Seeking Shelter (15 page)

The best part of the day here was early morning, before the sun baked everything. He wondered what it would be like when summer hit full force. Just thinking about it filled him with curiosity.

The distant silhouettes of the town’s tiny cemetery accented the ridge a short distance away. Desert cemeteries were vastly different from the lush, grass-covered places Jace had known back home. And they were nothing like the fancy, money-watered lawns in L.A. This was a dirt-and-cactus-laden square. A metal fence surrounded the graves and a gateway arched over the dirt road that ran through it. Stone and wood markers dotted the sand and many of the graves were covered with rocks. The graveyard looked desolate and forgotten, though he knew it wasn’t.

Madeline Grey was up there. He had a hell of a lot of questions for that woman.

Last night had been hell. Years of grief and too much alcohol had made Hank nearly impossible to deal with. The things he’d said, had admitted...

And Amy... She’d finally fallen into a fitful sleep sometime before dawn. Thank God Katie had obeyed and gone back to bed. She’d been sound asleep when he’d looked in on her.

Jace hadn’t slept. That’s why he was out here, trying to quiet the chaos in his mind.

He wanted to go back to the Grand Canyon, and take Amy and Katie with him. But that wasn’t possible. Amy had responsibilities here. And now she had a house to clean out for the new owner.

Jace wasn’t used to obligations or responsibilities. He hadn’t found a place he’d felt this connected to, or any people he’d let himself care about before.

Even now, he saw someone up at the cemetery, preparing a grave. He hadn’t heard of anyone dying, but he didn’t know everyone here. Time and events passed him by. He had no part in any of it.

Turning on his heel, Jace headed back. He swung by Lynne’s house to pick up his bike. As he approached it from behind, he saw red glass on the ground, and he cursed. A broken taillight wasn’t a difficult fix, just a pain. As he drew closer, he saw the pink piece of paper attached to the windshield. He cursed again. Really? A citation? For a broken taillight when the bike wasn’t moving? It didn’t take much imagination to guess who’d most likely broken the light—he’d signed the ticket. Jace sighed.

Voices carried on the morning air, and Jace looked across the alley to Amy’s place. Katie wasn’t even trying to be quiet.

“That’s not fair.”

Was she crying? He walked toward the store.

“I’m sorry, Katie. But fair has nothing to do with it. I can’t do that.” Amy’s voice sounded as pained as Katie’s.

“But everyone expects me to have a party as good as Britany’s.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s so. Lisa didn’t have a big birthday party, either.”

There was a long silence. “She wanted one. Her mom’s mean, too.”

“Katie Anne,” Amy admonished. “That’s no way to talk. Now get ready for school. You’ll miss the bus.”

“I don’t care.” Katie stomped to her room as only a six-year-old could.

Amy came up the stairs and stepped out on the porch.

“Morning,” Jace said. He tried to smile, but it was difficult. The exhaustion and dejection on her face were too painful to see. She didn’t look much better than when Hank had left last night.

The dark circles under her eyes made her look sad and fragile. Jace stepped forward and she took a step back.

It was going to be a very long day.

* * *

T
HE
SOUND
OF
J
ACE
’
S
VOICE
had become so familiar. Too familiar. Still, as it floated up the stairs, Amy found herself waiting for more. Right now, he was finishing up the final steps to connect the stove—and patiently listening to Katie’s incessant yammering.

Her daughter had gone straight down to the kitchen as soon as she’d gotten home from school. She hadn’t even stopped to talk to Amy. She’d barely given Butcher his customary pat on the head.

She was still angry about the birthday party.

How had everything gone so crazy so quickly? Amy’s time with Jace at the Grand Canyon seemed ages ago. Everything was falling apart and there didn’t seem to be a thing she could do about it.

She tried to focus on her work, but every few minutes she heard Jace. He’d ask Katie to hand him something. A wrench. A screwdriver. Anything. His patience seemed endless.

He’d become a part of her world, and Amy mentally cursed. This wasn’t what she wanted. She needed to be independent. Needed to be the strong one.

But last night, with Hank, she’d wanted Jace to take care of everything. She’d ached for him to make it all right. And he had. She should have taken care of it herself.

Closing her eyes, she remembered how comforting his arms had felt. But every time she’d trusted other people, they’d let her down...gloriously.

She didn’t have time for pain or remorse or tears. She had a daughter who depended on her, a business to run, a house to empty.

She envied Katie her innocence, her fearlessness, her safe world. She’d given her that safety, and each day she feared that someone would shatter it, take that innocence and replace it with mistrust and pain. Just like Hank had done to Amy last night.

She stopped that train of thought as soon as it started.

The problem wasn’t just Hank. It was Jace, too. What if he left? What if things didn’t work out between them? She had to face the facts. He lived on the road or in some apartment in Los Angeles. A whole different world from here. He wasn’t meant for life in a small town like this, not for an extended period of time. And she couldn’t afford to depend on him. She wouldn’t survive his leaving if she did.

Katie’s laughter cut through the quiet, and Jace laughed in response. Something inside Amy shifted. Something that scared the hell out of her.

Before she could move away from the top of the stairs, Jace appeared at the bottom. Slowly, he started to climb, and all too quickly he was only inches away from her. He didn’t speak. He stood there, motionless.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he finally whispered.

“Like what?” she whispered back.

And then he kissed her—and Amy stopped thinking. She melted against him, her arms circling his neck.

He’d invaded her heart and she didn’t know how to let him go. But she hastily backed away from him, stepped out of the next move of the dance they’d unwittingly begun. “I...” She looked up at him, watching the confusion slip over his features. “I can’t.” She continued backing away, heading to the tiny office, hoping a customer would come in to distract her.

She prayed Jace wouldn’t follow her. He didn’t, and she cursed her disappointment.

Moments later, Katie came upstairs instead of Jace. “Mama?”

“Just a minute, honey,” Amy called. She leaned against the door and came face-to-face with her own reflection in the tiny mirror she kept there. Her hair was a mess from his hands, coming loose from the ponytail she’d done up this morning. Her eyes were wide and her lips... She refused to look at the traitorous lips that had so enjoyed kissing him.

The woman in the mirror looked...vulnerable. No. Amy pushed away from the door and yanked it open. She would never, ever be vulnerable again. Ever.

“I’m right here, sweetie,” she called, using her best I’m-the-competent-mother voice.

“What’s Jace makin’?” Katie asked.

“Making?”

“Yeah.” Katie grabbed her hand and pulled, forcing Amy to follow or have her fingers yanked off.

Chin high and her shoulders back, she let Katie lead her down to the kitchen. Jace stood at the new stove, a frying pan already warming. The hamburger she’d pulled out to defrost earlier sat on the cutting board in neat little patties.

It all looked too perfect to be true.

Slowly, she turned around, taking it all in. “It’s done?”

“Dinner or the kitchen?” Jace asked. “But yeah, tonight we’re celebrating.” He handed her a wineglass with milk in it. He lifted a matching glass and clinked it with hers. “Yes, the remodel is done. And dinner soon will be.”

He looked at her as if just moments before he hadn’t been kissing her senseless and she hadn’t pulled away from him.

“Are those real hamburgers?” Katie gazed at the pan.

He glanced down and laughed. “No, it’s those fake plastic ones from your play kitchen,” he teased. “Of course real ones.”

“Yippee!” She laughed and left the kitchen. “I’ll get washed up.”

Amy stared after her daughter. She usually had to threaten her with bodily harm to get her near water. “Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?”

Jace gave an exaggerated theatrical bow. “Jace Holmes. Chef for the night, and new-stove tester,” he said, then turned back to his cooking. He put the three thick patties into the pan, where they sizzled, and tossed a sheet of tinfoil over the top.

“Frying is bad for your cholesterol,” she said absently.

“Yeah? But it tastes so good.” He looked over his shoulder at her, but his eyes didn’t meet hers. He focused on her lips.

She swallowed, fighting the urge to go to him. He’d turn around and...

“Give it a try before passing judgment.”

He was talking about burgers, she reminded herself. He held her gaze, and she wondered what was going on behind those deep blue eyes. She doubted he’d tell her, but oh, how she wanted to ask.

Katie came barreling into the kitchen, climbing up onto her chair at the new table, then patiently waiting. Amy frowned. Her daughter cooperative? Was this more of that hero worship? Or something else?

Moments passed, the kitchen filled with companionable silence and Katie’s anticipation. Finally, Jace served up the hamburgers, along with thick slices of bread and the lone bag of potato chips from the pantry. The ever-present bottle of ketchup appeared with the pickles.

“Eat up.” He settled into his own seat, filling his plate. When Katie didn’t reach for the ketchup bottle, Amy wondered what they were up to.

“Can Jace cook all the time?” Katie asked with a grin after downing her first bite.

The burger did taste amazing. Amy closed her eyes as she chewed. She liked the idea of having Jace around all the time—but not for his cooking skills. When she opened her eyes again, he was staring at her. She quickly put the hamburger down, her heart hammering in her chest.

He reached out and ran his napkin along the edge of her mouth and down her chin. “A little grease,” he whispered.

“Mama’s sloppy a lot.” Katie reminded them of her presence, and they all laughed. The rest of the meal passed with everyone keeping their hands to themselves, much to Amy’s disappointment.

Finally, once the last plate was washed and put away in the new cabinets, Amy spoke. “I’d like to go out to the house tonight.”

Jace paused, then frowned as he faced her. “Tonight? I’ll go with you.”

“Uh. No.” She put her hand on his arm. “I know you’ve worked all day, but if you want to do something for me, can you watch Katie? Just for a little while?”

Amy didn’t know how she’d react at the house, and she didn’t want Katie to see her fall apart. Nor Jace, for that matter. “Normally I’d ask Hank, but after last night...” She knew she was asking a lot. Too much, maybe.

“I’ll do anything you ask, you know that.” Jace leaned in close. “Anything.” He tried to smile reassuringly, but obviously, he wasn’t happy about this.

Amy smiled back, hiding the fear that had plagued her all day. And ignoring the voice in her head that said,
“Maybe for now...”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

J
ACE
KNEW
AS
SOON
AS
Amy left that he was in over his head. It was one thing to chat with Katie out by his bike, in the garage or kitchen. Her mother was ten feet away and available in an instant. This was two or more hours of him. Only him. No backup.

Okay, Lynne, if worse came to worst.

Obligations, even for a short time, were foreign to him. What had he been thinking? Too late, he realized he hadn’t. He’d just wanted to please Amy.

His experience with little girls was...limited. Hell, he hadn’t even had any sisters, growing up. He groaned. This was
not
good. Not good at all.

“Mr. Jace?” Katie stared up at him.

“Yeah?”

“What are we going to do now?”

“What do you normally do?”

“After supper? Homework.”

First graders had homework? “Well, you should do that.”

“But I don’t have any.”

Jace sighed. Why did he get the feeling she was lying? And what was he supposed to do if she was? He gave up. “What do you do after you finish your homework?”

“Watch TV sometimes.”

“Okay, what should we watch?”

“You have to fix the TV first. You unplugged it when you did the kitchen.”

“Uh, I think I can do that. Come on.” Jace led the way into the living room. Katie bounced on the couch before settling down in one corner.

“Put it on the Cartoon Network. Butcher loves that channel.” The dog settled down at Katie’s feet, his backside aimed at the TV. Yeah, he loved it.

And what the hell was the Cartoon Network, anyway? Jace hadn’t watched much television when he was a kid, and after he’d left home, he and Mac had never had money for a TV, let alone cable. He plugged the set and all its components back in, then handed Katie the remote.

“You know how to find the Cartoon Network?” She nodded eagerly, which made him frown.

“Does your mom let you have the remote?”

“Of course.” Katie rolled her eyes at him as if he were an idiot.

He had the distinct feeling the six-year-old was winning this match, but she found what she was looking for and settled in to stare almost unblinkingly at the screen. Maybe he’d survive this, after all.

Then she giggled. A sweet, little-girl sound he’d heard so seldom. He watched her watch the television. One show blended into another. Her eyes widened and her nose crinkled when some character made a funny noise. He wished...

Hell, what was the point in wishing? He stood and moved back into the kitchen. All the kids he’d seen in the shelters, all those homeless kids, deserved this kind of a life. He hadn’t had it. Had Amy? She couldn’t have. Not if the dread he’d read in her face was any indication.

He glanced at the clock he’d rehung earlier. She’d been gone over an hour. Was she okay? He cursed. He should have gone with her.

“Mr. Jace?”

“Yeah?” He found Katie standing in the doorway. “What’s up?”

“Did my mom go out to that old house?”

“Your grandma’s house? Yeah. Why?”

“How come Hank didn’t go? He always goes.” Before Jace could answer, she moved on to the next question. “Can I have a drink?”

“A drink? Like water?”

“Can I have a glass of milk?”

Milk was good for her, wasn’t it? It wasn’t as if she was asking for a soda or anything. He pulled the milk out and poured her half a glass, congratulating himself that he remembered not to fill it full. He’d mopped up one puddle already.

“Here you go.” He set it on the table and settled across from her.

“Thanks. I don’t like that house. It’s creepy.”

“You’ve been there?”

“Only a couple times. Hank cries when he goes there. He doesn’t think I see, but he’s always wiping his eyes and blowing his nose.” Katie took a swig of the milk. “Do you think it’ll make Mama cry, too?”

Jace’s heart sank. He shouldn’t have let Amy go alone. He hadn’t even argued too strongly. He stood to pace, and raked his fingers through his hair, trying to figure out what to do.

He should go after her.

Taking Katie on the bike was
so
not going to work. The child would love it, he was sure. She laughed at the TV again and he could almost hear the sound in the wind. But Amy would kill him when he got there...and if anything happened to her child, he’d
let
her kill him.

No, taking Katie wasn’t an option.

* * *

T
HE
OUTSIDE
OF
THE
HOUSE
looked simple, like any other adobe home in the Arizona desert. It was built in the traditional style around a center courtyard, with high, thick, earthen walls.

It looked exactly as it had the last time Amy’d been here. And every other time in her life.

The single door, wooden and worn, still showed the old carvings her grandfather had had custom made. Slowly, she lifted her hand and touched the wooden faces, leaves and blooms. It mimicked the storyteller jewelry her grandmother had loved. Amy had run her fingers over the carvings so often she could close her eyes and see them.

She took a deep breath. The keys jingled between her fingers, and she had to try three times to get the narrow strip of metal into the lock. Finally, she managed. She hesitated, then shoved the heavy door open.

She’d always loved this house. It was home. She’d dreamed of marrying one day and raising her family here. But that was before... Now it was simply a house of living rooms, a kitchen and bedrooms. Nothing more.

But she knew there
was
more. She tried, but couldn’t ignore that fact. Too much more. Too much hurt, too many painful memories. Too much loss and sadness.

Maybe Hank was right. Maybe they should leave everything here and let the new owner—Gavin, or Eustace, or whoever—deal with it. But she refused to be a coward any longer.

Finally, she made herself look, for the first time in years, at her family home.

The front hall was just as she’d left it. She’d expected cobwebs and dust, but there was none. Hank must have taken good care.

Walking down the darkened hallways seemed so strange, yet comforting. It was familiar, but also like visiting a different house. All along this hall, artifacts from her grandfather’s travels sat on tables, hung on walls, decorated every surface. His old room was much the same. The familiar scent of his tobacco had faded. She missed it.

Her mother’s room was still closed up. She couldn’t go in there now. Maybe never.

Her own room was empty. When she’d moved into town to live with Hank, they’d taken her old bedroom set. It was the one Katie used now in the apartment.

Just beyond, the laundry room and mudroom joined at the rear corner of the house. The washer and dryer were gone. The folding table looked worse for wear and the scrub sink was dry. The back door was locked tight and for an instant she touched the worn knob. She should just go, walk out and do as she’d always intended. Leave it all and never come back.

Except she would never do that. Two irresponsible parents had carved duty deep into her soul. Instead, she turned away from the door and faced her past.

The kitchen was open concept, and while it was still huge, it had seemed even bigger as a kid. This was the first place she remembered coming to. The first place she recalled seeing.

She’d been three when they’d moved in. Few memories remained of that time. Just glimpses. Vague, shadowy thoughts, really. Tears. Arms outstretched. She remembered running to her grandfather, thinking he was welcoming her. A second later, she’d found herself crushed between her mother’s nylon-clad legs and her grandfather’s worn jeans. He hadn’t picked her up and swung her high as he’d always done before. He’d hugged her sobbing mother, as if Amy wasn’t even there.

She’d tugged herself loose, the rough fabric of his jeans burning her skin. That was the first time she’d felt invisible. Unimportant.

Shaking the memories loose, Amy backed out of the kitchen, her heels making a loud, hollow clicking noise against the tile floor. Coming here was a mistake. A very big mistake.

She continued backing up until she bumped against the door frame. Her surroundings blurred, distorted by the tears she suddenly realized were in her eyes. Why had that memory come to her? That first painful moment had been minor, just the beginning of so much pain.

Hank was right. It was time to let go. This sale was good.

“Goodbye,” she whispered. Who did she think would hear her? The house itself? The ghosts she was sure lurked here?

Turning to leave, she faced the one thing she’d avoided until now. Light from the overhead fixtures poured into the wide courtyard beyond the glass that made up an entire wall of the kitchen, bathing the weeds and dead garden in gold. The old-fashioned water pump stood dark against the pale, wasted plants.

Amy couldn’t breathe, nor could she pull her stare away from that horrid place.

Then, somehow, she found herself standing in the middle of the garden. All the words, all the anger, all the pain she’d kept bottled inside burst out. “Damn you!” she screamed.

The hot evening picked up the sound and carried it away. At first, that made her angry. She wanted to leave the emotions here, not have some wayward wind carry them back to her. The anger bubbled up, and she screamed even louder.

“Damn you,” she repeated. “I didn’t want a baby then. I didn’t want to fall in love with her. I wanted to hate your child.”

She sank to the ground, feeling rough blades of vegetation scrape against her jeans. She gathered two clumps of the sweetgrass and ripped them from the earth. She remembered the smell of it—at first a welcome scent as he lay down beside her. Then as a bitter odor that threatened to engulf her.

“No!” She screamed again. She could almost feel the heat of Matt crushing her down into the sweetgrass that terrible day, the pain she’d felt in her body as he’d forced her to accept him, and in her heart as he’d shredded the love she’d had for him.

“Katie is no part of you.” She spit the words to an unseen ghost. “Never. She’s mine.” Amy flung the grass away and let her hands curl back into fists. Memories washed over her as she sat in the growing darkness.

His forearm had pushed against her throat, and the more he’d moved, the less she could breathe. Her vision had blurred, the edges glowing and flashing. Blackness had crept in.

Oh, God. She’d thought she was going to die. Her tears had intensified and she’d choked, fighting to live.

The last thing she remembered was a hard fist slamming into the side of her head. And then nothing.

She’d awakened when the hot, blistering sun was high enough to reach the courtyard.

She’d been alone.

Naked and alone.

Sitting up, she’d found her torn blouse caught in the weeds, and had clasped it to her breasts. She’d tried to rise to her feet, but stumbled, landing on her knees in the dirt.

She remembered panicking until she’d staggered to the front door and yanked open the tiny wooden panel in the top to look out at the yard. The spot where Matt’s truck had been parked stood empty. Blessedly, frighteningly empty.

Amy had nearly retched at the thought of him coming back. She’d turned to search for a weapon, just in case. Her jeans were tossed carelessly aside and she saw her purse a few feet away on the ground. She scrambled to it and pulled it open. Everything looked the same. Everything was there.

Including her keys. She’d sagged in relief, then hurried back to the door and turned the heavy dead bolt. She’d thrown the old, wooden bar across for good measure. This place was a fortress—her great-grandfather had built it to keep marauding outlaws at bay.

It could certainly keep out a disgusting rapist.

Before she could crumble again, she’d pulled herself to her feet and inched along the walls. She wanted to die. Had Matt thought she was dead when he’d left?

Back then the utilities had been turned off. She’d wanted to get clean. Needed to get clean. She’d needed to get him off her. Out of her.

She’d reached the old metal water pump in the center of the courtyard. The one her mother and grandmother had used to water the plants.

She’d pumped the handle. Cold water spilled out. She’d pumped and pumped, using her ruined shirt as a washcloth to scrub at her skin. The sun had burned her, but she’d scrubbed until every inch of her body stung with the chafing.

Finally she’d stood there, shivering in the hot desert heat.

She’d fought giving in to the emotions boiling inside her. Anger. Shame. Disgust. Betrayal.

The wide double doors to her mother’s room had beckoned. She’d needed to find clothes. None of hers were here, but there were others.

She’d pulled open the doors that led into her mom’s old room. She hadn’t been there since she’d said goodbye to her mother that last time.

It was dusty, but otherwise the same. The quilt her mother had always kept still covered the bed.

Amy had grabbed it and pulled it around her shoulders. Climbing up onto the bed, she’d curled in on herself and finally found a place to hide.

“Mommy,” she’d whispered twice before the first sob shook her and the entire bed. There’d been no one to answer her. Or hold her. Or comfort her. Nothing but a blanket and a ghost of a memory.

Footsteps in the present startled her. Amy spun around and screamed before realizing it wasn’t Matt. Jace stood there, silhouetted against the evening sky. Keeping his distance. Staying away from her. Probably convinced she was crazy. Maybe she was.

“Amy?” Jace asked carefully, as if he didn’t want to startle her. “It’s getting late.”

That’s when she realized the stars were out. How long had she been here?

Startled, she sat there in the desecrated grass, staring up at him, wanting to scream at him, too, just because he was a man—a big, strong man. He could as easily do to her what Matt had done. He could come over here, shove her to the ground and tear her clothing with hands she knew were stronger than hers.

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. He didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe.