She took in a deep breath and let it out. “Oh, Ian . . . you don’t know what you want. And I’m not going to be your emotional punching bag while you figure it out.”
There was finality in her voice, and it was like a knife in his chest. He wanted to argue with her, to tell her he did know what he wanted. But how could he? He hadn’t given her any reason to trust him. She had too much reason to be gun-shy where he was concerned.
“That’s fair enough,” he said. “But someday—”
She shook her head. “No. That door is closed. The fact that we had sex doesn’t change anything between us.”
There was a pause, and then her voice softened a little. “It’s not like we’ll never see each other again. I’ll still be spending time with Jacob.”
“Sure,” he said, striving to sound reasonable.
“Would you like me to pick him up on Friday?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, then. Friday it is.”
She looked down as she tugged her skirt into place and ran her hands through her hair. “Take care until then.”
His cue to go. He straightened his clothes, grabbed his overcoat from the floor, and headed for the door.
He looked back at her for a second, wishing he had her gift for expressing feelings. If he did, he’d say something now that would explain the pain and confusion and longing churning inside him. Something that would fix everything between them.
But he didn’t have her way with words. So he’d just have to earn her trust with his actions.
And the first action he could take was to respect her obvious desire to get rid of him right now.
“You take care, too,” he said, his hand on the knob.
“I will,” she said softly.
And that was that.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Thursday’s tea had turned into a movie and drinks with Simone, Maria, and Vicki. When Kate had rolled into bed at 3:00 a.m., she’d been planning to sleep in till noon the next day.
But an insistent buzzing woke her up earlier than that. She cracked open an eye, realized it was her cell phone, and glanced at the clock.
It was 11:00 a.m. She might feel like death on a cracker, but it was a perfectly reasonable hour for a call. She looked at her phone and saw Ian’s name on the screen.
As usual, thoughts of him led to thoughts of his hand under her thigh, holding her in place as he thrust inside her.
She shivered.
But she’d had a week of practice at quelling those memories, and now she lay back on her pillow and answered his call.
“Hi, Ian.”
“Have you seen Jacob today? Has he been in touch with you?”
Kate sat straight up in bed. “No, of course not. Why are you—”
“He’s gone,” Ian said, his voice cracking.
For a moment she couldn’t take it in. “What do you mean, gone?”
“I mean he’s gone. As in nobody knows where he is.”
Her hand tightened on the phone. “My God. What happened?”
“The school had a field trip today—I signed the permission slip a week ago and dropped him off this morning. The buses were all lined up. A little while later, I got an automated message from the school informing me that Jacob was absent. I’ve gotten those before, when he’s been out sick—it’s the school’s way of confirming that the parents know about the absence. I assumed it was a mistake and called the school. It wasn’t a mistake. He never got on his bus. He must have waited until my car was out of sight and then taken off.”
“You don’t think he was . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word kidnapped.
“No, thank God. The police already checked the security footage from in front of the school, and they saw him leaving on his own. He was heading south, but of course that doesn’t mean anything. He could be anywhere by now. We tried the GPS on his phone, but he didn’t take it with him. He left it at the apartment.”
“Oh, Ian. Where are you now? Are you at home?”
“No. I couldn’t sit still and do nothing. I asked a friend to stay at the apartment in case Jacob calls there or comes home, but I had to go out and look for him. I’m in my car right now.” He hesitated. “Can I come get you, Kate? Will you . . . will you look for him with me?”
“Of course,” she said immediately. She’d never heard Ian sound like this before—scared, frantic, vulnerable. And when she thought about Jacob, wandering alone through the city, she was scared, too.
She threw on some clothes and went downstairs to wait. She was out on the sidewalk when Ian pulled up in his own car—a dark green Jaguar. She pulled open the passenger door and slid in beside him.
He’d changed out of his work clothes into jeans and a tee shirt. Every muscle in his body was tense, and his hands gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.
“Thank you” was all he said as he started to pull away from the curb.
“Wait,” she said, putting a hand on one of his. “Do you know where you’re going, or are you just driving around?”
“Just driving around,” he said, his voice miserable.
“Then let’s talk about this for a minute. Did something happen? Can you think of a reason Jacob would run away?”
Ian rubbed his face with his hands. “He was pretty mad at me about . . . about what happened with you. But I thought he’d forgiven me for that. He knows I apologized to you, and . . . he seemed okay last night and this morning.” His voice turned bitter. “Not that I’m the best judge.”
“That’s probably not it, then. Is there anything else? A problem at school, something he wanted to avoid?”
A sudden spasm of pain twisted his face. “There is one thing. But I don’t see why Jacob would run away because of it.”
“What is it?”
“His mother died a year ago. A year ago tomorrow.”
Her heart clenched in her chest. “Oh, Ian.” Then, suddenly, she remembered something. “Wait a minute. Did you read Jacob’s story? The comic book he wrote?”
Ian nodded.
“Do you remember the character of the teenage boy? Simon?”
“Yeah.”
“Simon lost both his parents in a car accident. Do you remember what he did before he went to the magician to get his power?”
Ian stared at her, his eyes widening. “He went to visit his parents’ graves.”
“Right.”
“Oh my God.” Ian took his hands from the steering wheel to cover his face. After a moment he dropped them and took a deep breath.
“Tina is buried in a cemetery in White Plains. And it’s not far from the train station. If he left from Grand Central, the trip would only take forty-five minutes.”
This time when he put the car into gear, she didn’t stop him.
They drove in silence for half an hour. Ian navigated the route with the intense focus of a race-car driver, and all Kate could do was grab the handle above the passenger door and hold on.
Once they got off the Cross-Westchester Expressway they slowed down a little, and it wasn’t long before they arrived at a sprawling cemetery.
Ian parked on the street, and he and Kate went through the iron gate and started to walk along the main path. Ian didn’t say anything. He moved fast, and Kate concentrated on keeping up.
The tension that rolled off him in waves was a sharp contrast with their surroundings. Everything was lush and green and peaceful. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves on the trees, and the path they walked on was a mosaic of sun and shadow.
After about five minutes, Ian stopped and Kate followed the direction of his gaze.
Jacob was twenty yards away, sitting on the grass in front of a marble gravestone. His back was to them. His arms were wrapped around his shins and his head was on his knees, and he looked small, forlorn, and very youn
g.
Kate turned to look at Ian, and she was shocked to see that his face was wet with tears.
“He’s okay,” he said brokenly.
Kate put an arm around his waist and gave him a quick, hard hug. “I’ll wait for you back at the car.”
He jerked his head around to look at her. “You’re not coming with me?”
She shook her head. “The two of you need a chance to talk things over.”
His mouth twisted. “So I can make everything better?”
“Ian—”
He cut her off. “There’s not a relationship in my life I haven’t screwed up. You know that as well as anyone. I’m starting to think . . .” He paused. “Jacob’s grandparents offered to take him in after Tina died. But she named me guardian in her will, and I wanted . . . I was determined to justify her trust. Now I wish I’d taken them up on their offer.” He paused again. “But it’s not too late. It’s obvious I’m not a fit guardian. It’s time I turn the job over to someone who is.”
“Ian, look at me.”
He did. His eyes were tormented and his jaw was tight, and every line in his face told the story of the pain he was feeling.
“Can I tell you something my grandmother used to say? Or would that be annoying?”
He actually smiled a little. “No. Go ahead and tell me.”
“There are only two things in life you can’t change—yesterday and tomorrow. But there’s nothing you can’t do today.”
She looked him in the eyes. “You don’t have to have all the answers when you talk to Jacob. You don’t have to have any answers. All you have to do is love him—and be yourself.” She laid a hand against his breastbone, right over his heart. “Your real self.”
He looked down at her for a long moment. Then he nodded.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll try.”
He turned and walked across the grass towards Jacob. Kate watched him for a moment, her heart aching for him—for both of them. Then she headed back to the car.
Ian didn’t say anything as he came up behind his nephew, but Jacob must have heard his footsteps. He twisted his head around, and when he saw his uncle standing there, his eyes widened.
Neither of them said anything for a minute. Then:
“Hey,” Ian said.
“Hey.”
There was an awkward pause.
“Are you mad at me?” Jacob asked after a long moment.
“No.”
Jacob had been looking down, but now he met his uncle’s eyes again.
Ian sat down on the grass next to him. “I was pretty scared, though,” he said.
Jacob bit his lip. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay.”
The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, looking at Tina’s gravestone.
BELOVED MOTHER, BELOVED SISTER, BELOVED FRIEND.
It occurred to Ian that there were worse ways to be remembered.
It also occurred to him that during the past year, he’d avoided talking about Tina to Jacob. He’d told himself he was respecting the boy’s grief by giving him privacy, and that Jacob knew his uncle was available if he ever wanted to talk.
But his avoidance hadn’t been about Jacob’s pain. It had been about his own.
Jacob was doing his best to deal with his grief and loss. The fact that he was here proved that.
Ian was the one who hadn’t been dealing with it.
Now, for the first time, he thought about his sister without jerking away from the memories as though they might burn him. He thought of her quick, sideways grin and the sparkle of mischief in her eyes. He thought of how proud he’d always been of her, how much he’d worried when she was overseas, how beautiful she’d looked on her wedding day, and how she’d struggled to keep it together at Joe’s funeral.
He remembered meeting his nephew for the first time, a tiny wrinkled thing in his mother’s arms. He remembered Tina smiling at a photo of Joe and hearing her whisper, “We did good, sweetheart.”
He delved further back, to their childhood in Brooklyn and the Bronx. And then he remembered something he hadn’t thought about in years.
“Did you know your mother loved to draw when she was your age?”
Jacob looked at him in surprise. “She did?”
Ian nodded. “Yeah. She had this sketchbook she carried with her everywhere, and for a long time she wouldn’t let anyone see her drawings. I think she was in fifth grade when she showed them to me for the first time. They were good.”
“I didn’t know she liked to draw.”
“You’re a lot like your mom, you know.”
“I am?”
“Yeah.”
Jacob rested his chin on his knees. “I never thought I was anything like her. She was so strong and brave.”
“You’re strong and brave, too.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have finished your book. It takes strength and courage to create something—especially when it seems like no one in your life believes in you. But you didn’t give up. You believed in yourself. Your mother would be so proud of you, Jacob. Just like I am.”
Jacob hugged his knees tighter. “Thanks,” he said.
They were quiet after that. As they sat in the gentle stillness of the cemetery, Ian felt something inside him loosen—the hard bitterness of pain he’d never been able to acknowledge or release.
“Jacob,” he said after a while. “If I ask you a question, will you give me an honest answer? Even if you think it might hurt my feelings?”
His nephew nodded. “Okay.”
“Do you want to keep living with me? Or would you rather live with your grandparents?”
There was a short silence—but it was long enough for Ian to realize what he wanted the answer to be.
Jacob’s lip trembled. “I want . . . I want . . .” He stopped. “Can I really tell you what I want?”
He was going to say he wanted to live with his grandparents. Steeling himself against the pain, Ian nodded. “You can tell me anything.”
“I want my cat. And I don’t want to play football, or soccer, or basketball.”
A rush of emotion left Ian feeling weak. “You don’t have to.”
“I was thinking, though . . . baseball might not be so bad.”
Ian laughed a little shakily. “Well, then, that’s something we can talk about.”
“But what about Remeow? Your building doesn’t allow pets.”
Your building, he’d said. Not our building.
“Then we’ll move.”
Jacob stared at him. “Do you really mean it?”
“Yes.”
Jacob blinked behind his glasses. Then he threw his arms around his uncle, and Ian hugged him back with everything he had.
They walked back to the car soon afterwards. Jacob was happy to see Kate, although he was embarrassed that she’d come out to White Plains to look for him.
His plan, he told them, had been to take the train back to Manhattan, head for the museum where the school had gone for its field trip, and rejoin his class. He’d been hoping with eleven-year-old optimism that no one would notice he was gone.
“I didn’t mean to worry you guys. Honest.”
He looked even guiltier when he heard Ian making phone calls—to the police, to the school, and to the friends he’d enlisted to help in the search.
Finally Ian slid the phone back in his pocket and turned to look at his nephew. “Why didn’t you ask me to bring you here, Jacob? I would have.”
Jacob looked down at his sneakers. “I know, but . . . I kind of wanted to be alone with my mom.” He flushed. “I guess that sounds stupid.”
“No,” Ian said gently. “It doesn’t sound stupid.”
Jacob looked u
p again. “Maybe next time, though, we could go together.”
Ian felt tears stinging the insides of his eyelids. “I’d like that,” he said.
They drove to Jacob’s old neighborhood, stopping at the house of the neighbors who’d taken in Remeow. The big orange feline was lounging on the porch, and Ian, who’d been afraid he might not remember Jacob after a year, was astonished when the cat came to meet the boy like an old friend, twining around his ankles and arching his head up for petting.
“You’re really going to move to a new apartment just so Jacob can have his cat?”
When he looked at Kate, she was grinning at him.
“Yes. Do you think that’s crazy?”
She shook her head. “I think it’s wonderful.”
“Considering the source, I don’t find that reassuring.”
Kate smacked him lightly on the arm and turned to greet Mrs. Burton, who’d just come out of the house. The woman had a friendly hello for the two of them and a huge hug for Jacob, who settled down on the porch swing with Remeow in his lap while the adults went inside the house.
Ian gave Mrs. Burton a brief summary of the day’s events, finishing with his intention to bring Remeow to Manhattan as soon as he found a new apartment.
“Well, I won’t deny that I’ll miss him—but I’m delighted that he and Jacob will be reunited. I’ve never known a boy kinder to animals than your nephew. He has a good heart.”
Ian nodded. “He does.”
“You know,” Kate put in, “Remeow could stay with me while you’re apartment hunting. That way Jacob could visit him.”
“Gallifrey wouldn’t mind?”
“Oh, he’ll mind. But he’ll deal with it.”
“Well . . .” He glanced at Mrs. Burton. “Would it be all right if we took Remeow home with us today?”
The dark-haired woman nodded. “Of course. Although . . .” She hesitated. “My husband was looking forward to seeing Jacob, after he called this morning to ask if he could come for a visit. We didn’t realize he was away without leave,” she added with a wry smile. “We both dearly love that boy, you know. We watched him for Tina from the time he was a baby.”
Ian nodded. “My sister loved you like family.”
Almost Like Love Page 19
