machine or service, she was relieved when he answered himself.

"Just in the nick of time, Sara.  My secretary left and I'm on my way out."

"I won't hold you up.  I just wondered about the property in Arizona...what you think of the contract...why they offered so much.  I thought this was just an undeveloped plot of land.  I never knew it was ten acres.  I never knew it was worth so much."

"Jennie and I didn't know it could be worth that, either.  A few months ago, you might have gotten a quarter of that sum.  But you lucked out.  A highway is going to be cutting through that area.  The developer who wants to buy your property is planning a shopping center.  I'd advise you to take the offer, Sara.  It won't get much better than that."

"I still can't believe it."

"Believe it.  A highway can transform rural property into prime real estate.  The fax was just to let you look over the paperwork.  You'll have to come into my office day after tomorrow and sign the contract.  If you have any questions, make a list.  I'll answer them for you then.  You have a Merry Christmas."

Sara wished him the same and said good-bye, not caring about the offer or the money.  All she cared about was the way Jake perceived it.

As she prepared dinner, she peeked out the window and saw her husband and son playing ball.  Jake rolled a ball across the grass.  Christopher ran after it, picked it up in his pudgy little hands and tried to toss it back to Jake.  The ball tossing turned into a game of tag and then as Jake stood by and watched, Christopher climbed up then slid down the sliding board.

When Sara called for them to wash up, Jake scooped up his son and put him on his shoulders until they got to the porch.  She took the roast chicken out of the oven and had everything ready when Jake and Christopher came into the kitchen.  Busyness held her fears at bay, at least for the time being.

The tension between her and Jake was palpable, but they talked with Christopher and kept conversation between themselves to a minimum.  After dinner, they hung three stockings on the mantel.  Finally, Christopher nestled between them on the sofa and Sara read the Christmas story.

"An angel talked to the shepherds," Christopher said when Sara closed the book.

Sara kissed him on the top of his head.  "Angels help guide us.  Tomorrow morning, you tell us if you heard the Christmas angel."

With a sleepy nod, he mumbled, "I will."

By the time they put milk and cookies on the mantel for Santa, Christopher was yawning.  Jake carried him piggyback up the stairs.  As any three-year-old on Christmas Eve, he prolonged his bedtime ritual.  But by the time Sara and Jake kissed him goodnight, he was hugging his teddy bear and his eyes closed in slumber.

Sara went downstairs, going over in her mind what she could say to Jake, how she could make him believe her.  She'd taken a bag of small presents from the foyer closet and was placing them in Christopher's stocking when Jake came downstairs.  His expression was serious, and Sara didn't know what was going to happen next.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asked.  "I'm going to get a brandy."

"No, thanks."

Jake unlocked the top of a bookcase.  Inside, stood a shelf of glasses and a few bottles of liquor.  Sara didn't even know that was there.  She'd never looked inside.  Jake poured a small amount into a snifter and closed the cabinet.  "It's my fault he got scared.  What if he had found his way downstairs and out the door?"

She should have realized Jake would take responsibility for upsetting Christopher.  "He knows the rules, Jake.  He's never supposed to go outside alone."

Jake swirled the amber liquid in his glass.  "When he's afraid, he might forget the rules.  I just want to keep him safe, Sara.  How can I do that?"

She couldn't keep away from Jake, she couldn't keep from standing close and wanting to erase the anguish from his eyes.  "We will keep him safe.  We'll tell him everything he should know for his own good, and we'll protect him every way we can.  But we can't lock him in a cocoon away from the real world."

Jake downed the brandy in two swallows, set the glass on the shelf, then held her by her shoulders.  "Why can't we?  Why can't we just keep him in here with us so we know he's safe?"

She searched his eyes, seeing the sadness and doubts, the fear and the pain.  "Because that's not letting him live."

"Dammit, Sara.  Look how easy it would be to lose him.  It could have happened today."

He was thinking of Christopher, but he was thinking of Davie, too.  "Don't do this to yourself, Jake."

"You can say that now.  But how forgiving would you be if Christopher had wandered outside?  If something had happened?"

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine it.  She couldn't.  It was too painful.  So she could only guess the pain and guilt that Jake felt about Davie.  Reaching out, she stroked his jaw.  "You've got to let it go, Jake.  Please, try to let it go."

She didn't know if he was trying to block out memories or create new ones when he kissed her.  All she knew was that he was kissing her as if he needed her forever.  There was a fever in the kiss and a desperation that made her heart trip.  And something about it brought tears to her eyes.

The first kiss caught fire and gave birth to another...and another.  The first touch led to another...and another.  There were no more firsts between them as the sparks flew and their passion exploded.  The brandy on Jake's tongue became intoxicating.  He removed her jogging suit in the same amount of time it took for her to tug off his T-shirt and unsnap his jeans.  Their clothes fell away as they tried to kiss more, touch more, feel more.

Jake's beard stubble rasped across her breast.  Her nails scraped his back.  As he took her down to the carpet, she wrapped her arms around his waist.  When she lay back, he came with her.  Bracing his arms on either side of her, he thrust into her with an anguished groan.  Suddenly, she knew why tears had filled her eyes earlier and why they were filling them now.  He wanted her, maybe he even needed her, but he was afraid to love her.  She might never know his love.  She might never know all of Jake.

In desperation, she gave herself to him.  She kissed him and held him tight, trying to show him just how much she wanted, needed, and loved him.  Giving herself up to him, she let him give her pleasure, climbed higher and higher with him, until they climaxed together, holding on to each other as if they'd never let go.

But a few moments later, Jake did let go.  He slid to his side and said like a judge pronouncing a sentence, "We didn't use protection."

Chapter Ten

Jake's accusations that Sara had kept the value of the property from him had hurt, but his doubts about the birth control actually felt as if they cracked her heart.  When he'd made love to her just now without additional protection, she'd thought maybe they had a chance.  She'd thought maybe it was a conscious decision on his part to show her he could trust her.  But apparently passion had driven him, had driven them both and it had had nothing to do with trust at all.