Sweet Talk

by Jackie Merritt

  Val stayed down until the worst of the weakness had passed, then she cautiously got to her feet. Weaving slightly, she slowly made her way to the house.

  Inside, she went to the bedroom, took off her jacket and stretched out on the bed. Her heart ached, for those few minutes outside on her knees had brought back every dreadful second of her fight with cancer. It could come back, don’t ever think it couldn’t. Maybe it already has!

  She could think of nothing else, and after a while she wondered if she would ever be healthy again, if she dared to put her trust in feeling well. She could hope, but that was about all she could do, she decided, as tears sprang forth again. Dear God, she thought in a sudden spasm of agony, she didn’t want to burden Jinni again! Jinni or anyone else!

  She was still lying on her bed thirty minutes later when her doorbell rang. Sitting up, she realized that remnants of her debilitating weak spell were still with her. Sighing because life or fate or some damn thing had delivered another blow, she pushed herself up and off the bed.

  The day had darkened considerably, and she switched on some lights as she went from her bedroom to the front door. She had no idea who had come calling, but it never entered her mind that the person outside on her stoop might be Reed. But when she opened the door, there he was, carrying a big box and smiling tentatively.

  She gaped at him, too stunned to even say a civil hello.

  Since she seemed to be speechless, Reed took the initiative. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but these are yours. They were put in Tag’s rig by someone on Saturday morning, and I thought you should have them.”

  Val went weak again, but it was a completely different feeling than what she’d experienced outside. This was an emotional weakness, and possibly more difficult to deal with. It didn’t seem to matter what she said to Reed, or how she said it, he kept coming back. How did a woman get through to a man like him?

  Then she noticed the handkerchief—with a few drops of blood—wrapped around his right hand. She stood there looking at it and told herself to ignore it because she would be sorry if she gave Reed even one tiny opening.

  In the end she had to know. “Did you cut yourself?” she asked, trying to sound as though she was only curious because, after all, they were both human beings.

  “I tangled with a roll of barbed wire in the back of my pickup just now, while I was getting this box.”

  Val’s eyebrow shot up. “Old, previously used wire?”

  “No, brand-new wire.”

  “Then there’s probably no reason for you to get a tetanus shot. How badly were you cut?” She swung the door open so he could step inside.

  “Where do you want me to put this box?”

  “Right where you are. I’ve got a few things of yours that I’ll get after I take a look at that cut. Come with me to my bathroom. I have a good first aid kit in there.” Val waited while he set down the box, then led the way.

  Reed hadn’t expected anything from her—except for maybe a resentful thank-you for his delivery of her things—but he instantly warmed toward her when she expressed concern for his injury.

  “I realize a hand isn’t a paw,” she said dryly as they entered her large bathroom and she switched on the overhead lights, “but I believe I’m qualified to judge whether or not you might need some stitches.”

  Reed grinned. “Would you sew me up, Doc?”

  “Of course not. Someone else would have to do that. I’m not licensed to treat two-legged creatures, as you well know. Sit on the commode and let me take a look.”

  Still grinning, Reed sat down and held up his wounded hand. He watched her face as she removed the handkerchief, and kept watching while she peered closely at the cut.

  She felt his eyes on her and was shocked at their impact—his impact—the almost smothering sensation caused by his nearness.

  She put on her most professional face, even though she was having some trouble with regular breathing. It was surprising and discomfiting and embarrassing, and she wished she had taken that damn box, given him his, said a quick thanks and let him leave.

  But she hadn’t, and now she had to make the best of a completely unnecessary situation. She spoke rather stiffly. “I believe you can get by without stitches, but the cut needs dressing. I can apply an antibiotic cream and a bandage, but if you’d rather have an M.D. take a look at it, then you should go to the Family Clinic.”

  “I trust you implicitly,” Reed said, “and would appreciate your medical attention.”

  Val opened a cupboard to take out her first aid kit. The movement put her back to Reed, and she realized in that instant that her heart was beating abnormally fast. He affected her…she liked him…all her denials had been in vain. It came rushing at her with such force that breathing evenly was impossible. She’d asked Jinni about falling in love, and now this was happening to her—this powerful reaction she couldn’t control.

  But she couldn’t be in love. She just couldn’t!

  “I don’t think I would need a tetanus shot even if the wire had been used. I had one last summer,” Reed said.

  With the kit in hand, Val turned around. “In that case you should be, uh, safe.” She didn’t like the husky quality of her voice or the quickened beat of her heart. In fact, she couldn’t force herself to look at his eyes, and prayed that he wouldn’t catch on to the astonishing discomfort she was feeling because of him.

  Her prayer was destined to go unanswered, as Reed had already caught on. He could hardly believe that she was having a hard time with this perfectly innocuous encounter, but he wasn’t above pressing the issue and worming his way a little further into her heart.

  She busied herself with the kit, taking out a medicated swab to clean around the wound. “It’s more of a tear than a cut,” she murmured. “Hold on to something. I’m going to douse it with antiseptic and it’s going to sting.”

  “No problem… Hey, that hurts like hell!”

  “Told you it would sting. Sit still. As soon as that dries I’ll apply the antibiotic cream and put on a butterfly bandage. You’ll have to remove the dressing and check the wound before you retire tonight, and then do it again in the morning. If you see the slightest sign of infection—reddened skin around the cut, maybe a bit of fever—you are to immediately have an M.D. look at it.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a devilish twinkle in his ocean-green eyes.

  Ignoring the twinkle, trying to ignore everything else about him, she set to work dressing the cut, and when she was through she put a small tube of antibiotic cream and some bandages in a plastic bag and held it out to Reed.

  “Take these with you.” She realized that her hand wasn’t altogether steady.

  He stood and reached for the bag, but instead of taking it, he walked his fingers up her arm and around her neck. Then he gently urged her forward and into his arms.

  She knew he was going to kiss her, and she knew she should stop him.

  But she didn’t.

  She couldn’t.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Reed’s kiss was soft and sweet. Val felt herself sinking into it, body and soul, even though the fierce guard at the gate to her emotions was ringing warning bells like crazy. I should stop this now! Why did I let him come in? What’s happening to me?

  The questions raced through her brain, barely making an impression, as something Val had never believed could come to pass took control of her senses. She had fought Reed’s attentions tooth and nail, using every weapon she could dream up, and all along she had been falling in love with him. It can’t be true…can it? Unlike the previous questions, this nearly frantic attempt at self-analysis made an indelible impression, one that she suspected would stay with her for a very long time.

  She tipped her head back, breaking the kiss, and whispered in abject misery, “I wish I were someone else.”

  Reed wrinkled his forehead, searched her misty eyes and tried to make sense of what she’d just said. “Why would you want to be someone els
e?” he finally asked, barely able to speak above an emotional whisper. It was amazing to him that she had let him kiss her—even now wasn’t pushing him away—and yet couldn’t hide how unhappy he made her.

  “Haven’t you figured me out yet? From everything I told you about myself, you should have,” she said huskily, her voice sounding as teary as her eyes looked.

  “I don’t care about your past, Val, and neither should you.” He did care, but only because she couldn’t seem to put old events in some sort of logical perspective. He had called Derek for information on the single incident that might fall into the unforgettable category, but even a fright as serious as that one had been shouldn’t still be steering Val’s ship ten years later.

  Val sucked in a quick breath that Reed interpreted as a startled reaction to his attitude. He wasn’t being cavalier about her pain, he told himself, and he hoped he hadn’t come across as uncaring. But he couldn’t lie about this. He had no trouble at all facing her past, and she should get over it. It was how he felt, and he would do anything in his power to help her clear that hurdle.

  “Did you even hear me the other night?” she asked, referring to the story of her life she never should have blabbed to anyone.

  “Of course I heard you. But it was all so long ago. It’s only meaningful today if you let it be.” He lowered his head, putting his lips very close to hers. “Nothing you told me can compare in importance with what came afterward. I’ve hardly thought of anything but our night together,” he whispered. “Tell me you haven’t forgotten it.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my memory.” Her mind was suddenly bombarded by erotic images of them making love in that chilly cabin, doing things under the covers that she’d forgotten existed. Apparently that night had been a milestone, a breakthrough, the end of her total disregard, dislike and distrust of men and the beginning of feelings she didn’t deserve. She couldn’t thank Reed for something that never should have happened.

  More to the point, she couldn’t thank him for making her fall in love with him! My God, her recent health problems were worse than her youthful indiscretions and that one terrible day that had changed her life so drastically. For her, the word cancer was more frightening than any other in the dictionary. And those moments of weakness again today—only a short time ago, in fact—were a reminder of how helpless one became at the onslaught of serious illness. She could never put Reed through that.

  She tried to step back from him. They were in her bathroom, after all, hardly the place for conversation or for soft, tender kisses. Well, there wasn’t going to be any more kissing and certainly no sex in here! Not anywhere in her house, for that matter. She should not have let him come in! But she’d gotten concerned over a little blood on the handkerchief wrapped around his hand. There had to be something seriously wrong with her to be so easily led astray by this man.

  There is something serious going on, old girl. It’s called love!

  Whatever it was hurt like hell, and she blamed her pain on Reed. Why hadn’t he let her be? She had never encouraged him!

  Instead of the kiss Reed craved so desperately, he got a look from his beloved that was anything but promising. His heart skipped a beat when she eluded his embrace, spun away from him and left the bathroom.

  He stood there a moment, feeling as though he had egg on his face. She kissed and backed off; it was her pattern. He knew it well, so why did it never fail to take him by surprise?

  Sighing, he stuffed the plastic bag she’d given him into his jacket pocket and walked from the bathroom into her bedroom. She wasn’t waiting for him with open arms, which was something he would have given almost anything to see. But it had been a foolish hope, and admitting once again that he was never going to get through to the woman he loved—in spite of her occasionally warm receptions—he strode through the bedroom and down the hall.

  She was waiting in the front foyer holding a large plastic bag. “Thank you for bringing those things,” she said, nodding at the box he’d delivered. “These are yours.”

  “Thank you for dressing my wound,” he said, taking the bag from her. He didn’t immediately open the door, but rather stood there looking at her. “Why, Val?”

  “Why what?”

  “You like me and then you don’t. You confuse me.” He raised one hand to touch her but she took a quick step back and put space between them. He tried to smile and failed miserably. “I’ve wondered from the first how you got under my skin so fast, and why I couldn’t stop thinking about you when you made it so clear again and again that you would rather I disappear. There’s really only one answer that makes any sense, and I guess I’ve known it all along. Maybe it’s time you knew it, too. I’ve heard, and read, that very few people have control over who they fall in love with. In other words, conscious choice plays a very small role in the process.”

  Val was so stunned she couldn’t open her mouth to respond. She had watched the incredible green color of his eyes growing darker as he shocked her to speechlessness, and knew he meant every word he said.

  “I guess what I’m getting at is that I didn’t ask to fall for you, and apparently the powerful and mysterious emotional affliction that struck me missed you completely. Love is probably our most complex emotion. It is mentally and physically demanding, causing joyous euphoria if returned and almost unbearable pain if it isn’t. I…wish it had never happened, Val. My feelings for you have made you unhappy, and they sure as hell haven’t done much more than that for me, either.”

  He put his hand on the doorknob. “If anything changes your mind about me, about us, I’d be pleased to hear it. You know how to find me.”

  And he was gone.

  Val felt glued to the floor. She stared at the closed door, felt the wintry chill that had entered the foyer as Reed left, and realized that he had told her he was in love with her.

  She began trembling, and when she could finally move she returned to her bedroom and lay on the bed. It was too early to call it a day, but she had nothing better to do than to lie there and remember every moment she and Reed had ever shared, whether accidentally or deliberately.

  For years she had believed she had endured almost every misery known to mankind, but now she knew differently.

  Reed was right. Unless love was shared, it was the most painful of all emotions.

  How sad that he loved her and she loved him and yet they could never be together.

  But life would be much sadder for both of them later on if they got together now and she became ill again.

  She had done the right thing to let him leave believing she cared nothing for him.

  Monday dawned clear and cold. The people of Rumor awoke to six inches of new snow on the ground and a weak but very welcome sun in a cloudless sky. The town came alive early. Thanksgiving was only ten days away and the businesses of Rumor were in a holiday spirit, with decorated windows depicting Pilgrims, turkeys and pumpkins.

  Reed had taken it upon himself to distribute the flyers announcing the Name the Park Contest, and since they were finally perfected and ready to go, he made the rounds of Rumor’s business establishments on this bright November morning. Everyone he talked to thought the contest was a great idea, though if the truth were known, Reed wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic about it as he had been. Feeling like a lost child was completely foreign to him; he’d always been totally content with his place in the world.

  But he put up a good front, and no one could guess how badly he was hurting inside.

  The Max Cantrell household was a beehive of activity. Jinni poured coffee for the group of men seated in the study with her husband. Michael had left for school at an early hour, Max and Jinni had eaten a quick breakfast together, and then the professionals arrived.

  Jinni sat with her own coffee and listened. At the moment, Max had the floor. “A lady by the name of Dee Dee Reingard dropped in at the Family Clinic yesterday afternoon,” he said. “Her house is close to Logan’s Hill, and was decimated by a fire las
t summer. Folks rallied and built her another, but my point is, she said yesterday that through the years she’s seen Mr. Jackson on occasion. Before the fire, that is. Prior to that she sometimes brought food to him and occasionally Jackson would get close enough to say a few words. She’s seen nothing of him since the fire, and she, like so many of the people in the area, assumed the man had died in the flames.

  “I escorted her to his room, thinking she might be able to identify him, but all she said was, ‘It could be him, but I just can’t say for sure. Let me think on it and come back tomorrow.’ Gentlemen, I promised to pick her up at her home and drive her to the clinic at ten this morning. I believe she is still our best…”

  Jinni tuned out the conversation. Max had already told her everything he was now relating to his hired professionals, both legal and medical. Jinni knew that the geriatric specialists had thoroughly examined Mr. Jackson, if that was his name, and had said the old man was in reasonably good health, considering his age and exposure to the elements. Expectations were that he would recover.

  Jinni quietly rose and went to another room, sat at a beautiful antique desk and dialed her sister’s number. Estelle answered. “Val’s still in her bedroom, Jinni. I’ll go and let her know you’re on the phone.”

  Jinni’s heart skipped a beat. “She’s not ill, is she?”

  “I only talked to her through the door, but she didn’t say anything about not feeling well.”

  “This is much later than she usually gets started in the morning, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Estelle said softly. “Hold on, honey, I’ll go knock on her door.”

  Val was showered and ready to get dressed. Wearing a bathrobe, she’d been ready to get dressed for more than an hour. Instead she had dawdled, procrastinated, put off facing the day. It was about as unhealthy an attitude as a person could have, she knew. The message had been pounded into her head by well-meaning therapists: avoiding life’s realities was dangerous to anyone’s mental health.