Final Words (15 page)

Emotions charged the air around them but Jason didn’t know
if they came from Emma or from him. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he
wanted to make a move on her. But he couldn’t do it tonight. She was too
vulnerable. She’d said that seeing her ex-husband with that woman had opened
her eyes. But had it opened her heart?

“This is a beautiful spot,” she said after a few minutes.

“My parents bought the house when my sister and I were kids.
It was originally for our summer vacations but then they retired here.”

She gestured toward one of the barrel planters that stood on
the deck. “You garden. That’s a surprise.”

“They were Mom’s plants first. Then my sister took care of
them. I just inherited them.”

“They smell wonderful.” Setting her nearly empty cup on the
table, she returned to lean over the railing.

The sea breeze caught her hair, lifted it off her neck and
sifted the strands. His fingers tingled as if they had pushed through that warm
auburn mass.

“I’ve been something of a gardener, myself,” she went on. “I’d
love to see these in the daylight.”

“Well, I can’t give you daylight right now but…” He put his
coffee cup on the table too and then stepped to the door. Reaching inside, he
flipped a light switch and flooded the rose garden with lights from below.

“Oh,” Emma said, leaning further out. “That’s lovely.”

Jason reached for her hand, enfolding her soft fingers with
his own unsteady ones. “It looks even better from the beach,” he said and led
her down the deck stairs.

She went with him but with enough reluctance in her step
that he released her once they reached the sand below. His palm felt empty then
and he tucked it inside a pocket of his jeans as he led her a few yards away
from the house.

“On a clear, still night I can see the roses from a hundred
yards out in the bay,” he said, turning back toward the house.

Emma turned too and her gasp of delight energized him. The
subtle lights he had placed along the base of the rose bed created a glistening
upward cascade of white around the green and crimson plants. Each bush appeared
as a lush bouquet of leaves and blossoms, alive and dancing in the salty
breeze.

“That is so beautiful,” she whispered. “Your sister and
mother would be proud of what you’ve done, Jason.”

“I hope so.”

She smiled at him and his heartbeat quickened. He realized
that he wanted to see that smile every day for the rest of his life. Waiting no
longer seemed an acceptable option.

Drawing his hands from his pockets, he took a step closer to
her. “Emma—”

Her eyes went large and dark in that moonlit setting but he
thought she leaned slightly toward him. Her lips parted and he heard what
sounded like a sigh of acceptance, a tiny sound that sent a ripple of need
coursing through him.

But before he could take what she offered, she drew back and
cocked her head to one side.

“Did you hear that?” she whispered.

Jason could hardly hear anything above the throbbing of his
heart. Then, on a wisp of wind, a faint cry reached him.

“There.” Emma turned toward the bay. “It sounded like
someone calling for help.”

Jason faced the bay too. Moonlight tipped the waves but most
of the water was inky black. “I can’t see anything,” he said. “It might have
been a seagull.”

Emma stepped closer to him and one of her hands came to rest
on his arm. Just as his mind registered the heat sparked by her touch, a real
voice came at them out of the darkness. They both looked to the right. Against
the whiteness of the sand, a dark figure ran from one of the manmade fishing
jetties some distance away. The beam from a flashlight bounced erratically
ahead of the figure.

“Billy?” the person—a young woman—shouted. “Billy, where are
you?”

Jason heard the other cry again and realized that someone
was in the water calling for help. Pulling his cell phone off his belt, he
pushed it into Emma’s hands. “Call 9-1-1. Tell them to come to jetty number
three at Hyde Beach.”

As Emma obeyed, Jason took off running toward his house and
the lifeguard equipment he kept stowed in a locker under the deck for
emergencies like this one.

Emma talked to the 9-1-1 operator as she ran after Jason. He
had grabbed some kind of flotation device and a flashlight and then raced down
the beach. She saw him reach the young woman who still frantically shouted and
kicked up the water in the shallows. The beam from her small flashlight swung
wildly across the waves. Jason turned on his own light and swept a steadier,
broader beam across the water.

“We have a possible drowning victim,” Emma said in response
to the emergency operator’s question. “We need an ambulance.”

“Stay on the line, Dr. St. Clair,” the operator said. “I’m
contacting Emergency Services right now.”

Still holding the cell phone to her ear, Emma ran faster.
Ahead, Jason pressed his larger flashlight into the young woman’s hands and
then charged into the waves.

Panic slammed Emma in the gut. She tried to run faster but
the wet sand pulled at her feet. Kicking off her shoes, she raced toward the
spot where Jason had gone into the water.

“Oh, God! Oh, God!” The young woman stared with wild eyes at
Emma. “Billy’s drowning! Oh, God! Someone do something!”

Emma grabbed the girl’s wrist as she started to run into the
water after Jason. “Stay with me,” she ordered. “An ambulance is on the way.
Tell me your name.”

“Mindy. My name is Mindy.” The girl’s chest heaved with
panic. “Billy and I…we were fishing…off the jetty. He fell in and…the
current…he couldn’t get out again.”

Emma’s glance took in the girl’s semi-dressed state—a
T-shirt and panties—and she knew they’d been doing something more than fishing
off the jetty.

“Sit,” she ordered and pushed the girl down on the sand.
Still holding the cell phone to her ear with her left hand, she grabbed Jason’s
flashlight with her right and swept the beam more steadily over the water.
Several nerve-racking seconds passed before she located Jason swimming against
the waves. His orange flotation device bobbed in the surf beside him.

Hearing the cry for help again, she moved the light ahead of
Jason until she saw something moving in the waves. Then, holding the light
steady, she began to pray.

Pausing to get his bearings, Jason saw the light on the
undulating water. Thank God. Emma must have taken the light from the hysterical
girl. The beam bobbed around and then fixed on the terrified face of a young
man trying to swim against a riptide that had pulled him away from the jetty.

Stroking through the water, Jason felt the current catch him
too, carrying him and his rescue tube toward the struggling figure. Angling his
body at the last moment, he slammed into the other man. A gurgled cry erupted
from a water-logged throat. Then, in a panic, the man wound his arms around
Jason’s head and neck as if trying to climb on top of him. For an instant,
Jason considered clipping him on the chin with his fist, knocking him out long
enough to keep him from drowning both of them. But not knowing how much water
he had already inhaled, Jason wanted him conscious and struggling to breathe.

“I’ve got you!” he shouted as the riptide pushed them
further away from the shore. “Stop fighting me, damn it!”

Shoving the rescue tube between them, he managed to separate
himself from the panic-stricken young man.

“Grab the tube!” he shouted.

A wave slapped his face, filling his mouth and nose with
briny Gulf Coast water. As Jason drew away, the man transferred his grip from
Jason to the tube and they drifted together further out into the bay. Finally,
the current seemed to vanish and they floated into calmer water.

But the danger wasn’t over. The man had passed out. He
dangled from the rescue tube, his face in the water.

Swimming closer, Jason lifted the victim’s face out of the
water. Then, taking a deep breath, he hooked his arm around the man’s neck and
began to swim for shore.

Emma ran into the surf as soon as the flashlight beam found
two figures approaching a little further down the beach. The girl, Mindy,
stumbled into the water after her and the two of them helped Jason and the
unconscious young man onto the sand.

“He needs…CPR,” Jason gasped, falling to his knees beside
the man. “He’s…not breathing.”

Seeing Jason’s exhaustion, Emma nudged him aside. The touch
of her hands would reveal if it was too late for Billy. Tilting his head, Emma
began to administer CPR. The kid lay still beneath her pumping hand, his lips
lifeless against hers. But no spirit appeared and Emma, encouraged, kept up her
effort.

“Billy, please don’t die!” Mindy huddled on the other side
of her boyfriend’s body, her hands clutched around one of his where it lay in
the wet sand. “Billy, please!”

Emma rose to pump his chest again. “Keep talking to him,
Mindy,” she said. “Call him back. He’ll come.”

“Billy.” Mindy leaned close to his ear. “Billy, come back.
You have to come back. Oh, Billy, please! I love you!”

Bending over, Emma pinched Billy’s nostrils together and
breathed into his mouth again. She felt a gurgle in his chest and, seconds
later, he coughed up sea water.

“Oh, thank God! Thank God!”

As Mindy fell across her boyfriend’s heaving chest, Emma sat
back and took a deep breath for herself.

“Mindy?” Fluid still filled Billy’s mouth, garbling his
voice. “They sent me back. I wanted to go but they sent me back.”

A chill crawled through Emma and she glanced at Jason. He
stared at Billy as if confused. Then he shook his head and shifted his gaze
toward Emma. Although he still breathed hard, he managed a smile for her.

“Didn’t I tell you,” he gasped, “that I know…how to show a
girl…a good time?”

Opening her eyes, Emma stared at the unfamiliar sunlit
ceiling and gradually remembered where she’d spent the night. Wooden rafters
and rustic beams hung overhead and the air breathed in a gentle, soothing
rhythm around her as sunlight warmed her face. Lifting her head, she turned
toward the light.

Sheer curtains rippled over an open window as a breeze
drifted inside, heavy with the scent of the sea and lush roses. Shifting her
gaze, she saw Jason sprawled in a faded blue recliner near the foot of the
floral sofa upon which she lay. His head tilted to one side and his eyes were
closed. The white terrycloth bathrobe he wore gaped open across his chest and
she could see a sprinkling of dark hair there as his chest rose and fell with
deep, peaceful breaths.

Memory swept over her. Soon after the ambulance had taken
Billy and Mindy away and a pair of uniformed police officers had taken their
statements, she and Jason had returned to the house. Chilled and weary, soaked
to the skin, they’d changed into matching robes—a pair that his parents had
brought home years ago from a cruise—and then settled in the living room. They’d
sipped coffee laced with brandy and talked about the near tragedy on the beach.

Jason hadn’t mentioned what Billy had said about not wanting
to come back so Emma hadn’t brought it up, either. But she’d known exactly what
the youth was talking about. It still puzzled her, though, that the young man’s
spirit had not appeared to her during his few minutes of death. She’d thought
she would have been able to communicate with him.

As the night wore on, she’d stopped worrying about it as she
and Jason chatted about college and families and their jobs. Finally, a
comfortable silence had settled over them. She’d worried briefly over their
state of dress and the interested gleam in his eye. But, true to his word, he
hadn’t made a move on her. Comfortable in his presence, emotionally exhausted
by the events of the night, Emma had eventually fallen asleep listening to the
bay breathe outside his little house.

Blood warmed her face now. She’d actually fallen asleep on
the man!

She looked at him again. He had to be uncomfortable sprawled
sideways like that, one leg hooked over the arm of the chair, the other
extended. She wondered if he’d meant to fall asleep there or if the peace of
the night had simply overtaken him too. In spite of his awkward position, he
looked relaxed.

And sexy, she confessed to herself as her gaze skimmed the
expanse of inner thigh revealed by a twist in his robe. Long legs, muscular and
golden from his time spent living on the beach, sent heat curling through her
like smoke and she had to force her gaze back to his face. Still and sculpted,
more bronze than his body, it was as kind face as it was handsome

But kindness, she knew from experience, often reached no
deeper than a man’s epidermis. She couldn’t trust his look or his words. A man’s
manner proved his nature more than the words of other people did. And that
simple fact perplexed her. Jason MacKenzie’s manner last night had seemed at
odds with everything she’d heard about him. He’d kissed her—a wonderful
kiss—but he hadn’t pushed himself on her. He certainly didn’t act like a guy
who went after anything in a skirt. Still, she couldn’t imagine that Brian,
Marta and Skitch would have made up all of those stories.

And there was another reason for her to be glad he hadn’t
tried to seduce her last night. Her attraction to him could be a rebound
reaction. His natural charm… Well, Alan had been charming and handsome too, so
maybe she was just susceptible to such a personality.

No
, she decided.
It doesn’t matter what kind of
man he is. No matter what my instincts are telling me about him, even if Jason
doesn’t live up to his reputation, I’m just not ready to get close to another
man yet. Not until I know what I want.

Jason inhaled deeply and opened his eyes. For a moment, he
stared blankly at nothing. Then his gaze met hers. Flecks of gold warmed to
life in each brown iris. Smiling slowly, he arched his neck. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” She sat up and her face grew warm again. She
hoped he didn’t realize she’d been watching him sleep. “How’s your back?”

“A little stiff.” Straightening his body in the chair, he
tucked the robe more securely around himself. His feet, long and wide, settled
on the floor. “How about yours?”

“Great.” She ran one hand over the floral upholstery,
watching her fingers to keep from looking at his sexy calves. “You have a very
comfortable couch.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve passed out on it more than once.”

She couldn’t resist looking as he stood up and stretched his
arms. Her throat went dry when his robe rode up his muscular legs. “All that
beer, I guess,” she said hoarsely.

He narrowed one sleepy eye in her direction and lowered his
arms. “There you go, throwing my reputation up at me again.”

She swallowed to wet her raspy throat. “Sorry.”

“No offense taken. I hope you’re hungry because I make a
killer omelet.” When she smiled in surprise, he settled his hands on his hips. “Don’t
tell me you’ve heard disparaging remarks about my cooking skills too.”

“No.” She drew her legs in and held the robe closed at her
neck. “I just don’t know that many men who can cook.”

“Well, prepare to be impressed.”

He stretched his arms toward the ceiling again. The hem of
the robe rose until she could see the lean muscles in his sun-darkened thighs.
Feeling a familiar tickle in the pit of her belly, Emma averted her gaze once
more.

“Your clothes are still in the dryer,” Jason said and
stepped around the couch. “It’s in that cupboard next to the bathroom.”

“Yes, I saw it last night.”

He nodded. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen after you dress.”

“Fine. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Before she gave away
what she was feeling, Emma escaped to the bathroom.

* * * * *

Jason poured oil in the skillet and then selected four eggs
from the carton. What a night. Emma had spent it on his couch, within reach and
he hadn’t laid a finger on her. After that brief moment on the beach, he hadn’t
even tried to kiss her. He’d wanted to. The need to kiss her made him shake
inside even now. But he could wait until she was ready to accept what he felt
for her. Even the secrets she held no longer seemed to matter.

He cracked the eggs into a bowl and listened to the splash
of water in the bathroom halfway across the small house. It was a comfortable,
feminine sound. He hadn’t brought many women to his home since his sister had
died. A purse or sweater on the sofa or a pair of sexy shoes on the floor made
the house feel strange. Perfume in the air disturbed its usual sense of privacy
and left Jason feeling guilty for allowing other females to enter his sister’s
home. The house had always seemed small and cramped and he’d eventually stopped
inviting any woman but Charlie’s wife, Veronica.

This morning, like last night, the house seemed just the
right size. Picking up the whisk, Jason grinned and continued making breakfast.

* * * * *

Like the rest of the house, Emma noticed, Jason’s bathroom
had a decidedly feminine flair. Violets adorned the wallpaper. White porcelain
accented the faucets on the sink and bathtub. Lace tipped white hand towels.
The style didn’t suit his masculinity and yet he seemed comfortable here.

The contradiction had her shaking her head. She didn’t want
to feel this attraction but she couldn’t help it. He was the kind of man she
could lose herself in. But that was unacceptable because she hadn’t really
found herself yet.

Emma studied her reflection in the small, framed mirror
above the sink. She’d washed her face, combed her hair and used a
toothpaste-covered index finger to scrub her teeth. From the neck up, she was
presentable. But after sitting in the dryer all night, her blouse and slacks
were wrinkled to a state that only a hot iron could salvage. But she didn’t
dare risk staying in that bathrobe any longer. The temptation to strip it off
and throw herself at him was just too great.

Running her hands down the front of her slacks, she sighed
and then turned and stepped out of the bathroom.

With morning light spilling through the bathroom window into
the short hallway, Emma noticed for the first time the gallery of family photos
on the wall opposite the bathroom door. The photos captured images of Jason and
a couple who must be his parents. Jason’s resemblance to his father showed in
the dark, shaggy hair and gleaming brown eyes. In several other photos, Emma
saw that his mother had passed on her laughing blue eyes to a young woman who
looked oddly familiar.

Emma slumped against the wall behind her as recognition
struck. The young woman smiling from those pictures. Emma had seen her during
her near-death experience in the emergency room. It was obvious from the
photograph that she was Jason’s sister.

His sister who had died in a hit-and-run.

“Tell my brother I’m all right too,” the young woman had
said in Emma’s dream. “Tell him to stop blaming himself.”

Emma lifted the photo off the wall. A chill crawled through
her as she gazed into those familiar, smiling eyes.

Suddenly she knew that Jason’s sister had been the spirit
with the message. A message for him. The rose in her hand would have been a
clue if Emma had known about Jason’s gardening hobby. But even after seeing the
plants last night, that clue had flown past Emma like a paper airplane
propelled by jet fuel. Rose had wanted Jason to know that she was safe and she’d
used Emma to pass the message along. Rose MacKenzie had chosen Emma…most likely
because they’d shared similar accidents and they’d both known Brian Reiser.
That explanation sounded as legitimate as any other.

Still carrying the picture, Emma walked into the kitchen.

“Find everything you need?” Still dressed in the white
bathrobe but with the sleeves rolled back to reveal his muscular forearms,
Jason looked up from the sizzling omelet. His gaze flickered down to the
photograph in her hands. Curiosity curled his lips. “Apparently you found
something.”

“This is your sister.” She turned the picture toward him.

“Yes.” His expression softened. “That’s Rose.”

She placed the photo on a kitchen counter. Her stomach
fluttered with nerves. “I’ve seen your sister before.”

Jason lifted her gaze back to Emma’s eyes. “You met her?”

“Not exactly. She…” Taking a deep breath, Emma finished
before she lost her courage. “She was in Heaven and she wanted me to tell you
that she’s all right.”

Jason stared at her for several seconds, then that bemused
smile flickered over his mouth again. “You saw her picture on the wall when you
went into the bathroom last night. We’d been talking about her. She was hit by
a car like you and Brian so you dreamed about her last night. I understand.”

Emma shook her head. “I didn’t dream about her last night
and I didn’t notice the picture until this morning.”

His smile faltered. “But you said—”

“That day in the emergency room. When I died. That’s when I
saw her.”

He stared at her. “When you died.”

Emma wet her dry lips. “Jason, I had an experience that I
haven’t told anyone about except my parents and my psychiatrist. When my heart
stopped, I saw Brian’s spirit. And I saw the spirit of a young woman who wanted
me to give someone a message. She was holding a rose but I didn’t realize until
I saw her picture here this morning that the message was meant for you.”

He frowned. “It must have been a dream.”

Frustrated, Emma picked up the photograph. He wasn’t ready
to understand.

“Never mind,” she said quietly. “I’ll just put this back.”

“Emma—”

“Your eggs are burning.” When he glanced at the stove, she
turned away. She hadn’t really expected him to believe her.

But she had hoped he would try.

Grabbing the skillet, Jason dumped the burned omelet into
the sink and turned on the water. He flipped on the garbage disposal and then
leaned against the counter and watched the eggs and water swirl down the drain.

Death, dreams, messages. She’d confessed last night that she
was getting counseling but he hadn’t suspected her problem went so deep.
Suddenly, secrets that hadn’t mattered ten minutes earlier had taken on
monumental importance.

But why should he have suspected anything so complicated? He
knew she had some kind of secret but never dreamed it was anything like this.
Other than a skittish nature—and a tendency to put herself in dangerous
situations—she’d simply been a beautiful, intriguing woman. A woman with a
sparkle in her eyes that soothed and attracted him.

A woman whose tears touched him.

A woman whose laughter warmed his heart.

He considered what she’d been through, dying on that
emergency room table and being yanked back to life. Kind of like that kid on
the beach last night. But Emma’s injuries had been severe. She might take some
pretty powerful medications even now. She’d probably had all sorts of strange
dreams that night and since, about death and the lucky break she’d caught.
About Brian, who hadn’t been so lucky. Jason would have had trouble dealing
with such a burden himself. Like the burden he felt for contributing to Rose’s
death.

But that didn’t explain why Emma thought she’d had a message
from Rose, a woman she’d never met. Not in this life, anyway.

He turned off the disposal and the water. Emma believed what
she’d said and it hurt her that he didn’t believe her. He didn’t want to hurt
her. But she had to face reality. And reality dictated that no one could
communicate with the dead.

Leaning back against the kitchen counter, Jason shoved a
hand through his hair. Although he didn’t believe it, he confessed to himself
that he wished Emma’s claim—and the message—was true. Because if it was, there
were a lot of people that he’d like to talk to. It would make his life as a
homicide detective a hell of a lot easier.