Jane's Long March Home (5 page)

Maxine scowled at him. “It can get mighty cold here in the winter.”

And lonely.
 

Chase frowned. He was plenty comfortable with his own company. “That won’t be a problem.”

A thump came from the open door of Pete’s cubical, followed by a stern shushing sound blending with the busy noises of the ER Department.

“Those your children?”

Pretty sure the boys were working on a fast getaway, Chase wondered how he could end this conversation without offending the woman.

Maxine took his hesitation as assent. “Well. This is good country to raise a family in,” she said gruffly, before leaving him standing there, his mind whirling.

Until he could prove he wasn’t a careless son-of-a-gun; that he’d never again put his own selfish needs before the welfare of those he’d been charged to take care of,
a family
was definitely out of the question.

Besides, in his book, making this fictional family would required a woman. He didn’t have anyone lined up for the job.

Jane sleeping peacefully, her short hair littering the pillow like small sunbeams, caused a small earthquake under his feet. Locking his jaw he took a step to see what the boys were up to.

Jane Donovan did not have a starring role in his future. When he was done with her - he was already formulating a plan to move the woman on her way - the last thing she'd want, would be to stay forever. Faster than if he lit a fire under her gorgeous behind, she'd on the road back to the life she’d come from.

Just as he’d suspected, when he stepped into the room, Pete was already on his feet, leaning on crutches the nurse had found in a back room. “Good, you’re ready to go.”

A short time later, the boys were settled in the back. Glancing over at the woman riding shotgun, he pointed the Ford toward home.

Head resting against the headrest, Jane's remarkable eyes were closed. The hard knot that had settled in his chest the night his mom told him Nate was in the hospital, eased off a little. In the rear view mirror, Bobby and Pete nodded off, their heads bobbing gently at the unevenness of the road.

Jane stirred. “You’re keeping me awake. I can hear you thinking clear over here.”

Her voice was low, laced with a tiredness that pulled at Chase’s gut. Of all the women he’d known and casually dated over the years, why did this one have to be the one who jump started his engine like flame to a firecracker?

Distraction, that's what he needed. He grasped at the first thing that came to mind. “You must have gone to parochial school.”

“For twelve years. Do you ever stop working?”

Yeah. On the night Nate attempted suicide because he couldn’t get a hold of me.

Fatigue and the Marine's sarcasm was tinder to the fragile hold he had on his temper. He wanted her gone, so he pushed back. “I’ll bet you were a wild child.”

She shifted; rolled her head to look at him. “Wilder than you can imagine.”

He could imagine quite a lot. 

In the dark, with only the moonlight to illuminate her finely sculpted profile, those baby blues stared suspiciously at him. For a moment, all he could think about was dragging the woman across the console that divided the front seat to tuck her under his arm where she’d be safe and out of harm’s way.

Respect for her rights as a patient pulled him away from the razor edge of that cliff. Suddenly, fascination's claws bit deep. “Bad girl stuff?”

Her quick snort triggered a cascade that ended up exploding in a place he would have preferred it didn’t. Warning bells clanged in his head. Hot blood pumped at the provocative look she sent him. “I wasn’t a good girl.”

He leashed the unexpected desire pounding in his veins. The woman had come to him for help. “What did Sister Mary Margaret have to say about all this bad girl stuff?”

Her self-satisfied look pooled low in his gut. She leaned toward him with a flirty whisper, “Put your note pad away, Dr. Russell. I made sure she didn’t find out.”

He cleared his throat; fought to keep the seriously crazy need to touch her – even a benign touch, like pushing taunting blonde strands behind her ear – under control. “Have you seen her since you’ve been home?”

“No.” Her arresting face became an unreadable mask as she moved back to her side of the car, leaving him feeling unreasonably lonely. “Have you decided what to do about the boys?”

Stunned by how much he wanted that other laughing Jane back, he couldn’t believe how close he was to starting something he couldn’t finish. “Not yet.”

Gripping the steering wheel tight, he straightened his arms, pushing his shoulders into the seat. A professional relationship with Jane was vital. Otherwise, the last thing his life would be was simple.

CHAPTER

VI

S
ome habits were just too hard to break. Despite the late hour of their return from the hospital, Jane's internal clock woke her as early as any morning she was due to report in to her office at the base. That today, and the days ahead, were an exception to her routine apparently didn't matter.

Groaning, she rolled to her back. Maybe Russell would cut them all a break. Let them sleep in. Not that she needed special favors, but the boys did. Unwelcome worry over the two runaway kids, and what could happen to them, intruded into the twitter of a family of birds outside her bedroom window.

Her skin heating with embarrassment, she remembered her last interaction with Russell. What was she thinking, flirting with the man? He was her therapist, not a boy toy.

One minute she’d been working off her anxiety by wearing a rut into the pavement outside the Emergency Room. The next, she'd let her guard down; actually enjoyed teasing the serious man. That was until he asked if she’d seen Sister Mary Margaret since returning stateside.

How many times had she started to call the nun, but hadn't?

Her guilt laden mind skipped back to Russell and the unsettling realization he was the first man in a long time to make her think of more than just doing her job.

Finishing her assignment, so she could point her Jeep back down the road she'd come in on, wasn't the only thing going on here. She didn't like it. She'd come to the ranch to get well. And to make sense out of the confusion keeping her from the perfect performance of her duty. Why couldn't she keep her mind on that task, and do what she did best - follow orders?

Unwilling to answer that question, and favoring her hip, Jane eased out of bed, grabbed a clean tee shirt, and pulled it over her head.

What did Russell plan to do with Bobby and Pete? The obvious course of action was to turn them over to the state. There were laws about reporting runaway kids; laws she remembered too well from her days at the orphanage.

But was that the right thing to do?

Shelter and protect the lost and abandoned - that was the creed the nuns had instilled in her from the moment she'd gotten to the orphanage. They’d done it so well, it’d gotten her into trouble in Madrid.

Getting involved in Bobby and Pete’s plight so soon after the incident that had landed her here in the first place, was one more nail in the coffin suffocating her.

Still, she couldn’t shake the stubborn notion that Russell should keep the boys here. On the ranch. Where they’d be safe.

Jane shoved her legs into jeans and nicotine gum into her pocket. “It’s none of your business,” she repeated for the millionth time.

When she opened the door, the man brewing the chaos in her mind leaned on the door jam, one hand raised to knock. She jerked on the hem of the shirt she didn’t quite have pulled all the way down. His eyes locked on her bare skin, taking on a heated spark.

Her stomach clenched. “I, uh, was coming to find you.”

“Good. You’re up. I need you to keep an eye out for the boys.” They spoke at the same time.

He needed her?
Jane’s mind went blank. Feeling ridiculously like a girl with her first crush, she had to call on years of rigorous training to clear the mists of lust from her mind. “Are you going to turn them over to the state?”

“I don’t know yet. That would be the logical...and legal... thing to do.”

She pressed her lips together. Letting her concern over Bobby and Pete take precedence was crazy, but one more penetrating glance from Dr. Chase Russell down the length of her body had logic flying out the window.

For no good reason, she wanted to be on this man’s team - the other half of a two-some, worried about the welfare of two homeless boys.

“They need a bath and food. I found clothes in the attic.” His voice was compellingly dangerous.

When she made no attempt to take the bundle he held out, the Doc settled in as though he could spend all day blocking her way.

Edgy and a little breathless, she pushed a lock of stray hair behind her ear. “You’re thinking they’re going run for it.”

“Wouldn’t you? If you’d rather, I can get them into the bath and you can fix breakfast.”

It took scarcely a second to compare Russell’s cooking with her own feeble efforts. Unless there was a cafe nearby, open for breakfast and serving takeout, he was out of luck if he expected something edible from her culinary skills.

She took the clothes and towels. “You cook.”

His grin was smug as he headed for the stairs. “Consider them homework.”

Homework?
If she wasn’t as concerned as Russell about the boys making a run for it, she’d call him back and set him straight. She'd had enough
homework
in Madrid. Look how that had turned out. 

She propped her back against the wall opposite Bobby and Pete’s room. Popping a piece of the nicotine gum into her mouth, she waited. Patiently. Sort of.

Finally, the boy's door scraped open. Pete leaned heavily on Bobby’s arm. Their shoes, the laces tied together, hung around their necks.

“Going somewhere?”

Startled, they looked up, wearing identical crap-we’ve-been-caught expressions. If she wasn’t just as determined to keep her distance from the boys, as she was to keep them here with Russell, Jane would have have found it funny.

But, she wasn’t on vacation; she had a job to do. That the assignment was her own recovery made it more important than anything else she'd been ordered to do so far.

“Time for a bath.”

“We don’t want a bath,” Bobby balked.

Jane wrinkled her nose. “You need one. When was the last time you got cleaned up?”

They stared at her in stubborn silence. Jane stared back. She knew how to play this game.

“We don’t have clean clothes,” Bobby informed her with enough fight, she had to give the boy points for effort.

“Russell found something for you to wear while he gets yours washed. You have twenty minutes to square yourselves away before I come in and give you a hand.”

God, she sounded like the Colonel.

Glaring, Bobby grabbed the stack she held, changed directions and awkwardly maneuvered Pete into the bathroom. Once his little brother was in, he glared at her, then shoved the door closed. 

Jane smiled. So, she hadn’t lost her touch. For the first time in a long time, she thought maybe Sister Mary Margaret would be proud of her.

“I’ll come in and collect your clothes once you’re in the tub. Don’t get Pete’s cast wet,” she called through the door.

Her self-congratulations lasted until she heard the sharp snick of the lock. Water came on full force.

She snorted. Well, well. The teen had spunk. And nerve. That was good. He was going to need it. She’d seen plenty of kids like Bobby at the orphanage. He had the aggressiveness of someone who’d been in and out of the system for years.

 Pete, on the other hand, seemed less touched by that life, but the little guy clearly loved and trusted his older brother. If her guess was correct, Bobby had been taking care of his younger sibling for a long time. They were family.

Jane swallowed hard, then straightened. She’d accomplished the task Russell had assigned her; prevented any attempt the boys might have made to slip away.

The last thing she wanted, and the last thing Bobby and Pete needed, was for her to hang around in the empty hallway getting involved in their lives.

*

Chase watched Jane through the kitchen window as she made her way across the ranch yard toward the barn. She limped, but it wasn’t as pronounced as when she’d first arrived.

When she’d come downstairs and informed him the boys were locked in the bathroom, her defenses were firmly locked in place. His attempt to lull her into opening up was met with stubborn silence.

She’d finished the stack of pancakes and bacon he put in front of her, put her plate in the dishwasher, then staring straight ahead as though giving report to her superior, had informed him she’d be in the barn. All that was missing was a smart-ass salute.

It irritated him, that bit of unemotional, military formality. He should be glad she was out of his way so he could concentrate on what to do with Bobby and Pete.

After what he’d seen of her trim waist and that flash of satin skin when she’d opened her bedroom door, he wanted more than just that brief view. Of course, he wouldn’t pursue it, so why was it so hard to get rid of the idea?

Because Jane Donovan is a hard-headed, contradicting, conflicted, fascinating lady. That’s why,
he growled under his breath.

She’d been on a fishing expedition when she asked about the boys and definitely hadn’t liked his answer. Her sudden interest had him taking another look at the half-formed plan he’d been mulling over of turning the boys over to Beth.

He was about to go see what was keeping them, when the Marine slowed, then pivoted sharply. Suspicion pricking the back of his neck, Chase leaned forward to see what had caught her attention.

Swearing, he stepped out onto the porch.

Making for a trail that cut through the lower pasture, Bobby hovered over Pete, who clumsily used the crutches they’d gotten at the hospital. They must have slipped down the stairs while he was distracted with Jane, descending into the living room where they could escape without being seen.

He started after them. A movement from Jane stopped him. She’d put on her sunglasses, the ones that gave her that cocky, dangerous look, before sauntering toward the boys as if her hip didn't bother her at all.

Thumbs tucked in the front pockets of her jeans, she raised her chin to a rakish angle. His traitorous pulse spiked, keeping pace with her calculated steps. Bewitched despite his best efforts not to get caught, he stepped under the shadowed canopy of the apple tree.

Well, hell. Could he really turn Bobby and Pete over to a system that didn’t always work as well as it should? A crazy idea taking shape, he decided to wait and see how the Marine handled their bid for freedom.

Keep them from running.
The refrain repeated itself over and over in Jane’s head.

Why?
Her pesky heart demanded sharply.

She knew the answer. Growing up at the orphanage, she’d often been given the newcomers to look after. The Marine Corps had reinforced the nuns’ teaching with its unwritten code to serve and win battles.

A swagger she’d all but forgotten from her teenage days resurrected itself. “Where are you boys off to?”

Bobby and Pete eyed her warily, unearthing unwanted memories of how little she’d trusted anyone at their age; how little that had changed over the years.

“We...um gotta go.” Bobby, his hands balling into fists, planted himself between her and his little brother.

The June sun overhead promised a hot day. Dirt beneath her boots was hard-packed. A yellow, very pregnant cat slunk out of the barn, off on a hunt through the tall grasses of the pasture.

“It’s a long walk to town from here.” Taking off her glasses, she squatted, resting elbows on her knees as she swung the shades in slow circles. “You boys got traveling money?”

Bobby wasn’t about to give anything away, but she could see his mind moving frantically through his options.

This is what got a person into trouble. Every time. This feeling of being responsible. Of wanting to help. Not being able to walk away. Secretly not wanting to turn out like her mother.

She should be grateful Kimberly Donovan - that was her mother’s name though she had no face to go with it - hadn’t left her daughter in the garbage bin just down the block from the orphanage. She should be glad the strung-out woman had somehow found the will-power to make it to the orphanage door and ring the bell.

A much younger Sister Mary Margaret had taken them both in, but it hadn’t taken Kimberly long to decide she preferred the streets and drugs to her baby girl.

Jane sneered. As a teenager, knowing there was little even her mother had found to love about her, she’d flirted with a life that made Kimberly’s look like a walk in the park. The day she woke up in a stranger’s bed, without a single memory of how she’d gotten there, was the day she’d decided to change roads. It was the day she enlisted in the Corps.

With a scowl, she firmly disconnected from the old emotions on every level. That was water under the bridge, and she was long gone from it.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

Bobby’s brows slammed together. His young face was an open book. Jane used his overdeveloped sense of responsibility against the boy. “How far are you going to get with your brother dragging that cast around?”

And, who will take care of you?
A question she couldn't ask without getting the boy's hackles up. Giving him time to think about it, she glanced down at her nails and studied them. They were cut straight across, with not a lick of polish. The cuticles were smooth and tidy.

She made her voice just as tidy, as though the boys’ welfare hadn’t that instant become very important to her. “You
could
stay here.”