He straightened and wiped at the perspiration beading his forehead. “Look, Faith. Last night was …” He shook his head. “It shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry it did. It was a mistake.”
“One you don’t intend to repeat?”
“I can’t.”
Faith resisted the urge to break the platter of brownies over his head. “And why is that?”
“Because I don’t want to,” he ground out.
And he thought she was being stubborn? “You’re a liar, Jesse Savage. You want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything.” Just like I do, she added silently.
He stiffened, the muscles in his arms bunched tight as he simply stared at her for a long moment.
“What I want more than anything,” he finally said, his voice fueled with a sudden desperation that melted Faith’s anger like an ice-cream cone beneath the blazing Texas sun, “is for you to go back to the kids, to Faith’s House where you belong. You’re their foster mother. Their role model. Their savior.”
She closed her eyes for a long moment, fear battling with the sudden desire to do as Jesse asked, to go back to the kids, to be there when they needed a shoulder to cry on, to listen to their problems and their pasts, to help them—
She shook her head. “You’ve got the wrong person,” she managed, though saying the words hurt with the effort. “I’m nobody’s savior.” Then she stood and walked inside.
“Wait—” Jesse hit the steps behind her, but Faith closed the door.
Tears flooded her eyes as she slumped back against the door and slid to the floor, her knees bunched against her chest.
A collage of images played through her mind, faces from the past, kids whose lives she’d touched so briefly, and it hadn’t been enough. They’d found their way back to the streets. They hadn’t wanted a savior, but Faith had kept going, kept trying.
But Jane had been different….
Faith buried her face in her hands and let the memory return, almost eager to be reminded of her powerlessness, almost pleased to see the bald proof that Faith Jansen couldn’t save anyone.
“Good morning, Faith.” The nurse came up beside Faith, who stood in the hospital lobby waiting for the elevator, a stack of magazines clutched in her arms.
“Morning, Betty. Did you hear about yesterday?” The doors opened and Faith stepped into the elevator. The nurse followed.
“Can’t say that I did.” The doors closed and the nurse turned a questioning gaze to Faith. “It was my weekend off. I just came on duty. What happened?”
Faith couldn’t hold back her smile. “She squeezed my hand.”
“Oh, my! That’s wonderful!” The nurse’s smile eased some of the chill that had settled into Faith’s bones over the past several days since Jane had been hit by the car. “You just keep on reading to her like I told you. That girl will come out of it yet. Four days isn’t very long. I’ve seen ’em wake up after a month or more. You just keep the faith, honey.”
Faith nodded. “I’ve got the latest issues of all her favorites right here. An afternoon with Teen Beat’s hottest hunks and she’ll be opening her eyes next.”
A bell sounded and the doors opened to the third floor. The nurse stepped off the elevator and turned to Faith. “I bet the whole floor is buzzing about the breakthrough. I’ll try to get up later on my break to see you. Congratulations!”
The doors swooshed closed. Faith leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. Her smile broadened. She could still feel the slight pressure of Jane’s fingers against her own. Just a faint movement, but enough to let Faith know the girl was still with her. Still alive. Still fighting.
Jane was a fighter, all right, and so was Faith. She wouldn’t let the girl give up. It didn’t matter that the doctors said Jane might never wake up, that her injuries were too severe, that she was just lingering until her poor body gave out completely.
There was always a chance. Hope. The hand squeeze proved it. Jane would beat the odds as she had when Faith had first met her. The girl had overcome a deep stab wound to the chest, healed after a lengthy surgery, and survived the nightmares that had followed. Jane had made it through then, and she would now. Faith would see to it. She would keep the faith.
The elevator doors opened again and Faith got off, heading down the hallway of Ben Taub’s trauma unit.
Yesterday a hand squeeze. Today … Maybe Jane would actually open her eyes. Maybe she would move her lips. Maybe she’d even say something—
The thoughts screeched to a halt when Faith reached the open doorway of Jane’s room. Shock bolted through her as she stared at the empty hospital bed. She closed her eyes, praying she was seeing things. But the truth pounded at her, burrowing inside and killing all hope.
There were no familiar sounds: no hum of the respirator, no steady beat of the heart monitor, no morning talk show blaring from the television set. There was nothing but a chilling silence that sent goose bumps racing along her nerve endings.
“Ms. Jansen,” came the deep, emotionless voice of Jane’s doctor. “I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”
“Where is she?” Faith asked, the question no more than a rush of breath.
“Early this morning, I’m afraid …” He paused, the brief hesitation like the final seconds before an execution. “I’m afraid she just couldn’t hold on any longer.”
No! The cry exploded inside her head and shattered her control. Then came pain, gripping every inch of her body, squeezing her heart, strangling her soul. Not Jane!
But even as denial snaked through, the truth surrounded her in the stark white sheets of a newly made hospital bed, the soft, undisturbed purr of the air-conditioning, the stinging scent of the freshly sterilized tile floor, the small sack of stuffed animals and clothes that the doctor placed near her feet.
“Here are her things. I had hoped to talk with you before you found out this way….” The doctor’s words faded into a blur as the magazines slipped from Faith’s numb fingers. The floor started to tilt.
Her lungs burned with each breath. Her head throbbed. She clutched at the door frame to keep from falling, as if she could hold on to herself, to Jane.
But it was too late.
The knowledge beat at her brain until she wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come.
“She was wearing this,” the doctor said. “I wanted to hand it to you myself. I was afraid it might get lost among all her other stuff.”
“Aw, hell.”
Jesse’s soft words jarred Faith back to reality, to the floor where she sat, the door at her back, and the man on the other side. So close. She felt the pressure of the door against her shoulder blades and knew he sought to touch her, compelled her to open the door, throw herself into his arms, and cry out her troubles.
And everything would be all right.
Then she could go back to Faith’s House. To her life—
But then the pain would come all over again. With some other child. Some other lost soul. The pressure against her back ceased and she knew Jesse had gone.
She forced her eyes open and climbed to her feet. Rushing into the bedroom, she hurried over to the jewelry box and threw back the lid. Nestled inside was a gold half circle attached to a matching chain.
She was wearing this….
With trembling fingers, Faith picked up the piece of jewelry. It was a friendship circle, or rather half of one. The circle came cut in half to be shared between two friends. Jane had worn one half and given the other to Faith as a present. As long as they each wore their half, their friendship could never be broken, the bond between them could never be severed.
But half of the circle was buried now, and Jane was dead. Faith hadn’t been able to save her. Hope and optimism and dogged determination had meant nothing in the face of tragedy.
On that bitter note, Faith attached the chain around her neck and dropped the half medallion beneath the neck of her shirt. A reminder, she told herself, that she was no one’s savior.
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br /> Yet as the metal nestled between her breasts, its chill resting where her heart thumped furiously in her chest, a sense of peace stole through her. Peace, not bitterness or loneliness or grief.
Instead of being reminded of Jane’s death, Faith found herself remembering the girl’s life—the way she’d smiled and laughed and drunk soda out of her Houston Rockets mug. And despite the tears streaming down Faith’s cheeks, a smile touched her lips.
Chapter Twelve
An hour later, Jesse finished Faith’s yard, put away the mower, and barely resisted the urge to break down her door, throw her over his shoulder, and physically drag her back to the shelter. He could have, except for his conscience, making him feel like the biggest jerk in the world. Who the hell was he to ask her to open herself up to the hurt again?
Even as the question raced through his mind, he damned himself. It didn’t matter if she did wind up hurt, as long as he got his chance at heaven. At forgiveness. That was all that really mattered. He had himself to worry about. His own salvation.
He climbed onto his Harley, revved the engine, and took off. Damn the link between them. That was the problem. Every time he turned around, he was seeing into her thoughts, reliving her past, and it did something to him. The memories touched feelings he’d buried a long time ago, chipped at the wall he’d built around his heart. A wall so thick that no one could touch him or hurt him.
Except her.
A wave of anger swelled inside him and he nearly sent the bike into a tailspin as he swerved into the driveway at the foster home.
When Jesse strode into the kitchen, he found Bradley layering noodles, tomato sauce, and ricotta cheese into a casserole dish. The smell of oregano and garlic bread burned his nostrils, and he felt a momentary twinge of guilt for the poor dog next door. It was lasagna night. Again. Now that really topped off his day.
He collapsed into a kitchen chair, spread his legs out in front of him, and ran a tired hand over his face.
“How’s Faith?” Bradley asked, pouring a can of tomato sauce into the dish.
“Out to set a record for most difficult female.”
The counselor chuckled, added a layer of noodles and more sauce. “I see you two are getting to know each other pretty well. I’ve always been more the flowers-and-candy type myself. I never thought about home repair as a way to a woman’s heart.”
Jesse shrugged. “I’m not looking for a way to her heart.”
“Then what, pray tell, are you doing over there every morning while I’m toughing it out at Daniel’s therapy sessions?”
“Looking for a way to her conscience.” A way to touch her, he added silently. All he needed was to find something in the world she wanted, something his miracle could give her.
But Faith didn’t seem to want anything other than Jane, and though the miracle he had to give could breathe life into a dying man, resurrecting someone already dead was strictly off-limits.
“If her conscience is what you’re after, I’d say you’re on the right track. I nearly spilled a cup of punch when I saw her at the dance. I don’t know how you coerced her into going, but I’m in awe.”
“Don’t go paying homage yet. She went to the dance, but it didn’t do any good. She’s still determined to stay away from the kids.”
Bradley layered in cheese, then more noodles and sauce. “That’s what she says, but I know Faith. If she was really set on staying away, you and a freight train couldn’t have towed her to that dance. You said it yourself. She’s stubborn. But she obviously misses the kids.”
“Not enough.”
“Not yet,” Bradley said, glancing over his shoulder. “But she’s coming around. Thanks to you. My only question”—Bradley paused to wipe his hands on a nearby dishtowel—“is why you? I’m the one who ought to be over there begging and pleading. If I thought it would work, I would be. I’m barely thirty-two and I’m going to be legally responsible for twelve kids if I sign Faith’s papers.”
“So don’t sign them.”
“I have to.” Bradley sighed. “I couldn’t turn my back on the kids and hand them over to a stranger. I’ll sign, but I’d rather not. I want Faith back. I need her.” He gave Jesse a pointed stare. “But you don’t. You’re not the one holding it all together, tossing and turning, worrying about dental appointments, grocery shopping, lunches, summer camp. So why are you so set on bringing her back?”
Jessie shrugged. “The kids miss her. They talk about her all the time. And she misses them. She nearly had a heart attack when I told her about Ricky and Em’s date. That was her motivation to go to the dance. She wanted to see what Emily was wearing for her date with Ricky.”
Bradley laughed. “Sounds like Faith, all right.”
“She’s more unhappy away from them,” Jesse went on. “But she refuses to admit it.” He raked tense fingers through his hair and stared at the floor. He was at a complete dead end.
“Faith’s stubborn,” Bradley said as if reading his thoughts. “But she’s worth the effort.”
Worth a miracle, if Jesse could find something, anything he could give her, do for her, that would renew her faith and bring her back to the kids, and soon. In less than a week. Otherwise …
He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about otherwise
“The dance,” Bradley was saying, “was the first time she hasn’t attacked me with those damned papers. In fact, I haven’t even heard her mention them for nearly a week now, which has to mean she’s coming around.”
“Not fast enough.”
“Give her time. Jane’s death was hard on her. She misses the girl and she’s nursing a lot of guilt over what happened, especially since she was standing right there.”
Jesse stiffened, his gaze colliding with Bradley’s. “She saw the accident?”
The man nodded. “Jane crossed the intersection maybe a yard or two in front of Faith. Five seconds more, and Faith would have been the one who got hit.”
“Aw, hell.” Jesse rubbed his throbbing temples.
“She’s been a zombie since the death, but you’re changing all that. I have to tell you, you’re good with people. The kids and, of course, Faith. Just be patient with her.”
If only things were that simple, but Jesse didn’t have patience, much less time. Time was precious. His power was active for all of two weeks, half of which he’d already spent. Then he had to deliver the final product and move on to an eternity in heaven, or renege and spend the rest of his life in hell. This flesh-and-blood, living, breathing, frustrating hell.
“I didn’t know she’d seen the accident,” Jesse said, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He closed his eyes, feeling her pain, her determination to stay indifferent, isolated. “No wonder.”
“It doesn’t seem fair, does it?” Bradley popped the casserole dish into the oven and set the timer. “The way life can turn on a dime, I mean. You go through the motions, play by the rules—do unto others and all that—then zap, something happens and you lose.”
“Everybody loses,” Jesse muttered. “There’s no winning this game. The ones who make up the rules see to that.” With insurmountable surprises.
“No argument here, but I’ll tell you like I tell the kids; it isn’t whether you win or lose; it’s how you play.”
“I’m tired of playing.”
Bradley retrieved a soda from the refrigerator before sitting down at the table opposite Jesse. “Well, buddy, you haven’t got a choice. None of us do. We’re here, so we play.” A slam of the front door punctuated his words, followed by a stream of voices. “Looks like we’re on duty,” he added as the first of a dozen kids barreled into the kitchen.
Dinner was chaos. Homework was a string of arguments. Bedtime was nearly a knock-down, drag-out, and Jesse relished every minute of it. He never completely forgot about Faith, but at least he had a distraction from her image dancing in his head, her voice whispering through his senses, her scent unraveling his concentration, her memories wreaking havoc on
his determination.
When darkness fell, however, Jesse had to seek a different distraction. Or rather, the distraction sought him.
He was simply concerned about Trudy, he convinced himself as he parked his bike in a well-lit parking lot and walked the few blocks to his old apartment building. She was young and alone, hungry and cold, and he needed to check on her.
But deep down, Jesse knew the real reason he went inside. The past called to him, louder than his conscience, and he had to go back. To relive his memories and face who and what he’d been. To feed his hatred—the only thing that could completely distract him from what seemed an impossible mission with Faith.
“Trudy?” The apartment was entirely dark. Empty. Worry crept through him, until he saw the dark stain on the floor.
The bloody reminder of the life he’d once had. The memories rushed at him and he closed his eyes.
“Rachel,” his voice was little more than a desperate croak. He blinked, trying to see his sister’s face one last time…. No! It wouldn’t be the last time. Jesse couldn’t lose them both. Jason was already so still.
Jesse summoned his dying strength and focused. There. He could see her. Blood seeped from her chest. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes open, her face expressionless…. No!
He blinked frantically, as if with each lift of his eyelids he would be more likely to see her smile, move, breathe, flinch—something, anything to let him know she was still alive. That her end hadn’t come. Not hers. Not his little sister’s—
A boot landed in Jesse’s middle. Pain shot through him, a searing agony in his skull. His vision clouded and he sucked in a breath as two shadows hovered around him.
“That’s for walking in on our deal and screwing things up, cop.” Another kick, and blackness swamped the pain. “And that’s for your no-good brother. He wanted out, so now he’s out. Permanently.” Laughter followed Jesse into oblivion, along with another vicious kick to his ribs. Bones cracked, but the pain was fleeting now. Unconsciousness was coming quickly.
“Leave him alone, man. He’s dead. Man, this is bad news. You took out the girl, too. There was no need for that!”
Faithless Angel Page 17
