The Promise of Rainbows (18 page)

She beamed as she shook her head. “The owner said it’s on the house. For serving our country.”

Jake blew out another breath. “Well, at least let me leave you a tip then for your kind service.” Digging into his wallet, he drew out a wad of twenties.

Beth picked the bills up and squealed. “Oh, Jake, you’re just the best!”

There was a polite smile on his face as he rose again and walked over to assist Susannah out of her chair. He helped her on with her coat, which made her feel cared for. She wasn’t going to mention they’d discussed having pie when he clearly wanted to leave.

“Thanks again for the autograph,” Beth said, trailing after them as they walked out.

Jake waved to the remaining patrons, who’d lingered over their meal. Mary stood in the doorway to the kitchen. She gave him a teary-eyed smile, and Jake stopped for a moment. They shared a look, and Susannah wondered if they were both thinking about what it meant for someone to return home from war.

Then Jake seemed to shake himself. He held open the door for her and closed it firmly behind them after they left. There were more people outside, waiting for him. So someone had squealed.

He took her elbow. “Let’s make a beeline for one of the shops. Maybe they’ll give me a break for once.”

For a man who professed not to be in a hurry, he picked up his pace. She had to rush to keep up with his long legs.

They entered Cooney’s Corner, which was housed in another old brick building. The green awning gave a welcome respite from the drizzle wetting her hair. The shop was warm inside, and it sold everything from bureaus seasoned from use to antique medicine bottles. Jake leaned down to pet the black Labrador that greeted them at the door as he perused the Coca Cola signs on the wall. He let out another breath, and she wondered why he was edging away from the dog so quickly. The owners watched them surreptitiously but gave them space.

Even though Jake made a show of looking at the wares, she knew his heart wasn’t in this shopping trip any more.

When she walked past a ten-foot stuffed brown bear with super scary claws, she nudged him in the ribs. “If I were your other decorator, I would have this paid for and put in your truck before you could blink.”

But her joke didn’t even prompt a smile.

He studied the old records on the wall and picked one up. Holding it out to her, he forced a smile. “Hank Williams’ classic album,
Ramblin’ Man.
I like the idea of having a cluster of these on display.”

The shopkeepers had arranged the vinyl albums on the wall minus the album covers. “We could do that,” she said as he wandered off again.

He made a valiant effort of selecting a few things, but when he paid, he didn’t engage the shopkeepers in their stories before pocketing his wallet and picking up the carefully-wrapped packages.

“Would you like to call it a day?” she asked as she hurried after him toward the truck.

Glancing over his shoulder, he gave her a puzzled look. “Why?”

“You don’t seem as enthused as you were when we arrived,” she said cautiously. “We don’t have to keep going. Or at least you don’t have to on my account.”

“I’m fine,” he said tersely and unlocked the truck and stored his purchases.

From there, they visited Bobby Todd’s Antiques, which was more upscale. Jake walked through the shop after nodding to the shopkeeper, but he didn’t find anything he liked, so they moved on to the next shop, The Robin’s Nest. Susannah loved the old hardwood floors and wood paneling, made all the warmer by the soft light coming from the shop’s well-executed lighting.

“I have a feeling you’re going to find something here,” she said with extra enthusiasm.

Jake had said very little since they’d left Cooney’s Corner, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was mad at her for suggesting they cut the day short. Had it been wrong of her to point out his obvious distress?

“Let’s see if you’re right,” he said, walking through the shop, not waiting for her.

He moved with determination, his usual mode of lingering over items a thing of the past. She gave him space, her solar plexus tight. She wished she could ask him why his interaction with Mary had upset him so.

He pointed to a gleaming oak farm table. “I like this for the dining room. It’s not stuffy.”

“It’s a beautiful piece,” she said, eyeing the well-varnished planks. “And it expands if you have company.”

“Can you find some chairs?” he asked crisply.

She fought the hurt she felt from his tone. “Of course. I’ll add it to my list of things for the house.”

He stalked away, and she stayed where she was a moment to take in deep, calming breaths before seeking out the shopkeeper to arrange for the table to be wrapped up to protect it from the rain. Jake’s truck would accommodate it, but she didn’t know if he had a tarp handy. Not that he needed to fuss with any of that right now. He selected a rocking chair that he said reminded him of his grandmother’s favorite chair, and she could tell from the softness in his voice that she was gone and he’d been fond of her.

With quick efficiency, he paid for everything and helped the shopkeeper heft the goods out to his truck after pulling into a parking spot in front of the store. People were still milling around on the street, taking pictures of him.

She watched him secure the pieces with bungee cords.

“I don’t think I can fit much more in the back,” he said to her, not meeting her eyes. “We’d best head back.”

“All right,” she said quietly and went around to the passenger door. It was going to be a long drive home.

He slammed his door behind him and shoved the car into gear. Then he backed up with more force than needed and punched the gas, taking them out of the town limits. When he reached the interstate, he turned up the radio, making conversation impossible. Not that she wanted to converse with him right now.

She had no idea what to say.

Chapter 13

Jake stared out the windshield, dimly aware of the vehicles driving alongside him. The roads were slick, so he was present enough to keep to the speed limit, but that was about it. He’d felt himself slipping after lunch. Meeting Mary and hearing her call him a hero had shaken him to the core, and then Susannah had gone and agreed with the woman. The glass wall of past regrets had entombed him again. Though Susannah was just inches away from him in the passenger seat, she might as well have been on the other side of the world.

He couldn’t reach out to her.

He couldn’t even reach himself right now.

The rain began to pelt the truck, so hard it sounded like a million bullets were hitting the top of the cab. His pulse started to race, and his breathing accelerated. The noise buffeted his ears. He slowed down and fumbled with the knob to increase the speed of the window wipers, keeping a vigilant eye on the tail lights ahead.

The need to protect Susannah kicked in. She was in his care, and he couldn’t let her down. The image of Booker dying in his arms flashed into his mind, and for a moment everything went black.

“Jake,” Susannah said urgently.

He shook his head like he was shaking off the rain and noticed the car ahead of them had braked to a halt. He hit the brakes hard, jarring them both in their seats. Someone honked from behind, ratcheting up his nerves.

His heart thundered in his chest. Susannah was speaking to him, but he couldn’t hear it over the din of the rain pelting the truck’s topper.

Then a soft hand touched him.

The gentleness of the gesture made the noise recede in volume some. Then her hand rubbed his forearm in easy circles.

“Jake,” she said, her voice urgent again.

Another honk punctuated his consciousness, and he swung his head around toward the sound.

“Stop honking at me!” he yelled.

“Don’t worry about him,” Susannah said, still stroking his arm. “Stop the car now. Jake, look at me.”

There was an unusual quality of steel in her voice, and he responded to the order without question.

“Pull over and let me drive the rest of the way.” She flipped the hazards on.

He slowly processed her request. She wanted to drive. Now that her hand was stroking his arm, he could feel some of his body, but not all of it. She was right. He was in no condition to continue.

“You need to be safe.”

“I am safe,” she said softly, a balm to his ears after the honking. “You just need a break. I’ll tell you when the lane’s clear so you can go to the shoulder.”

She kept her hand on him as she watched the cars. That simple touch made the glass feel thinner, but he was still scared to move from the lane. The paralysis tore through him. What if he crashed into another car and killed her? What if another car crashed into them when he wasn’t looking?

“I…can’t do this,” he rasped out, gripping the wheel.

After adjusting the seatbelt, she rose onto her knees and put her hands on his shoulders, looking straight into his eyes. “Repeat after me. I can do this.”

Her hands grounded him, and more glass fell away, crashing to the ground in broken shards. “I can do this,” he repeated hoarsely.

“Okay,” she said in a strong voice, her green eyes never leaving his face. “When I tell you to move over, you do it. Okay? I won’t let you down.”

No she wouldn’t. He would go through an enemy door with her at his back.

“Now turn on your right blinker and wait for my signal.”

He did as she bid. Another car honked as it went by, and he shuddered at the noise.

“Stay with me, Jake. Ignore them.” She was on her haunches, scanning the lane next to them. “Okay, ease over.”

“
I can do this.
”
He had to get her to safety.

“That’s it. Just keep edging over,” she said in that same tough voice. “They’re going to let you over.”

The rain was coming down harder now. He wanted to wipe the sweat dripping in his eyes, but he couldn’t take his hands off the steering wheel.

“Keep going, Jake,” she said, her hand returning to his shoulder. “You’re almost there.”

He inched over, and it felt like an eternity had passed by the time he put the truck in park. He slumped in his seat as emotion rolled through him.

She heaved out a breath, rubbing his shoulder briskly now. “Good job. Now, I’ll switch with you.”

His body refused to move as she left the truck to come around to the driver’s side. When she opened the door, she had to lean over him to unbuckle his seatbelt. His hands still had a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, and she rubbed them until he released it.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a hoarse voice. “
I’m so sorry.
”

She wrapped her arms around him. “Don’t be. Not for a moment.”

Raindrops fell onto him, and he realized the door was still open. “You’re getting soaked.”

“I’ll dry,” she said, holding him like a mama bear might. With all her strength. God knew he needed it now, even though he was awash in shame. The cold air helped clear his head, and he realized how close he’d come to the edge again—after all this time.

God, he’d almost gotten them both killed.

He dug deep for the strength, but she didn’t let go of him. She wouldn’t. It was like she knew their connection was the only thing keeping him from falling back behind the glass. It took effort to swing his legs out of the truck, and he found his knees were weak from the adrenaline fallout. God, he was such a baby.

He stomped the ground to feel his feet—something one of his psychiatrists had suggested—and blood seemed to surge into his legs. He strode around the hood of the truck, dimly aware that Susannah was holding his arm and walking beside him as he made his way to the passenger side.

His hand fumbled with the door, so she brushed it aside and opened it for him. He took his seat. The seatbelt might as well have been child proof, it took him so long to secure the buckle. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noticed Susannah situating herself in the driver’s side, adjusting the seat and the mirrors. All he wanted to do was disappear.

Soft skin touched his cheek, and he looked up. She was gazing at him again with those luminous moss-green eyes, concern etched on her face. The warmth of her palm was a comfort. More glass shattered and fell away.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said softly, breaking the last of the glass surrounding his heart.

Pain shot through his chest. “No. No, it’s not. I almost got you killed.”

“Don’t you dare say that. You got upset. It happens to everyone.”

Shaking his head in disagreement, he said, “This does not happen to everyone. Welcome to the horrible underbelly of PTSD. I’m so sorry you had to see me like this.”

Strong hands lifted his face until they were once again eye to eye. “Jake, I was not in danger of dying. Neither were you. We were only going thirty miles an hour. If anything had happened, it would have been a simple fender bender. But nothing did happen.”

His mind conjured up dramatic images like the fuel tank exploding on impact or a semi ramming into them from behind and crunching their vehicle.