“The pain,” she whispered, the words raw.
“What did you say?”
“The pain,” she repeated, forcing her fingers to let go of the cup. She sat it on the drainboard and gathered her control. “Getting involved isn’t worth the pain. Why try so hard when, in the end, it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference how many times you held them while they cried, how many lunches you packed, how much homework you coached them through? Those things mean nothing in the face of death.”
He opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something. Then his jaw clamped shut and he raked a hand through his hair almost angrily. As if he felt the fury heating her blood, the pain gripping her heart. As if he felt as intensely as she did.
The realization made her clutch the counter. Jane’s favorite cup filled her peripheral vision. It sat there in red and black and white glory, mocking her, reminding her, calling out to her….
The numbness she’d fought so hard to hold on to was slipping away. Instead her throat burned, as fiercely as the tears that threatened to spill past her lashes. Tears …
“I—I think you’d better go,” she managed to whisper.
She expected him to shake his head, to argue with her. Instead he nodded, his eyes flashing a message she couldn’t comprehend. Instead of looking away, however, she caught his gaze. As she stared long and hard and deep, she wondered how he could make her feel anything again when she’d managed to cut herself off. The hermit lady.
She saw the compassion flash in his eyes; then his expression closed.
“Yeah, I think I’d better.” He turned and headed for the back door.
She opened her mouth, the urge to beg him to stay nearly overwhelming. Stay? No, he had to leave, just as she had to forget the past.
The door slammed and she flinched. A coldness swirled around her, and panic skittered across her nerve endings. Logic fled as she rushed after him and grabbed the doorknob.
Stop!
The voice blared in Faith’s head, and she closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against the door, her hands clenched around the knob as the past unearthed itself and played through her mind.
“Stop!” The frantic cry drew Faith off the couch and up the darkened stairs at Faith’s House. Her desperate steps ate up the distance down the hallway, to the room at the far end.
The room was pitch black without even a sliver of moonlight to cut the darkness. The girl appeared little more than a shadow huddled on one corner of the bed. Soft sobs reached across the room to draw Faith inside.
“Jane? What’s wrong, honey?” But Faith already knew. The girl had been at Faith’s House less than a week since she’d been dismissed from the hospital after recovering from her chest wounds, but each night had been the same.
“I—I had a bad dream,” came the small, faceless voice.
“It’s okay.” Faith sank down on the edge of the bed. She’d known her own share of nightmares, the fear of being in a new place, of being alone. So alone.
But Jane’s situation was even worse. She didn’t even have memories to keep her company, just a blank void where the past should have been.
Gathering the girl’s body in her arms, Faith held her close. Shudders shook the thin form. Warm tears spilled onto Faith’s hands.
“I’m scared,” the small voice whispered, and Faith felt a tear trickle down her own cheek.
“I know, sweetie. I know.” And she did. She knew all too well because she’d faced her own tragedy, her own nightmares. “But you don’t have to he. You’re not alone anymore. I’m here, honey. I’m here.”
Jesse opened his eyes and stared down at his hand, which still gripped the doorknob to Faith’s back door. He knew she touched the exact same spot on the inside. He felt her warmth. And he saw her thoughts as if they were his own.
We are linked. Connected.
He sensed it when she turned and walked away. He felt her slip out of his grasp, her warmth fading from the cold metal of the knob. But the sound of Faith’s voice echoed in his head; the image of her reaching out in the darkness was still vivid in his mind.
He could certainly see why she’d been chosen to receive a miracle. Now if he could get past the wall she’d built up around herself, maybe he could give her one.
After Jesse left, Faith finished up the dishes and sank down onto the sofa in front of the TV. She stabbed a button on the remote control. A television preacher filled the screen, carrying on about fire and brimstone. She punched to the next channel and found the morning news.
“… the fire broke out and eight people were killed.”
She stabbed the button again until she found nothing but snow. No voices ranting about death and destruction. Just blessed, unintelligible snow.
Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes, willing her hands to stop trembling, her body to stop feeling, her mind to stop remembering Jesse Savage and the fleeting pain she’d glimpsed in his eyes the moment before he’d left. He’d wanted to say something to her, as if somehow, some way, he’d known what she’d been feeling. The loss, the grief—No!
Bolting to her feet, Faith rushed into her bedroom and changed into a pair of jeans, a sweater, and worn hiking boots. She paused at her dresser, her gaze going to the antique jewelry box that sat atop a lace doily.
The sudden urge to look inside nearly overwhelmed her. She’d stashed the precious piece of jewelry away right after the funeral. She’d wanted no mementos of Jane. No memories. Only now a part of her wanted to remember. Needed to—
She jerked her hand away just shy of the latch. With trembling fingers, she grabbed her house keys and hurried outside into the brightly lit morning. But even the sun in all its glory didn’t bring any warmth to her surroundings.
The tiny houses dotting her street looked all the more worn, with their peeling paint and rusted burglar bars. The lot for sale directly across from her, still filled with concrete debris from the building torn down last year, was as ugly as ever. Even more so with no shadows to hide the leftovers from the demolition team. She breathed in the stench of garbage and filth and headed for the corner, and Montrose Boulevard. She needed numbness, and there was no place better to find it.
The bright morning sunlight heated her cheeks as she walked, but reality iced her heart as she drank in her surroundings. An old homeless man picked through an overflowing Dumpster. A drunk sat dozing in the doorway of an abandoned building. The graffitied walls of what had once been the entrance to Crackhead Central, a park now closed after two homicides and a mess of drug trafficking, glared back at her. Ugly. It was all so ugly.
Faith walked endlessly, staring at every tenement, every drug addict, every group of delinquents clustered on the street corners, until she was numb again. But no matter how dark and depressing her surroundings, she still glimpsed beauty. Life … In the smile of a mother as she lifted her small child from his stroller, the sparkle of sun off a serene duck pond, the smiles of a group of kids as they played tag.
Frustrated, she returned home late into the evening and collapsed on the sofa. Depression sapped her strength until she was limp with it. The darkness wrapped around her, but sleep didn’t come. Instead, Jesse Savage came to her, his face crystal clear in her mind—his full lips, strong jaw, piercing, pain-filled brown eyes that tugged at too many emotions she wanted to bury forever.
Grubby licked at her ankles. His thin whine shattered the silence surrounding her. Faith opened her eyes and stared at the half circle of moonlight that bathed the carpet near her feet. The wail of a distant siren mingled with the buzz of the refrigerator, the hum of the television in the far corner, the screen still a snowy blur.
Reaching down, she scooped up the puppy and held him close. Still, loneliness crept through Faith, filling the emptiness inside her, making her chest ache and her eyes burn. She forced a deep breath and swallowed against the tightness in her throat. She wouldn’t cry. Crying was useless.
Clamping her eyes shut, she held the puppy and willed away the
tears. But she could no more will away Jesse’s image, alive and vivid in her mind, than she could have saved Jane that fateful night. And the more her thoughts centered on him, the more the dreaded loneliness clutched at her, refusing to be ignored or forgotten like everything else.
Like him.
Chapter Four
Jesse cast a quick glance at the locked kitchen door before he flicked off the light. He walked down the darkened hallway of Faith’s House, his boots making a steady thump on the hardwood floor. Rock music drifted from upstairs, along with a steady chatter of voices. He eased his exhausted body down into an armchair in the living room and stared at the muted television screen. Images flashed there sending a dance of shadows across the otherwise darkened room.
He longed to close his eyes. The day had been exhausting. There were eleven kids at Faith’s House, twelve including Daniel, and only two full-time employees—Mike the black belt and Bradley—and Megan, a part-timer who’d eloped with the counter clerk at Bagelrama, home of Texas’s hottest jalapeño bagels. The work at the foster home was endless, overwhelming with so much cooking, cleaning, paperwork, and a million other things. He couldn’t blame Faith for calling it quits.
That was the problem. He couldn’t blame her because he understood exactly where she was coming from. It was easier to stay aloof, emotionless. Jesse had done the same for too many years to count. By the time he’d realized his mistake, it had been too late.
But he had another chance now. If he fulfilled his mission by the deadline he’d get the opportunity to make restitution, to ask forgiveness and soothe the guilt and regret eating him up inside.
First, however, he had to renew Faith’s hope in herself, in life, in living. The spark was still there inside her, whether she recognized it or not. He’d heard it in her voice when she’d mentioned the kids, seen it in the brief flash of pain that had quickened her lifeless green eyes. That was why Jesse had to work fast. She wasn’t completely hardened yet, though she fought like the devil to be just that.
Faith’s picture pushed into his mind—her eyes wide, filled with the tears she’d fought so hard not to shed when she’d touched the Houston Rockets mug. He could see the slight quiver of her lips, almost feel their softness against his own—
He forced the image away. No use dwelling on what he couldn’t have. He had no future here other than the next two weeks, and to get close to Faith, then abandon her, would do neither of them any good.
He had only one purpose—to renew Faith’s hope in life. Jesse had to forget the pain in her eyes, the lure of her soft, full, trembling lips, and convince her living and caring and sharing were all worth the effort.
He couldn’t walk out on her again as he’d done this morning. He had to get close to her, win her trust, make her feel.
A sudden sense of loneliness swept through him, not his own, but Faith’s. He stiffened.
Linked. Connected.
“You all right?” Bradley’s voice cut through Jesse’s thoughts. He glanced up to see the man standing in the doorway, a clipboard in one hand, a pair of wire spectacles in the other.
Jesse nodded. “Do you need me for anything?”
Bradley shook his head. “No. Everybody’s upstairs getting ready for bed.” He walked into the room and sank down into a chair opposite Jesse. “I hope you aren’t having second thoughts about staying on here. The kids really took to you today. I haven’t ever seen Ricky do dishes without putting up at least fifteen minutes of griping.”
Jesse smiled. “He owed me. I beat him at arm wrestling, and he wanted a rematch. No dishes, no rematch. The kid hates to lose.”
“You got that right.” The other man grinned; then his face took on a serious expression. “He pounded another boy last month for tackling him during football practice. Gave the boy a black eye and a bloody lip. The school rewarded him with one month of detention for fighting.” Bradley shook his head. “But now is a cakewalk compared to the way things used to be. Just last year Ricky was a walking pharmacy and armed to the hilt. He’d already been ditching school regularly for three years. CPS got him when he shot one of his connections because the guy ripped off five bucks’ worth of drugs.” Bradley wiped a hand over his eyes. “Nothing compared to detention, huh?”
“Sounds like he was pretty bad news.”
“He was. He’s still a little violent, but he takes most of his aggression out on the football field. Except, of course, for last month. But with a past like his, you can’t complain about a little fighting. Way back when, Ricky would have shot that boy instead of laying into him with his fists.”
“This place must be doing him some good.”
“It is—not only Ricky but the others, as well. Last year we even received a recognition award from the mayor.”
“How long has Faith’s House been around?”
“Faith started off about five years ago, right after she graduated from college. At least a dozen agencies contacted her about a job, but she wanted to start her own group foster home. She’d volunteered at a shelter in Austin while she went to University of Texas, and that’s where she came up with the plan for Faith’s House.”
“Who provides the funding?”
“The state gives a monthly reimbursement for each child, but it isn’t nearly enough to provide for them like this.” Bradley’s gaze swept around the room, the comfortable sofa and chairs, the thick carpeting. The furnishings were low-key, tasteful, but high quality. “It’s not the Hilton, but it ain’t Motel 6 either. Anyhow, Faith pumps a lot of her own money into this place. Payback, she always tells me.”
“How’s that?”
“She was orphaned herself when she was a teenager, though she never had to go through the welfare system. She had a guardian, but he was little more than a stranger. I guess that’s why she relates so well to the kids. I hate to think where they’d be if not for Faith. She takes on even the worst. Or she did.” Bradley rubbed at his tired eyes. “I just hope things run smoothly while she’s off trying to get herself together.”
“What happened?”
“One of our kids was killed a little over two weeks ago by a drunk driver. It devastated Faith. She was really close to this particular girl. Jane—that’s what we called her—wasn’t like the other kids. Before she came to Faith’s House, she went through some terrible incident where she was severely wounded. The trauma caused amnesia. Nobody knew who she was. Somebody had wheeled her into the emergency room and left her there. It was about this time last year, and school had just let out for the summer, so there were no reported absences, nobody calling in about a missing child. Nothing. CPS didn’t have a clue as to her name, so they started calling her Jane Doe.
“I don’t know what it was about her, but Faith took to her right away,” Bradley went on. “Maybe it’s because the girl was just about the same age as Faith when she’d been orphaned. Anyhow, Faith helped her through some pretty rough nightmares those first few months.” He shook his head. “To nurse Jane through such a hard time, then lose her in the blink of an eye devastated her. She hasn’t been the same since. Yesterday was the first time she’s set foot here since the funeral, and I was surprised she even did that. I was hoping that seeing the kids might make her stay, but I guess not.”
“It’s only been a couple of weeks. Maybe she just needs a little time to come around.”
“And maybe Ricky will win the good citizenship award.”
Jesse smiled. “Miracles do happen.”
“I hope you’re right.” Bradley got to his feet and headed for the doorway. “You don’t know Faith. She eats and sleeps this place. For her to give it up for over this long is a terrible sign. It’ll take nothing short of a miracle to bring her around after what happened to Jane.”
That it would, Jesse thought as he listened to Bradley’s fading footsteps. A door creaked shut, and silence closed in.
It would take a miracle, but then that was why Jesse was here. Tomorrow he would go back to Faith’s and resume
his mission. Nothing, not even the lingering memories of his untimely death, would spoil what he had to do. He wouldn’t let them.
Jesse closed his eyes and tried to ignore the image that lurked at the far edges of his mind—the brilliant green eyes, the full, kissable lips. He had to think of her in purely professional terms. This was business. A means to an end.
Linked. Connected.
If only the pull of her wasn’t so strong. So potent. If only …
Jesse shifted his thoughts away from Faith and concentrated on the sound of raised voices that came from upstairs.
“I’ve got five minutes more bathroom time, you pighead, so stop bothering me.”
“You’ve been in there thirty minutes, Em. I’ve got to go.”
“You’ll just have to hold it.”
“And you’ll just have to hurry up….”
A smile tugged at his lips as his memory stirred a similar scene. The voices faded as time pulled Jesse back until he found himself in apartment 3B.
He stared across the living room to the teenage girl and boy playing tug-of-war with a black leather jacket emblazoned with a Harley Davidson logo on the back.
“It’s mine, Jason,” the girl said in a hiss, pulling and tugging, her soft brown hair slapping against her pale cheeks.
“Jess gave it to me,” Jason fired back, his eyes blazing the same midnight fire as the girl in front of him. “Didn’t ya, Jess?”
“What’s the fuss over? There’s a windbreaker hanging in the closet, and two blue-jean jackets,” Jesse told them, buttoning up the shirt to his uniform. He wiped at his sleepy eyes, wishing he’d had at least a few more winks. But he had to get a move on or he’d be late for his shift. He stuffed the ends of the shirt into his pants, checked his gun, then reached for his badge.
Faithless Angel Page 5
