Revelations (26 page)

And it’s my intention to make every moment count.

“I’d marry you in a heartbeat,” he murmurs into my mouth, and I continue to kiss him, swallowing his words. No talk about the future, down that path lies only danger. And heartache. Of course I’d marry him, too, if I could. If only we could…

The subtle clearing of Sheriff Kaplan’s throat behind us pulls us reluctantly apart. “Sorry to interrupt,” he apologizes as I squeeze Jude’s hand softly, hoping to forestall any quick-tempered reaction on his part. “I was wanting to talk to you two, but it’s been a bit busy here today.” A bit of an understatement, but true.

“I appreciate that, Sheriff Kaplan.” I smile. “I’m sorry for all the confusion…” He holds up one hand, waving aside my apology. “No, no, it was fine, everything went fine, I have no problem with that, none at all. But I was just waiting for you and your attorney…” This with a nod at Judas—I’ve already forgotten he’s playing that part. “…to have a few minutes, and I thought that this was as good a time as any, if you don’t mind?”

He’s a very polite man, considering this is his own purview, and we’re merely transitory guests within his domain. “Of course we don’t mind,” I reply. “It’s your jail, Sheriff.” Jude and I take a seat together upon the cot. Sheriff Kaplan, hat in hand, takes the chair with a chuckle.

“I’ve talked to Judge Reynolds and he’s agreed to hear your bail request at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. You’re going to be the first one on the docket. That should get you out a lot quicker.”

“Thank you, Sheriff,” I gratefully reply, even though I know in my heart it will never occur. Judas is uncharacteristically silent beside me. “I’m sure it was your influence that got me placed ahead of the others. I appreciate all your efforts on my behalf, everything you’ve done.” I know Jude has had his issues with the sheriff, but I sense Kaplan’s a good man, trying to make the most of a difficult situation not of his making. Jude has told me he thinks he may have ambitions for bigger places than this small town. I have to wonder. Championing me is surely not a step in that direction.

“I talked to him a bit,” he admits, almost unwillingly, as if not wishing to receive credit for his efforts. “I don’t think bail will be set too high, nothing you can’t afford, judging from that wad of bills you tried to pay me with before, Mr.

Jarvis.” This is said with a smile and a chuckle for Judas’ benefit. I smile myself, but I can’t help but notice Judas doesn’t laugh or smile. He’s thinking too much for his own good. I need to deflect his thoughts somehow.

“I’m sure it will be fine.” I cast a surreptitious glance at Judas, but his gaze is directed toward the floor. What’s he thinking?

There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence before the sheriff changes the subject. “About tonight,” he begins.

“Tonight?” I’m not sure what he means, my first thought being he’s about to tell me Judas has to leave. I find myself unable to breathe at the very thought, before my more rational mind tells me he’s talking about Mary and her concert, of course.

“Mmmhmmm. Tonight, what with the benefit for you that’s going on,” he continues, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin. “I know your friend Mary told me she’s hired security and all, but I still feel like I need to be there.” He’s playing with his hat again now, fidgeting with the brim. Probably to keep his hands occupied. “Just to make sure things don’t get out of hand. No offense.”

“None taken,” I assure him.

“I know there’s nothing I can do about the group out there.” He nods in the general direction of the front door, beyond which Lucifer’s people wage their unrelenting war against sin. Specifically against Judas and myself. I know they’re being manipulated by a master manipulator, but it still bothers me to subject Judas to the filth they spew when he walks their gauntlet just in order to be with me.

They talk about love and God in one breath, and then proceed to revile us in the next. These are the sort of people I’ve failed to reach, and sometimes I’m not sure my message of universal love and acceptance will ever reach them. I know it’s just my weariness talking. I’ll feel more confident about everything once this is all behind me, and I begin to plan my next time. At least that’s what I tell myself. In the meantime, I have to get through this one first. “As long as they don’t do anything against the law, I can’t touch them. That Lassiter fellow is very persistent.

Sometimes I get the feeling there’s some kind of bad blood between him and Mr.

Jarvis?” He looks up at both of us, and it takes me a moment to realize he’s actually asking a question.

“You could say that,” Judas admits, but he doesn’t offer any more, and Kaplan lets the matter drop.

“At any rate, I just wanted to let you know my deputy and I are going out there, and we’re going to keep an eye on your friends ourselves, just to make sure there isn’t any trouble. Did I hear you say you won’t be joining them tonight, Mr.

Jarvis?”

Jude shakes his head. “No, I’ll be here all night. That’s not a problem, is it?” His tone is a bit too belligerent for my taste, as if he’s daring the sheriff to say anything about his presence, or try to do anything about it.

“Jude,” I attempt to soothe him. “I don’t think Sheriff Kaplan meant that at all.” I catch his eye, he gives me one of his Judas looks, and for a moment I wonder if he’s intent on causing trouble for some reason. But the moment passes, luckily.

“No, I didn’t, not at all,” the sheriff quickly replies. “I just got the idea you might not be getting along with them all too well,” and his eyes go directly to the swollen lump very visible on Jude’s forehead. “I figured you might not want to go.”
Without him there
is the unspoken part of his statement. He’s a very astute observer of the world around him. “I wanted to let you know not to worry about anything. While I’m gone, I’m leaving the jail in good hands.”

“Whose good hands?” Judas asks. “Not Lassiter’s I hope?” Kaplan laughs at the idea, but I can see Jude isn’t smiling. Surely he doesn’t think Lucifer could do such a thing, or that he would want to? Unless perhaps he’s found a new way of getting to Judas, of torturing him before he saves him? Most likely by causing harm to me before Judas’ eyes. Or worse. My blood runs cold at the thought.

The Sheriff snorts before replying, “Just between us, I think Mr. Lassiter’s a big bag of hot air that’s way too stuck on himself. He thinks he’s slick and charming, but he really isn’t. And definitely not trustworthy. Unfortunately, he has those people of his looking up to him like he’s some kind of god.” Now it’s Judas’

turn to snort at the concept of Lucifer as a god.

“Only in his own mind,” he adds, but at least he’s smiling, and I can feel him relax a little. “Then who is it? Or is this your way of saying you’re deputizing me for the night?” His grin definitely widens at the suggestion, although I don’t believe for a moment that’s the case, and I’m sure he doesn’t either.

“On second thought, I think I’ll keep you guessing.” Setting his hat back onto his head, he gives us a broad grin. “You have to put up with me for a little bit, but my relief will be here soon.” And he saunters back to his desk, leaving us more than a little perplexed. But it doesn’t really matter, does it? What it comes down to is we’re trading one jailer for another. As long as whoever it is doesn’t bother us in any way, we’ll be good.

Once he’s out of earshot, and we have as much privacy as we can expect under the circumstances, I scoot back on the cot, patting the bed beneath me, indicating I want him to lie there, and when he complies, I take his head into my lap, pushing his pale hair away from his temple as I lean down and kiss his poor bruised forehead. “Does that hurt?”

“Unh-uh.” He sighs, closing his eyes and giving himself over to my touch. I continue to brush my lips across his forehead, saddened at this evidence of what he suffers on my behalf. It’s not his fault, nor has it ever been, that he was given this part to play. It simply isn’t fair. And to think of how much pain he’s taken unto himself in order to comply with what he’s been told to do, knowing as I do how much he loves me. It boggles my mind. He’s never truly betrayed me. Never.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, leaning against him carefully, our brows pressed together. My hand caresses his cheek, rubbing across the trace of stubble there. His hair’s so pale and so very fine, though, that it can’t be seen, and only barely felt.

“For what?”

“It’s all my fault you were hurt. It’s always my fault they hate you so…” He tilts his head back just a little, and opens his eyes, looking up into mine.

“No, don’t say that, it’s not your fault,” he insists. “They’re just assholes—”

“Jude!” I admonish him lightly. Instead of replying, his hand goes to the back of my head, pulls it down until our lips meet, and he ends the argument before it’s begun. His mouth is so sweet and it feels so good to kiss him. I think I could live on his kisses forever, if I only had the chance.

There are so many subjects that need to be avoided between us, I fear—

anything having to do with the future, any time past this very night. I won’t lie to him, and I can’t tell him the truth, which puts me in a bit of a difficult position. The only solution is avoidance, I’m afraid.

“Did you have a good day?” he asks, once we pause to breathe, his finger playing with one of my side curls, winding it about his finger. It’s not like he’s never touched my hair before, but it’s never felt quite so…sensual. He has the ability to make me quiver with everything he does. I’m so distracted by his actions, by the feelings building within me, that he’s forced to repeat himself. I see him smiling at me. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and he’s enjoying it greatly.

“I did, yes,” I manage to reply. “Thank you, Jude.” I brush my lips over his again. I cannot get enough of his lips, I’m so hungry for the taste of them, and for all of him, truth be told. “I’m sorry you had to leave, but I thought it’d be better for you, under the circumstances. I mean, considering we wouldn’t have been able to…I mean, we couldn’t…That isn’t what I mean…Just that we wouldn’t have been alone.” I’m babbling again, I know it. He mercifully puts an end to my attempts at a viable explanation by kissing me. Works for me.

“I understand.” He smiles. “It was probably a good thing, even if your mother did have me take her on the scenic tour.” He rolls his eyes slightly, but I know he isn’t upset about it, just putting on for my benefit. “She’s a beautiful woman, your mother, you know, and she’s a very wise one. I think she knew about us even before you did…”

I feel warmth rising in my cheeks; I have to acknowledge I’ve been quite naive in that regard. But this brings my mind back to my previous concern. He’ll find it hard to wriggle out of it now, not face to face as we are. “What happened?” I ask simply. “What upset you so much?”

I can see him struggle with the question, as if he isn’t sure what he wishes to tell me. I know he’s shielding me, I can feel it, but we’re past that point, aren’t we?

We’re almost at the end, no time to dissemble, and no desire to do so. But then I realize how much I’m shielding him from, as well, and I know that I’ve no room to speak. Finally, he draws a deep breath, and murmurs, “Knowing I’m losing you soon.” Tears start in my eyes at his words, for they’re so very true. We’ll be quite lost to one another soon. For a very long time. I find I cannot trust my voice to reply, so we remain silent for now—words are simply too inadequate. I close my eyes, feel the hot tears squeeze between my lashes despite my best efforts to contain them.

“Please don’t,” he murmurs agitatedly. “I can’t bear it, Jesus. I can’t stand to see you hurt. Please don’t cry, baby.” He brushes his thumb across my cheek, attempting to wipe away the wetness, and I can hear the heartbreak in his voice. Oh Father, this is so very hard, I’ve never felt like this before. Never had my heart broken in this way, or any way, until now. I’ve obviously led a sheltered life, relatively speaking, but then again, I’ve never been in love before. And I do love him. With my entire being, and my whole heart. I could never love another as I love him. The only thought that even slightly ameliorates this unbearable pain is the knowledge that we
will
be together again, in time.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize, opening my eyes, finding his own wet as well. “I need you so much Judas, you have no idea.” Our lips meet, stemming any further words, and we kiss as if it were our last chance to do so. I think if I were to quit kissing him now, I’d faint—my head is reeling, and I’ve lost all sense of self as I lose myself in him.

Somehow we’ve changed our positions upon this narrow cot and now he’s holding me, my head against his chest, his arms about me protectively as we talk of past events. Long past events. That’s much safer than discussing the near future.

Times spent together, just the two of us, long before we became aware there was an ‘us’ to be aware of. We’ve always enjoyed being together, from the very beginning. And I find myself suddenly understanding some of the comments that have been leveled at Jude over the years, on my behalf and because of me. It continues to amaze me how blind I’ve been, to so much. So much wasted time. But that’s a futile thought, isn’t it?

He shifts his weight a little beneath me unexpectedly, and I completely miss the mischievous gleam in his eyes that would normally tell me he’s up to something until he falls backward onto the cot, flat on his back, pulling me down on top of him. I arch a quizzical eyebrow at him as if to ask what is this? He’s openly smirking. How incredibly handsome he is, even when he’s full of himself.

“I gotta ask it, you know.”

“Ask what?”

“The age old question,” he replies, barely repressing another smirk.

“What age old question?” I’m completely baffled, although I’m pretty sure he’s having fun with me somehow. I just haven’t figured out how.