Rachel shivered a bit. Even believing that Jackson truly was a ghost didn't prepare her for things like this. The idea that he could see people no one else could and talk to beings most people were sure didn't even exist was a bit worrisome. But the fact that she couldn’t see and hear these other beings was worse.
"What does he look like?"
He pulled his head back and looked down at her quizzically. "Is that what you came to ask me? What Lesley looks like?"
"No." She shook her head and tried to ignore her sudden curiosity. "I was worried about you."
"Worried?" Jackson nodded thoughtfully. "It's been a long time since anyone worried about me."
Rachel saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. She wanted to reach out to him. To smooth away the lines in his forehead. To ease the pain she still saw glimmering in his eyes.
Instead, she curled her hands into the folds of her skirt and held on tightly.
"Why'd you come out here, Rachel?" he finally asked quietly. "I wanted you in town. Safe."
"I can't stay behind a locked door, Jackson." Her voice matched the softness of his, but held a thread of steel. "I have a business to run. Customers to take care of."
He shot her a quick look. "So who's watching the store now?"
She inclined her head and admitted, "It's closed right now."
"Ah," he nodded slowly. "So you’re willing to close up when it suits you. Just not when I ask you to."
"Jackson." She cut him off. "This isn't about me. This is about you. And Noble Lynch."
His features tightened and, again, she had to force herself to keep from reaching out to him.
Looking past her toward the unfinished house, he said, "The house is starting to take shape."
She sighed as she realized that he was trying to change the subject. A curl of disappointment snaked through her, but she went along with him. "Yes, it is."
In the few days Jackson and Sam had been working on her house, they'd done remarkably good work. More of the framework was in place, and Rachel could almost see the place as it would look when finished.
"You have a nice spot for it," Jackson added and started walking.
"I know," she said and fell into step beside him. Her foot slipped in a wide patch of mud, and his fingers curled around her elbow to steady her. Warmth surged through her, and she felt his heat seep deep into her bones. When he didn’t release her, Rachel drew on the strength of his touch and tried again to coax him into talking to her.
"Are you all right, Jackson?"
Bending down, he tugged a long sprig of grass free and tossed it high into the wind. She watched him and knew that he was trying to decide whether to confide in her or not.
"Why did you run out of the store? Why did you come out here to talk to Lesley?"
He glanced at her, and a wry, half smile lifted one corner of his mouth. "Full of questions still, aren't you?"
She knew he was thinking back on when she was a child. When she had peppered him with questions about him, her future, and anything else she could think of. But this was different, she told herself. This was now. She needed to know the truth about what was happening.
"What is it, Jackson?" she asked and reached for his arm. "What is it between you and Noble Lynch?"
He stopped walking, then stared into the distance. Pulling away from her, he shoved both hands into his pants pockets. "Let it go, Rachel."
"I can't." She stepped directly in front of him, willing him to look at her. When he did, she shrugged slightly and repeated, "I can’t."
He choked out a strangled laugh. "This'd be a helluva lot easier if you’d just do as I asked and stay away from that gambler without asking questions."
"Jackson, I'm not asking out of idle curiosity." She laid both hands on his forearms and looked deeply into his eyes. An old pain shimmered there, and she wanted to do something to stop its power over him. But without knowledge, she was helpless. "I’ve been doing my best to stay away from Mister Lynch since he first moved to town." She shook her head gently. "I'm not sure exactly why, but he's always made me uncomfortable."
"You’ve got good instincts, Rachel."
"Tell me, Jackson. Tell me what it is between you two."
Their gazes locked.
She held her breath.
"Noble Lynch is the man who killed me."
Rachel stumbled backward, shaking her head as she went. One hand lifted to her throat, and she stared at him, waiting for more. Not sure that she wanted to hear it.
Now that he'd started, Jackson couldn't stop. He told her everything. He squinted, as if looking in to the past. Calmly, slowly, he described what had happened on that night fifteen years ago. As he said the words, describing his own death, he felt her sorrow grow. He knew he should be quiet. He didn't want to see pain in her eyes, let alone a pain he’d caused. Lord knows he didn't want her pity.
But blast it, if this was the only way of making sure she knew exactly what kind of man Noble Lynch was, then it would be worth it. She had to see that he was a dangerous man and not one for her to take lightly.
When he finished speaking, he waited for what seemed a lifetime for her to say something. Anything. When she finally spoke, though, her words were so unexpected, she caught him completely off guard.
"We have to go see the sheriff."
She hiked her skirt hem up to her knees and started walking.
Dumbfounded, Jackson stared after her for a long moment, then followed after, catching her in three long strides. He grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him. "We can't go to the sheriff."
"Why not?" Lifting her chin, she bunched her skirt into one fist and shook her index finger at him like he was a schoolboy caught pulling the girls' hair. "Noble Lynch is a murderer, Jackson."
"Yeah, I know." A chuckle started building in his chest, and he was amazed at the sensation. He'd expected to feel a lot of things once she heard the truth about him. Laughter wasn’t one of them.
"Well, we can't let him get away with this." She reached up and brushed a long strand of hair back behind her ear. "It's… it's…" she groped for a strong enough word. "Appalling!"
Jackson grinned as he looked at her. Indignation stained her cheeks a deep scarlet, her rapid breathing had her chest moving up and down like a bellows, and she fairly danced from foot to foot in her anxiousness to get busy.
Both eyebrows lifted as his gaze rose from her shifting feet to admire the view of her legs. It was quite a view. That long skirt of hers had been covering some mighty shapely legs. Of course, she wore sensible, black cotton stockings, so not an inch of flesh was exposed. Yet, something stirred inside him as he allowed himself to appreciate the curve of her calves, the bend of her knees. His imagination completed the journey.
He sucked in a gulp of air then dragged his gaze away from temptation. An uncomfortable ache began to build within him, and he realized that, unknowingly, Rachel had managed to take his mind off Noble Lynch.
"What are you waiting for, Jackson?" she asked. " Let's get into town and swear out a Complaint." She took a step and came to an abrupt halt when he grabbed her arm again.
"What are you gonna tell the sheriff, Rachel?"
"Well, that Mister Lynch…" Her voice trailed off.
"Yeah? Mister Lynch what?" Jackson shook his head at her and said quietly, "We can’t go into town and tell the sheriff that Lynch killed me fifteen years ago."
"Oh."
He wanted to smile at the disappointment on her face. This was a new experience for him. Not once in his whole miserable life — or afterlife for that matter — had anyone wanted to defend him. Protect him. A spot of warmth settled in his chest, and Jackson welcomed it like the first day of spring after a long, cold winter.
Gently, he reached out and smoothed his fingertips along the side of her face. Her skin felt soft, softer than anything he'd ever felt before. Looking down at her, he felt his chest tighten and the ache in his groin blossom until the pain was almost blinding.
His finger
s curled into the palm of his hand, and he slowly pulled away from her. He didn't have the right to touch her. The right to look into her eyes and lose himself in the pure deep color of them. He didn’t have the right to admire her legs or feel pleasure in the fact that she wanted to come to his rescue.
All of this was denied him because he’d been a fool fifteen years ago.
"Jackson?"
"I appreciate what you want to do, Rachel," he said and knew it didn’t come close to describing what he really felt. "I really do. Nobody's ever wanted to go out and do battle for me before." He reached for her again, then let his hand drop to his side. "Especially someone I wronged so badly."
She looked at him. "What do you mean?"
It shamed him to bring it up, but he had to tell her how sorry he was. "I talked to a few folks this morning."
"About what?"
"You. The Heinzes."
She glanced away.
"Christ, Rachel, I'm sorry." He shook his head and studied her profile. "I should have been more careful. I should have stuck around long enough to find out if they were good people." Disgusted with himself, he sighed and forced himself to keep looking at her. "I didn’t, and you paid the price."
She turned, shifting her gaze to his. "Martha Heinz was a lovely woman."
"Yeah, but she wasn't around long."
"True." Rachel studied him for a long moment before continuing. "Mister Heinz wasn’t evil, Jackson."
"Yeah, from what I hear, he was a real charmer."
A half smile lifted one corner of her mouth. "No, wouldn’t go that far. He was strict and believed in using what he liked to call, 'a firm hand' on a child."
"Bastard."
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. "I think he did his best, Jackson."
"If that was his best, then he was a sore excuse for a man."
"Probably." At least, Rachel had always thought so. But going backward was not the way she wanted to live her life. "Jackson, Mister Heinz isn’t important anymore. He hasn't been for a long time."
"He beat you."
She winced as memories flashed before her eyes, then disappeared. "He took a strap to my legs occasionally. Nothing more."
"Ain’t that enough?" Jackson reached up and shoved both hands through his hair as if he could tear the image of a young girl being whipped from his mind with his bare hands. "Jesus, what I'd give to have that bastard in front of me for a minute or two."
"It wouldn't change anything," she told him quietly. "I survived, that's all that matters."
"No thanks to me."
"You saved my life, Jackson."
"And then didn't bother to make sure that you were safe." He shook his head as air rushed from his lungs. "I should have done better by you, Rachel. You were just a kid."
"The past is over," she said. "Mine and yours. It's what we do now that matters. What are you going to do about Lynch?"
"Nothing." He paused thoughtfully. "For now." Forcing a smile, he nodded at her. "Don’t worry, all right?"
"I do, though." She said it simply, quietly.
"Why? You don’t even want me here, Rachel. Why would you worry about me?"
She ducked her head briefly, then looked up into his eyes again. "You’re important to me, Jackson."
He winced and stuffed his hands into his pockets. A thoughtful look crossed his face, then he nodded to himself, pulled his hands free, and reached for her hand.
Rachel watched as he turned her hand over palm up, then placed a single golden coin in its center. He curled her fingers over it, holding her hand closed with his.
"What are you doing?" Rachel asked. The warmth of the coin settled into her flesh, but was nothing compared to the heat of Jackson’s hand on hers.
"I want you to keep this coin, Rachel."
She shook her head and tried to pull away. "You can't give this to me, Jackson. It's not allowed, is it?"
"I don’t know," he admitted. "But I don’t care, either. I’ll feel a lot easier, knowing you have this gold coin."
"But…"
"I still have two left besides this one. It's important to me that you have it."
"Why?"
"Just in case," he said and reluctantly, it seemed, released her.
"In case of what?" She opened her hand and looked from the shining gold piece to him.
His shoulders lifted casually, but his voice was firm and steady. "In case you need help one day, and I’m not around."
Not around.
Something wide and dark opened up inside her, and the echoes of loneliness sounded out in her ears until she wanted to shout, just to drown them out. She didn't want him to leave. She didn’t want to even think about the empty years ahead of her when she wouldn't see him. Talk to him. Argue with him.
Rachel stared into his soft green eyes and thought for a moment that she saw like emotions written there. But in an instant, that flash of longing was gone, as if it had never been.
It didn’t matter though. Whether Jackson felt the same things she did or not, it couldn't change the truth she was only now admitting to herself.
She recognized the feelings fluttering into life inside her. When, she wondered, had it happened?
When was the exact moment she had fallen in love with him again?
And why was the one man she was destined to love a ghost?
Chapter Eleven
Rachel glanced at the man walking beside her. With his gaze fixed on the distance, he took long, slow steps as if he were in no hurry to return to Stillwater. She noted the set of his jaw and the hard, unforgiving glint in his eyes and knew he wrestled with thoughts he wouldn't be sharing with her. He hadn’t spoken since they'd left the meadow and, in truth, she’d been grateful for the silence.
She had enough wild thoughts and raging notions flying through her own brain to keep her busy. How had this happened? How had she allowed herself to care for him again?
Or had it simply been a matter of igniting again the spark that she’d felt so long ago?
Dappled shadows stretched across the road, and the pine trees lining the long track whispered to each other in the wind. She shivered slightly and promised herself that whatever happened, this time when Jackson left her, she wouldn’t be heartbroken. This time, she wouldn’t allow pain to color her life for years.
As they neared town again, the muted hum of activity reached out for them. The subtle intrusion slowed their pace, but they kept walking, their footsteps muffled by the soggy dirt.
Jackson stopped suddenly at the edge of town.
Rachel turned to face him."What is it?"
"You go on back to the store, Rachel," he said stiffly, his gaze raking over the busy Main Street just ahead of them. "I’ve got to find Sam — get back to work on the house. "
Anger flashed briefly inside her. "You’re lying."
He flicked her a quick look, then slid his gaze away again just as quickly.
"You’re not looking for Sam. You’re going to the saloon, aren’t you? To see Noble Lynch."
Jackson inhaled slowly, deeply, and his chest expanded until she thought the straining shirt buttons would pop off the fabric. He braced his legs in a wide stance and crossed his arms over his chest. The soft wind ruffled his night black hair and at the open V of his collar, Rachel noticed a slight dusting of the same colored hair against his tanned skin.
He looked so strong. So alive. She wanted to hold him. Feel his arms slide around her. Yet at the same time, she wanted to smack him and shout at him until he listened to her. But even as she watched him, Rachel felt him drift farther away from her.
"I thought you weren't going to do anything about him right now?"
"Who said anything about Lynch?"
"You don’t have to say it," she whispered. "I can see the truth in your eyes."
He looked away from her briefly, then turned back. "Go to the store, Rachel."
"Like a good little girl?"
He scowled at her, but she stood her g
round.
"Well, I'm not a little girl anymore, Jackson." She took a step closer and poked that broad chest with the tip of her index finger. "You can't just tell me to go and expect me to do it."
"This has nothing to do with you. You'd do well to stay out of it."
"Stay out of it?"
Someone in the street behind her shouted, and she lowered her voice at the reminder that they weren’t alone. "How can you say that to me?"
"It's for your own good."
"Blast you, Jackson. I'm only in this because you appeared out of nowhere, insinuating yourself back into my life." She had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes. "And now that you have, you expect me to just step aside, and say nothing about what you’re planning to do?"
He chuckled and shook his head. " What do you think it is I'm planning?"
She threw her arms wide, then let them fall to her sides again. "I don’t know. It could be anything." Glancing down pointedly at the pockets in his jeans, she said, "For all I know, you’re going to use one of those gold coins on Lynch to turn him into a snake."
His eyes widened, and he tipped his head to one side thoughtfully. A moment later, he said. "No. A waste of a coin. He already is a snake."
"Jackson, tell me what you’re going to do."
"This isn't your business, Rachel."
"You’re my business, Jackson."
He shook his head at her slowly, patiently. "No, Rachel. You are my business."
"So, you can stick your nose into my life, but I have to stay out of yours?"
"I don’t have a life," he said tightly. "That ended fifteen years ago."
"Because of Lynch."
"Yeah." His eyes locked with hers.
She read anger and pain in the green depths, but more than that, she saw helplessness, and that tore at her.
"Because of him." he said, his voice raw. "And now Lesley… and you expect me to ignore him?"
"If you don’t ignore him, if you do something to him, what happens to you?"
His features tightened as he shrugged wide, muscular shoulders. He didn’t answer, but the truth was obvious to her. He didn’t care about himself.
This wasn’t happening, she told herself in a futile attempt to ease the pain growing within her. She wasn’t really standing in town on a busy day, talking to a ghost about the safety of his soul.
Still Close to Heaven Page 13
