Sucker Punch (35 page)

Somewhere in the distance, I heard shouting and then lights popped on all around us.
Paisley must have called for help
, I thought. And it was probably a good thing. If I’d been left alone with Jason for another minute, I don’t know what I would have done.

“Abby?” Jawarski’s voice was so weak, I could barely hear him.

I let my gaze flicker toward him, but only for a second. “Yeah?”

He lifted his head about an inch from the floor and made a valiant effort to smile. “Thanks.”

Before I could respond, he collapsed on the floor. The last thing I remember about that night was the sound of my own voice, screaming for help.

“It wasn’t supposed to end up like this,” Jawarski said from his hospital bed the next morning. “I came back to surprise you. I was kind of hoping we could spend a little time together.”

I stood at the foot of his bed, stretching as much as my poor, aching body would let me to work out the kinks I’d picked up overnight. Nate had called for an ambulance to transport Jawarski to the hospital in Leadville. I had followed in the Jetta. When the nurses kicked me out a little before two that morning, I’d grabbed a few hours sleep on the world’s most uncomfortable bed in the cheapest hotel in town. When I awoke, I’d been so stiff it had taken me a good twenty minutes just to stand up.

Through the windows of the hospital room, I could see thick flakes of snow falling, and I gave serious consideration to calling Karen and telling her I’d be staying overnight so I wouldn’t have to drive through the canyons in the middle of a storm. I’d been hanging onto the Jetta for a long time, but I was beginning to think I should buy something built for the mountainous area I now called home again. I guess that meant I was committed to staying.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, trying on this commitment thing for size. “I’m just glad to see you, and I’m very glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” He poked at a shapeless piece of meat on his lunch tray and grimaced. “You’ve got to get me out of here, slick. This stuff is going to kill me.”

“I doubt that,” I said. “Apparently, you’re kinda hard to kill.” I said it jokingly, but every time I thought about how close I’d come to losing him, my stomach turned over. He abandoned the plate and started to battle with a can of Coke and a straw.

I moved to stand beside him and held the straw so he could find it with his mouth. “What made you decide to come to the Playhouse anyway? How did you know I’d be there?”

“I didn’t, but it seemed logical. You’d been spending an awful lot of time there, so when Liberty said you hadn’t come back, I figured that’s where I’d find you.”

He knew me too well, but that wasn’t a bad thing. I took the can from him and returned it to the tray. “That’s it? You weren’t playing knight in shining armor riding in to rescue me?”

He leaned back against the pillows and shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Not this time, anyway. It might have been different if someone had told me about the attack on you and Colleen.”

“I tried! I called you a couple of times, but you never answered.” I’m not sure how much I would have said if I’d been able to reach him, but I saw no reason to admit that.

“I was on the road, heading home. There are some long old stretches of road between here and there with no cell phone signal.” He closed his eyes briefly, and I could see exhaustion making his face tight. “So you were right. Richie had nothing to do with the murder.”

“Nothing at all,” I agreed. “But you look tired, and I’m starving. Why don’t you catch a nap and I’ll run down to the cafeteria. Do you want me to bring you anything?”

He shook his head without opening his eyes. “Just you.”

Instead of walking away, I stood at his bedside and studied him for a long time. I’d turned a corner in our relationship. I couldn’t deny that. Nearly losing him inside the Playhouse had opened my eyes—and my heart. I still didn’t like the idea of being vulnerable, but I’d realized that I was going to be vulnerable with this guy whether or not I wanted to be.

One eye opened, and he studied me curiously. “Something wrong?”

I shook my head and kissed his cheek lightly. “Just the opposite,” I whispered. “Something’s very, very right.”

The other eye opened, his exhaustion forgotten for a moment. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“I was just wondering what I’d do if I ever lost you,” I said. “I realized last night that I don’t ever want to find out.”

A pleased smile curved his lips. “It’s about time.”

I laughed and sat on the edge of the chair. “And for the record, next time you go to Montana, I’d feel a whole lot better if you sent Bree to a hotel while you’re there with the kids.” It was an irrational request, and we both knew it.

Jawarski chuckled and closed his eyes again. “Yeah, I’m sure she’ll appreciate that. When I suggest it, I’ll also be sure to let her know it’s your idea.”

“Fine with me.” I stood again and started for the door, but there I stopped and forced myself to turn back. I was doing it again. Dodging the truth. Making a joke to protect myself. This man deserved the same honesty from me that I needed from him. I cleared my throat and said, “Jawarski?”

“Yeah?”

“I just want you to know that . . . well . . . I’ve thought a lot about our relationship. About us. And I—” The words wouldn’t come. I felt them. I meant them. But I couldn’t force them out of my throat. Tears of frustration burned my eyes and a thick lump clogged my throat. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I croaked. “If you knew how I felt . . .”

“What makes you think I don’t?” He locked eyes with me, and the gentleness I saw in his expression knocked the wind right out of me. “Go. Get some lunch. I’ll be here when you get back. And Abby?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

 

 

“Shamrocks?” I stared, open mouthed, at the clovers dangling from the ceiling of Divinity, fluttering in the breeze every time someone moved. “Are you kidding me?”

Liberty bounced with excitement, her pride in her accomplishment obvious. “Do you like it? It’s my welcome home present for you.”

“I—I’m speechless.” And I had the sinking feeling I was going to have Easter eggs hanging in front of my face next month. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say that wouldn’t make Karen angry or offend Liberty. Stunned, I moved further into the kitchen, holding onto Jawarski’s arm. Richie and Dylan came inside behind us. They’d insisted on coming to Leadville to see us, and Richie had been adamant about driving the Jetta back to Paradise for me.

I had to admit, he’d been right. I was in no condition to drive and probably wouldn’t be for a few days. Richie hustled Max up the back stairs to the currently empty second floor, where he could play with his doggie toys for a while. Dylan had been fussing over me and Jawarski like a mother hen all the way through the canyon. Were we warm enough? Were we too warm? Did we need something to drink?

He didn’t let up even now that we were home. “How about some coffee? You want coffee, Abby?”

Not really.
The two cups he’d bought me on the trip home had been enough, but if he didn’t stop hovering I was going to scream. “Sure,” I said. “Coffee sounds great.”

“Already made a pot.” Karen bustled into the room looking maternal and concerned. “Both of you come and sit down. I’ll get it for you.” She hurried away and came back a minute later with two mugs, a pitcher of cream, and a container filled with green sugar.

I could only stare at it.

Jawarski bit back a grin. “It’s green,” he whispered.

“Yes, it is.”

Karen ignored us both and sat, propping her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. “So? What’s the word? What’s going to happen to the kid?”

“Jason is no kid,” I told her. “Believe me.”

“He’s going to face charges,” Jawarski said as he carefully spooned green sugar into his mug. “He’s not a child, and Laurence’s murder was definitely premeditated. He’s going to go away for a long time, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I say thank heaven for small favors.” Dylan sat beside me. “If it weren’t for Abby, it would be Richie going away. I don’t know what we’d have done without you, and I don’t know how to thank you.”

“No thanks necessary,” I said. “I knew Richie was innocent. I’m sure that if he’d gone to trial, a jury would have figured it out, too.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Liberty said, dragging an empty chair to the table. “Innocent people go to prison all the time. I’ve seen shows about it. But this Jason guy . . . I think it’s so sad. I mean, he lost his sister. He lost his mother. That would be enough to make anybody go a little crazy.”

“People have bad things happen to them all the time,” I pointed out. “Not everybody goes around killing the people they hold responsible.”

“Thank goodness,” Karen said with a thin smile. “I
do
feel sorry for him in a way. It’s all so tragic. By the way, Sergio told me that Alexander has filed a lawsuit against Geoffrey Manwaring, claiming a share of Laurence’s inheritance.”

Karen’s attorney husband hears all the good stuff first. “On what grounds?”

“I don’t have all the details, of course, but apparently Laurence borrowed some money from Alexander years ago to invest in a play. Laurence was absolutely certain it was going to be a huge hit and sweep the nation. It didn’t, and he lost everything. And, of course, Laurence made sure there was no paper trail, so Alexander never could get him to pay the money back.”

“Does he stand a chance of winning?” Dylan asked.

Karen shook her head. “Not a very good one. Geoffrey will probably get to keep everything.”

I sipped my coffee cautiously in case the green sugar tasted like lime or something. You never know. “That hardly seems fair. A jerk like Geoffrey Manwaring doesn’t deserve a fortune. But since when has a person needed to be deserving?”

“Ain’t that the truth?” Karen pulled the cream and sugar toward her. “Hey, did you get a chance to check on Colleen while you were in Leadville?”

I nodded. “Just over the phone. She’s recovering from her injuries, and Doyle is being very attentive. She seems relieved.”

The kitchen door blew open and Rachel came inside carrying a white bag from the bakery. “I heard you two were back. I brought croissants.” She stopped midstride and stared at the shamrocks. “Ooh! St. Patrick’s Day,” she said, closing the door behind her. “My favorite holiday. Who wants to go out for corned beef and green beer that night?”

A chorus of “
Me
” went up around the table, and suddenly the room broke out in chaos as everyone started adding ideas to the mix.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “It’s a month away.”

“Oh, but you have to make your plans now,” Liberty said. “Otherwise, you’ll never get a reservation. Put Rutger and me down for dinner and drinks. I heard that O’Shucks is a great place for St. Patrick’s Day.”

“It’s good,” Dylan said, “but it’s not my favorite. The best place is this little-hole-in-the-wall Irish pub on the road to Aspen . . .”

I smiled and sat back in my chair, content to listen. Yeah, St. Patrick’s Day was more than a month away, but suddenly the idea of making plans in advance didn’t seem so bad. After all, I wasn’t going anywhere.

Makes 5 to 6 dozen candies

Combine the sugar, water, and corn syrup in a 3-quart saucepan. Cook over low heat, stirring gently, until the sugar dissolves. Wash down any crystallized sugar on the sides of pan with a wet pastry brush a few times, as necessary.

Cover and cook over medium heat 2-3 minutes. Uncover and cook over medium heat, without stirring, to 260° on a candy thermometer (hard-ball stage).