That McCloud Woman (12 page)

"How
he'd get it?"

Alayna
dropped her hand, letting her hair fall, and sank down onto the sofa, feeling
every one of her thirty years. "His father. I didn't know he was the one
who put it there until today, though. When I was in town I went by the social
worker's office and asked to see Billy's file."

"Why?"

"Because
I need to know his history, in order to know how to better help him."

"No,
no," Jack said in frustration, turning to look at her, his knuckles white
as he tightened his grip on the bear. "Why did his father hurt him?"

Before,
she'd thought his eyes empty, lifeless, but at the moment they were full of
emotion. Rage, fury, indignation for a boy he claimed to dislike. "I don't
know why," she said carefully. "I just know that he did. Several
times. Billy was taken away from his parents when he was four. He's spent the
last three years in a succession of foster homes."

Still
frowning, Jack crossed the room, dropped the plate onto the old trunk that
served as a coffee table, then sank down on the sofa beside Alayna. He propped
his elbows on his knees, and held the bear out in front of him. "And
Molly?" he asked after a moment.

"Her
father is listed as 'Unknown' on her birth certificate."

"Her
mother?"

Alayna
looked from Jack to the bear that seemed to hold him in some kind of trance.
She lifted a shoulder. "They don't know. She had a history of
disappearing. She would leave Molly alone for days at a time. That's why the
authorities were finally called in. This time, though, she didn't return. She's
just … gone. No one knows where."

"What
will happen to Molly?"

"She'll
stay in the system until her mother gets her act together and comes back to
claim her."

"If
she doesn't?"

Alayna
shrugged again. "The courts will rule her an unfit mother, strip her of
her paternal rights and Molly will be put up for adoption."

"Will
you adopt her?"

Alayna
shifted her gaze to the bear and tried to swallow the wad of emotion that rose.
"I—I don't know if I'd be offered the opportunity. Rarely are foster
parents allowed to adopt the children who have been placed in their care. The
social worker made that very clear upfront." She drew in a shuddery
breath. "Plus, I'm single. They prefer to place
adoptable
children in
homes with married couples."

Jack
sat for a long time staring, then he turned his head to look at Alayna.
"How do you do it? How do you let them go?"

The
question was a difficult one, one that Alayna tried very hard not to think
about. She turned her gaze to her hands and slowly threaded the towel through
her fingers. "I don't know, yet. Molly and Billy are the first foster
children I've taken in." She drew in a deep breath and forced a smile to her
lips before looking at Jack again. "But I'll manage. The children's
happiness is what is most important. Until the time arrives when they leave me,
I'll fulfill their needs as best I can."

Jack
propped the bear on the coffee table, then turned, angling a leg onto the sofa
between them. He stretched an arm behind Alayna on the sofa's back, his brown
eyes fixed on her. "And what about
your
happiness?
Your
needs?"

Alayna
kept the smile in place, though it was difficult. "I'm a big girl. I don't
need anyone to look out for me."

"You'll
miss them."

The
tears were close, but she stubbornly kept them at bay. "Yes, but there
will be other children who'll need my care."

"But
you'll still miss them."

A
tear leaked out and ran down her cheek. She swiped at it with the towel, hoping
Jack hadn't seen it, then knotted the towel in her hands. "Yes, I'll miss
them."

"You've
got a big heart, Alayna. The kids are lucky to have you."

His
kindness brought the tears closer. They burned her throat and stung her eyes.
She opened her mouth to form a glib reply, one that wouldn't reveal the fears
and doubts that lurked inside her … then quickly closed it, swallowing the sob
that rose instead.

Jack
leaned closer, placing a finger beneath her chin and forcing her face to his.
"Alayna?"

She
saw something in his eyes that she had never seen before, something she'd never
expected to see. Compassion. She crumpled in the face of it.

"Oh,
Jack," she cried, giving in to the tears, her fears. "I want so badly
to help them, to provide a good home for them."

"You're
doing fine," he assured her.

"Am
I?" She didn't wait for an answer, didn't seem to want one. "You
handled the problem with Billy today so much better than I ever could. I'm not
even sure how I
would
have handled it if I'd been the one who had caught him
smoking."

Jack
already had one arm open, resting on the sofa behind her. It seemed only
natural to open the other one, too, and offer her a shoulder, the one solid
thing he had to give her. When he did, she melted against him on a sob. He
stiffened immediately as her body met his, realizing too late that in opening
his arms, he'd exposed his chest … his heart.

Slowly
he gathered her into his arms, tucking her face into the curve of his neck, and
let her cry. Her tears were hot and wet against his bare skin, slowly melting
his resistance. He gathered her closer, holding her, murmuring senseless words
to soothe her. He understood her tears as few other men could. He'd experienced
the grief firsthand. He'd already faced the day where he'd had to say goodbye.

He
felt a shudder move through her and dipped his head to look down at her. Her
hair formed a golden halo against his bare chest. An angel, he remembered
thinking that afternoon when he'd first seen her. Her actions since had only
confirmed that first impression. Her care for the children. The kindnesses
she'd shown him. The sunny smile with which she greeted every new day. Unable
to resist, he pressed his lips against her hair. She forged closer and he felt
her breast flatten against his ribs. Their heartbeats became one, beating a
single rhythm of shared pain.

Jack
sat as still as a statue, giving Alayna the shoulder she needed, the comfort
that she deserved, until the muscles in his arm cramped and started to burn.

But
he never once moved.

After
what seemed like an eternity, a shudder moved through her and vibrated through
him. He glanced down, praying that the well had at last run dry.

But
looking at her was a mistake. With her face buried in the curve of his neck,
her hand curled against his chest, she looked so fragile, so vulnerable, so
needy … and somehow so damn right huddled there against him.

Another
shudder vibrated through him … but this time it was his own.

He
focused on the hand curled against his chest. It was the hand of a lady—long
graceful fingers and manicured nails. Yet he knew the strength in those
fingers, their willingness to take on any job, no matter how menial. He knew
their ability to heal with a compassionate touch.

Slowly
he lifted his own hand and laid it over hers, pressing her palm more firmly
against his chest. He closed his eyes, curling his fingers around hers,
absorbing her warmth, her softness, and tried his damnedest to will her grief,
her doubts, away from her and into his own tortured soul.

He
felt a shudder run through her and he opened his eyes, needing to see her.
"Alayna," he whispered, brushing back the halo of hair that blocked
his view of her face. "You're doing just fine. No kid could ask for a
better mother, a better home than the one you provide for these kids."

She
lifted her face, and sniffed, meeting his gaze with watery, red-rimmed eyes.
Jack couldn't remember ever seeing a woman who looked more beautiful.

"Oh,
Jack. I want to provide a good home for them. I really do. And I want to
believe that what I'm doing for them is right. But I—" She shook her head,
her eyes filling with tears again. "I just don't know."

He
gave her a reassuring squeeze. "You're doing fine. I give you my word on
it."

Alayna
laughed softly, then sniffed again. "And we both know how seriously Jack
Cordell takes giving his word." She sat up, drawing away from him, and
pressed the heels of her hands beneath her eyes, suddenly embarrassed by her
emotional display. "I'm sorry," she said, rising to her feet. "I
didn't mean to fall apart on you like that. I swear, I'm not normally such an
hysterical female."

Already
missing her warmth, the comfort of having her body pressed against his, Jack
wished like hell he could pull her down on the sofa with him again. But this
time they wouldn't be sitting. They'd be stretched-out, their limbs tangled,
their bodies meshed. And it wouldn't be comfort and reassurance he'd be giving
her. It would be passion, something he doubted her ex, or any other man in her
life had ever offered her. "I never thought you were," he said, his
voice husky.

She
laughed softly and glanced over her shoulder. "Thanks, Jack. For
everything." She started for the door.

"Alayna…"

She
stopped, stood there with her back to him for what seemed like forever, then
slowly turned around. He wondered if it was something in his voice, or if it
was that his thoughts were revealed in his eyes. Whichever it was, he knew that
she knew exactly what he was asking of her.

He
saw the doubts that shadowed her eyes, the internal war being waged. Then she
shook her head and backed up a step, and away from temptation. "You're a
good man, Jack Cordell. The best. I wish I could—" She paused as if
struggling for the words to explain, then tossed up her hands in frustration.
"Well, I wish I
could,
but we both know I can't."

By
the inflection she placed on the word "could," Jack knew that she was
thinking of her inadequacies in the sex department. He knew differently. And he
knew, too, that there was only one way to prove it to her.

He
stood, prepared to prove it to her, but she spun quickly and headed for the
door, cutting him off. "I better get back to the house," she called
over her shoulder. "See you in the morning, Jack."

The
door closed behind her.

Jack
dropped down onto the sofa, staring at the closed door, then fell back,
squeezing his eyes shut and digging his fingers through his hair.

Never
in his life had he felt more alone, more abandoned than he did at that moment.

He
opened his eyes and saw Molly's bear sitting on the trunk. He reached for it
and pulled it to his chest, then sat back and waited for the loneliness to
fade.

He
fell asleep, still waiting.

Six

«
^
»

J
ack awakened in
the night in a cold sweat, still sitting on the sofa with Molly's bear clutched
tight against his chest. With a groan, he tossed the bear aside and scrubbed
his hands over his face, trying to figure out what had awakened him.

The
answer came quickly, as did the pain. He'd been dreaming again. About his son.

He
rose and stumbled his way to the cabin's tiny kitchen. He splashed cold water
over his face, trying his best to wash away the memory of his son's face. Sandy-blond
hair with a cowlick in the middle of his forehead. A grin that revealed a
missing tooth he'd lost prematurely when he'd fallen out of the fort Jack had built him in their backyard. Hands, tiny and curious, that were always busy,
that had the power to melt Jack's heart when they were wrapped around his neck.

He
groaned and scrubbed harder at his face, then dug his fingers through his hair
as he straightened, as if in doing so he could rip the memories from his mind.
He didn't want to remember. He wanted to forget. It was the only way he knew to
survive.

Setting
his jaw, he braced his hands against the edge of the sink and peered through
the kitchen window at the darkness beyond. The Pond House stood in the
distance, its windows dark, its occupants sleeping. It's the kids, he told
himself, his gaze going to the second-story windows and to the bedrooms where
he knew they slept. They were the ones who were keeping the memories alive by
reminding him of all he'd lost. Molly with her sweet, cherubic face, and the
unselfish gift of her bear. Billy with his devilish pranks and false bravado,
his desperate need for a father's guidance.

In
spite of Jack's determination to ignore them, they were getting under his skin
and dangerously close to his heart.

He
shifted his gaze to the first floor, and to the window of Alayna's bedroom. He
curled his fingers against the edge of the chipped porcelain sink. The woman
who cared for those kids was doing her own part in threatening his sanity.
Warm, compassionate, loving. She was beginning to make him yearn for things
that could never be.

He
had to get out of here, he told himself, and turned away from the window. And
the quicker the better.