by Jackie Braun
A little while later, Jake pulled on his coat and headed out to the workshop, determined to put some physical distance between him and Caro. He didn’t trust himself alone with her. Not given how he was feeling at the moment. Once there, he picked up a chisel and set to work carving a design in a piece of wood he’d already cut with the idea of creating a new mantel for the fireplace in his room. The very room in which Caro would be sleeping again tonight.
Thinking about her body wrapped in his sheets sent him into full fantasy mode. He wanted to be there with her, his hands exploring every inch of her skin. Not surprisingly, he used too much force with the chisel and hammer, and the design was ruined. He stared at both tools, before tossing them aside. His frustration, however, had little to do with his clumsiness.
He spent another hour in the workshop, though he accomplished next to nothing. And he was cold, too, since he’d never bothered to stoke up the propane heater. His emotions had been running too hot at the start.
He returned to the inn through the back door. Strange how much bigger and quieter the place seemed now that his family was gone and it was just him and Caro. Jake tried to ignore the sexual tension that snapped in the air when he found her in the kitchen. She looked so right there. She had a dish towel wrapped around her waist. Its ends were tucked into the back of a pair of navy blue trousers. They were dressy compared to his faded denim, but he didn’t hold that against them given the way the gabardine hugged her backside. The need he wasn’t entitled to feel bubbled to the surface. As much as he might want her, he couldn’t have her. The fact remained that, legally at least, she belonged to someone else.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “I heated up some of the leftovers from yesterday.”
He was hungry all right. But honey-baked ham, green-bean casserole and mashed potatoes, even the herb-infused kind made by his mother, weren’t what had him salivating as he watched Caro stand in front of the inn’s ancient stove.
If it were merely about sex, he probably could have sat at the table and forked up the meal she’d so thoughtfully reheated. But what Jake wanted from her went beyond sex. It was precisely that realization that had him saying, “I’m not hungry.”
“Oh?” She frowned.
“Sorry. Maybe a little later.” He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “I need to see about the … about the … plumbing in the hall bathroom.”
A pair of finely arched brows lifted. She didn’t believe him. And no wonder.
“I think Riley put something down it. The toilet is slow to flush.”
“I see.” She nodded, letting him off on the lie. “Well, how about if I put a plate together for you and cover it in tinfoil? That way it will be here waiting when you’re ready.”
“Thanks.”
When he was ready …
A lot of things were waiting for Jake when he was ready. Decisions that needed to be made, changes he needed to accept and a past whose ghosts needed to be exorcised.
He went upstairs, bypassing the bathroom that he’d claimed required attention. When he reached his bedroom, he stepped inside and inhaled deeply once he caught the light scent of Caro’s perfume. Earlier, he’d thought she’d put her stamp on the place and that was without some of her personal effects lying about. The photograph in the small silver frame on the bedside table caught his attention.
Cabot.
Jake picked up the picture as he settled on the edge of the mattress. The kid was adorable, no two ways about it. His chubby cheeks sported matching dimples. Jake saw a lot of Caro in the shape and color of the little boy’s eyes. And that chin. It was a miniature version of hers. From his wide smile, Jake imagined he’d been laughing when the shot was taken. Earlier, Caro had remarked on Cabot’s wonderful laugh.
Like mother like son, Jake thought, though hers was rusty from little use. Much as his had been. Until this weekend. Even his mother had noticed the change in him.
He set the photo aside and took out his journal, not intending to write in it, so much as to read from it. But in the end, he wound up with a pen in his hand and a jumble of words in his head waiting to spill free.
If you were here I would be apologizing to you. I haven’t set a very good example. I felt justified in coming to Vermont. And, don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret it. I like the inn and the mountains and the slower pace of life. But your uncle was right about my reasons for leaving Buffalo. As much as I wanted to believe it was solely to protect everyone I loved from more gossip and scorn, I also did it because I couldn’t face everything that had happened.
I still think about that woman and her daughter. I can still see the look of horror on their faces in that split second before they died. But they weren’t the only innocents I failed to protect. I failed you, too.
I think I could have stuck it out if it were only a matter of my reputation. It wouldn’t have been easy, and I certainly hated seeing what it did to our family, but I’d never been a quitter before. Then, I found out about you. I found out about you and I lost you all in one fell swoop. It was a one-two punch and, weighed down by guilt and grief, I went down for the count.
So, I didn’t leave Buffalo, as much as I ran. I see that now. But the pain has followed me every step of the way, mostly because I’ve refused to let it go.
I’ve refused to let you go.
The idea of you, anyway. There never was a you, except in my heart. That’s where you’ll remain. Always. But I need to let you go otherwise. For my own peace. It won’t mean forgetting that you once existed. Just as I’ll never forget that woman and her daughter. It will mean accepting what can’t be changed. And moving forward. Life can’t be lived in the past. Nor can it be based on if-only. I’ve finally figured that out.
Goodbye, my little angel.
A tear dripped onto the page. Just as his tears had smudged the words in the first entry about his child, they did so now. It seemed fitting. A beginning and an ending. And he found peace.
“Jake?”
He swiped at his damp cheeks and glanced over to where Caro stood in the open doorway. “Yeah?”
“Sorry to interrupt. I thought you’d want to know, the phone is working again. I picked it up on the off chance a few minutes ago and, presto, a dial tone.”
He nodded. “Terrific. You can call your son.”
“Yes.” She didn’t smile though. “Is … is everything all right?”
“I think so.” He closed the journal and held it to his heart for a moment before returning it to the drawer. “I just needed to take care of some unfinished business.”
CHAPTER TEN
JAKE WAS IN THE LIVING ROOM when Caro padded down the steps later that evening. Officially, she’d already bidden him good-night. But she’d spent a couple of hours pacing her room. Sleep was the last thing on her mind, in part because she knew he had something on his mind.
Unfinished business.
The look on his face, the tears that streaked his cheeks. God, how it tore at her, recalling his pain.
He stood at the mantel with his back to her. He wore only a simple white T-shirt that stretched taut across the wide expanse of his shoulders. His hips were narrow in faded blue jeans. She had little doubt he would look incredibly handsome wearing a police officer’s uniform or dressed in a tailored suit. But he did fine things for denim.
“Jake.”
He turned. “I thought you’d gone to bed hours ago.”
“I couldn’t sleep. I … I was worried about you.”
He shook his head. “No need.”
She didn’t buy it. “You’re hurting. Tell me. You know you can.”
He studied her for a moment before nodding. “I was making a clean break when you came across me earlier. That’s never easy.”
“No.” But she was far from satisfied with his explanation, so she waited.
“I’ve kept a journal, a diary you might even call it.” Gruff laughter followed. “The department shrink suggested it as a way to vent my feelings during the
internal affairs investigation. I didn’t bother much with it until I found about Miranda and … and what she’d done to our child.”
Caro swallowed. “So, you’ve written your thoughts down.”
“More or less.” He shrugged. “I’ve wondered what he or she would have looked like, what his or her personality would have been like. I’ve … I’ve written to this child who never even existed outside of my heart.”
Hearing him say it had her heart breaking. But, unable to gauge his emotions, she asked slowly, “Do you think that’s wrong?”
“No. Not wrong. But you … you can’t move forward when you haven’t dealt with the past. I think we’re both living proof of that, Caro, though for different reasons.”
If he expected her to disagree, he was mistaken. Caro nodded.
“The only path is forward,” she said.
“Forward,” he agreed.
They eyed one another in the living room’s dim light. His gaze dipped lower and lingered, making Caro aware that this evening she was wearing her own robe. It wasn’t quite as matronly as Bonnie’s had been. Instead of thick terry cloth, it was made of lavender silk that was edged in lace at both the collar and cuffs. It was layered over a nightgown in the same hue. The supple fabric caressed her body when she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Behind him a log in the fireplace splintered in two, shooting out sparks.
Half a dozen of them seemed to land on her skin and that was before he said, “God, you’re beautiful.”
He crossed to her and his hands found her waist. Their callused palms snagged the expensive silk as he slipped them around her and pulled her closer.
His mouth found hers. This kiss was more urgent than the one from the other night, and no wonder. It was forbidden. Even so, she reveled in the stolen moment. She ignored the tug she felt when he loosened the belt to her robe. She allowed it when he slipped it from her shoulders. She nearly cried out when his hands brushed the sides of her breasts through the nightgown, not only because of the sensations his touch aroused, but because of the utter futility of this unprecedented desire.
His fingers pulled the thin strap of the silk chemise off her shoulder, which granted him greater access. His mouth lingered on her throat only a moment before dipping to the swell of her right breast. She trembled and fought the urge to guide him lower.
“Jake.” Her breathing was labored, her voice barely audible. “Jake, we need to stop.”
“I know.” He bit out the words as his hands returned to the relative safety of her waist. Then he rested his forehead against hers. “God, I wish you were single right now.”
As did she. Even so, she asked, “And if I were?”
He stepped back, shook his head. “I made a decision today. A pretty monumental one for me. I’m not going to live my life based on if-onlys any longer.
“I want you, Caro. I think … I think I may be falling in love with you,” he staggered her by saying. “Which is why I’m going to ask you to go back upstairs now and not come down until the morning. Or else I have a feeling something will happen between us that we’ll both regret. Because the fact remains you’re not single.”
How was it possible to be wounded and touched by the same words, Caro wondered?
She cupped his whisker-roughened cheeks in her palms. He was handsome all right. But his true beauty lay within. “I think I’m falling in love with you, too. You’re a good man, Jake McCabe. I’ve told you that before. You are exactly the kind of man I want my son to grow up to become.”
He pressed her hands tighter against his face for just a moment before pulling them away.
In a hoarse whisper, he said, “Go to bed now. Please. Or you’ll be taking back that compliment.”
The ride to Burlington seemed to take forever, Caro thought, which was both blessing and curse. She was loath to leave Jake, but the fact remained, she was returning to her husband.
God, she was confused. Not only about whether or not to accept Jake’s financial offer, but about the man himself. They’d expressed their feelings for one another, and he’d said he was eager to accept his past and move on, but what did that mean?
All she knew for certain was that both of them were at crossroads in their lives. Whether or not they would wind up following the same path remained unclear.
The snow had been plowed down to the pavement at the estate on Lake Champlain. It was a beautiful place in a lush setting. It had never felt like home. In the summer, the landscaping was unparalleled on the lake. Ornamental shrubbery, rioting blooms and an immaculately groomed lawn that stretched down to a sandy beach on the lake at the home’s back. Right now, everything was buried beneath snow … every bit as frozen as Caro’s heart.
Susan opened the door as Jake carried her bags up the front steps.
“Caroline. How good to see that you’ve made it after your … ordeal. Truman told me all about your accident. How unfortunate.”
“She almost died,” Jake inserted.
Susan’s sharp gaze turned to him, though she continued to address Caro. “And who might your escort be?”
“McCabe. Jake McCabe,” he offered before Caro could. Truman materialized then, and Jake stuck out a hand. The two men shook as Susan looked on.
Caro was left to wade into the breach.
“Jake was kind enough to give me a ride to Burlington today when it became clear that my car wouldn’t be ready. It’s still in the shop,” she said.
“Only because you insisted on leaving your Mercedes here,” Susan said with a sniff.
Caro ignored her. Glancing around, she asked, “Where’s Cabot?”
“Down for a nap,” Susan replied.
Truman’s gaze still on Jake, he asked, “And you know Mr. McCabe how?”
“She’s been staying with me for the past few days.”
She wasn’t sure whether to cry or throttle Jake for his reply.
“At his inn,” she corrected. “His family was kind enough to include me in their Easter celebrations.”
“Family? So, you’re married.” Truman’s demeanor relaxed a little at the news.
“Actually, I’m divorced.” Was it her imagination, or did Jake take delight in informing him of that? “My parents, brother, his wife and their kids were in town.”
Truman and Susan both frowned. Clearly, they were not satisfied despite the volume of chaperones.
“Do you normally drive your guests long distances to their destinations, Mr. McCabe?” Susan asked.
“I couldn’t say. Caro is actually my inn’s first guest.”
“Jake … er … Mr. McCabe isn’t open for business. He only recently bought the place. It’s under renovation,” she clarified. “Even so, he was kind enough to let me stay.”
“Indeed,” Truman said.
“I really want to see Cabot,” she said, trying not to sound as desperate as she felt.
“I told you, he’s sleeping.” This from Susan. “He was up much too early this morning. For the past few mornings, in fact.”
“You should wake him. I bet he would love to see his mother,” Jake said.
Her mother-in-law laughed then. “You have quite the champion here, Caroline.”
Another time, she might have appreciated it when Jake said, “She prefers to be called Caro.”
“Exactly what do you know of my wife’s preferences, Mr. McCabe?” Truman asked.
Jake’s gaze cut to Caro. “Not nearly enough.”
A high-pitched squeal rent the air then. At the top of the elegantly curved staircase stood Cabot. His grin took up his entire face.
“Mommy! Mommy!”
“Cabot!”
They met at the midway point on the stairs, where Caro scooped him into her arms, hugging his chubby little body close to hers.
“I’ve missed you, baby. God, how I’ve missed you.” She rained kisses on his cherubic face as she carried him downstairs.
“Who’s this?” he asked, pointing to Jake.
“Thi
s is Mr. McCabe,” Truman supplied.
“He was just leaving,” Susan added.
Caro ignored them both. “Can you say hello to Mr. McCabe, Cabot?”
“Hello.” After offering the greeting, her son dropped his head into the curve of her neck, suddenly shy.
“Hi, Cabot,” Jake said. His tone was as warm and melodic as it was when he talked with his nephew and niece. “Your mom’s told me a lot about you.”
“Mr. McCabe helped me when my car got stuck in the snow.”
“I missed you, Mommy,” Cabot said again. “Don’t ever leave me again.”
“Never,” she promised, her grip tightening. Over her son’s shoulder, she saw Jake tense. But that didn’t prevent Caro from saying “Never” a second time.
Jake nodded and reached behind him for the door handle. “I’ve got to be going. If you need anything …” He seemed to realize he’d gone too far. “If you think you left anything behind, let me know. I’ll be happy to ship it to you.”
And with that he was gone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TWO MONTHS WENT BY. The inn began to take shape. It helped that Jake worked on it day and night with a passion born of frustration and, it galled him to admit, heartache.
He missed Caro, in ways both large and small. He missed her laughter, her insight and her quiet compassion. He missed her companionship. And, he missed her physically. Though he’d washed the bedding from his room half a dozen times, he swore the scent of her still lingered on his sheets, making sleep all but impossible.
For the short span she’d been under the inn’s roof, it had reminded him of the place it had been in his youth. At the time, he’d tried to attribute that to his family’s presence. That wasn’t the sole reason, he knew now.
Caro had forced him out of his self-imposed isolation. It had taken a stranger, and a desperate one at that, to make Jake reexamine his current life. No amount of bullying from Dean, no amount of pleading from his parents, had accomplished the same thing. But a few days with Caro, and he’d been forced to recognize his life’s limitations and open his eyes to its possibilities.
