by Jackie Braun
Forget the house and neighborhood, Caro was still processing the wife part. Jake McCabe had been married.
CHAPTER SIX
“MIRANDA.”
He blinked in surprise, before glowering. “You know her?”
“No. No.” Caro shook her head, even as she wanted to smack the side of it with her palm. With no graceful way out of the mess she’d created, she said vaguely, “I.I heard her name mentioned earlier and wondered who she was.”
“You heard her name mentioned.” He snorted. “I’m guessing you heard a lot more than that.”
“No.” The little white lie was warranted. No way was she going to tell him the context in which Dean had brought up the woman. “Sorry.”
“I was, too.” Bitter laughter followed. Jake’s gaze never left the candle flame. Instead of being guarded, his expression now reflected betrayal and pain. “Sorry I met her. I thought it was a lifetime deal. It turns out I was wrong.”
Having made a similar discovery herself, Caro ached for him.
“What happened?”
He grunted, but he didn’t tell her to go to hell. She considered that a good sign. After a moment, Jake said, “The short answer is that when the going got tough, she got going, keeping her baggage really light.”
She cleared her throat. “And the long answer?”
His gaze lifted to hers. In the glow of the candle, his blue eyes narrowed not so much in suspicion as in puzzlement.
“I don’t like to talk about it.”
“Oh. I understand. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
He eyed her stoically for another long moment. She was getting ready to issue a second apology when he said, “Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“Only if you’re sure you want to tell me.”
His head tilted to one side as he studied her. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re a really good listener, Caro Franklin?”
“Because I am. You might say I’m a professional.”
He didn’t move, but she sensed he pulled back from her. “Head doctor?”
“School counselor.”
Blue eyes blinked. “Yeah?”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re surprised?” she asked, slightly insulted.
“I didn’t expect … that.”
“The career choice or the fact that I worked in the first place?”
“Both,” he admitted.
“You have some preconceived notions where I’m concerned.”
“Guilty.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I get the feeling there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
“That’s because there is.”
His eyes narrowed in assessment before he offered a curt nod. “Touché. So, where are you doing this counseling work?”
Her work at the private academy had paid handsomely and she’d enjoyed the work. The headmaster had assured her when she’d asked to extend her maternity leave another couple of months that he would hold her position. Truman had other ideas.
“I’m sort of between full-time jobs at the moment, although I do work in a public school system outside Montpelier. Before I left him, my husband poisoned the well at my old place of employment.”
“How’d he do that?”
“Perhaps poisoned isn’t the right word. He made a very generous donation.” So generous that the Wendell name would adorn the new science wing now under construction. “Let’s just say that his family has the kind of money and connections that make people forget all about the promises they’ve made.”
“Ah, dollar-sign amnesia.”
She laughed, though there was nothing humorous about the situation.
I did it for your own good, Caro. You didn’t need to work. You need to stay home with our son and let me take care of both of you.
The old sadness settled over her—Truman was never able to understand how stifling his brand of caring could be.
Jake said, “It’s not the way you saw your life turning out, is it?”
Though he posed the question to Caro, she got the feeling it was also a statement that could be applied to his marriage.
“No,” she admitted ruefully. “I was going for happily ever after.”
It didn’t surprise her when Jake snorted. His words, however, were unexpected. “I didn’t believe in that sort of fairy tale myself until I met Miranda.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, what was she like?”
“Different from me, that’s for sure. Different from anyone I’d ever met.” He scrubbed a hand over his chin and shifted in his seat. “That was half the problem. We had very different interests, and our values.” A muscle ticked in his jaw, but Jake didn’t elaborate.
“Opposites attract?” Caro offered.
“They shouldn’t. It makes it harder to ride out the rough patches when you’re always on different pages.”
Caro nodded. She and Truman hadn’t been in the same chapter most days.
Jake sipped his cocoa. “Miranda didn’t like my job, which is sort of ironic considering it was how we met. I was a cop, and we were introduced at the city’s annual Police Officers’ Ball, which raises money for a local children’s charity.”
Jake was a police officer. That fit. He was definitely the type of man who took charge of a situation and then paid close attention to the details. But it was something else he said on which she homed in. His use of the past tense.
“What made you give up police work?”
“You are a good listener.” That muscle worked in his jaw again. “Something … happened under my command. A tragic miscalculation that resulted in two civilian casualties.” He huffed out a breath and his tone turned wry. “That’s copspeak for two innocent people wound up dead.”
“God! That’s horrible.” Caro resisted the urge to reach for Jake’s hand. The rigid set of his shoulders told her he wouldn’t accept her sympathy, as sincere as it was. “You blame yourself,” she guessed.
“It’s impossible not to. I was the one in charge. That means I’m responsible. It doesn’t matter that I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger.”
It wasn’t as cut-and-dried as that, she was willing to bet. But she said, “Is that when the going got tough and your ex got going?”
He drummed the tabletop with his fingers. The sound echoed in the quiet kitchen. “She said she couldn’t take the shame and ridicule.” He angled his head to one side. “You see, I’m persona non grata back in Buffalo. The public was understandably shaken and outraged. One of those casualties I mentioned was a child … a little girl. even younger than your son.”
His voice had turned hoarse with emotion and the fingers that a moment ago had drummed on the tabletop now bunched into fists.
“I’m so sorry.”
His gaze connected with hers. Only the pain she saw there kept her from flinching when he replied harshly, “I don’t deserve your sympathy or anyone else’s. I’m here.” One of his fists pounded the tabletop. Their cups rattled and the candle flickered. “Innocent lives were lost….” He lifted his shoulders in a helpless shrug as words failed him.
“Jake—”
He shook his head, cleared his throat. “Let me finish. Just so you understand how undeserved your sympathy is. An internal affairs investigation cleared me and the officer who fired the shots of any wrongdoing. But that poor rookie, he couldn’t … he couldn’t accept it. He put his service revolver in his mouth one month after the findings.”
Jake’s hands were no longer balled into fists. He sat in the candlelight studying them now, and Caro wondered, did he see blood there? He shouldn’t. Even told from his obviously biased view, she couldn’t see where he deserved all of the blame. Accidents happened. Even the best-laid plans went awry. Perfection, as Caro knew from painful experience, was impossible to achieve.
“You said an investigation cleared you and the officer of wrongdoing. Have you ever cleared yourself?” she asked softly.
Jake ignored her
question and continued. “The public furor didn’t die down after the investigation. There had been a couple other incidents before that in which the public felt police used unnecessary force. A wrongful-death lawsuit was filed by the victims’ family. There were demonstrations downtown. I was burned in effigy.”
“That must have been horrible.”
“For my family,” he agreed. But she didn’t buy that it hadn’t affected Jake, as well.
“Some big-shot activists came to town then and basically called for my head on a silver platter. By then, Miranda and I were already estranged. She was staying with a friend, supposedly working through her feelings.” His bitter laughter echoed in the quiet room. “It turned out her friend was also her lover, and she … and she … well, she was already in the process of moving on.”
“Sorry.” How many times could she say that, Caro wondered. Yet no other word applied.
It didn’t surprise her when he deflected her sympathy once again. “It was hell on my folks, though they never complained. But the way the media went after them …” He shook his head.
Which, Caro thought, explained what someone like Jake was doing in rural Vermont, acting as a handyman and fixing up an inn that had seen much better days.
“So you quit your job and came to the Green Mountains,” she said.
“In a roundabout way. I was asked to leave the department. My union rep wanted to fight it, but it seemed like a no-brainer to me. The city was in an uproar. It was promising to be a long, hot summer as it was. Things were only going to get worse if I stayed.”
“It doesn’t seem right.”
“It was for the best.”
“For whom?”
He ignored the question. “It was all handled very quietly. My family no longer had media stalking them. And Miranda … Miranda had …” Jake shook his head and said with a finality born of pain, “Our marriage was over.”
“Sorry.” The word was inadequate, she knew, but heartfelt. “It hurts to find out you were wrong about the person you planned to spend the rest of your life with.”
His gaze connected with hers over the candle flame. “Would that be the voice of experience talking?”
Caro nodded uncomfortably. Just that quickly, he’d exchanged places with her in the hot seat.
“How long were you married?”
“A little more than four years.”
She didn’t stop to consider that her words could be misleading. Her marriage was over. Nothing would change that. No matter what she was forced to do to remain near her son, she wouldn’t be Truman’s wife in any meaningful sense of the word.
“Did he … cheat?”
“On me?” She blinked, shook her head. “Truman’s too tied to his mother to ever think about cheating on her with two women. Marriage to me was enough of a stretch for him.”
“Never cut the apron strings?”
“Wh-what?” She felt her face heat, realized what she’d said. Now was usually the time she went into full retreat mode. Deny and retract. Instead she sighed. “Exactly. And Susan made it clear from the beginning she didn’t think I was good enough for her son.”
“What did your husband have to say about that?”
“Truman felt I needed improvement in certain areas to fit in better with his social circle. I’m a diamond in the rough, you see. And he spent four years trying to file off all those odd angles and edges.”
Jake frowned. “Oh, I don’t know about that. From where I’m sitting, you look pretty perfect.”
Callused fingers found hers on the table and gave a brief squeeze. It might as well have been a full-fledged caress the way her body reacted. She swallowed, not sure what to say, nor what to make of the heat that streaked through her system.
“You don’t believe his assessment?” Jake pressed, mistaking her silence for self-doubt.
“No. I don’t think I ever really did, but I was not quite myself when we met and he had a way of making it seem as if he was only looking out for my best interests.”
“Manipulative.”
She sighed. “Yes, but he does have some good qualities. For instance, I know that he truly loves our son. He would never hurt him.”
“That is an important quality.” Jake sounded oddly wistful.
Indeed it was, Caro thought. But it wasn’t enough to base a marriage on. She decided to change the subject. “Getting back to you, do you miss police work?”
“Yes and no. I liked helping people and having a hand in cleaning up the streets. But some days …” His expression turned dark.
She imagined he’d seen things no person should ever see. Her counselor skills kicked in and she prodded, “Some days what?”
“It’s not an easy life. When you’re on the job, you have to be hyperaware. You can’t let your guard down. Ever. Then you go home and.”
“It’s hard to turn it off.”
His gaze connected with hers. “Exactly. A lot of guys knock back a few cold ones to unwind. Some end up knocking back a few too many a little too often.”
“They become alcoholics.”
He nodded.
“What did you do to unwind?” she asked softly. No way she believed he’d succumbed to addiction. He was too in control for that.
“I built things. When I was a kid, my dad was always working on some project or another. He had a workshop in the basement.”
“My dad had a basement workshop, too,” Caro said. On a chuckle, she added, “He didn’t really make anything. I think he just went down there in the evenings to spend time in an estrogen-free zone.”
“A man cave, huh?” Half Jake’s mouth rose. He had a sexy mouth, wide and mobile.
“I guess so.” She managed to sound normal, even as she felt oddly breathless.
“My dad’s specialty was woodworking. He made some first-rate cabinetry, good enough that he could have sold it, but he mostly gave it away to friends and family. He considered it a hobby, something he did after a long day at the office. He was in insurance for more than thirty years. He’s semiretired now.”
“What about your mom?”
“Full-time homemaker, for the most part. She had odd jobs here and there, but she made a point to be home when Dean and I were home, so that made a full-time career tough.” His tone turned wry. “When we were kids, Dean and I considered ourselves deprived because it was only on the rare occasion that we ate fast food, where most of our friends were hitting drive-throughs on a regular basis.”
“Same here. I don’t think I truly appreciated all of the sacrifices my parents made until I became a parent myself. You’ll do anything for your child. Anything.”
“When you’re given the chance.”
It was an odd thing to say, especially given his tone. “What do you mean?”
He shook his head. His expression wasn’t so much dark now as it was pained. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, my dad was a willing teacher as long as you were a willing student. Woodworking takes time. Dean never had the patience to see a project through.”
“But you did.”
“I did,” he agreed on a nod.
It hadn’t taken Caro long to determine that while Jake and Dean shared many of the same physical characteristics, they were very different in personality. Dean was spontaneous and outgoing, where Jake proceeded with care and caution. Yet right now, in the wee hours of the night, he was sitting in the kitchen with a virtual stranger, and they were sharing schnapps-laced cocoa and secrets.
Perhaps the brothers weren’t so different after all. Perhaps Jake was not nearly as rigid and standoffish as he first appeared. He’d certainly surprised her with his candor in discussing his life. And she’d surprised herself with what she’d admitted to him about hers.
This wasn’t like her, either. Caro tended to be a private person. She hadn’t admitted the details of her fractured relationship with Truman to some of her closest friends. So why Jake? She tucked away the question to explore another time. Eager to fill in another pi
ece of his puzzle, she asked, “What did you build to relieve stress after a hard day of police work?”
“Chairs. Rockers, to be specific. The old-fashioned sort you often see on the front porches of older homes.”
“Oh, I love those! Not that I have any. Or that I have a front porch.” Her smile dimmed a little. “I’m living in an apartment.” It dimmed a little more. “For now. What are your plans for this place?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted.
“Do you want to run it?”
“No.” Jake’s reply was quick and automatic, the very answer he’d given his family just the day before. But then he frowned. Running the inn had never been part of the plan. Not that he’d actually had a plan when he’d signed the papers and bought the place. He’d just been looking for something to do and a place to do it. And the department’s payout made a lot of things possible. But now? “I don’t know.”
“I can see you here.”
He blinked, clearly surprised. “Yeah? As an innkeeper?”
She shrugged and smiled. “Maybe as the owner-slash-handyman. You should probably leave the front desk to someone else.”
“Thanks.” But Jake laughed. He wasn’t exactly the warm-and-welcoming sort these days and he knew it. Still, it was interesting that Caro didn’t think he was wasting his time here. For that matter, neither did his family, even though they questioned his reasons for buying the inn.
“This place was something back in its day. My dad stumbled across it on a business trip once. He brought our family here at different times over the years. We were here for the fall colors in the fall, for skiing in winter and hiking and berry-picking in summer. And in the spring, Dean and I once traipsed after the workers as they tapped the maples for sap. The inn used to sell the syrup.”
