He would be gone before this day was out. Some part of her was glad—glad she needn’t face him again. For the last time, he’d ground her pride to fragments. Instinctively she’d gone to him that morning, only to be rejected. Coolly detached, he hadn’t given her a chance before pouring out his contempt. Even in her concern for her father, some long-buried part of her registered a deep hurt, a sense of loss. Instead of a fond farewell, their final words had been filled with hostility. Ben had rejected her without a sign of regret.
The ambulance siren wailed as they drove off.
Above the harsh, penetrating sound, her father’s voice sounded weak to her ears. “Jess.” They still had a long ride ahead of them. The nearest hospital was thirty miles away.
She reached for his hand. “Yes, Dad?”
“Jessie, about the farm…”
About the farm. Even now, her father’s concern was the farm. “Don’t worry, we’ll manage.” She didn’t know how, but she would. Before Ben, she’d dealt with responsibility by not looking ahead too far. Just day to day.
Her father’s sharp cry drew her attention. “Dad!”
Helpless, she watched his face turn gray with contortion.
“Oh, please, please, help him.”
A medic moved in to administer oxygen. Time stopped, seconds drew into minutes, stretched out in agonizing slowness. As her father struggled for air, Jessie held her breath until her ears rang.
At the hospital at last, the staff wheeled his stretcher into the emergency room. Shut out, she stared at the doors blindly. What if he didn’t make it? She’d never felt so alone. If only Jared were here. If only…
With a hollow feeling, she rubbed her arms, looked around the waiting room, then found a seat. How had things gone so wrong? She thought of Jared again. According to her father, he’d just moved and changed jobs. Contacting him would be a nightmare.
Word of her father’s illness traveled through the small community hospital. Someone brought coffee. Time passed.
Dr. Peterson came out. “Your dad’s stable. We’re keeping him sedated for now. He’ll be more awake tomorrow.”
She blinked back tears of gratitude. “Can I see him?”
“For a few minutes.” His eyes offered understanding. “He’s a tough old bird. He’ll make it.”
Jessie clung to those words. For the first time in her memory, her father didn’t look tough at all. Surrounded by tubes and equipment, he’d shrunk. Her time was over so quickly. Feeling numb, she returned to the waiting room. She felt Ben’s presence before she saw him or heard him speak.
He came forward out of the shadows of the long, dimly lit room, his voice a soothing rumble, “Jessie, how’s Ira?”
She stared at him numbly. “You’re still here.”
“Did you really think I’d leave you to cope alone?”
“Yes.” The word stood stark and alone. She had nothing to add to it. Yes, she’d thought he would leave her. How could she have thought anything else?
He stared at her for a long moment. “Well, you were wrong.”
With his betrayal still fresh in her mind, she couldn’t respond. Perhaps later when she’d had time to think about it.
But for now, Dr. Peterson had waited to speak to her. “There’s nothing you can do tonight. Go home, get some rest.” He nodded at Ben. “You be sure and look after her.”
Jessie didn’t stay to hear Ben’s response. Suddenly she needed to escape. When she stepped out of the hospital, she was surprised to discover it was dark. Ben had parked the truck in the hospital parking lot.
He caught up to her. “Have you had anything to eat?”
She walked briskly. “I had something earlier.”
“How much earlier?”
“This morning,” she admitted, too weary to make any attempt at conversation.
“I would have come earlier, but I…”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. “I didn’t realize your father had had a heart attack until I called the hospital around midday for news. I thought you would call if it was anything serious. Why didn’t you call me?”
She blinked in confusion. “I thought you were gone.”
He winced with visible regret. “I guess I deserve that. I called for reports every hour after that.”
“Did you?” She couldn’t bear his pity.
He gritted his teeth. “Yes.” Slowly, he released her. “I wasn’t sure you wanted me to come.”
She felt cold, alone. “I’d like to go home.”
His face closed. “After we grab something to eat.”
She didn’t argue. If feeding her soothed his conscience, that was fine. She simply didn’t care. When had caring gotten her what she wanted? They stopped at a diner. She had no idea what she ate but lingered over coffee. She dreaded going home.
After the third refill, Ben took over. “You’ve had enough.” He took her cup away and signaled the waitress for the check.
Unaccustomed to being looked after, Jessie bit back a sharp retort. She stared out the window, wondering why her life couldn’t be simpler. If it weren’t for her father’s illness, Ben would be gone, miles away by now, out of her life. A clean break, he’d said. This was a tangled mess. Enduring more of his presence when it was only temporary seemed a cruel twist of fate.
“Time to go home,” he said, standing.
Jessie stood. She had no idea how she would manage to keep up some sort of mental or emotional distance until Ben left.
The long drive was accomplished in silence.
At the house, Jessie walked into the familiar country kitchen and felt as if she’d landed on the moon. Without her father’s solid presence, it was just a room, four walls. She adjusted his wooden armchair at the head of the table. “He’s going to need his things.” Needing something solid to cling to, she smoothed her hands over the wood. “He has some fairly new pajamas and slippers, but he could use a new bathrobe. He’s never owned one.” Ben’s compassionate expression made her rush on. “He’s going to hate hospital food.” She turned toward the pantry instead of rushing into his arms. “I could make him something light and special. Some maple custard, or…”
“Jessie, he’s going to make it. Your dad’s a fighter.”
At Ben’s gentleness, she blinked back tears. “Is he? But what if he’s too worn-out to fight?” Everyone kept saying Ira Carlisle was a fighter, but she’d seen beneath her father’s hardness years ago; she’d seen a lost and lonely man.
Ben crossed the room. “Ira’s too mean and ornery to let Doc Peterson get the best of him.”
She gulped. It was all too much. He reached for her. She struggled, then fell against him, letting her emotion pour out. Ben held her and let her cry, his voice soothing, his hands tender yet firm as he smoothed her hair off her face. Jessie couldn’t recall the last time someone had simply held her and let her cry. When she felt the brush of his lips against her temple, she wanted to stay in his arms forever. Trembling, she forced herself to pull away.
Ben felt her stiffen and draw back, withholding her feelings with an inner strength he might have admired at any other time. Now it left him feeling helpless. And alone, as he’d never felt before. When she looked at him unseeingly, he felt as if a knife had pierced his heart. He’d lost the fragile gift of Jessie’s trust—something he hadn’t known he valued until it was gone.
He’d hurt her, instead of protecting her from more hurt by leaving before their relationship developed into something more. Well, he didn’t have to worry about that any longer.
She hated him.
She would probably hate him more by the time he left.
Pale, her eyes red-rimmed, she said, “I’m going to bed.”
“Good night, Jessie.” With a bleak smile, he realized how cold it felt to be shut out of her thoughts. After she’d gone upstairs, Ben took his time, turning off lights and locking doors, before he cl
imbed the stairs. He hoped to avoid another encounter, but she was just coming out of the bathroom.
Dressed in a terry-cloth robe and slippers, with her face scrubbed, she looked so innocent and young. But not naive. From her taut expression, he knew she was aware of their isolation. Their situation was undeniably intimate. No matter what he said or did, the previous night and its stolen intimacies stood between them. He’d gotten past her defenses. He’d come close to making love to her. If only he could rearrange recent events, undo the harm. He shouldn’t have dragged her into his bed.
Why had he looked past the sweet innocence of her eyes and her delicate curves? He’d seen a woman, and he’d kissed her. Now that he knew the taste of her, he wouldn’t be happy until he’d tasted her again. And yet, he was bound by honor to protect her from himself. “If you need anything…” His hand lifted, then fell.
“Thanks,” she whispered. “There’s nothing you can do.”
Anything he said would be meaningless. She wouldn’t ask for his help now. Jessie wasn’t the clinging type. He should have felt relieved. Somehow, he didn’t. Instead, he felt trapped in a silken web. She needed him. Between Cal’s accident, Ira’s heart attack and Jared’s absence, Jessie needed him.
Somehow, that didn’t feel so bad. It felt right—which scared the hell out of him.
That night Ben lay in his bed and traced the cracks in the ceiling until sleep came. And with it, the nightmare. Now Jessie was part of it—a pale shadow drawing near; then drifting away; pulling him back from the brink….
Jessie felt better in the morning, more herself. Ben was making coffee. His greeting, “Morning, Jess,” didn’t sting. She was back to being plain old Jess. Determined not to rely on his charity, she braced herself. He looked as if he hadn’t slept.
All she needed was a moody male before her morning cup of coffee. “I called the hospital. Dad’s condition is improved.”
“That’s good news.”
“Yes, it is.” She reached past him for the loaf of bread on the counter. “I’ll make toast.”
“Sit,” he ordered, taking the loaf out of her hands.
Now he had her confused with the dog! While she sat and watched, he made toast and served up his version of scrambled eggs. His kindness didn’t surprise her. She was grateful. That was all. After swallowing a bite of rubbery eggs with a gulp of coffee, she spoke the words aloud. “Thanks for staying an extra day.” She watched his gaze harden. His eyes were blue and fathomless. “I know you want to get an early start.”
He carefully set down his coffee mug. “Do I?”
His look made her hasten to add, “If you’re wondering how we’ll manage without you, then don’t. We’ll be fine. We got along fine before, before…” She couldn’t bring herself to say before he came, but went on with her little farewell speech. “Anyway, Fred can put in extra hours. You mentioned Ramon, and Jared will turn up eventually. Besides, Cal will be back on his feet before too long.”
“That’s enough, Jessie.” Cutting her off, he rose to his feet. “I get the message,” he rasped gently. The soft words grated against her nerves.
She wanted him to shout—so she could shout back. Why was he being so reasonable? Why was she being so polite? “I know your bags are all packed.”
“But I’m not going anywhere.” He turned and strode out, tossing the words over his shoulder. “I’ll be around if you need me for anything.” He’d be around. For how long?
Jessie sat there and watched his retreating back. It would be a cold day in hell before she needed him! Ben had taught her a hard but necessary lesson. She’d be a fool to depend on him for anything. At the moment, she had enough to handle without adding a case of heartache.
She wanted to run from her feelings, from Ben, but couldn’t. She had responsibilities. If she needed reminding, a glance at the Mason jar filled with crisp dollar bills was surely enough to firm her resolve. It was just one of the obstacles Ben had placed between them. If their relationship remained strained and distant, so much the better.
Later that morning, Jessie drove to the hospital for a short visit with her father—all she was allowed. A look of relief flashed in his eyes when she told him Ben was staying on.
“Least he could do,” he groused, then closed his eyes. At this display of weakness, she felt a rush of concern.
Dr. Peterson walked into the room. “Ah, Jessie, just who I wanted to see. Let’s step outside.”
Jessie prepared herself for more bad news. “How is he?”
“He’s going to recover, but not overnight. The next few days are crucial. We’re doing more tests.” That sounded less than reassuring to Jessie. “He might need surgery. We’ll see.”
Driving home, she mulled over her mounting problems. The list was growing. She hadn’t had much luck reaching her brother. He was out of town, his landlady would try to send him a message through friends. It struck Jessie that she knew practically nothing about her brother’s life. At one time, they’d been close. That was how relationships went, she reminded herself hardily. People in her life came and went—sometimes with the speed of a quick-change artist. Like Ben.
Admittedly, he was high on her list of problems.
When she reached the turnoff to Stone’s End, a large flock of black crows suddenly lifted off a cornfield and flew directly in the path of her truck. Jessie hit the brakes. Like a dark shadow blotting the sun, they filled her vision. More than a hundred beating wings drowned out all sound, everything but the thud of her own heartbeat. Her hands gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. Though not superstitious, she couldn’t shake a feeling of dread, a premonition of death or disaster. She tried to dismiss the irrational thought, blaming her unease on nerves and fatigue since her father’s illness.
As the large flock of black crows flew in widening circles and the sky turned blue again, she breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a little foolish. Nevertheless, she drove the rest of the way home at a slower speed.
Somehow the day passed. Jessie couldn’t settle to any one chore. That evening, she applied lip gloss to her mouth and frowned at her reflection in the mirror. She was getting a permanent frown line. She’d just showered and changed to visit her father. She looked tired and strained. Perhaps a brighter lipstick and some blush…
She’d missed not having a mother’s guidance through the awkward teenage years. Now she worried about makeup at an age when most women felt confident about such things. With a shrug, she decided that wearing none was better than wearing too much. Was this preoccupation with her appearance connected to Ben? The mirror reflected an average appearance. Nothing unsightly, but nothing special, either. Certainly, nothing for a man to get excited about. What did she hope to see? A woman Ben wouldn’t toss out of his bed?
With an impatient shake of her head, she went downstairs and came to a stop. Ben was waiting for her. His gaze slid up and down, making her conscious of her notso-new denim wraparound skirt and plain tailored shirt.
He spoke firmly. “I have to discuss a couple things with Ira. We might as well visit him together, then eat out. You could use a break, Jessie. And frankly, so could I.”
Relieved of her options, she glared at him. The only break she needed was from him. “I could fix something here.”
“Just this once, how about humoring me? I’m tired of watching you wear yourself out trying to be some kind of a super woman.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Jessie said frigidly.
“If this cool little act is intended as a guilt trip for my bad timing in quitting my job the day Ira took sick, think again. Or is it because I had the nerve to drag you into my bed? Was I the first to try?” When she gasped, his voice hardened. “I didn’t get very far, did I? Is that it? Are you angry because I didn’t make love to you? Did you want me to?”
“You, you…” She’d buried her anger under layers of reserve. Yes, he’d hurt her when he’d wanted to leave. His dragging it out grew more unbearable by the
hour.
“Bastard?” Ben said helpfully. “Don’t stop now. Don’t you think I’ve called myself every name in the book?”
“I’m sure I could add one or two.” Her only defense was to strike back. Unfortunately, she couldn’t actually think of a name—one that would describe how she felt, not without revealing herself. Try “faithless lover” for one. He’d never been her lover, but he’d touched her heart, he’d touched her intimately; he’d made her his in every way but physically.
“I imagine you could.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Don’t you think I regret that night? And the following morning? I said some things I didn’t mean. I let you down.”
“Yes, well…” She swallowed painfully.
“I won’t let you down again, Jessie.”
That brought her gaze flying back to his. She searched his eyes in confusion. Could she believe him? Could she risk laying herself open for more heartbreak?
“Well, Jessie?” he prompted when her silence dragged.
“All right,” she said simply.
His laugh was harsh. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” she said in a stiff little voice, “that I accept your apology and your invitation to eat out.”
At her deliberately evasive answer, his eyes darkened as he snapped, “Right. Now, can we go?”
She walked past him and out the front door. Standing on the porch, a feeling of impotence washed over her. Only Ben could make her feel this way, as if she was fighting herself. Her anger burned out, she closed her eyes. What was she doing? He’d worked hard all day. He’d apologized—even if he’d goaded her into a reaction first. He’d stayed.
Clouds swept by. A breeze cooled the heat of her face. Suddenly she didn’t care about their differences. She couldn’t endure another second of this constant tension between them.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, swallowing her pride.
For her sins, she’d inherited the Carlisle pride. What good was pride when he would soon be gone? When he didn’t say anything, she turned around. He wasn’t there. He hadn’t heard.
Chapter Nine
Just Jessie Page 11
