by Pat Warren
“Santa as played by Gina and Trent. They stopped by to see the baby and brought us all presents. They were sorry to miss you, but Gina had a doctor’s appointment in town so they had to leave.”
Jack frowned. “A doctor’s appointment?”
“Just her regularly scheduled checkup. Won’t be long now, and I think she’s getting anxious.”
Jack reached into the sacks and began pulling out brightly wrapped packages, then placing them under the tree. He’d had everything wrapped at the store; it had been easier that way. When he finished, he turned to Rachel. “So, do you want to eat dinner first, then open packages? Or are you going to make me wait until morning?” He could smell something wonderful cooking.
“At our house, we always opened our gifts Christmas Eve,” she said, going into the kitchen to check the oven. “I made Cornish hens with wild rice stuffing. Dinner should be ready in half an hour.”
“Just time enough for us to have a glass of wine,” Jack said, reaching into the cupboard.
“Did you learn anything new from Sloan?” She’d been anxious all afternoon knowing where he’d gone, yet she couldn’t have said why. Nerves, she supposed.
“Nothing new. Absolutely nothing.” He poured wine, not looking at her. “The case is at a standstill.”
“I see.” Rachel straightened a fork and rearranged a plate on the already perfectly set table, needing something for her hands to do.
He brought the wine to her, held out the glass. “Lots of cases run into snags, Rachel. Then suddenly, someone talks, or a person remembers something and calls. Happens all the time. This doesn’t mean we’ll never find Christina’s killer.”
“I know. It’s just so…so disappointing.”
“Like you, I would have liked to wrap it all up in short order, get the killer behind bars. But these investigations don’t work like cases on TV where everything comes together in sixty minutes.”
Eyes downcast, she nodded. He was leaving. This was the goodbye speech. Have dinner, open gifts, kiss goodbye. Her heart aching, she tightened her grip on the wineglass, determined that he wouldn’t see her hand tremble.
With all his heart, Jack wished he could find the words that would remove that stricken look from her face. She’d guessed that he’d be leaving soon and already she was hurting. She’d hurt more if they dragged this out, if he stayed much longer.
Cupping her chin, he forced her to look at him. When she finally met his eyes, he saw that she’d found the strength somehow to pull herself together. “Merry Christmas,” he said softly.
“Merry Christmas,” Rachel whispered.
Nine
He was packing. It wouldn’t take long, Rachel thought, for he’d only brought one suitcase. She could hear him in the bedroom they’d shared for nearly three weeks now as she sat on the couch giving Alyssa a bottle.
Perhaps she should be grateful that Jack had stayed on for nearly the whole week after Christmas. Not much going on with his agency during the holidays, he’d told her after he’d called L.A., nothing pressing that he had to rush back to. In a way, Rachel wished he hadn’t stayed. Each day with him, she fell more in love. Each day for her meant it would be all that much more difficult to say goodbye.
Finally, just before the new year, he’d announced this morning that he needed to get back. He’d quickly added that he’d made arrangements with Sloan to call him should anything new develop on Christina’s case, and he’d fly back.
Actually, Rachel preferred a clean break. At least with Richard she’d come home to find him packing, the abrupt decision he’d made to leave knocking her for a loop. But she hadn’t had days to sit around knowing it was going to take place, but not aware of when. Even though there was no comparison on how she’d felt about Richard as to how she felt about Jack.
Rachel set the bottle down and raised Alyssa to her shoulder to burp her. She hadn’t really known what it was like to be in love until Jack. Everyone said it was better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all. She wasn’t so sure about that. Someone who hadn’t been through it had probably made that up. Perhaps if asked years from now, she’d agree. But not today.
She could beat herself up over this, for falling in love with him in the first place—since she was so good at shouldering the blame for things that were beyond her control—except she now realized that there was no way a person could prevent love from happening. She’d warned herself not to care too much, not to get involved, not to lead with her chin. But her feelings, those fragile feelings Jack had brought to life, hadn’t listened. Without her permission, even without her knowledge at first, she’d fallen head over heels.
She was trying not to be angry as well as hurt, although anger was easier to deal with. She couldn’t blame him since he’d told her exactly how things were with him almost from Day One. And she’d believed him, believed that he wasn’t just waiting for the right woman to cross his path, but instead he was someone who had decided as far back as his teens that marriage and commitment weren’t for him. She had no rival, no woman in L.A. waiting in the wings to embrace him when he returned.
How the hell could you fight a mind-set?
Richard had left selfishly to pursue his own dream, never mind that he’d destroyed hers. Jack was leaving because to stay would compromise who and what he was, or so he said. He was leaving to prevent both of them from even deeper pain, so he’d explained last night after their most poignant lovemaking session yet.
She’d worn only the lovely gold heart-shaped locket on a chain that he’d given her for Christmas. Over and over again, he’d reached for her, and she’d gone into his arms gladly, willingly, knowing that night would be their last together. When he’d finally fallen asleep, she’d gone into the bathroom, closed the door and let the sobs that had been building all week have free rein. She’d cried so hard and so long that she’d lost her dinner. She hadn’t returned to the bed they shared until she’d composed herself, until she’d splashed cold water on her face and eyes, until the episode was over.
There’d be more, Rachel knew.
But not in front of him. This morning, she was calm, clear-eyed, pleasant. She’d even joked with him at breakfast. Her mother would have been proud for she’d acted like a true lady, hiding her feelings, avoiding a public display. Rachel with the stiff upper lip and the backbone ramrod-straight, giving no hint of her broken heart. It was a role she hated.
Jack came out of the bedroom carrying his bag, walked over and set it down by the door. In his hand dangled the gold-and-onyx keychain with his engraved initials that she’d given him for Christmas. What with caring for Alyssa, she hadn’t had much time to shop, but he’d seemed pleased with her small gift.
He’d outdone himself, getting Alyssa a lovely dress, a big teddy bear and her first pair of shoes, which she wouldn’t need for some time yet. Rachel had fared as well with a hand-embroidered sweater and a pure white nightgown with matching robe and slippers. For a man unused to buying for women and babies, he’d even gotten the sizes right.
It had been a lovely Christmas Eve, the best. She’d have lots of time to relive it, Rachel thought as she checked Alyssa and saw she’d fallen asleep. Rising, she carried the baby to her crib and put her down for a nap. When she returned, Jack was standing by the door wearing his jacket, looking uncomfortable.
She would not make this more difficult for him.
“I envy you returning to all that sunshine while we can expect months more of snow,” she said with a smile she had some difficulty forming.
Jack drank in the sight of her for the last time. She was wearing a bulky black sweater that came down low on her thighs over black leggings, her feet in pink slippers. He remembered how her hair smelled, how satiny her skin felt, and knew he’d have to live on his memories from now on. She looked small and very pale, so tense that he was certain one wrong word and she’d splinter.
“Yeah, that’s one good thing about living in L.A. We may have smog, but it’s warm
smog, even in winter.” He stayed where he was, jiggling his keys, wanting to touch her, to take her into his arms one last time. But he was uncertain how she’d react. “Maybe you could drop me a line now and then. I left my card on the table.”
“Maybe.” Why would she torture herself like that?
“We always knew we’d face this one day, right?”
“Yes. I hope you find what you want, Jack.” Feeling exposed and vulnerable, she crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m not sure what I want. Do you know what you want?”
“Yes, I think I finally do. I want a home and a family, and I won’t settle for less.”
Jack shook his head sadly. “I told you from the start, Rachel, that I’m not cut out for marriage.”
Sometimes a tautly strung wire breaks unexpectedly. “Oh, bull!” Rachel said, anger mingled with hurt in her voice. “Don’t give me that, Jack. I’ve heard it before. Who is cut out for marriage? Certainly I’ve seen few shining examples, but I’ve got the guts to pursue that dream anyway.”
“You know my father left and—”
“Why can’t you be honest, at least? Say you wanted a good time, a few laughs, a little bedtime pleasure, then back to your life in L.A. But quit blaming your father for everything. You’re your own man, not someone’s robot programmed to follow in his footsteps. If—if I’m not enough for you, be man enough to say so.” Her voice was low, level, but trembling.
“It’s not that—”
“Please.” She’d had enough. If they sparred much longer, Rachel knew she’d break down completely. “Just go.” Turning, she faced the fireplace and prayed he’d leave quickly.
Jack felt as if he’d just kicked a puppy. He picked up his bag, looked at her back. “Goodbye,” he said, then walked out the door.
Rachel heard the lock click and hugged herself tightly as the pain poured through her. She would get through this. She had to. She had Alyssa who was depending on her.
Shakily, she began stacking wood in the fireplace. She’d build a fire, make some lunch and— The thought of food set her stomach to churning.
Straightening, she rushed to the bathroom, barely making it in time. She was so sick she didn’t have the strength to move, winding up sitting on the floor.
Tomorrow will be better, she told herself. One day at a time.
Rachel struggled with Alyssa’s car seat, taking it out of the base belted into the rental car. With the straps of the diaper bag and her purse over one shoulder, she hoisted the portable seat by its handle and hurried inside the sheriff’s office. Out of the cold, she turned back the blanket corners, revealing the sleeping baby.
“You’re getting heavy,” Rachel said softly. “My big girl.”
“Can I help you with that, ma’am?” asked a deep, masculine voice.
Rachel looked up at a tall man with dark hair and dark eyes, his smile white in a tanned face with strong features. A fleece-lined denim jacket hung open over wide shoulders, worn jeans, and his boots that looked as if they’d seen a lot of work. In his big, rough hands he held a cowboy hat.
“Have we met?” Rachel asked, thinking she’d remember such a handsome man.
“No, ma’am. I’m Cade Redstone—at your service.” He reached for the handle of the car seat, taking it from her easily. “Where are you heading?”
“She’s coming to see me,” Sloan said from the doorway of the station. Stepping outside, he introduced Rachel to Cade.
Cade smiled at her. “Are you from around here?”
That was a good question, Rachel thought. “For now,” she answered.
“Well, in that case, I’d better be inviting my brother up here for a visit right quick,” Cade said with a wink. He looked over at Sloan. “Don’t want Ryder to miss out on the best-looking women.”
“You know Ryder’s too busy with his rodeos to come visit the likes of you,” Sloan replied through a grin. “Go on, now. Leanne’s probably calling you.” Taking the baby seat from Rachel, he motioned her into his office. “See ya, buddy,” he called to the tall cowboy.
Cade put on his hat, saluted with two fingers to both of them, and went on down the street.
Settling into a chair across from Sloan’s desk, Rachel checked Alyssa’s covers, making sure she wouldn’t be too warm, then looked up at the deputy. “What was it you wanted to see me about?”
“I just wanted to know how you and Alyssa are doing. I would’ve dropped by your place, but we’ve been real busy here. Besides, I thought you’d enjoy getting out a little.” Sloan knew Jack had left and thought he knew why. Some men weren’t the settling-down type. He’d also heard through the small-town grapevine that Rachel had holed up in her little cabin and hadn’t stepped out in town in the two weeks since Jack’s departure.
“We’re doing fine, Sloan,” she answered, sounding perhaps a bit too defensive even to her own ears.
“That’s good to hear.”
Something had occurred to Rachel outside the station. “That man I just met out there, Cade Redstone. He looks as if he has some Native American blood. Have you checked him out as possibly being Alyssa’s father?”
Sloan shook his head. “He’s not our man. Cade’s happily married to Leanne Harding—just got married in September. Besides, he wasn’t even around these parts till last May. He’s one of Garrett Kincaid’s grandsons.” He looked at her inquisitively. “Do you know that story?”
“Of Garrett searching for his son Larry’s illegitimate children?” Rachel nodded. “Sure, I know. Who in Whitehorn doesn’t? But what about his brother?” Rachel knew she was fishing, but she so desperately needed a lead.
“Ryder? No, he’s out on the rodeo circuit. Nothing can hold that man down.” He laughed. “Except maybe a two-ton bull.”
“I see.” Rachel couldn’t help but feel disappointed. “So then, I take it you’re no further along in the search for Alyssa’s father than before?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“It’s so frustrating! I’d like to keep Alyssa, which would involve some change of plans regarding my job in Chicago, that sort of thing. But if I do all that, decide to remain in Whitehorn and perhaps do free-lance work or whatever, I have no assurance that her father won’t suddenly reappear and swoop her away.”
“You’re right.” Sloan’s face was sympathetic. “I wish I could tell you something more positive. If you want to go back to Chicago, I could look around and maybe find someone to take care of the baby.”
“No, no, I don’t want that. I—I can manage caring for her alone. It’s just that…as you might imagine, each day I love her more. If he comes back—whoever he is—I’m going to find it very hard to give her up.” Especially after losing Jack.
“I know. Whoever he is, he’s put you in an awkward position. I wish I had a suggestion for you, but we’ve scoured the Native America community, asked at the res and off. We can’t come up with any Native American who was even seen with Christina. And no one’s come forth—yet. I think one day someone will, but when…that’ll be is anyone’s guess. We’re no closer to finding her killer, either.” He leaned forward, his expression distressed. “I’m frustrated, too.”
Rachel understood. “I’m not blaming you, Sloan, or the department. I just feel like I’m in limbo, like I’ve lost control of my life, my future. I know that sounds dramatic…”
“Not to me it doesn’t. My best advice would be don’t stay because of the baby. If you really want to live in Whitehorn again, make sure you’re staying for the right reasons. Then, should you get permanent custody, she’d be icing on the cake. You know? If there’s any way I can help you, Rachel, please let me know.”
She gave him a smile. “Thanks, Sloan.” She covered the baby with the blanket again, gathered her purse and the diaper bag, and left.
Once outside in the cold air, she let out a trembling sigh. She felt so tired lately, probably a mild depression over her circumstances. But she wasn’t giving in to it. Squaring her shoulders, she
ignored the car and set off down the street. “We’re going to lunch,” she told the sleeping child. “It’s time we stopped hiding.”
It was three in the afternoon and there was a lull at the Hip Hop Café. The lunch crowd was fed and gone, and the dinner folks hadn’t yet begun to straggle in. Rachel greeted Janie Austin at the cash register and she made her way to a booth in the back and set the baby carrier down on one side. Removing the blanket, she saw that Alyssa was still asleep. Probably getting out in the fresh air was good for her, as well.
Pulling off her gloves, she sat opposite the baby, plunked down the heavy diaper bag, packed for every emergency, and her purse and shrugged out of her jacket before heaving another weary sigh. She was probably tired from hauling around the baby and the tons of paraphernalia that came along with her wherever she went.
Glancing up, she saw Cade Redstone in a booth on the other side of the café, laughing along with two women. She surmised that the one he sat next to, a real beauty with rich chestnut hair, was his wife. As they sat holding hands, Rachel envied them their good mood and their energy, not to mention their love. I guess marriage does suit some people, she thought.
Listlessly, she picked up the menu. She wasn’t really hungry, but she knew she had to eat.
“We haven’t seen you here in a while,” Janie said, coming over to her booth, order pad in hand.
“It’s been so cold, I haven’t felt much like going out,” Rachel explained. It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it would have to do. She had no intention of telling Janie the whole sad story of Jack’s leaving her. Then she remembered this was Whitehorn; Janie probably knew all about their breakup, as did everyone in town. News traveled fast in small towns, especially news of a broken heart. “Besides,” she continued, “I didn’t want Alyssa to catch cold.”
Janie peeked into the baby seat, smiling as she looked over the sleeping child. “She’s a real cutie, Rachel. I can see you’re taking good care of her.”
