Secret Storm (23 page)

But I'm sure as hell not going alone.

He cuddled up behind Sara, kissing her soft,
warm shoulder. Would she go with him? She'd told him to ask for
help if he needed it, and he needed her now more than ever.

He leaned over and pressed his lips to her
ear. "Sara...."

***

"I need your help."

Am I dreaming?

"Sara?"

She blinked awake just as Jack turned on her
bedside lamp. She slapped her hand over her eyes until they
adjusted. "What's wrong?"

He leaned up on his elbow with a worried
expression. "I, um...." He ran his hand through his hair and looked
away.

"What do you need?" She laid her hand on his
chest and felt his heart pounding way too fast.

"I need to go to the funeral and I want—I
need—you to go with me. Please?"

"Anything you need." She smiled and stroked
his rough cheek with the back of her fingers.

He turned his face and kissed her palm.
"Thank you." He got up and gathered his clothes.

"Are you going home to pack? When is the
funeral?" She sat up and yawned.

"Today... oh... ten AM, and it's where my
grandparents live, so that's a good five, six hour drive."

She glanced at the clock. "We need to leave
now." She jumped out of bed and scanned the room, trying to decide
what to do first.

"Sorry about the rush."

She grabbed a bag and some clean clothes.
"What changed your mind?"

"You did." He pulled her into his arms and
kissed her, but had no time to explain further. "My stuff is still
in the Jeep. Let's take a quick shower before we go."

"Okay, but you'd better keep your hands to
yourself if you really want it to be a quick shower."

He kept his hands where she could see them
for the most part, but they did spend a couple of minutes under the
water just holding each other—shampoo in her hair, soap dripping
off his shoulders. His body got heavy and she leaned back against
the shower wall, him leaning in her arms. The cold tile shocked
her, but she didn't let go.

I am strong enough to hold him. I have to
be.

They had no time for slow comfort, so she
gave him a kiss and slapped his ass. "Wake up." She smiled into his
shocked but amused eyes.

While she pulled a simple black dress from
her closet, he put on his suit. As she stood in the bathroom
packing her makeup, he came in and swatted her butt.

"Ready to go?"

"Almost." She ran back to the bedroom and
grabbed her black pumps and his tie. "Don't forget this."

"God forbid." He draped it around his neck.
"I'll call Austin on the way and tell him I still have his
Jeep."

"Will he mind?"

"He'll get over it."

"Jack, are you sure you want to do this?"

"My Mustang's too unreliable—"

"No...." When this had all started, she'd
believed the funeral would give him closure, but now that she'd
learned everything, she second-guessed herself. "Are you sure you
want to go to the funeral? Can you handle it?"

He reached out and took her hand, lacing his
fingers with hers. "I'm sure I have to go, but I'm not sure I can
handle it without you."

She nodded and squeezed his hand. "I'm
here."

They drove without talking for the first
hour, comfortably silent—Sara dozing on and off, Jack seemingly
lost in thought. Every now and then he squeezed her fingers, and
sometimes he picked her hand up and kissed it. She wanted to know
what thoughts hid behind his smile, but lack of sleep kept her from
asking any probing questions.

He beat her to it. "Why grief
counseling?"

She yawned and stretched. A long story, but
they had plenty of time. "I've always been interested in taking
care of people."

He smiled. "I know that well."

"But I wasn't sure how I wanted to use my
talent. I thought about going into medicine, social work, or even
teaching."

"The woman I know always knows what she
wants."

"I made my choice when...." A lump formed in
her throat and her eyes misted. "...when I was fourteen. The summer
before I started high school, my mom was diagnosed with breast
cancer."

"I'm sorry." He took her hand and held it
tight. "You never told me that."

"It happened so long ago, I...."
Wow. I've
heard
this
before.
"I don't like to talk about it."

"I get that." But he pressed his lips
together and put both hands on the wheel. "Tell me now."

She owed him that much. "She spent the last
few weeks of her life in the care of a hospice nurse. I was with
her when she died, and she didn't go quietly in her sleep like we
hoped. That's such a fairytale. My uncle, her youngest brother,
held her while I held a bucket and watched that vile poison drain
from her nose and mouth, a greenish-black ooze that smelled like
death and took her life away." Her voice broke and she wiped tears
from her eyes. "I'm sorry. I still get emotional when I think about
it."

"It's okay, sweetheart. I know how it
feels."

"I've never told anyone what really happened,
not even my older sisters."

He spoke softly. "So you
have
seen
someone you love die." He picked up her hand and kissed it.

They had that in common. "I don't ever want
to go through that again."

"I understand."

"The hospice staff took really good care of
us. Mom's nurse told me that it takes three years to grieve. I
don't know if it took me that long because she'd planted the idea
in my mind, or if she was actually right."

"What happens after that?"

"I still miss her, but the pain isn't so
fresh. A couple of years ago I chose not to remember July seventh
as the day she died, but instead as the day her cancer ended."

"That's pretty cool." He gave her an
encouraging smile and squeezed her hand.

"Thanks. So the short answer to your question
is that I decided to become a grief counselor because of the
hospice nurse. She had such an impact on my life. I want to help
other people like she helped me."

He stayed quiet, lost in thought again. "I
never knew you'd lost your mom."

All this time, she'd tried to get him to tell
her about his past, while telling him nothing of her own. "It's not
something I talk about. If you'd asked, I would've told you, but I
don't bring it up."

"I don't talk about my family, so I don't ask
about anyone else's. I guess that's kinda rude." He shrugged.

"A defense mechanism—protecting
yourself."

"I gotta stop doing that."

"We do what we have to do to make it through
the day." She frowned. "I heard that somewhere before and it seemed
like BS at the time, but now it makes perfect sense. Who said that
to me?" She groaned and slapped her hand over her eyes.
"Austin."

He laughed. "Austin's smarter than he
looks."

She leaned close to him and took his hand in
both of hers. "If you feel the need to protect yourself, don't do
it alone."

He stopped at a red light and used their
entwined hands to pull her close and kiss her. "Never again."

They made good time so they stopped for
breakfast. Then she drove while he tried to sleep, tossing and
turning until he gave up and decided to drive again. She talked
about unimportant things, trying to make him smile as much as she
could. But the closer they got to their destination, the tighter he
gripped her hand, and the grimmer his expression turned.

***

"Honey, I'm so glad you're here." Mary hugged
her son.

"Hi, Mom." Jack held his mother, hoping she
couldn't feel him tremble.
Why am I shaking?
He hesitated
outside the funeral home. The only other people inside would be his
immediate family. Prentiss didn't have any friends, and the rest of
his family had abandoned them long ago.

Screw this
!
I don't want to be
here.
He turned and marched toward the Jeep, but something
pulled him back—literally.

"Jack..." Sara grabbed his hand and tugged
gently. "Introduce me to your family."

Sara.
He'd forgotten about her. He'd
asked her to come and she had. They'd driven a long time to get
here so he could follow through with his promise. The past few
hours had blurred together, almost like the night he'd spent
drinking, but this hangover wouldn't go away. He looked at her
again and remembered the story of her mom's death. He'd felt her
pain, just as she must have felt his when he'd told her about
Taylor. They'd known each other for almost four years, but he'd
never realized she'd experienced such a painful loss. She hid it
well.

Or maybe she'd found a way to let it go.

Let it go, Jack.

"Mom, this is Sara Jensen." If anyone asked
for details, he would explain later. "Sara, this is my mother, Mary
Wallace."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Wallace."
She smiled politely and shook his mother's hand.

Mary hugged her. "Thank you for coming with
him, Sara. Please call me Mary."

"How are you, Jack?" Tim Wallace, Mary's
husband, held out his hand.

He stiffened, but shook the man's hand.
"Doing all right."
Be polite.
"And you?"

"This past week has been pretty rough."

For him?
Tim hadn't been there when
all hell had broken loose. He'd been working... or something. Jack
couldn't remember. His mother's new husband had never even met
Prentiss.

Tim put his arm around his wife's shoulders,
giving her a squeeze, kissing the top of her head. She leaned
close, giving him a genuine smile.

Jack frowned. Prentiss had never treated his
wife gently. He'd never looked at her with love or concern, caring
only about his next drink. But Tim loved Mary, and seemed to make
her happy.

He sighed, realizing his anger had been
completely misdirected. "Yeah, it's been rough for me too."

The tight rein he kept on his emotions
slipped from his grasp. He squeezed Sara's hand, hoping she'd save
him from going inside. Before leaving her apartment, he'd been sure
he could handle this, but now....

"Good to see you, Johnnie."

"Hi Gramp." Jack extended his hand, but Ben
pulled him in for a hug. Mary and Elizabeth held each other,
Elizabeth in tears, Mary trying not to cry.

"Come here, handsome." Elizabeth threw her
arms around Jack.

He hadn't realized how much he'd missed his
family until he hugged his grandmother. "I love you, Gram," he
whispered, his voice unsteady. He couldn't control that emotion
either.

Elizabeth kissed his cheek.

"You must be Sara," Ben said with a grin Jack
knew all too well.

"I am." She had a polite smile glued to her
face, but wariness in her eyes.

"Jack told me all about you."

"Did he now? He told me about you, too."

"Only good things." Jack stepped between
them. He'd love to see his girlfriend take his grandpa on, but they
had to survive the funeral first.

Ben smiled and winked at Jack. "Nice." He
whistled under his breath.

Robert Prentiss' family gathered close
together, holding each other as the sun came out from behind one of
the few clouds in the sky.

Why is the weather so perfect?
It
should be raining or freezing cold, not happy and pretty. Jack
stood between his mother and his grandmother, holding them close.
Something's missing. Where is Sara?

She stood behind him, wiping tears from her
eyes.

"Come here." He pulled her into the circle
between him and his mother, unintentionally pushing Tim back, but
he didn't care.

No, that's not right.
Why am I
still so hostile toward the man?
His stepfather had always been
good to them. He stepped aside and made room for him between Sara
and Mary.

"Are we ready for this?" Ben asked the
family.

No.
What the hell am I doing
here?

He wasn't about to pay his last respects to a
man who didn't deserve it. He looked at the people he loved,
needing no special skill to read their emotions. His grandparents
had lost their only son. His mother had lost the man she'd once
loved, the father of her child. And he'd lost his innocence, the
happy childhood he should have had with a father who loved him.

He'd come here to leave all that behind. The
painful past was over and the future—a better future—finally within
his grasp.

He turned to his grandfather. "Let's bury
him."

Sara had known this funeral would be
different from any other, but she'd never expected anything like
this—no flowers, no sympathy cards, no friends sharing affectionate
stories about the deceased. The family's mix of emotions choked the
room, smothering her under a heavy blanket of grief, anger, and
pain. Although Robert had died suddenly, their old and stale pain
lingered from long ago wrongs.

The casket was closed, so she'd never have to
know what Robert Prentiss looked like. Jack had his mother's
expressive blue eyes, but she didn't want to find out if he
resembled his father in any way. She didn't want that image in her
head.

Ben and Elizabeth approached the casket
first. She laid a shaking hand on it, shedding a mother's tears for
a lost son. Ben held his wife's shoulders, his face set in stone,
controlling his emotions just like Jack always did. Elizabeth
looked up at her husband with expressionless eyes, allowing him to
take her away.

Mary and Tim approached next. She looked at
the funeral director, standing quietly behind a flower arrangement.
"Open it."

He coughed. "Excuse me?"

Tim squeezed her elbow. "Mary, why?"

She faced both men and spoke with conviction.
"I never trusted that monster. I have to know. I have to
see
that he's really in there."