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"Take care of my horse," Jake said, avoiding Tor's eyes. "And Barkley."

"You take care of you," Tor said softly.

Jake nodded and sighed. "Yeah." He stepped closer to Tor and rested one hand on Tor's arm. "I'll talk to you--"

"Day after tomorrow." Tor moved quickly and kissed Jake's mouth hard, pulling back almost im-

mediately.

"Right." Jake squeezed Tor's arm and let him go. "Day after tomorrow."

Tor picked up his bag and backed away, toward the line for security. "Hey, Jake?" he called when he was a few feet away.

Jake waited as a woman moved between them, blocking his view for a moment. "Yeah?"

"Take care of our boy."

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Jake swallowed and nodded sharply. "You know I will."

"I do," Tor said, turning away and walking faster. "I know you will."

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On Monday morning Cath left early to go to her apartment and then to work, and Jacob roused

himself with enough time to shower and make his lunch for school.

"I can do that for you," Jake said, leaning on the kitchen counter and sipping his coffee.

"I know," Jacob said, carefully constructing a sandwich with his good hand. "But I can do it, too."

Jake nodded and gave him an apple, then stood in the doorway and watched as Jacob set off to

walk to school. He wasn't sure how he felt about Jacob leaving. Mostly he was pleased Jacob felt

up to it, but a small part of him wanted to keep him home, with him.

He finished his cup of coffee and then had another, wandering absently around the house. He had a

vague idea he should be doing something, getting something accomplished, but he had no idea

what that would be. It felt very wrong to start boxing things up; too soon. He and Jacob had to stay

there a while, and he doubted that living in an empty shell of a home would do either of them any

good.

It was less than a week since 'Lissa had died. It wasn't time yet to strip the house of her touch, and

it was far too soon to make Jacob start his goodbyes.

He walked around in the silence and then he went outside to ramble there. He was more comfort-

able out of doors anyway, and even if there weren't horses to feed or cattle to tend to, he could at

the very least weed the garden and mow the lawn.

By noon he was done and staring blankly into the refrigerator looking for lunch.

When Jacob came home there was a bit of relief; conversation with his nephew was far preferable

to listening to the radio and resisting the urge to do foolish things like take apart the stove to scrub it down.

"School okay?" Jake asked, once more leaning on the counter and watching Jacob build a sand-

wich.

"Boring. Everyone kept looking at me, you know? No one knew what to say." He moved to the ta-

ble and shrugged. "We got any milk?"

Jake nodded and got two glasses down from the cupboard. "It'll get better," he said, pouring them both a drink. "They'll relax."

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"I guess." Jacob picked up his sandwich awkwardly with his good hand. "Can I go to soccer practice?"

"If you want. They won't let you on the field, you know."

"I know." He shrugged again, the tomato in his sandwich sliding out a little. "Just want to go."

"What time does it start?" Not that it mattered to Jake; he had nowhere to be.

"Six," Jacob said, working the tomato back where it belonged. "I hate this damn thing," he added with a growl, lifting the cast.

"I bet."

"What did you do today?" Jacob asked, finally taking another bite from his sandwich. He looked up at Jake with apparent interest.

Jake drained his milk glass and turned it upside down in the sink to rinse it out. "Worked in the

garden. Mowed the grass. Not much." The real question was, what was he going to find to do the

next day, or the one after that. He stifled a sigh.

"Cool, that saves me part of the weekend," Jacob grinned. "I hate mowing the lawn."

Jake had to chuckle at that, if only because Jacob's grin was infectious and so damn good to see.

"Right. You can vacuum instead."

"Hate that, too." Jacob shot Jake a hard glance. "You got lots of carpets at your place?"

"Hardwood. You get to sweep. And trust me, kid, we track dirt all over the place."

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Figures." He finished his snack and took his plate to the sink. "I'm going to go kick the ball around the backyard for a bit. Tressa might be over later, too."

Jake nodded and watched Jacob head to the door, wanting more than anything to hear Tor's voice.

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As expected, the coach didn't let Jacob on the field, but he did let him sit with the rest of the team, which seemed to be enough for Jacob. Jake watched him for a few minutes, saw the kids gather

around him for the first few moments, and relaxed. Jacob would be fine. He was showing off his

cast and telling them how long he'd have to wear it, and when the coach produced a marker, Jacob

let his teammates sign their names all over the blue fiberglass. To Jake's inexperienced eye it

looked like any reluctance Jacob had was all for show, as he made sure everyone had a chance to

sign or draw.

Jake wandered around the sidelines for a few minutes and figured out which side of the field was

populated with parents of Jacob's teammates, then sat in the grass near them. He didn't impose him-

self, but then he hardly had to; he'd been sitting for less than a couple of minutes when delegations

of mothers and fathers wandered over to him.

He introduced himself to the first few, even tried to remember a few names, but when they started

pointing out which child on the soccer field belonged to which parent, Jake gave it up for a lost

cause and contented himself with being polite and answering questions. After the first tentative

questions about Jacob were answered, everyone seemed to relax a little; they were surely checking

him out as a parental figure, but it was clear that all they wanted was to make sure Jacob was going

to be okay.

The game wore on and the looks he got lessened, everyone's attention either on the field or on each

other as they compared notes about the players, made plans for the weekend, or just gossiped. Jake

kept his eyes on the game, his own attention split between Jacob on the bench and the action on the

field, only listening with half an ear to the conversations going on around him.

"So, how are you holding up?" a new voice suddenly asked, and a man dropped down next to Jake.

Jake glanced over at Jacob and then to the man looking at him. "All right," he said. Then he added, actually thinking about it, "Better than I expected, actually. Last week was rough."

The man nodded sympathetically and offered his hand. "Tim MacPhee. I lost my wife about two

years ago--don't remember a thing about the week she died. Suddenly raising a kid alone… it ain't

easy, Mr. Taggart. But you can do it."

Jake shook his hand and searched for an appropriate response. "Thanks," he finally said. "I'm sorry to hear about your wife. And it's Jake."

"Tim." Tim nodded and looked out at the game. "Our boy was eleven at the time. He took it hard, 61

Natural Disaster

but seemed to come around pretty well. A few months later he had a down swing, got really angry.

We're doing okay now, though."

"Yeah," Jake sighed. "I figure there's a lot of stuff yet to come. Between his mom passing and having to move out of state and being fourteen… it's going to be a trial."

Tim looked at him, his eyes searching. "Hard work."

"Work we want."

"Good enough. Got people around you to help?"

Jake nodded. "Got a ranch full of good people, a community. Got a sister, a sister-in-law, mess of ranch wives attached to helping out."

"You'll need them," Tim assured him, not unkindly. "Only advice I can give you is to hang on. Let people help, but don't let them push you into anything you think isn't right. That boy is going to be

looking to you, even when he's fighting against you. If you believe, don't back down… you'll be

ahead of the game."

Jake offered his hand again, grateful that this man, this stranger, had taken to the time to share a

little with him. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "I think I needed that."

Tim smiled and stood up. "Not a problem. You need any more, just call. We're in the book." He smiled again and moved off, leaving Jake to watch the game and gather his thoughts.

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For the rest of that week Jake carefully planned his time so he had something to do each day. He

grocery shopped and tended to the yard, made appointments and visited Jacob's school and doctor,

and went back to the lawyer's office a couple of times to sign papers and fill out yet more forms.

He carefully figured out how many boxes he'd need to move Jacob and how many he'd need to

pack things in for donations. He made signs for a yard sale and finally started packing a few things

away, almost tentatively. There was still time left, but he told himself that waiting until the last

minute was almost as bad as pushing too fast. He looked at the walls a lot.

He was bored to tears and trying his level best not to go stir-crazy. His body wasn't used to the

physical inactivity and his mind wasn't used to having no one to organize. His skin missed the

weather and his stomach missed actually working up an appetite. He missed Tor more than he'd

thought possible, given that they'd been apart before.

They'd had a couple of quick phone calls, fitting their relationship in among talk about Jacob and

the ranch and how Barkley was doing without Jake there to keep him in line. They'd never really

been given to long goodbyes, and Jake found himself reaching for reasons to get off the phone be-

cause being on it with Tor, hearing his voice, was underlining how horrid it was to go bed alone

each night and to wake up cold.

Tor seemed to know it, and he didn't seem to mind, but Jake was hardly surprised when the phone

rang at almost eleven Friday night.

"If you didn't call by eleven-thirty," he said as he picked up the phone, "I was going to call you."

"You didn't even know it was me," Tor replied, a hint of laughter in his voice.

"Of course, I knew it was you." The ring of the phone sounded happier when it was Tor.

"You're nuts."

"So you've said." Jake couldn't keep from grinning, something hard and tight in his belly letting go for the first time in what felt like forever.

"Kid asleep?"

Jake glanced down the hall from where he sat in the living room. "Yep," he said, leaning over to turn off the lamp. The TV was already off, Jake's interest in the movie he'd been staring at long

gone. "Out like a light about an hour ago."

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"He all right?"

"Yeah," Jake sighed, stretching out his legs. "He's okay. Been in school all week, gone to soccer three nights. Friends have been dropping by… he's busy, you know? Seems to be holding it together. Which isn't to say there ain't a storm coming--I just think he'll hold it off for as long as he can."

"Family trait," Tor said, and by his tone Jake knew he meant it. They'd been through enough that Tor was well aware of Jake's tendency to keep things close until they more or less exploded out of

him. Tor was the same way; it really was a family trait.

"I know," Jake agreed. "All we have to do is be a safe place for him to land."

"That's it, huh?"

"Yep. Easy." Hardest thing in the fucking world, but they'd kill themselves making sure it hap
-

pened.

There was a short pause and then Tor asked softly, "And how are you, cowboy?"

Jake closed his eyes. "Well, you know. Hanging in. Getting some stuff done, watching out for Ja-

cob. I washed the walls yesterday."

"That bad, huh?"

"Fuck, I'm bored. And I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Jake."

Jake smiled to himself. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I miss having a decent meal I didn't cook, and I miss you yelling at the hands. I miss you

feeding the damn dog, and taking River out."

"Poor baby," Jake teased. "I miss Barkley. And River."

"As much as me?"

"More. They don't make me cook."

Tor laughed. "But they don't take care of you the way I do…"

"And how's that?" Jake asked innocently. "River gets me where I'm going and Barkley gives pretty good cuddles. When he's not busy running in circles, anyway."

"Ah, but I'm a better ride than River and I don't drool as much as the dog."

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"I don't know--"

"Shut up!"

Jake laughed, the sound of Tor's voice warm in his ear. "All right, you don't. But he can do things you can't."

"Like what?" Tor demanded, his voice still happy and teasing.

"Well, he can lick his own balls."

"I lick yours."

"Good point." It was. And it had been a long time since Tor had done that, had been able to do any
-

thing at all, and Jake missed him so much it was like a canker. "You want to do this?" he asked, not really sure if he was up to following the flirting into phone sex or not.

"What I want, Jake, is to see you. I miss you. I want to touch you."

"Yeah," Jake breathed. "I want that, too. I hate being apart from you. I… I'm doing okay. But it would be so much easier if you were here."

"I know. Soon, cowboy. Soon you and Jacob will be home and we can start to settle in. Soon you'll

be back where you belong and we can all breathe a little better. Things just don't… it's not right