by Dawn Atkins
You can’t stay here. You’re not safe. Not yet. Never forget that.
The sickening smell faded from her nose, but she didn’t dare let her fear fade. Again, she’d dropped her guard. The joys of living here had pulled her in. Two months was as much time as she dared risk here.
They needed the safety of an anonymous city and a shelter designed to protect families like hers. And that was only a way station until she’d paid for new identities and truly started over.
Even then…would she ever truly be safe?
* * *
THE FOLLOWING THURSDAY night, Cara stood at the back of the crowded bar with Jonah, applauding Devil’s Anvil Reborn as they finished the first set. It was eleven and she was wiped out, her legs aching, her head full of sawdust.
It had been a full day, including a private dinner for the band and crew, who’d stumbled out of the big black tour bus into the café at 5:00 p.m.
Jonah studied her face. “Let me drive you home. You need sleep.” It still startled her how closely he watched over her. She had to admit she loved being so precious to him.
“I want to congratulate Evan.”
“Then it’s straight to bed. Your bed. So you’ll sleep.”
“I’ll just lie there wanting you.”
His sharp inhale gratified her. It was almost scary how a mere look or touch could set them both on fire. The heat built all day and by the time they got to bed, it was a wildfire that all but consumed them.
Since that moment in the laundry room, she’d tried to keep her head on straight. She didn’t dare get so wrapped up in Jonah, in the life they shared here, that she forgot the danger. She could feel herself leaning into him, depending on him. That was how she’d been with Barrett when they were first married. That thought chilled her, as it should. She made herself think it often.
Evan strode up to them, clearly proud of himself. “What did you think?” he asked eagerly.
“They’re great,” Cara said. “You filled the place.”
“Yeah. Carlos is seeing dollar signs. Thanks for the dinner at the café. The food was great.”
“They seemed to go wild for the good-luck buns,” she said.
“I know. The band’s manager was impressed. He says if they score a contract in L.A., he might have a publicity job for me.”
She felt Jonah go still beside her. He worried about Evan’s sobriety if he got too deeply into the music industry, but he’d been trying not to criticize him.
Evan was waiting for Jonah’s reaction. Cara crossed her fingers that he’d say something helpful.
He glanced at her, then seemed to dig deep before he spoke to his brother. “I hope you get the job you want.”
“Yeah?” Evan looked stunned. “You mean that?”
Jonah nodded.
“I know you’re afraid I’ll relapse,” Evan said, “but I’m not cocky like I was. I check in more with my sponsor. I watch myself. I’m different, I swear.”
“I’ve been in your face your whole life, Ev. It’s time I stepped back.” Jonah paused. “I’m there if you need me. No questions asked.”
“I appreciate that,” Evan said, his voice shaky. Abruptly, he threw his arms around his brother and hugged him.
Now Jonah looked stunned. “I’m proud of you,” he said huskily.
“I won’t let you down, Jonah.”
They broke apart. Neither could meet each other’s gaze.
“Gotta check the sound,” Evan mumbled and slipped into the crowd.
“I hope I did right,” Jonah said to Cara. “He’s walking a wire with no net.”
“You’re his net. He knows that.”
“In AA they call that enabling.” He smiled wryly.
“You’re telling him you trust him. That’s what he needs from you.”
“He’s a grown man, not a kid I have to nag to brush his teeth. He’s got to make his own way.”
“You’ve changed your attitude.”
“You started me thinking that day we looked through my box of childhood crap. I’m about ready to track down our mother, see what she has to say for herself. It would help him to hear it wasn’t his fault.”
“And for you?”
“It might be good for me, too.” He gave a swift smile. “Looks like you renovated me along with the café.”
“It wasn’t me. You made the changes, not me.”
“You showed me things I’ve missed.” He shook his head. “Jesus, enough. I sound like I’m on a talk show.” He gazed at her with so much tenderness her heart felt like it might burst in her chest.
I love you, Jonah.
Cara almost said it out loud, but caught herself in time. Not saying it didn’t change how she felt, or how much it would hurt to leave when it was time. Talk about a snarl.
She refused to regret it, despite the pain to come. They were helping each other heal at a crucial moment in their lives. When it was time, they would send each other off on their separate journeys with champagne and confetti, high spirits and hopes.
And a broken heart. Maybe two, if Jonah felt the same.
* * *
“SURPRISE!” The shout was so loud it seemed to make the helium balloons sway over the café tables. Jonah grinned as Cara turned his way, her jaw hanging open, her blue eyes huge.
“You said a quiet birthday dinner!”
He laughed. “That’s why they call it a surprise party.”
“Oh, my goodness.” She turned back to the people gathered around her—a bigger crowd than he’d expected, but Cara warmed everyone she met. Of course they’d want to wish her well on her birthday. “I’m… I don’t know what to say. Just…thank you.”
“’Bout time you got here,” Rosie said. “They’ve about scarfed up the pantry waiting on you.” Rosie had made most of the calls, surprising Jonah with her enthusiasm. She loved the hell out of Cara.
Jonah couldn’t take his eyes off Cara as she moved through the café, mingling, touching a shoulder, sharing a laugh, accepting a hug. She meant so much to him. She’d turned him around, eased his grief, filled his life with warmth and laughter and life.
And desire.
Lots of that. All he could think about was getting her alone again. He wanted to give her his birthday gifts and then he wanted to take her to bed.
It almost hurt to look at her. He had it bad.
He went to get a pitcher to refill people’s glasses with the fresh-squeezed lemonade Cara had insisted they offer. She’d been right about that. And the changes to the café. It looked new, fresh and bright. But then so did the world now that he’d been sleeping with her.
Colors were more vivid. Sunset burned his eyes. Food tasted richer. Smells knocked him dead. The wood he worked felt alive.
And Cara. Cara hit him hardest of all. A glance across the café made his knees cave, the brush of her hips in the kitchen electrified him.
They couldn’t keep their hands off each other, sneaking into the pantry for stolen kisses when they could, exchanging hot looks when they couldn’t. He didn’t think he’d felt like this with Suzanne, not even at the beginning.
Every time he kissed Cara, he got the same rush, as strong and fresh as the first time their lips had met. He was glad they’d worked out a way to be together. He felt good. He felt…happy.
And uneasy as hell.
If it hurt to take his eyes off her now, he didn’t want to think how he’d feel when she left for good. What would he d
o with himself? Hide in his cave, pull the covers back over his head?
No. The whole point was to enjoy what they had, then move on, all the better for the time they’d spent together.
Still, he felt like he walked on loose boards. Any minute, he’d crash through to the basement below and break a leg…or worse.
An hour later, Cara blew out the candles on the cake Beth Ann had made her, Rosie at her side. “Pay attention, you all,” Rosie barked out. “Now I got you hostage to the cake, I want to say a few words. Lift your damn drinks.”
Around the café, glasses rose. No one argued with Rosie Underhill.
“Here’s to CJ,” Rosie said, raising her lemonade. “Who has messed up my life, plain and simple. Taken over my spare rooms, made me eat salad and forced me to sell off half my inventory and most of my heirlooms.”
“You mean that sad pile of junk?” Carver Johnson called out amiably. Laughter rippled through the room.
“You shut up, you old goat. Then there’s her daughter. Not only can she whip me in poker, she’s got me hooked on these housewife reality shows. I never saw so many fake boobs in my life.”
Everyone laughed.
“And don’t get me started on this café. Lord God what CJ’s done in here. Painted it up like Disneyland, filled it with sweet rolls, pissed off the bistro girls by using up my garden…and stealing their customers.”
“Hear, hear!” Carver called.
“Now we’re so damn busy we had to hire back Darlene and start serving out on the patio.”
Jonah had laid down flagstone and they’d set out colorful umbrellas over the tables.
“Yay, Darlene,” someone called.
“But that’s not the worst. The absolute worst is how she bosses me around. I believe they call that elder abuse.”
More laughter.
“She dragged me to the doctor, forced me to have surgery and nagged me about more medicine. Her daughter wasted her birthday wish on me.” She gave Beth Ann a soft look, then cleared her throat.
“Basically, she’s been another Eddie Underhill. And, trust me, no one needs two of that man.”
The crowd hummed quietly.
Rosie turned to Cara. “If I had the brains God gave a beagle, I would have paid you for that first shift and sent you down the road to a real mechanic.”
“Hey, now,” Rusty hollered. “Fast, cheap and good. Pick two.”
The laughter was quiet, as people sensed Rosie was going to announce something. Jonah hoped like hell she’d decided on chemotherapy.
“But I let you stay, sad to say. And now, it looks like I have no choice but to get shot up with poison and strafed by lasers.”
“You’ll get treated?” Cara asked. “Really?”
“If that’s what it takes to get you and your pit bull of a daughter out of my personal business.”
Beth Ann threw her arms around Rosie’s waist and hugged her.
“Hey, now. You’re spilling my lemonade.” But when Beth Ann let go, Rosie put her arm around her and held her close as she lifted her glass. “So, a toast to CJ on her birthday. And good luck to the poor sucker she picks on next.”
Shouts of “Hear, hear” filled the room, along with applause and whistling. Rosie cut the sheet cake, handing the plates to Beth Ann and her friend Rachel, who carried them to the guests. Jonah stood toward the back of the room.
“Here.” Beth Ann thrust a paper plate at him. “Is it okay if me and Rachel use your computer?”
“Sure. The Instant Message shortcut is on the desktop, since the task bar was so full.”
Her eyes shot to his, alarmed.
“It’s fine that you added it.”
“Please don’t tell my mom, okay? She won’t let me be online, but I’m always safe and I only talk to friends. Please.”
“Sure,” he said, but he didn’t think Cara would mind. It was probably leftover hovering.
After the cake had been eaten, the guests trailed out. Darlene, Charlie and Ernesto had cleanup duties, so Jonah and Cara went to say goodbye to Rosie. “You made the right decision,” Jonah said. “Eddie would be proud.”
“How would you know? You never met the man.” She patted his cheek so hard it hurt, the way she used to when they’d lived with her, the mother they’d needed at the time.
“Then I’m proud of you. I want you around.”
“God knows why. All I do is give you hell.”
“It’s good for me. Keeps me in line.”
“And don’t you forget it.” She studied him. “I have to stick around a bit longer to see what comes of this.” She waved her hand between Jonah and Cara.
“What?” Jonah said.
Cara gulped.
“Oh, cut it out. Like it’s not obvious the way you moon over each other. Bunny says it’s nice that you both like movies so much, since you watch them almost every night.”
Jonah swallowed. Cara turned pink.
“Far as I know there’s no DVD player in that trailer.”
Cara gave a nervous laugh.
“Just take care of each other,” Rosie said in an uncharacteristically tender voice. “That’s all I’ll say on that.”
When Jonah looked at Cara, it hit him like a punch. He was in love with her. He’d fallen for the sprite who’d danced into his diner over a month ago to dazzle him and bring him back to life. So much for keeping it simple.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
TAKE CARE OF each other.
Rosie’s words caught Cara totally off guard. She sounded so sincere, so tender, so not like Rosie that Cara almost blurted, Yes, of course. That’s what people in love do.
But she couldn’t say that and it made her ache, turned her joy bittersweet. They told Rosie good-night and headed for Jonah’s place, where he had her birthday gift.
“Thank you for the party,” she said, as they set off.
“Rosie did most of it. She’s gone soft on us, thanks to you.”
“I’m so glad she decided to get treated.”
“Me, too. You worked your magic on her—you and Beth Ann.”
“What she said meant a lot to me.” She’d been so touched by Rosie’s praise she’d had to dig her nails into her palms to hold back the tears.
The feeling kept coming: You belong here, with these people. This is home.
It couldn’t be. You can’t stay. You’re not safe. Barrett’s after you. She made herself repeat the mantra, but it sounded weaker and weaker.
“It was all true.” Jonah put his arm around her.
Cara made sure no one could see.
“The secret’s out,” he said. “No use pretending.”
“I guess not.”
Jonah kissed her hair and held her close as they climbed the steps to his deck. He bent to pick up a box lying on the bench and handed it to her.
She read the label. “Nails? A do-it-yourself gift?”
“That’s just the box. Open it.”
She shook the box over her hand, and out fell a keychain with a wooden bear attached. It stood upright, its fur, snout and eyes so precise it seemed alive. “You carved your spirit animal. It’s beautiful.”
“To keep you safe wherever you go.” His dark eyes held her close. He was preparing them for when she had to leave.
“I’ll cherish this forever.” She rose to kiss him in thanks.
“Hang on. That’s not all. Close your eyes.”
She did and he led her into the trailer.
“Now open them.”
Cara saw the rocking chair, gleaming in the lamplight. He’d folded back the table to make room for it.
“It’s yours,” he said.
She looked up at him. “But you made this for…” Cara couldn’t finish. “This is too personal. You must have…memories.”
“You showed me I’d pushed past the worst of them. You gave me back the beauty of the piece. I want to think of you and Beth Ann using it.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Sit.” He picked up a camera from the bench. “I need a photo to hang.”
Cara sat and he snapped a picture. “Got it,” he said, putting down the camera.
She leaned back and pushed off, floating on air. “This is an amazing chair.” The seat hugged her bottom, the slats her back, the armrests her arms. “I can feel the love you put into it.”
Sadness flashed in his eyes.
“Was that the wrong thing to say?”
“No.” He sat on the bench and motioned for her to give him her foot, so he could rub it as he did most nights. She kicked off her sandal and put her foot in his hand.
“Rosie told you about the miscarriage.” He shot her a look.
“She mentioned it, yes.”
He nodded, using his thumbs to stretch her instep. Warmth poured through her. “I was finishing the chair when Suzanne started bleeding.” He kept his head down as he talked. “Seven months. We were so close.” He swallowed, shook his head. “They induced labor. The birth was hell. I’ve never seen anyone suffer like that.”
“You don’t have to tell me, if it’s too hard.”
Jonah raised his eyes, a determined expression there. “It’s the story of the chair. I want you to know.” He shifted his grip to her heel. The pleasant sensation contrasted with the sadness of his story.
“Suzanne was devastated. I held her and told her it would be all right, but it wouldn’t and we both knew it. They were empty words.”
“It’s hard to know what to say.”
“After a while I stopped trying. I took care of the practical stuff—the bills, the burial arrangements, the sympathy calls. I fixed meals neither of us ate, washed clothes when we ran out of clean ones, went to work.”
