by Irene Hannon
His tone was teasing, but Tess had a feeling he was more than half-serious. “I guess if…if we believe everything we read, at this point you should swing me up into your arms and…and…” She tried to tease, too, but her voice trailed off.
His eyes darkened and his intense gaze probed hers. His voice no longer held even a pretense of teasing. “Would you like that, Tess?”
Tess looked at him steadily, her heart banging against her rib cage. “Yes,” she whispered, the ardent light in her eyes confirming the honesty of her answer. “But I don’t believe in casual intimacy. I think it cheapens what can otherwise be a beautiful emotional and spiritual experience.”
His gaze never left hers, and after a beat of silence he spoke, his voice husky. “I feel the same way.” He stroked her cheek tenderly with a whisper touch. “Besides, there’s a lot we don’t know about each other, Tess. And rushing into intimacy is never wise. Both of us still have issues we’re dealing with. Time is on our side.”
She looked at him wonderingly. “You continue to amaze me, Mr. Jackson.”
“Why is that?”
“Patience isn’t a virtue I’ve seen very often in men.”
He grinned. “Well, I must admit it goes against all my instincts in this situation.”
“Then I admire your self-control even more.”
He chuckled and touched the tip of her nose with his index finger. “Then let me tell you, pretty lady, that you are one serious test of a man’s self-control. So I’d better say good-night. Right now. Besides, you need your sleep.” He looped his hands around her waist and pulled her close once again. “But how about one more good-night kiss first?”
Tess put her arms around his neck and tilted her head back to gaze up at him. “I want you to know that this has been the best night I’ve had in years, Mitch,” she said softly. “Thank you.”
His lazy smile was warm and very, very appealing. “Trust me, Tess. It’s been my pleasure.”
And as his lips closed over hers, making it clear that it was, indeed, his pleasure, Tess felt her heart sing. And for the first time in a very long while, she let herself believe, for just a moment, in happy endings.
“Are you going to tell Bruce that you ran into your ex?”
Tess glanced at Mitch. They were almost at the farm, and he looked as tired as she felt. Clearly, neither had slept well after their emotional encounter the evening before. Even now, the very thought of their kisses made Tess’s nerve endings tingle. Her gaze drifted to Mitch’s hands on the wheel, and as she recalled his touch a shudder of delight ran through her. But she needed to get her mind on something else, and Mitch had given her the perfect opening.
“I don’t see any reason to. He made it pretty clear that he didn’t have any intention of seeing Bruce while he was in town, and by now he’s probably gone. I’m not sure it would serve any purpose, except to hurt Bruce. What do you think?”
Mitch nodded. “I agree. When did Bruce last see his father?”
Tess frowned thoughtfully. “Let’s see…he moved to Washington right after the divorce. He did stop in once or twice when he was in Jeff City on business, but it’s probably been…two or three years ago, I guess.”
“And he never calls?”
“Sometimes on Christmas.”
A muscle in Mitch’s jaw twitched. “How does Bruce feel about him?”
Tess frowned. “He doesn’t talk about him at all anymore. I’ve tried to broach the subject a few times, thinking maybe it would be better if we did talk through his feelings, but he never responds. I know the hurt is still there, though. And it’s had a big effect on his self-image. That feeling of being unwanted, of being unworthy, can have a lasting impact on an impressionable child.”
He sent another quick glance her way. “And on a sensitive woman.”
“Yes,” she said quietly, turning to look at the passing countryside. “But at least an adult is a bit better equipped to cope. And I had my faith to sustain me. Adolescents often don’t.”
Mitch took one hand off the wheel and reached over to enfold her cold fingers in his warm clasp. “I know that Peter did a number on you both, Tess,” he said gently. “But I hope by now you realize that the problem in your marriage was due to a lack on his part, not yours. No man in his right mind would do anything to jeopardize a relationship with a woman like you.”
Warm color suffused her face. “Thank you for saying that.”
“I’m saying it because it’s true. You are a kind, intelligent, courageous, beautiful, appealing woman, Tess. I think I made that pretty clear last night.”
Her color deepened. “You did. I just wish we could find a way to get through to Bruce, make him feel better about himself. I try, but it’s hard to erase Peter’s influence.”
Mitch frowned. “I’m not sure that’s even possible. None of us can escape the past. But maybe, in time, with enough love and understanding, Bruce will come to recognize Peter for what he is—a selfish, self-centered man who never deserved to have a wife and son. And to recognize that no one man can validate his worth, even if that man happens to be his biological father.”
Tess sighed. “I hope so, Mitch. I do feel good about the progress he’s made in the last few weeks—thanks to you.”
“Now, if only he could stop seeing me as the enemy,” Mitch said ruefully.
“I think it’s coming.”
“Maybe. In any case, I agree with you about the changes in him. He seems like a different kid now. He’s enthusiastic about working on the sets for the school play, and he seems to be hanging out with a safer crowd. His teachers tell me his schoolwork is improving, too.”
“Let’s just hope it continues.”
Mitch glanced over at her and flashed a smile. “I think it will. Especially if we work on it together.”
As he turned back to the road, Tess studied his profile. Together was a beautiful word, she realized. It spoke of sharing and caring and mutual support. Of partnership and companionship. Things that had long been absent from her life.
Tess didn’t really know where she and Mitch were headed. Last night had left her filled with hope for the future. But life rarely kept its promises, at least in her experience. Great expectations often led to great disappointments.
She would be wise to consider caution her operative word, Tess told herself firmly. She needed to move carefully and thoughtfully and make no decisions without weighing all the pros and cons. That rational approach would be her life vest, keeping her afloat while she assessed her options.
There was only one little problem with that scenario, Tess realized with a sigh as she glanced at Mitch’s strong profile, his capable and sensitive hands, the firm lines of his well-toned body.
When it came to Mitch, she was sinking fast.
Chapter Eleven
“Hey, Uncle Ray, who’s this?”
Bruce held up a dusty, framed photograph retrieved from a box of memorabilia that the older man was sorting through in his bedroom.
Uncle Ray peered at the faded color print, a studio portrait of a youngster with an impish grin and a sprinkling of freckles across his nose. “Land,” he said softly. “I haven’t seen that in years.”
He reached out, and the teenager handed him the photo. “Was that your son?” Bruce asked cautiously.
Uncle Ray slowly shook his head. “No.” He sat down wearily on the edge of the bed, still studying the photo. “But he was a special boy, too.”
Bruce joined him. “Who was he?”
“So here’s where you two are hiding! Tess and I are starving. Isn’t it about time for—” Mitch’s voice stopped abruptly and he froze in the doorway, his gaze riveted on the framed picture in Uncle Ray’s hands. The color drained from his face and a bolt of white-hot pain zigzagged across his eyes.
Uncle Ray gave him a worried look. “We found this in my closet, Mitch,” he said gently. “It must have been there for a long time. What with selling the land and all, it kind of got me in the mood to
clean things out. Bruce has been helping me. We just came across this a minute ago.”
Mitch drew in a harsh, ragged breath, then slowly walked over to the bed and held out an unsteady hand. Uncle Ray silently passed the framed picture to him, and for a long moment Mitch simply stared down at it, his lips a grim, unsmiling line. Finally, as if he couldn’t bear to look at it any longer, he thrust the photograph back toward Uncle Ray. “Why did you keep it?” he asked harshly.
“I thought you might want it someday, son.” The older man’s voice was still gentle.
“Why? It only reminds me of…” His voice broke, and he sucked in a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was cold. “I never want to see it again, Uncle Ray. And I’d appreciate it if you’d get rid of it. Lunch will be ready in a few minutes.”
With that, he turned stiffly and strode out of the room.
After a few beats of silence Bruce looked at the older man in disgust. “Boy, he sure can be a jerk sometimes. He was really mean to you, and all because of some dumb picture.”
Uncle Ray turned to him. For the first time in their acquaintance, Bruce detected disapproval in the older man’s gaze. “Sometimes people have reasons for the way they act,” he said tersely. “You’ll find that out as you get older.” Then he stood and moved to his bureau, where he carefully stowed the picture that had caused such contention. “Let’s go eat,” Uncle Ray said shortly, leaving Bruce to follow at his own pace.
Bruce stared after him. Adults could be so weird sometimes! All that fuss about some old picture. And now he was more curious than ever about the identity of the mystery boy.
But he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to find out today.
Though Tess had sensed Mitch’s distraction for much of the afternoon, he’d certainly been single-minded in his determination to get her alone before they all retired for the night. And after a lingering good-night kiss, stolen surreptitiously out of sight and sound of Bruce and Uncle Ray, it had taken her a long time to get to sleep. But eventually she had fallen into a deep, sound slumber that was filled with the kinds of pleasant dreams she wished would go on and on forever.
Which was why she fought so hard to block the odd, unidentifiable noise that kept intruding on her subconscious, nudging her awake. It was a valiant but ultimately unsuccessful effort. With an irritated frown she opened her eyes and stared sleepily at the darkened ceiling of Uncle Ray’s guest room.
Now, of course, all was silent. Only the distant whinny of a horse broke the stillness. But something had awakened her, she thought, her frown deepening.
And then she heard it. A muffled cry. Hoarse with pain, laced with anguish. A cry of such raw desolation and suffering that she became instantly and fully awake. It took her only a moment to pinpoint the location—the other side of the wall. The den. Where Mitch was sleeping.
Without even stopping to don a robe or slippers, she threw back the covers and swung her feet to the floor, panic rising within her. The sounds she was hearing were barely human, and they clawed at her insides. Something was very, very wrong.
Tess paused for only a brief moment at the den door. Now she could hear thrashing, and the guttural sounds of pain were louder. When her knock produced no response, she took a deep breath and opened the door.
In the dim moonlight filtering through the open window, Tess realized immediately that Mitch was having a nightmare. The bed linens were in disarray, his arms were flailing about, his face was contorted with pain and every muscle was tense. A sheen of sweat covered his torso, and his chest heaved with labored breathing.
Without hesitating, Tess moved toward him and dropped to one knee on the bed. She leaned over and took his shoulders in a firm grip, shaking gently at first, then harder when her initial efforts produced no results.
“Mitch. Mitch! Wake up!” she said urgently.
Neither her words nor her touch seemed to penetrate his consciousness. In fact, his thrashing intensified, and Tess found it difficult to maintain her hold on him. She’d always been aware of Mitch’s strength, but now she had a firsthand demonstration of the dangerous power in his coiled muscles. She suddenly realized that in his frenzied state he could hurt not only her, but himself.
She also realized that she was in over her head. Mitch was too strong for her to restrain, and she couldn’t rouse him short of shouting, which would only frighten Uncle Ray and Bruce. As she wrestled with the dilemma, Mitch suddenly reached out and grabbed her, his grip like a steel vise as his fingers bit into the tender flesh of her upper arms. She gasped in pain, and this time when she spoke, there was fear in her voice. And it was the fear that finally seemed to penetrate his cloud of horror. His eyelids fluttered open and he stared at her, disoriented and confused.
“It’s okay, Mitch,” Tess reassured him shakily, speaking deliberately and clearly. “You were just having a nightmare. You’re all right.”
Slowly the lines of strain in his face eased, and gradually his grip on her arms loosened. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, then reached out and pulled her close, holding her fiercely against his chest. She could feel the tremors running through him, and she murmured soothingly as she would to a frightened child.
“It’s all right, Mitch. It’s over. I’m here. Just relax. It was only a bad dream. It’s not real.”
Slowly she began to feel the tension in his coiled muscles ease. She gently stroked his face until the wild thudding of his heart gradually subsided. When at last he drew a shuddering breath and made a move to sit up, Tess started to stand.
“Stay. Please. Just for a few minutes,” he said hoarsely, reaching out a hand to restrain her.
His plea was filled with raw need, and as she stared into his haggard face a wave of tenderness washed over her. She inched closer until she was sitting beside him, then reached over to lay her hand on his cheek. He covered it with his own. “Of course I’ll stay,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “For as long as you need me.”
Mitch took her hand and pressed it to his lips, his intense gaze riveted on hers. “That could be a very long time,” he said, his voice still hoarse.
Tess stared at him, and her mouth went dry. He seemed to be talking about far more than recovering from a nightmare. And she’d meant far more than that with her statement as well, she realized. But now was not the time to go into that. Not when Mitch was still reeling from a visit to some private hell. “I’m glad I was here for you tonight,” she said huskily.
“So am I. Usually I have to deal with that nightmare alone.”
She frowned. “You’ve had it before?”
“Many times.”
“Oh, Mitch!” Her voice was laced with compassion. “I’m sorry. It seemed horrible.”
He grimaced. “Not as horrible as the reality.”
The furrows in her brow deepened. “What do you mean?”
Mitch looked at her in the dim light. He was fast falling in love with Tess. To deny it would be foolish. And unless he had completely misread the situation, she felt the same way about him.
And now they were at a crossroads. If they were going to move forward, they had to be honest with each other. There could be no secrets between them, no fears. She’d taken a great risk yesterday by trusting him with a painful episode from her past, something she’d shared with no one. She’d bared her soul by revealing her humiliation and pain at Peter’s infidelity. Turnabout was only fair play—even if there was a good chance she might want nothing more to do with him when she heard what he had done. Yet it was a risk he had to take eventually. And putting it off was the coward’s way out. Lord, please be with me, he prayed silently. Give me the courage to share this terrible secret. And please give Tess the strength to bear it without turning away from me.
At last Mitch drew a deep breath and laced his fingers with hers, his gaze once more locked on hers. “I mean the nightmare really happened, Tess. Six years ago.”
She looked into his eyes, still shadowed with horror, and a col
d knot of fear formed in her stomach. An experience that had the power to completely unnerve a strong, capable man like Mitch, to haunt his dreams for years, to leave him physically and mentally shaken was an experience she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear about. And yet Mitch seemed to be encouraging her to ask about it.
“Do…do you want to tell me about it?” she asked hesitantly.
His gaze held hers prisoner, and though she couldn’t clearly read the expression in his eyes in the dim light, she could sense he was assessing her question and debating his response. Several long seconds ticked by before he slowly spoke. “I’ve only talked about this to one person, Tess.”
“Uncle Ray.” It was more statement than question. The bond between the two men was almost tangible.
He nodded. “We’ve shared a lot. And I owe him a lot. In fact, he saved my life six years ago.” Again he hesitated, and when he spoke it was clear he was carefully choosing his words. “You remember last night, when you said that what you had to tell me wasn’t pretty? Well, this is even less pretty.”
Tess swallowed. “I’ve seen ugly, Mitch.”
“Not like this.”
She gripped his hand more tightly. “I can handle it,” she replied with more assurance than she felt.
He angled his body toward hers and took her free hand in his, studying her eyes once again, his gaze compelling and touched with fear. “I don’t want to lose you over this, Tess.”
The knot in her stomach tightened at the raw honesty of his statement. He was warning her that she was about to hear something bad. Very bad. So bad that he was afraid she would walk away afterward. But Tess couldn’t imagine Mitch doing something terrible enough to change her feelings for him. Yet his fear was very real. And Mitch wasn’t a man who frightened easily. Which only made her afraid. And uncertain.
