"Doctor, my friend's name is Mattie," Joe broke in quietly. "She's very special to me. I don't have time to play games."
Jim's expression showed chagrin, and he smiled self-mockingly. "Sorry. Occupational hazard. When you said 'friend' I assumed..." he said, sighing. "Tell me about Mattie."
"It will go no further than this room," Joe stated flatly, a threat evident in his tone.
Jim did not take offense. "Of course not."
In a grim, harsh monotone, Joe relayed the bare facts of Mattie's childhood.
"It's not as uncommon as we would like to think, this sexual abuse of children," Jim remarked softly when Joe had finished.
"I know that now," Joe's voice carried a violent condemnation. "You should see her, Dr. Wright. She's afraid to get close to anyone or anything. It's as if she expects it to turn on her, to hurt her."
"And you?" Jim probed. "Is she afraid to get close to you?"
"In the beginning she was. Even now, sometimes I say something that triggers off something in her head and she runs."
"But not always?"
"What?"
"She doesn't always run from you. I mean, she trusted you enough to tell you about her childhood. That's a huge step for her to take. It's the first step on the road to dealing with the trauma."
"Is it?" Joe's face softened amazingly, his eyes bright.
"Healing is a slow process, Joe. Sometimes it's almost imperceptible. The most important thing you can do is to be there. If she wants to talk about it, listen to her. Sometimes, it's going to be damn hard to hear. Don't shut her out. Don't push her for more than she's ready to give."
Joe nodded abruptly. This was nothing that he hadn't known already.
"This foster father—" Jim began.
"He's dead." The words were imbued with a vicious satisfaction. Mattie would never know that Joe had tracked her foster father down to the South Texas town she had grown up in. Joe had gone after the man blindly, driven by the pain he saw in Mattie to punish him for the misery he had caused. Finding him dead had not erased the hatred, but Joe felt a certain grim justice had been served.
"You would have hurt him if he had still been living, wouldn't you have?" Jim read the implacable hatred in Joe's face, making his question more a statement.
Joe didn't even blink. "That twisted excuse for a man didn't deserve decent behavior from anybody."
"Well, that's a remarkably honest answer," Jim commended him bracingly. "Be as honest with yourself now, Joe."
"What do you mean?"
"I believe you when you say that you are Mattie's friend. But I also believe that you want a lot more from her than friendship."
Joe was silent, his jaw tight.
"Joe—"
"Can you teach me how to need less from her?" Joe broke in harshly, his eyes fierce.
"No," Jim admitted softly. "I can't. Maybe, just maybe, you can learn to accept less."
"I want...so much. Do you think she'll ever be able—"
"I think," Jim answered, "that you care for her enough to put her needs above your own. I think she's let you closer than anyone else. Maybe that will have to be enough."
"If—if it... happens—" Joe's face darkened with embarrassment "—is there a certain...method, a... position?"
"If it happens," Jim suggested succinctly, "experiment."
Joe ran a weary hand over his face. "Easy for you to say," he muttered. "What if I hurt her? What if I frighten her? What if she can't...?"
' 'You tell me, Joe. What if you can't establish a physical relationship with her? What will you do then?"
"I'll always be her friend." The words grated past a rusty throat. "I'll always need to be close to her."
Jim regarded him compassionately. "And will you be able to handle that? Close, but never close enough?"
Joe answered with grim self-knowledge. "Better than I could handle a life without her at all."
"I'd like to meet her," Jim said quietly. "Maybe I could help her. Sometimes it's easier to open up with a stranger."
"I'll try," Joe promised softly. "I'll try for her. But..." he shook his head.
"If she can't give you what you need from her..." Jim began.
"Then I'll be back."
Jim Wright met his eyes questioningly.
"For those lessons on how to accept less."
Now, back in the locker room, Joe tightened his shoelaces and got to his feet. It was time to talk to Mattie, to tell her about his visit to Jim Wright. Pray God, she didn't see it as a betrayal of her trust in him.
"Ryan."
Joe stopped and turned to face Coach Rusky in the now-empty locker room.
"One thousand for skipping practice."
The perfect end for the perfect week.
Hours later Mattie watched Joe prowl around her small cottage like an expectant father and knew that something was wrong. Joe was not a restless man. He had the unique ability to be still and completely at peace with himself and the world. Now he looked as if a war were being fought inside of him.
He had moved to her bookcase now, glancing at the various titles and fumbling through the small ornaments that decorated the shelves. The Mattie of three months ago would have been threatened by the invasion. The woman today was only worried about his restlessness, and sighed when he latched onto a framed photograph and inspected it closely.
"What's this?"
Mattie rose from the sofa to look over his shoulder. "It's a picture of a puppy," she told him a little self-consciously.
"Did you take it?" Joe turned to probe her eyes intently.
Mattie, a little unnerved, turned away. "Yes, I took it."
Joe's eyes turned back to the picture of the young English sheepdog. "Was he yours?"
"No. I never had a pet," Mattie answered flatly.
"Then why...?"
"Look, I saw this puppy on the street one day, I thought he was cute, and I took his picture. That's all," Mattie told him defensively, her shoulders hunched.
"Then rushed home and framed the picture," Joe finished softly, his eyes darkening. "Mattie, there's no shame in admitting that you liked this puppy."
Mattie said nothing and Joe pressed on. "Why don't you get a puppy of your own?"
Mattie stiffened. "It wouldn't be practical," she told him. "I'm gone all day, and a puppy like that would grow up to be huge and he'd probably run away anyway—"
"Mattie," Joe broke in gently, putting the picture down to cup her face and force her eyes to his. "Why are you afraid to care for anyone? Even for a pet?"
"You know why..." she began huskily, her lips trembling.
"Yes," Joe sighed. "I know why. You're afraid that in caring for something or someone, you give them the power to hurt you. But Mattie, don't you see," he pleaded softly, "you've already let yourself care about me. Do you think I'm going to turn on you? Do you think I would ever hurt you?"
"No! Joe, I know you wouldn't hurt me. But it's still so hard!"
Joe's thumbs moved caressingly against the soft skin of her jaw, soothing her fear. "Mattie.. .I skipped practice yesterday."
Mattie blinked, unsure where this was leading. "You did?"
"Yes. I went to go see a doctor. His name is James Wright."
Swift fear colored her eyes silver. "A doctor? Joe, are you sick? Is there something wrong?"
Joe drew a steadying breath. "Jim Wright is a psychologist, Mattie. He specializes in sex therapy."
Mattie searched his eyes in silence, then pulled away, turning her back on him.
"Mattie..."
"You went to talk to him about me, didn't you?" she demanded in a hard little voice. "You told him about..."
Joe sighed. "I didn't give him your address, if that's what you're thinking. Mattie, I went to see him for my sake."
"For your sake!" she turned to face him incredulously, her eyes hurt.
"Yes," Joe repeated slowly. "For my sake. After what you told me—"
• Oh, now I see," Mattie broke in
bitterly, driven by pain and not believing a word that she said. "You were so disgusted by what I told you, having such a hard time dealing i the fact that I was someone's... toy—"
"Hell, yes, I'm having a hard time dealing with it!" Joe exploded. "Aren't you? I'd like to kill that man for what he put you through. I hurt for you, Mattie," Joe said, his voice breaking achingly and his eyes burning. "I hurt for you, not for me. I want to help you. That's why I went to see Jim Wright. I thought he could teach me what to do, what to say to help you heal."
"Oh, Joe," Mattie breathed, her eyes bright with tears and her lips trembling.
"Is it so wrong to...care about you this way, Mattie? To want to help you? Can you really blame me for that?"
"No Joe, I'm just not used to it. I guess I don't know how..." Her words drifted off despairingly.
"Let me teach you, then." Joe pleaded intently. "Let me teach you how it feels."
Mattie searched his eyes hesitantly. "No price to pay?"
"No price to pay," Joe echoed muffledly, reminded of all the prices she had paid already.
"And—and Dr. Wright?" Mattie probed.
Joe held her eyes. "Will you see him?"
Mattie flinched from the question, from the fear of having to tell a stranger about her childhood, about the ghosts she carried. "I can't," she whispered in defeat, closing her eyes against the disappointment and reproach she feared would be in Joe's face. "I'm sorry, I can't. Not... yet."
Amazingly, unbelievably, she felt the gentle brush of Joe's lips against her forehead. "It's all right," he whispered soothingly. "It's all right, Mattie. Just don't close me out. Don't run away from me. Between us, we can find the answers. Together we can do anything."
Mattie felt the tears that slipped from beneath her closed lids. He was so gentle, and he cared for her. For her, ghosts and all. "Joe, I can't keep taking from you. You have to let me give, too."
"Oh, Mattie," Joe said, sighing. "Can't you see what you've given me?"
Mattie shook her head soundlessly, her throat tight.
"You've given me your friendship and something I value more than anything in the world, your trust." His voice was intense. "Don't you see, you had to trust me to tell me about him."
"I did?" Mattie's voice was stunned. She hadn't thought about that before. "Yes, I did. I do. Joe, I do trust you." Her voice was shaded with wonder. "I... it feels good."
The simple statement shook her. It did feel good. Just as it had felt good to tell him about her childhood, as if just the telling would allow the pain to ease. Slowly she was discovering that she could use the past, build on it to make her a stronger person. The key was in dealing with it. Suddenly she knew that Joe could help her to do so as no one else in the world could.
Seven
Tell me about Cole and Jassy."
Mattie and Joe were on their way to the Barons' ranch, where they would spend the night before going on to Joe's home for the Christmas holidays.
Joe gave in to Mattie's request easily. "Okay, what do you want to know?"
"Everything," Mattie answered expansively, her eyes dancing. "How did you meet and how long have you been friends and how long has it been since you've seen them. What are they like and what do they do and..."
Mattie stopped to draw a breath into her empty lungs, and Joe jumped in.
"Okay, hold it. I'll tell you everything from the moment I was conceived. Will that do?"
Mattie shot him a quelling glare. "Talk fast, buster."
Joe laughed and began, his eyes steady on the road ahead of them. "Cole and I grew up together. Born just a couple of months apart—he's older by sixty-seven days. Our parents had been friends and neighbors for years, and there's never been a time when Gole and I didn't know each other or weren't friends. We were raised almost as brothers. I was always at his house, or he was always at mine. We went to school together, started to notice girls together." Here Joe stopped and smiled in soft remembrance. "Got drunk together for the first time."
"When the time came for us to go to college, it just seemed natural that we went to the same school. We attended the University of Texas at Austin for five years, and we both played on the football team. I was the quarterback and Cole was our star wide receiver."
"That's the guy who catches the ball," Mattie inserted blandly.
Joe turned to eye her in amazement. "That's right."
Mattie studied her nails in pretended boredom, then buffed them against her shirt. "Of course it is."
Joe grinned appreciatively and continued. "Cole and I roomed together all during college. I think I knew more about him then his own parents did and sometimes used it to my advantage."
Mattie picked up the past tense of the verb. "Did?" she repeated quietly. "Are his parents gone, too?"
Joe's face was somber. "They were with my parents when the plane went down. They were all coming back from a weekend in Dallas."
Mattie reached out to touch his hand in silent commiseration. "It must have been a very hard time for both of you."
"It was. We had been friends before, very good friends, but after our parents died..." Joe shook his head. "Well, suffice it to say that we have gone through a lot together, and we are very close."
"I'm glad you had someone," Mattie told him quietly, her eyes sad. "I'm glad that Cole was there to help you through that."
Joe gripped her hand gently. "After we graduated Cole couldn't wait to get back to his ranch. He said he would feel closer to his parents there. But, Mattie, he had changed. I could almost see it happening, but I couldn't do anything to stop it."
"Changed how?" Mattie probed.
Joe shrugged uneasily. "He began to draw away from people. It was as if he had decided it was safer to keep his distance, not to care about anything or anyone so that he wouldn't be hurt if it went away. I guess it really didn't help that I had turned pro by then and didn't see as much of him as I used to."
"That's so sad," Mattie murmured. "It's so hard to open up aga,in after you've closed yourself off. It takes something or someone very, very special to make you even try."
Joe swallowed past a suddenly tight throat, because he knew by the look in her eyes that she was talking about him.
"Is this where Jassy comes in?" Mattie prompted him.
Joe smiled. "Yeah, this is where Jassy comes in. Cole had spent ten years—ten years—learning how not to care, and then Jassy stormed his barricades, took him by the heart and made him love her."
Mattie inwardly flinched at the word "love" and asked hurriedly. "What's Jassy like?"
Joe grinned fondly, and Mattie felt something very new and totally unfamiliar in the pit of her stomach... something very like jealousy.
"Jassy is one special lady. The perfect woman for Cole. She has an IQ that goes right off the scale, a certified genius, and a heart as soft as a marshmallow. They seem to give each other balance. Apart they are both wonderful, warm people, but together... together they're perfect."
Mattie mulled that over for a long time in silence, trying to understand the concept of two people made perfect as one. She had never seen that kind of union, never believed in that kind of miracle. And Joe called it love.
Suddenly she began to realize that she didn't know what love was. What Joe described as love between his friends sounded nothing like the love that her foster father had forced on her. Were there so many different kinds? And if so, how was one supposed to tell the difference? Or had the word been misused somewhere down the line? Was love not the horror, but the beauty? She just didn't know. Suddenly, because of Joe, it was very important that she find out because what he described between Cole and Jassy was so incredibly close to what Mattie felt for him. And if what she felt for Joe was love—the good love Joe had shown her between Marion and Jen Dumbronkowski, and told her about between Cole and Jassy Baron—then what was she running from?
Cole and Jassy Baron turned out to be warm, friendly and very easy to be with. Mattie silently laughed at her own fears
and saw the satisfaction glinting in Joe's eyes as she relaxed with his friends.
Cole was tall, his body lean and muscled, exactly as she had pictured a Texas rancher would be. Ordinarily he was a man that Mattie would have been uncomfortable around, for he exuded a kind of understated sexuality that should have been unnerving. It would have been awkward... except that it was all directed at his beautiful, vivacious wife, Jassy.
Joe had mentioned in the Jeep that Jassy was a certified genius, but she looked like a fashion model. She was, quite simply, stunning—a flaming redhead with the most unexpected purple eyes. But Mattie saw beneath the beauty to the sharp, inquiring mind. Jassy's life couldn't have been so easy, either, she thought perceptively. Such an intimidating intelligence must have chased countless people away from her, people she had wanted to stay.
She seemed happy with Cole. More than happy—contented. Mattie, with her new insight on friendship, realized that Cole and Jassy were friends as well as lovers. She hadn't realized the two relationships could coexist. She watched the couple with a kind of bewildered yearning, and Joe watched Mattie with a melting tenderness and buried hope.
The Barons were obviously delighted to see Joe again. It had apparently been quite a while since his last visit. At least three months, Mattie knew for sure, because she and Joe hadn't been apart for any length of time since the day they met.
Over dinner, they fell into a lively discussion about Joe's ranch, which Cole apparently looked after for Joe during the football season. Mattie listened with genuine interest as they discussed herd movement, pastures and beef prices, Joe seemed like a different man here, at home in the country. He appeared to have overcome his reluctance to live on the ranch after his parents' death, and Mattie realized for the first time that this was indeed where he belonged.
"I guess you'll be happy to concentrate only on your own ranch once Joe retires, right, Cole?" she asked, carried along by her train of thought. "You have quite a bit of land yourself."
She was a little taken aback by the way both Cole and Jassy swung around to study Joe incredulously.
"Retire?" Cole repeated blankly. "Are you going to retire, Joe?"
Just Joe Page 10
