Tomorrow's Sun (18 page)

“So I’ll hobble across the street.” Her somewhat sheepish smile made his shirt cling to his back. The air conditioner wasn’t doing its job.

“You’ll like my mom.”

“I’m sure I would. I’d love to meet her. Sometime.”

Unfolding his legs, Jake stood. “Humor me. Get up and walk me down to the door. If you make it look effortless, I’ll leave you alone.”

Her next laugh sounded like a popping balloon. “I haven’t made anything look effortless in almost two years!”

Way to go
. “Is it constant pain?”

“It’s constant something.” She moved her focus to the opposite end of the room.

He sat back down. Above the air conditioner, feeble moonlight filtered through the window.

“Most of the time it’s just stiffness and a dull ache. If I overdo it, I’ll feel pain.”

“So by morning you’re going to be a mess.”

She graced him with a tiny laugh. “That’s what medication is for.” Her top lashes rested again on cheeks dusted with freckles.

Jake took full advantage of her sleeping pill. Bracing his hands on the floor, he studied her face. The tips of her hair—pale, spun-gold—helped him imagine a different image than the one in front of him. Makeup, designer clothes, expensive jewelry. He could see her being high maintenance. If he’d met her two years ago, would he have looked twice?
Duh
. Probably even a third time.

While plastering a ceiling several weeks ago, Topher had asked him to describe the perfect woman. He couldn’t do it. “I’ll know her when I see her,” he’d answered.

“There isn’t just one out there, you know. What’s the closest you’ve seen?”

No one had come to mind. His lack of answers had bugged him ever since. Was there something wrong with him that he was still unentangled? He traced the curve of Emily’s chin with his eyes then stared at the natural pink of her lips. No denying the attraction but that meant nothing. He did the look-twice-and-then-again thing on a daily basis but still stuck to “I’ll know her when I see her.”

For now, he was grateful “she” hadn’t appeared. His life was too messy. Though laying it all out on the table would be the perfect test.
Nice to meet you. Hope you don’t mind that I invited two twelve-year-olds along on our date
.

Puppies and kitties were chick magnets. Preteens not so much.

Emily’s breath shuddered. Did she have nightmares from the accident? The only serious accident he’d ever been in gave him some idea. He was sixteen and drunk, though maybe not as much as the driver. Her car, a gold Z28 Camaro, was a birthday present from her parents on the morning of the accident. To this day, he could close his eyes and see the patch of ice, hear himself screaming at her to pull her foot off the brake. The semi looming … the car spinning like a child’s top in the middle of the road … the slam … shoulder harness ripping into his shoulder … glass shattering … The girl had walked away with cuts and bruises. He’d walked out of the ER with nothing but a brace for a busted collarbone. The nightmares had diminished with time, but he could still conjure the sounds and smells at will.

Emily moaned softly. Eyelids rose then lowered. “I’m really tired. Maybe I should go back to sleep.”

You just were
. Jake smiled. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Pasta Alfredo.” Her answer mingled with a yawn.

“What a coincidence. We’re having a late supper tonight. Pasta Alfredo.”

Her eyelids struggled open. She sat up straighter and simply stared. For a moment he wondered if she’d fallen back to sleep and forgotten to pull the shades. Finally her head tipped to one side. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I inviting you to dinner? It’s the neighborly thing to do. You’re new in the neighborhood, and my mom would like to welcome you. Did I tell you I live around the corner?”

“Little redbrick house. You told me.” She rubbed her nose with a short-nailed hand, like a little girl. “I meant, why are you here?”

“I—” Why was he there? He’d climbed the stairs to satisfy his mother. He’d stayed and watched her sleep because … “My mother is worried about you. You saved her grandson’s life.”

Her hair splayed across her cheek. He restrained his hand. “Adam would have been just fine without me.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute. He’s got a head full of book smarts and he thinks he’s invincible.” If he had a father who actually took him boating or camping or
anything …
He put the thoughts back where they belonged—on hold. “He told us how you made a paddle.”

She shrugged. “My cane came in handy. It’s gone, isn’t it?”

“Your cane? I guess it must be.”

She lifted the quilt to cover a yawn.

“Can I fix you some coffee?”

“No. Thank you. I really just need to go back to sleep. Tell your mother I appreciate her thoughtfulness.”

“She’ll take it out on me if I show up without you. You’d be doing her a favor, you know. Since my sister died, she hasn’t had any girl talk at home.”

A long sigh ruffled a loose thread on her quilt. “I wouldn’t be good company.” She played with the thread, wrapping it around her finger, unraveling it, and winding it again. “I don’t want to sound rude, or unappreciative.” Her hands slapped the sides of her mattress. Her eyes found his. “I’ll just spell it out. I’m at a very self-focused time in my life. I need to get this house done and move on. If people try getting close to me, they’ll be disappointed. I’ll let them down because I have nothing to give. This is a great little town, and I’m sure it’s full of wonderful people. Please don’t take this personally, but I can’t afford to get close to anyone right now.”

Her eyes pleaded for understanding, but her words splashed like ice water. Jake rose to his feet. What had he expected? She’d hired him to remodel her house, not be her best friend. “I understand.” His right hand made a back-off gesture, though he was the one backing away. “I’ll be here tomorrow afternoon to start on the dining room wall.”

“I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah.” He’d be back in less than twenty-four hours to tear down a wall. Before that, he’d have to demolish something he’d just now identified.

The reason he’d stayed to watch her sleep.

T
he water was warmer now. Rain dappled the surface above her, but sunlight pierced the cloudy green. Emily fingered the rays, played them like harp strings. Milky white hands, red nails flecked with gold, coaxed music from sunlight. Tiny bubbles tickled her arms. Thunder rumbled below her. Someone had moved the sky. The rays grew warmer. White light turned gold then orange, scorching her fingers. Her eyes burned. Thunder cracked, shaking the river bottom. The light vanished. Heat remained. Air. She needed air. Clawing to the surface … which way was up?

“Emily!”

The water muffled his voice.
Jake! I’m here! The
current spun her, wrapping her hair around her face. Her lungs screamed.
Jake! I’m
—

“Emily. Wake up.”

He pulled the wet hair from her face. Sweet air filled her lungs. “Thank you.” She whispered it against his hand. His touch was cool.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Her eyes shot open. She grabbed his hand and tore it from her face.
“No
. I told you no.”

The mattress tilted. She closed her eyes. Like the boat swaying on the log, cracking beneath them, water seeping in. But she wasn’t in the boat. She wasn’t in the water.

Stay awake
. She commanded her eyes open. Attic beams whirled overhead, Jake’s face blurred. Her hands clamped over her face. Just a dream.

Weightless, she rose above the floor, floating. But something held her arms.
No restraints. I told you …
Panic surged from her chest. She twisted and pushed but couldn’t break free. Her feet thrashed out but found only air.

“Stop fighting.” Jake’s voice sounded in her ear, strained and tight.

She felt his breath on her face. But he wasn’t helping, wasn’t untying her. “Get me out—”

“Hold still.”

Footsteps. Her body sank with them. Lower and lower until she knew she’d never find her way out.

God was punishing. And she deserved it.

Jake counted the drops slipping through the tube and into Emily’s arm. Eight … nine … ten … The decor was all too familiar. Hooks that looked like they belonged in a widemouth bass connected leaf-patterned privacy curtains to their aluminum tracks. A metal triangle dangled on a heavy-duty chain from a curved bar over the head of the bed. Were chin-ups a condition for early release? One tug on a white cord of mini plastic beads changed the fluorescent ambience of the room.

He stood, paced. White sheet, white blankets, white window blinds, white vinyl tiles, white walls. Blue and purple tiles interrupted the white floor at random intervals. A wallpaper border sported tan leaf-swirls on a blotchy maroon and green background—the only concessions to nonwhite.

Had no one ever done a study on the healing power of color?

Or a visitor’s need to have one room different from the one down the hall where his sister had died?

A nurse walked in and pulled the beaded cord. Emily jerked then stilled. The fat-faced clock said it was ten after eight.

“Are you her husband?”

“No.” I’m the guy knocking down her walls
. He almost smiled at the dual meanings playing in his tired brain. “But she gave consent for me to talk to the doctor.” While she was totally drugged up. “How is she doing?”

“Everything looks good.” The woman stared at a blipping monitor, arms folded across a generous-sized Scooby-Doo smock. She checked the IV needle. “The cloxacillin should neutralize any nasties she’s got in her lungs. She’s not as sick as she looks. We sedated her because she tried to rip out her IV.” She winked. Her smile poured sympathy on his exhaustion. “We’ll let it wear off and see if she’s a little more willing to cooperate. Anything you can say to convince her not to fight would be helpful.”

Lady, if I knew how to do that, she would have been in here yesterday. And I’d be saving myself a whole lot of frustration
. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Go back to sleep. I’ll tiptoe when I come back.”

She walked out. In what seemed like seconds he woke himself with a snore. Saliva dampened his unshaven chin. He stood and peeked through the blinds. There was still an empty space where his mother’s car had been earlier. They’d released Adam after supper— an hour after Emily arrived. Jake’s tongue was raw from biting back all the ugly things he’d wanted to hurl at Ben. His mother had literally begged the slug to let the kids come home with her, but he’d refused.
They’re my kids, and I’ll take care of them
. If only either one of those statements were true.

All the words he’d used to comfort his mother as she sobbed in the hallway were lies. Her grandkids wouldn’t be fine. And she’d be in bed for days from the stress of knowing the truth.

He dozed again, waking in a semidark room. He stood and stretched and walked to the side of the bed that wasn’t occupied by tubes and monitors. The head of the bed was elevated. The hand without the IV needles lay at her side. He picked it up—a habit he’d have to break when she was conscious. A habit he shouldn’t have started in the first place.

What’s fuelin’ you?
Topher’s amateur psychology always came in handy. Beyond the obvious, what was the fascination? The question flipped a switch. A hundred-watt bulb illuminated the answer.
Because she’s everything Heidi wasn’t
. Therein lay the intrigue. He’d tried saving Heidi from drowning in herself. He liked the feel of being her hero—until her desperation wrapped around his neck and pulled him under. He still found himself gasping at times, grateful all over again for free air.

His real-life rescue of Emily Foster, on the other hand, had left him feeling anything but a hero. All he had to show for his efforts was a tender spot on his ribs.

What fueled him? Challenge. Show him a poorly planned, outdated kitchen and his adrenaline rushed like the Echo Lake dam. Give him a kayak paddle and a run of rapids and he was stoked. Emily represented yet one more challenge. And there’d be nothing wrong with it if he were a free man.