Beginning with You (21 page)

It was so hard for Rook to find the right words to say. She felt Gil searching for answers. Hell, she couldn’t even figure out why she had fallen into Jim’s arms last night. Moistening her lips, Rook gave him a sympathetic look.

“Don’t take all the blame, Gil. If you hadn’t gotten out of it, Eve would have eaten you up alive emotionally.”

He snorted, digging the toe of his boot against the pavement. “It’s not all her fault. I don’t know. I was running on empty, emotionally, with her. I kept trying to talk to her, and we always ended up fighting. And when she joined the newspaper, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.” He gave Rook an apologetic look. “I feel so bad about Eve implicating Noah in that whale shooting. She did that out of vindictiveness, to get my attention. Eve felt she was second in my life. Of all the stupid things, she thought we were having an affair.”

“I know,” Rook admitted softly.

Gil laughed sharply, raising his face, studying the moody sky above them. “Hell, we’re friends. Pilots are a fraternity—an extended family—but Eve couldn’t accept that.”

“We are a tight-knit group,” Rook agreed. “All the pilots support one another.” Jim’s words came back to her about having a man as a friend. She looked at Gil in a new light. The last couple of months, she had evolved toward true friendship with him. How little she really knew of men and women, Rook mused. It struck her hard that all her life she had struggled to make something of herself by working hard. Social contact with men or women was strictly a secondary thing. Now, Rook was finding out she was like an infant in the world of complex and confusing relationships.

Gil opened the door for her. “Why couldn’t Eve be happy at home, raising a family?”

Rook got in and waited for him to enter the car. “Not all women are born homemakers, Gil.”

“My mother found complete happiness raising the four of us kids. She loved to sew, and she took pride in her family.”

There was little Rook could say. “First Tag loses his wife, and now you.”

“Don’t waste your pity on me, Rook. This has been brewing for a long time.”

She held Gil’s bloodshot gaze. “I never pity anyone, but you have my compassion and understanding.”

He shoved the key into the lock. “Let’s get out of here, little angel of mercy.”

Rook had been taught the value of avoiding serious commitments with a man. She had seen what Jack had done to her mother. It had shortened her life and, more importantly, destroyed her mother’s will to live. Gil was equally devastated. Nothing in life was ever solid or stable, especially in the realm of relationships. Jim’s features wavered in her thoughts. What would he think of the note she had left him? Fear clutched at her heart, and all Rook could do was feel panic.

Jim awoke slowly, the fragrance of Rook in his nostrils. Happiness ribboned through him and he lay there savoring her all over again. As he drew out of the folds of sleep, he frowned. Automatically his hand went out, searching for her. Prying his eyes open, he raised up on one arm. Rook was gone. He glanced at the clock: it was eight o’clock—time to get up and go to work.

Why hadn’t Rook awakened him before she left? Puzzled, Jim slipped on his terry cloth robe and padded down the hall in his bare feet to the kitchen. At the coffee maker he found her note.

No! Slowly, Jim crumpled up the paper. Pain jagged through his chest and he bowed his head, both fists clenched. “Dammit!” he breathed savagely, turning and glaring out across the silent kitchen. He’d screwed up, badly. Rook’s words burned into his heart.”

Dear Jim: Please forgive me. Last night shouldn’t have happened. I’m scared. Just leave me alone. I need time to think. Rook.”

Throwing the note in the trash, Jim stalked into the den. He always found peace out on the sundeck. As he pulled open the sliding glass door and walked out on the cedar expanse, his heart contracted with more agony. Rook was running away from him.

Glaring out across the quiet, foggy expanse of Port Angeles, Jim ruthlessly examined himself. Last night, Rook had needed to be held and comforted. He’d mistaken her cry for help as a signal to make love. No! Jim had wanted to love Rook for as long as he could remember. In her need for comfort from the death of Paula Welsh and pressure on Noah, she’d reached out for reassurance. Her act was not a signal that she had wanted to make love.

Or was it? Jim leaned against the cedar rail, frantically trying to sort out what happened. It struck him that Rook was in shock over the death of Paula Welsh. Had it brought back the memory of her mother’s death? Jim knew Rook hadn’t worked through all the grief of her mother’s passing. Death and dying…of course!

“You stupid sonofabitch,” he muttered to himself harshly. Why hadn’t he realized that? Why? Turning, Jim rested his face in his hand. Unconsciously, Rook must have identified having sex with him as the opposite of all the death and trauma she’d suffered through in the last twenty-four-hour period.

Miserably, Jim shook his head. Like a fool, he’d misinterpreted her needs. If he’d been smarter, he’d have refused to make love with Rook and just held her, instead. Because he loved her, had ached to take her to bed to show her how much she meant to him, he’d made what may have been the biggest mistake of his life.

Pacing back into the den, Jim felt the walls close in on him. Rook must have awakened this morning, realized her mistake and fled. Dammit, deep down, Jim knew she loved him, but she was afraid to admit it, afraid to run toward a man who might give her laughter and happiness instead of pain and sorrow. All her conditioning, throughout her life, had taught her that men were something to avoid.

Last night, he reminded himself sharply, he’d seen love in her lustrous gray eyes for him. It was love, dammit! In his heart, Jim knew that, clung to that one indisputable fact. Rook had been incredibly wanton and willing, equally assertive in her need of him as he’d been with her. Looking back on it, Jim realized that she was naive in her lovemaking.

With a sinking feeling, he realized Rook had probably had very few experiences with men. With a shake of his head, Jim dragged in a ragged breath. They’d come together like oil and fire, exploding violently within each other. It hadn’t been an act of love between them as much as it had been a fierce, hungry need that demanded satiation. They were two starved human beings who had fed upon one another for very different reasons.

It was the reasons that bothered Jim the most. He’d come to her out of love. His act had still been motivated by his love of Rook. She had come to him out of a need to prove that she was not dead inside. For Rook, it was a primal, unconscious need, not necessarily an act of love.

Jim sat down on the couch, staring at the woven tapestry hanging on the opposite wall. It depicted two great blue herons on a quiet pond, surrounded by cattails. Clasping his hands, he rested his chin on his knuckles, recalling details of their lovemaking. No, Rook did love him. It had shown in her eyes before and after experiencing that shatteringly beautiful orgasm with him. Something told him that Rook had never experienced an orgasm before, judging from the look of surprise and awe in her eyes. Her skin had flushed afterward, another sign.

A trickle of hope flared to life within him. Maybe Rook had come to him seeking to prove she could still feel, that she was still alive. But somewhere in their fiery coupling, all those feelings she’d been trying to deny toward him had escaped. The need to live along with the need to love him had woven themselves together within her, and she hadn’t yet separated the difference.

“I’ll be damned,” Jim muttered, hope surging within him. That was why Rook was running! Whether she admitted it consciously or not, last night in his arms had brought her in direct contact with her love for him. That had to be it! He squeezed his eyes shut, his brow resting against his clenched hands. “God, please let it be that,” he rasped harshly. Because, if he was wrong, Rook would never see him again. She would run away from him, just as she had run from the men in her past.

What to do now? Jim clenched his teeth, feeling his way through that tricky question. Time—Rook had to have time to assimilate what had happened. Maybe she would be able to figure out, as he had, what had happened and why. If he tried to barge in on her now, Jim knew any chance of a further relationship with her would be completely destroyed. No. He had to wait. But, God, it was the last thing he wanted to do! Loving Rook last night had set him on fire, made him twice as hungry to fulfill them both again.

Rising, Jim felt the helplessness slough off him. There was resolve in his blue eyes as he padded back to the kitchen to make coffee. Patience was the key. And if there was anything he had plenty of, it was that, thanks to his mother’s Scottish blood. Let Rook settle down and accept Paula’s death and, in reality, her mother’s passing. Let her make amends with Noah. Then, and only then, would Jim step back into her life….

The doorbell was ringing. Rook groped to wake up as the chimes sounded throughout her small apartment. What time was it? She rolled over, the cotton nightgown twisted and tangled about her legs. Prying one eye open, she looked at the red dials on the large clock face: 4 p.m. It was time to get up, anyway. The doorbell rang again. Fear seized her. Was it Jim? Hands trembling, Rook reached for her robe.

“I’m coming!” Grumbling, Rook threw on her well-worn white chenille robe then stumbled out of the bedroom. Rubbing her eyes, she went to the door and pulled it open.

“Noah…”

“May I come in?”

Rook stood there, trying to collect her scattered thoughts. “Uh…yeah.” She stepped aside. Noah was in uniform: a light-blue shirt and dark-blue slacks. He gave her a slight smile as he took off his garrison cap and walked past her. He carried a bundle of envelopes in his left hand. Shutting the door, her normal defenses not in place yet, she asked, “What’s going on?”

Noah looked around the comfortable apartment. Rook had good taste in color as well as furniture. Right now, she looked like a lost waif, her hair mussed, eyes sleep-ridden, standing there in that threadbare robe that should have been discarded long ago. Rook, like himself, kept things out of loyalty, long past their usefulness. Maybe she applied that same philosophy to him. Noah hoped so.

“I’ve got some good news for you.”

Rubbing her puffy eyes, Rook headed toward the kitchen. “I need some coffee. What’s the news?”

Noah swallowed his smile and followed her. He made himself comfortable at the pink Formica table, setting the bundle and his garrison cap aside. He watched Rook, barely awake, make coffee. She was unfailingly human, and the love he felt toward her mushroomed fiercely in his chest.

“It’s about the whale investigation,” Noah baited.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You’ve been out of the office all day, and the worm took an interesting turn while you were away.”

Rook flipped the switch on the coffee maker and turned, wrapping her arms against her breast. “What happened?”

Noah heard the underlying fear in her voice. Was it for him or the helo pilots? He’d like to hope that it was for both of them. “This morning the captain went over to Channing and confronted the general manager. Stuart was able to confirm that they had a flight scheduled the morning in question. They were testing the radar guidance system of their helo in fog conditions.”

“Great!”

“It gets better,” Noah promised, cracking a smile. Unconsciously, he toyed with the large pack of letters. “The pilot, John Trevor, also had a load of ammunition on board that helo. He tested the radar device according to the flight plan, and after the test was completed, he spotted the whales. That’s when Trevor decided to have a little fun.”

“Fun?” Rook grumped. “I don’t call killing a harmless baby whale fun.”

He shook his head. “Few do. Anyway, Trevor, using the newly installed radar, saw the yacht was far enough away and used the whales as target practice. He was only intend ing to fire close to the adult whales. He says he never saw the baby in between them.” Noah shook his head, bitterness in his voice. “Looks like their radar isn’t perfect, doesn’t it?”

Rook cursed softly. “No kidding. Did Trevor realize the Coast Guard was also conducting an exercise out in the warning area?”

“Yes.”

Rook ran her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth it down into place. “The bastard.”

“Channing officials are offering to make full restitution and are as sorry as hell, according to their spokesperson. But it makes you wonder whether they would have let us take the rap if Stuart hadn’t questioned them closely.”

“From all appearances, it looks like they were going to lie low and let us take the heat.” Rook sighed. “Are Ty and his crew off the hook, then?”

Noah tried to mask his hurt when she didn’t ask about him or his cutter crew. “Officially, as of 1530 today, we’re all cleared.”

Smiling, Rook went to the cupboard. “Wonderful!” She brought down a cup for the brewing coffee. And then, she remembered her manners. “Do you want some?” Rook really didn’t want Noah hanging around; she was uncomfortable with his presence.

“Please.”

Rook made him a cup, and he took a sip of the steaming coffee. “By the way, the captain was going to contact you, but when he saw me he figured you’d like to have all this good news in person. He said that he’d see you at 0800 tomorrow.”

Brightening, Rook sipped her coffee. “You mean I don’t have to go in today at all?”

“You get the night off. The air group’s been laboring under a lot of pressure,” Noah said. “The captain’s asking the admiral for two more pilots to be assigned here on temporary duty so that he can get that duty roster straightened out.”

Dramatically, Rook placed her hand against her heart. “I don’t know if I can stand all these positives!”

He laughed with her. Setting the coffee aside, Noah cupped the bundle of letters in his hands. His smile dissolved.

“There’s more news, but I don’t know if you’ll consider it good or not.”

Frowning, Rook said, “What else?” She was thinking it concerned Tag or Gil. “Is it one of the guys?”

“No.” Noah held her worried gaze. “It’s about us. I think it’s time we talked, Rook.”

Silence hung between them.

Setting the cup aside, Rook crossed her arms defensively against her breast. “This isn’t a good time, Noah.”

He rose, holding the letters gently between his fingers. “I don’t think you’ll ever feel there’s a right time to settle things between us.”

Rook watched apprehensively as he slowly walked around the table and confronted her. “There’s nothing to discuss,” she countered defensively. “We’ve been over all this before. What’s done is done. You and I have nothing to build on except the present.”

“You’re wrong. We have a past, a present and a future. Together. As family.”

She allowed her arms to drop and walked to the living room. “Just leave, Noah. I’m tired, I’ve had one hell of a couple of days and I desperately need to rest.”

He followed Rook and reached out, gently bringing her to a halt. When she whirled around, he saw the pain and anger in her features. “I’m tired, too. This investigation hasn’t exactly been easy on me, either.” He tried to ignore the tremor in his voice. “I’m not leaving this apartment until you hear me out, Rook. There are things I need to discuss with you. Please….”

Rook hated herself. Why did she have to be such a sucker for someone who looked desperate and in need of help? She glanced down at the package in his hand. “I won’t discuss the past with you. We’ve hashed it over too many times already.”

“This is something you don’t know about, Rook.” Noah looked at the letters. “Something that I think will change how you feel about me, and maybe our family.”

“Our family” grated across her exposed nerves. “Let me get showered and dressed. I’ve got to wake up before I tackle this.”

“Fine.”

Rook took her time in the shower, dread filling her. She hated confrontations, especially over family matters. She dressed in a pale pink blouse, a pair of jeans and her Nike jogging shoes. She combed out her damp hair with a shaky hand.
Why am I so nervous? Calm down, you idiot. Just because Noah looks stricken and hurt doesn’t mean a thing. He’s pulled this act on you before
. She saw the high color in her cheeks and avoided the fear etched in her wide gray eyes as she glanced in the bathroom mirror. Palms sweaty, she walked quietly to the living room.

Noah stood looking out the window, hands deep in his trouser pockets. She sat down in a chair and crossed her legs.

“Let’s get this over with,” she muttered, watching him turn around.

Noah sat on the couch, opposite Rook. His mouth was suddenly dry, and he could no longer hide his nervousness. Normally, he was an efficient and capable leader who usually had the right words for his crew. But he was vulnerable to Rook’s distrusting look and her defensive attitude.

“When Jack broke up with our mother, you were six and I was eight,” he began.

“Yes, and you chose to stay with him,” she reminded Noah. “I wasn’t about to, after he beat Mom up that one time. And she was smart enough to get out from under him and his tyrant rule.”

“I wanted to come with you.”

Rook snorted. “It sure didn’t look that way, Noah. Father and son stuck together like glue, while Mom and daughter left. Penniless, I might add. Mom asked for no alimony when she headed for Texas.”

“Jack pulled me aside one day, Rook, before Mom and you left,” he told her quietly. “He told me he was dying of cancer and that I owed it to him to stay behind to help him.”

Rook sat up, her eyes rounding. “What?”

Noah gave her a twisted smile. “I found out much too late that Jack was a chronic liar.”

“And a wife beater.”

“That, also.”

She tilted her head, trying to penetrate Noah’s open features to see if he was lying to her once again. “You said Jack made you believe he had cancer?”

“Yes. Looking back on it many years later, after another incident, I began to piece things together. He lied about a lot of things, Rook.”

“When he didn’t die of cancer, didn’t you stop to think about it?” she challenged.

Leaning forward, Noah pleaded, “Rook, I was eight at the time. You know how naive children are. Jack came into my room one night just before Mom left and started sobbing. It was the first time I’d ever seen a man cry. He begged for me to stay. I didn’t know what to do.”

Rook got up, pacing the room. “Why should I believe you, Noah? Jack was a chronic liar. Why shouldn’t you be, too? You lived with that monster. It’s a well-known fact that what the parent does, so does the child.”

He held on to his anger. “I have proof, Rook.”

She halted. “All right, go on with your story.”

“When Jack took me back East, and he remarried, he hired detectives to hunt you down.”

“Those were the right words. Mom and I felt like felons on the run from the law. She couldn’t keep a job in some small jerkwater town for more than six months to a year because Jack had the power, the prestige and, most important, the money to locate us.”

Noah nodded. “Jack had a brittle ego, and he couldn’t stand the thought that Mom had run out on him. It was like a wound that never healed in him.”

“You bet it didn’t. Jack taught me what hate can do, Noah.”

“He taught us all,” he agreed wearily. “Right after we moved back to Washington, D.C., I started writing letters to you and Mom, as soon as the detectives found your address. I couldn’t leave Jack because I still thought he was dying of cancer, but I wanted to let you and Mom know how much I missed you.”

Rook stared down at the letters. “We never got any of them.”

Noah got up and thrust his hands into his trouser pockets, walking over to where Rook stood tensely. “Jack promised me that each and every one of those letters would be sent to you. So, over the years, until I was eighteen, I kept writing. For a long time, I couldn’t figure out why you didn’t write back. Every time I asked that question, Jack hammered it into me that you and Mom didn’t love me. He tried to make me think Mom had abandoned me for you.”

Rook heard the agony in Noah’s voice. She saw it in his eyes. This was no act he was putting on, her gut told her. “Go on….”

“You remember the times the detectives found you and brought you back East?”

“How could I forget? Locked in my room all day and only allowed out when Jack or his wife were there to keep an eye on me.”

“The first time they brought you back, you were eleven.”

Rook felt old anger stirring in her. “Yes, and you were nowhere to be found. Jack kept telling me how much you had missed me, but I sure as hell didn’t get to see you.”

“Know why?”

“No,” she muttered, refusing to meet his eyes. “I figured you hated me as much as I hated you, and you were avoiding me.”

Noah fought the urge to place his hands on her drawn shoulders. His voice dropped to a rasp. “Jack had me locked in my room, too, Rook.”

Jerking her chin up, Rook stared at him. The anguish was clearly etched in his eyes. “What?”

“If he’d allowed us together, the first thing I would have asked you was why you and Mom hadn’t answered all my letters over the years.”

Rubbing her chest because it hurt, Rook stepped away from him. “Jack said during the next visit that you were away at a military academy and weren’t allowed home.”

“That was a partial lie. I was sent to a military academy five days a week, but I was allowed home on weekends. The week you were brought home, Jack told the officials to keep me at the academy. He wanted to make sure you and I didn’t get together.”

Rook’s mouth fell open. Noah, who was always so warm and giving, wasn’t the type to adjust easily to a military lifestyle. They had been so close as a family before the divorce. He had always been a toucher and hugger. Rook could vividly remember the time when she and Noah were inseparable. Her mother had reinforced their closeness, showering them with constant love and attention.

Rook’s distrust warred with the new information. They were no longer children, but that didn’t stop the hurt she was feeling for Noah—if he was telling the truth.

“Jack kept saying that if I was a good little girl, he’d let me see you—eventually.”

“The only reason he wanted you back East was to hurt Mom, Rook.”

“I believe that! He never did like me. You were always his favorite.”

“Lucky me,” Noah grated.

“What about when I was twelve? They tracked us down in Odessa, Texas, and I spent two lousy weeks back there.”

“I was kept at the academy again. This time, I knew something was up and hitched a ride home with one of my friends’ parents. Remember that time I got to your room before we were discovered together?”

“Too well. You were like an excited puppy, hugging and kissing me.”

He managed a slight smile. “No one was more excited than me at discovering you were there, Rook. I loved you. I was lonely, and I couldn’t figure out why you hadn’t answered my letters. Remember, just as Jack found us together, I asked you why you never wrote back?”