Just Jessie

by Lisette Belisle

  As the evening sky turned dark, Main Street was roped off for a street dance with a temporary stage at one end. Jessie looked on with interest. Not surprisingly, Henderson looked its best after dark. All lit up, it had a certain magic. Her foot started to tap when a local folk band took to the makeshift stage. The twangy soft music tugged at her heartstrings. The band soon warmed up the crowd.

  “Say, Jessie, how about a dance?” Cal was extremely good-looking, and she was probably the envy of several girls there, but he was only eighteen.

  Nevertheless she agreed, afraid to hurt his feelings.

  They joined the dancers circling the clearing. Jessie caught a glimpse of Ben. He stood at a distance, leaning against a tree. Tall, dark-haired, aloof, he looked alien among the townspeople of the conservative community. Though obviously curious, people didn’t venture close.

  Cal twirled her away. She felt Ben’s gaze following her. When the music ended, the band called for a break. Cal politely returned her to her father. “Thanks, Cal.” She discovered he wasn’t listening.

  He was staring at the Morales girl. At sixteen, Serena stood out like a flower in a vegetable patch. Dressed in jeans and a red T-shirt, she was more than pretty. She was exotic—slightly built with delicate gold-tinted features, liquid brown eyes and long black hair that fell like black silk to her waist. Cal just stood there staring. She looked flustered at the attention. Ramon Morales didn’t look pleased. But Cal didn’t notice. He appeared poleaxed— until redheaded Mary Ellen O’Connor, his steady girl, dragged him away.

  Watching Serena get a stern lecture from her father a moment later, Jessie felt troubled. Typical of the migrants, Ramon Morales wouldn’t approve of any kind of friendship between his daughter and Cal—the son of a wealthy local landowner. It was an unwritten code; the locals and migrants didn’t mix socially. It was a barrier no one crossed.

  After dancing with his wife, Fred turned to Jessie with a courtly bow, “How about it, Jessie?”

  Perched on the end of a picnic bench, Jessie shook her head. “I think I’ll just sit here.”

  “Pretty young thing like you shouldn’t miss the fun.”

  Ira cleared his throat. “It’s late,” he grumbled and gathered himself to rise. “I want to get home.”

  “Well, you will,” Fred said, frowning at his old friend, “soon as I get my dance.”

  “Well, go on, then.” Settling back, Ira ordered, “Dance with him, Jess, and let’s be done with it.”

  Hazel Cromie chuckled. “That’s right, Jessie.”

  Hiding her amusement, Jessie moved into the crowd with Fred. After taking a turn or two around the perimeter in a fast two-step polka, he stopped. “Evening, Ben.” One quick glance and Jessie wanted to shrink.

  “Evening.” Though heavily shadowed, Ben’s frown was visible as he exchanged a reluctant word or two.

  “Knee’s acting up something awful.” Fred’s whine was pathetic. “I’m about done in.” He rubbed his left knee. “You two go on and finish this dance.”

  Jessie said pointedly, “Fred, if you’re tired, we can go home.” She knew there was nothing wrong with his knee.

  “Now, Jessie, you know you were itching to dance.” Fred ignored her warning. “Well, aren’t you going to ask her?”

  Jessie squirmed with humiliation. Finally, when she thought he would never speak, Ben said evenly, “Well, shall we?”

  Considering his lack of enthusiasm, she should refuse. Where was her pride? Rock bottom, apparently. Just once, she wanted to dance with someone besides Cal or Fred— someone who wasn’t too old or too young. Who was she kidding?

  Feeling helpless, she watched Fred limp off—favoring his right knee. The old fake. “Yes, I’d like that,” she whispered, exhilarated despite the humiliation of being thrust at a man who plainly didn’t want her. A man she barely knew. Was that true?

  As strange as it might sound, sometimes she felt as if she knew Ben Harding intrinsically, from the inside out; as if her spirit recognized his. She felt hot and cold when he placed one hand at her waist and drew her closer.

  “I’m not much of a dancer,” Ben warned, guiding her between the other couples into a country reel.

  Jessie smiled hesitantly. “Neither am I.” Should she tell him she would rather sit this one out? Suddenly she knew she would be lying if she did. She wanted to dance with him.

  “It’s been a while,” he confessed. “I’m rusty at this.” A moment later, he stepped on her toe.

  “You’re doing fine,” she murmured, amazed when his face darkened a shade. “Besides, it’s dark. No one can see.”

  At her soft words, his rigid tension slowly eased.

  “We won’t win any prizes.” When the tempo slowed to a waltz, he breathed an audible sigh of relief.

  She expected him to release her and return her to Fred and her father; instead, he drew her closer. A twangy country tune pulled at her heartstrings. “Ben, you don’t have to…”

  “Shh.” He smiled—a smile that actually reached his deep blue eyes. “I’m counting.”

  With a start, Jessie registered the change in him. He looked younger, his smile slightly rakish and teasing. When someone jostled her from behind, she landed against him. To regain her balance, she placed her hand against his chest and felt his heart jolt. She glanced up. His eyes darkened and tangled with hers. She felt him suck in a breath.

  His hands dropped to her hips and tightened, as if he couldn’t help himself. With the air rushing from her lungs, Jessie stood there locked against him. Around them, others danced. The song and music continued. Time stood still for her. She felt the sharp bite of physical desire. She never questioned why it should be with Ben.

  What would it be like to link her hands behind his neck, to hold him close in her arms, to be held—to feel surrounded by his strength, to absorb it? She watched his face as he came closer. His scar seemed more pronounced. Her gaze fastened on his mouth. The memory of their first and only kiss burned bright in her mind. This time, she thought she was prepared.

  But she wasn’t. As his lips met hers, the humming burst in her ears; the lights, the music, the voices around her faded. She opened her mouth and he deepened the kiss.

  Someone exploded a firecracker nearby.

  Ben froze. With a muttered curse, he dragged her away, but not before she felt his response. Jessie’s small moment of triumph died when Ben’s eyes blazed down at her. Did he feel contempt?

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes shuttered.

  “So am I.” Blushing a fiery red, she turned her face away from that searing look.

  “I meant, we have an audience,” he said dryly.

  Suddenly she remembered where they were—in the middle of downtown Henderson with every resident within miles probably watching. She looked around and encountered a few curious glances, a few frowns, a smile. Thankfully, they hadn’t attracted too much attention. At least her father wasn’t watching. She couldn’t even see him. After a few more bars, the music came to an end.

  Jessie felt awkward as Ben released her, her pleasure lost in that one moment of recognition. She might be innocent, but she wasn’t ignorant about men and women. In theory, sex and reproduction had always seemed natural to her, but what she’d just experienced in response to Ben was frightening. For just the briefest moment, she’d forgotten who she was, who he was. While Ben might feel something for her, he would never acknowledge it.

  A hard pulse ticked to life in his cheek. “Shall we find your father?”

  Nodding, she snatched at the excuse for escape. She swallowed the urge to laugh. So much for wild attraction. It certainly wasn’t mutual. “Dad’s anxious to leave. I hope he hasn’t overdone things today.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Over there.” But her father wasn’t where she’d left him. Suddenly she felt guilty for forgetting his health. “I guess they’ve gone.” She searched the crowd in vain.

  Ben wasn’t surprised. “I guess so,” he muttere
d back, aware that Fred had engineered this entire fiasco right up to the end—leaving Jessie stranded with no choice but to accept his offer of a ride home. He was just about to suggest it when he noticed her wistful expression as she looked back at the dancers.

  Instead of rushing her off, he glanced at his watch. “It’s only ten. How about staying awhile before I take you home?” She looked surprised. Well, so was he. “We could both use a break from work. Let’s enjoy it. How about a cotton candy before we check out the carnival?”

  He added a smile to the invitation, hoping it was enough to convince her, because he wasn’t at all convinced he was doing the right thing. Hadn’t he vowed to avoid Jessie?

  If that was the case, what was he doing offering to squire her around a country carnival and smiling like an adolescent at her acceptance? He bought her a cotton candy as they strolled. The lights, the noise, the music, the smells of roasting hot dogs and candied apples held a certain intriguing novelty for him.

  “I’ve never lived in a small town or attended something like this,” he confessed.

  “And I’ve never been anywhere else.” Her smile was edged in bright pink from the melted sugar.

  It probably tasted as sweet as it looked, he thought wryly. If she was bored with small-town life, he had no intention of providing a distraction. She was twenty-three, Fred had told him. Twenty-three and ripe and ready for love. A dangerous young lady. As Fred would say, a man could find himself hog-tied in a hurry if he didn’t watch out.

  They strolled between rows of carnival stalls, taking in the sights and sounds. Jessie stopped to admire a display of Native American pottery. She ran a hand over a smooth vase.

  The woman operating the stall greeted her with a warm smile. “Do you like that? It’s handcrafted.”

  Jessie smiled. “It’s beautiful.”

  Ben picked up a sterling-silver concha belt, inlaid with cool blue-green turquoise.

  The woman turned to him. “Ah, you have excellent taste.” Her dark eyes twinkling, she looked from Ben to Jessie. “The stones are turquoise. There is a legend, if you’d care to hear it….”

  “Yes, please,” Jessie said.

  “After the rain, if you follow the rainbow to its end and dig in the damp, fragrant earth, if you’re lucky—and worthy—turquoise awaits.” She took the belt and held it out to Jessie. “Here the past comes alive, the future is full of possibilities. Everything is linked in time.”

  If you are worthy.

  Ben had heard enough. “I’ll take it.”

  “I’m sure your lady will enjoy it.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Jessie objected. “I can’t let you buy me things.”

  After exchanging payment for the belt, he held it out to Jessie. “But I insist. Please, I’d like you to have it.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  Ben slipped his finger under her belt to release the buckle and the simple act of exchanging one belt for another became something else. He felt her suck in a breath.

  She stared at his hand at her waist, then slowly raised her head to meet his gaze. Their eyes locked. Ben twisted the old cloth belt off, and felt an almost uncontrollable urge to reach for the top button of her dress. If they weren’t in a public place, surrounded by lights and music, he knew his next act would be to undo each button with tantalizing slowness and just as thoroughly undress Jessie—

  His breath caught at the thought of reaching inside her dress, touching her breasts, kissing them, holding her to him. And in some odd way, it felt so right, as if he’d done this before—which was insane. If their relationship continued, he would make love to Jessie. It was as inevitable as thunder following lightning, the sun following rain. He pulled off her old belt and replaced it with his gift, and somehow it became more—it became an act of possession.

  The silver links slid around her small waist. He hooked it into place, then spanned her waist with both hands and pulled her against him. Tempted beyond hope of resisting, he bent his head and kissed her cotton-candy mouth because—

  Oh, hell, he just had a yen for cotton candy. And just as he’d suspected, she tasted sugary sweet. Kissing Jessie was obviously habit-forming. With a murmur of enjoyment, she pressed back. She didn’t look flustered when he released her. She looked all lit up.

  With a rueful smile, he murmured, “Please forget I did that,” and took her hand.

  She choked out a laugh, and he felt oddly content, which was very odd indeed since he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that way, if ever. He’d spent his life competing, developing his brain and his stamina, scrambling for position, training to kill and avoid being killed. But no amount of training could have prepared him to fail, to lie helpless and let people die. After all that, how odd to feel…content.

  Ben subdued all the warning bells clamoring in his head. Perhaps he had reached the end of the rainbow. What had the old woman said—if he was lucky, and worthy?

  Luck wasn’t with him.

  At a mock firing range, Drew Pierce called out, “If it isn’t Jess and her fancy hired man.”

  “Drew, stop it,” Jessie said, tight voiced.

  Drew laughed at her small explosion. “What’s the matter? Can’t he speak for himself?”

  “Let it go, Jessie,” Ben said.

  But Drew was determined to speak to Jessie. “I saw your dad leaving earlier. Are you here on your own?”

  “Ben’s taking me home,” she said.

  Drew reached out and pulled her toward him. “There’s no need. I’ll take you.”

  Ben had no intention of interfering. Nevertheless, the sight of Drew’s thick hand on her narrow waist bothered him. The silver belt glittered and winked at him. Determined to remain immune, Ben slipped his hands into his pockets. His mouth tightened when Jessie sent him a troubled look.

  She tried to object. “I don’t—”

  Drew plainly wasn’t going to accept an excuse. Glancing over his shoulder at the bright marquee of lights setting off an array of prizes, he cut into her refusal. “How would you like one of those stuffed bears?”

  She smiled rigidly. “No, thanks.”

  “Come on. Your friend here won’t mind.” Releasing her, Drew picked up a loaded rifle and threw Ben a challenging look. “Fact is, maybe we could have a round or two and see who can hit the target. Winner gets to take Jess home.”

  The winner got Jessie.

  Gritting his teeth, Ben felt his stomach roil as Drew sighted in the target. Wincing as the rifle shots cracked into the air, he stood his ground.

  After scoring a near-perfect round, Drew turned on a triumphant grin. “Beat that.”

  “I don’t think so.” Ben folded his arms.

  “You mean you can’t.” Drew set the rifle aside.

  “That’s not what I said.”

  A small crowd had gathered around them. Playing up to their audience, Drew chuckled. “And you won’t even try. Well, that’s plain insulting to Jess, now, isn’t it?”

  A titter of laughter rose about them. At Jessie’s painful flush, Ben grabbed the gun and aimed. One, two, three, four—the explosions went off in his head. Dead on target. He never missed. Sweat broke out on his brow. It was the first time he’d held a gun in years. He just held the rifle and kept pumping the trigger until the bullets ran out and it clicked empty. Empty. As if it were a live grenade, he dropped the gun to the counter where it landed with a dull thud. His hands were visibly shaking when he jammed them into his pockets.

  There was silence, then the attendant laughed a little too heartily. “Hey, the little lady gets to pick a bear.”

  Ben needed a moment to collect himself as the crowd slowly dispersed. He was shaking. Once, he’d taken orders and given orders as naturally as breathing. He should have questioned his superiors. That was the hell of it. He should have refused to take his division into that drug-infested hellhole. If he had, they would all be alive.

  Ben took long slow breaths, pulling himself b
ack from the brink. Posttraumatic stress syndrome, the doctors called it. He knew the meaning all too well. It was like stepping into quicksand and being sucked under. Anything related could trigger his memory—a loud noise, a uniform, something as simple as a camera flash. For the most part, he’d learned to control it, but at times his subconscious took over, he relived horrific events again and again.

  Thankfully, Jessie took her time selecting a large bright pink bear with a purple polka-dot bow.

  Not a good loser, Drew muttered a disgruntled, “I’d still like to take you home, Jess.”

  Jessie hugged the bear to her chest.

  Some choice, she thought. She could choose between a clearly annoyed Drew or a dark-browed, brooding Ben who seemed determined to ignore her existence—now that he’d kissed her senseless. Despite all that, the choice wasn’t all that difficult. She chose Ben.

  “I wouldn’t want to take you out of your way, Drew.”

  “Guess you win this time, Harding.” With a careless shrug that failed to hide his irritation, Drew accepted her decision and went off with his friends.

  Jessie was left standing alone with Ben under the gaudy fluorescent lights of the marquee. “Are you all right?” she asked after a moment.

  Instead of replying to her direct question, he said, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go home with Drew?”

  She struggled to find a smile. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Then, let’s go.”

  This time, he didn’t reach for her hand.

  Shouldn’t she have the sense to be wary? Moments later, despite her brief moment of bravado, she felt like laughing from pure nerves when she climbed on the back of his bike. In one hand she clutched her teddy bear; with the other she clung to Ben’s hard waist.

  Ben turned the bike onto the highway with a sense of impatience to be gone. The lights of town disappeared. After a few miles, the black night closed in as he drove through the dark countryside. He needed to put the entire evening behind him. Even Jessie’s nearness didn’t reach him. Filled with mental anguish brought on by the day’s events, he couldn’t shed his past, or the memories. For a brief time he’d hoped it was over; now he knew he was still on the edge.