by Mae Nunn
Again, she didn’t look at him, but continued arranging her desk. She took a picture out of the bag and held it in her hands for a moment. “It was great to see my grandma.”
“I’m glad.”
She stood and walked into the kitchen area. He heard her turn on the water in the sink. She was probably filling the coffee machine.
At this point, Mac felt like a stalker, or a puppy dog, or some strange combination of both. But he followed her, anyway. He was desperate to be near her. He knew he needed to say or do something, but what?
Jacqueline’s back was to him and she didn’t turn around when he entered the room. She turned the water off and set the carafe on the counter, then stood, facing the sink. He could feel her muscles tense up when he approached her, though they weren’t touching.
“Jacqueline.”
Her knuckles, gripping the sink, turned white. Mac placed one of his hands over hers and whispered in her ear. “I’m sorry.”
The tension in her body seemed to ease a little. With his other hand, he stroked the back of her hair, following its silky curves. She turned ever so slightly and he saw that her lashes were wet.
“Oh, baby. Forgive me.” He touched her cheekbone with his thumb, caressing it gently, as if it might crumble under the weight of his finger.
Jacqueline let go of the sink and turned to face him. She raised a fist and pressed it against his chest, opening her hand to feel the beat of his heart. Her eyes looked deep and long into his, searching.
Mac cupped her face and kissed her softly. Eyes wide-open, beseeching her, he kissed her again. As she leaned into him, Mac reached out to receive her. She smelled like jasmine, felt soft and strong. The rhythm of her heart was as still as early morning. Her breath tasted like cool spring water. Mac held her close, taking her in with all of his senses, willing himself to believe she was real. And with every kiss he tried to give her everything there was of him, everything he had left to give.
* * *
“YOO-HOO!”
The office door banged opened. Mac recognized the voice of Mavis King, the King of Kilgore’s wife.
“I’ll go.”
Jacqueline smoothed her skirt with her palms and left Mac standing stunned in the kitchen. His sense of shock quickly turned to relief, because he was in no shape to meet anyone. In fact, he was close to dissolving into a puddle on the floor. He was seriously considering closing the office for the day when Jacqueline returned.
“She wants to see you,” she said softly, a smile playing on the corners of her mouth.
Mac made a face. “Why?”
“Said she has some papers for you. I offered to take them, but she wasn’t having it.”
Mac exhaled slowly. “The Queen of Kilgore,” he mumbled.
Jacqueline bit her lip. Then, straightening his collar, she gave him a little shove toward the door.
* * *
THE REST OF the day was easy, compared with the agony Mac had been through that morning. After Mavis left, they had only a few more customers come through. There was plenty of work to do, with late filings, and the usual stuff that occurred year-round. But the pressure of the past couple of months had been lifted by the passing of tax day. Now it was back to business as usual, a solid, steady pace Mac enjoyed.
At the end of the day, Mac offered to take Jacqueline out for dinner.
“I imagine you’re not in the mood to drive anywhere after being on the road so much. Is there anything that sounds good around here?”
“Actually, I’m in the mood for a steak.”
“No kidding!”
“No kidding. It’s a meat-and-potatoes kind of night.”
“Well, then, I need to take you to the Wild Horse Saloon.” Mac opened the door for her and then locked it behind them.
“I just need to go by and check on Nemesis. She’s kind of been boycotting me.”
“Who took care of her while you were gone? I would have, you know.”
Jacqueline raised her eyebrows and cocked her head on one side. “My neighbor.”
“Why didn’t you ask me?”
Her face darkened. “Why didn’t you offer?”
Mac decided to let the issue go after that. The peace between them was fragile at best. And the truth was, he probably should have offered. “How about I follow you there and we can take my truck? Then I can bring you home after.” He opened the door to the Prius and held it for her.
“Okay. See you at my house.” She climbed in, revealing a quick view of her killer legs, which made Mac ache.
After Nemesis was tended to, Mac drove Jacqueline to the Wild Horse Saloon, where he ate a few times a month with Joiner, Cullen and Hunt. It was the location of what they called “Meetings of the Brotherhood.” That was code for guy talk, steak and beer. Sometimes the wives joined, but they usually preferred a place such as Common Grounds coffee shop to nurture their sisterhood. Still, the group had been known to cut a rug on the dance floor, two-stepping or joining in line dances occasionally when there was a good local band.
Since tonight was a Tuesday, the place was relatively quiet. Mac and Jacqueline sat at a corner booth across from one another in a sparsely populated room. A candle in a red glass holder flickered on their table, which was covered in a red-and-white-checkered cloth. Carter Drain, a local guitarist, sat on a stool and picked quietly from his platform, a nice mix of country songs, as well as old tunes from James Taylor and the Eagles.
Over well-done rib eyes, Mac listened while Jacqueline told him about her trip to Grandma Violet’s—the long drive, the flowers, the gardening, the visits. He was genuinely happy she had reconnected with her family. It was something she seemed so badly to need.
Then he told her about his goodwill mission to watch baby Lily and how it ended in disaster. When he described his SOS call to Joiner, shirtless from the yard, Jacqueline laughed hard. The sound to Mac was like rain on a dry Texas desert.
“I have a dream,” she told him after the server had cleared their plates.
“That sounds Martin Luther King-ish.”
“It is, actually.” Jacqueline fingered the paper she’d torn off her straw. “My dream is to build a home for the displaced children who are flooding our border.”
“In Kilgore?” Mac’s eyes widened. “Or is this a KARIS thing?”
“It depends,” said Jacqueline. “There’s an opportunity to do the work through KARIS, probably not building a home, but helping with existing aid structures. That’s in El Paso.”
“I see.” Mac took a deep breath and exhaled.
“But I’m not opposed to opening my own place, here, if I have support.”
His ears perked up. “What kind of support?”
“The community’s.” Jacqueline stared at the tablecloth, then she met his gaze. “Yours.”
Mac reached across the table for her hand. “You know I want to support you in your dreams, Jacqueline, in any way I can. But helping immigrant children... It’s totally unfamiliar territory for me.”
“We’ll have to talk more about that. I’d like to show you my research and some initial plans.”
At that moment, the guitar player segued into Mac’s favorite Eagles’ song, “Desperado.”
“Do you want to dance?” he asked, squeezing her hand.
“Okay.”
There were just a few other couples swaying together. It had been slow, dreamy music all night. But this time, the guitarist adjusted the microphone and added some lyrics. Mac led Jacqueline to the edge of the dance floor.
Mac placed his left hand on Jacqueline’s waist and took her hand in his other one. He pulled her to him.
Jacqueline swayed to the music like a willow in the wind. She laid her head on his chest, and Mac’s heart nearly beat through his chest.
&
nbsp; Mac looked at Jacqueline’s head on his chest. The light of the candles caught the red-gold highlights in her hair just right. He kissed her head and rested his chin against her temple, hugging her to him more tightly.
Mac was paying more attention to the sound of Jacqueline’s breathing than the lyrics. Still, as the song came to a close, Mac registered the relevance of the admonition to let somebody love him, before it was too late.
* * *
HE WAS THANKFUL she didn’t pull away when it was over. They stood there together, in a moment of perfect stillness, until they were interrupted by one of the other couples leaving the dance floor.
“Hey, is that Mac? Mac Temple?”
He turned to see an old acquaintance, and a woman he didn’t recognize who was about their age. “Justin! Well, son of a gun, how are you? I haven’t seen you in ages.”
Justin Miller had been in his high school graduating class.
“This is my wife, Terry.”
Mac tipped his hat. “Nice to meet you, Terry.”
“This your wife? Or girlfriend?” Justin winked.
Mac stammered, caught off guard. “This is Jacqueline Aimes. We work together.”
The man tipped his hat. “Nice to meet you, Jacqueline. And good seeing you again, Mac.”
As the couple disappeared, Jacqueline’s hand slipped from Mac’s grasp.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“WE WORK TOGETHER?” Jacqueline unleashed a flaming ball of fury as soon as they were in Mac’s truck.
He took off his glasses and rubbed his face with his hands. “I’m sorry!”
Jacqueline faced him with burning eyes. “I’ve already heard that earlier today, and I’m not real clear on it. Just what exactly are you sorry for, Mac?”
“For everything.”
He sounded contrite, but she didn’t care. She was way past that point. “I don’t know what that means.”
“I was caught off guard. I didn’t know what to say to him—”
Jacqueline shook her head. “Really? You really are this lame?”
The neon lights of the sign that read Wild Horse Saloon blinked on and off, on and off, casting Mac’s face in an intermittent green-and-red glow.
“You know what, Mac? Just take me home.”
Mac put his glasses back on and started the truck. The drive across town to her little house seemed to take forever.
Not waiting for him to display his so-called chivalry, Jacqueline opened the door to the truck as soon as they pulled into the driveway. She got out, slamming it behind her. She was aware that her anger was a bit out of control, but again, she didn’t care. She was tired of keeping her hurt underneath the surface. As she fumbled with her key, she heard Mac’s truck door open. His boots resounded on the pavement.
“Jacqueline, can I please come in?”
She turned her key in the lock, then glared back at him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.” She strode inside, closing the door behind her.
She turned on some lights. Nemesis, who had the run of the house now, was nowhere to be found. She supposed her cat could not be expected, after such ill treatment of being left alone over the weekend, to condescend to greet her. Finally, when Jacqueline turned on the light in her bedroom, she found Nemesis curled up at the foot of the bed. She sat down to pat her on the head.
Next, Jacqueline changed into her pajamas. Black in color with white trim, they were soft and inviting. She replaced her boots with slippers and brushed out her hair. Her heart was still beating like the wings of a caged bird so she decided to make some chamomile tea to soothe herself. She needed something to help her get her mind off Mac. Maybe tonight would be a good night to start on all of the new Downton Abbey episodes she’d recorded.
When she passed by the window in her living room on the way to the kitchen, she noticed Mac’s truck was still there. That’s odd. Squinting, she couldn’t see the outline of him in the truck even though the drive was pretty well lit by a streetlamp. Had he gone for a walk? Well, what did she care, anyway? She entertained the flickering thought of having his truck towed.
Jacqueline headed for the kitchen and that was when she saw him. He sat on the stoop outside the door she’d entered—the door she had closed in his face. His shoulders slumped. Jacqueline noticed it was starting to rain. She opened the door and said, “Mac, go home.”
He turned to face her. “I’m not going till you talk to me.”
“You’re going to get wet sitting there.”
“I’m not sweet enough to melt.”
Jacqueline snorted. “That’s for sure.”
He adjusted his hat. “It’s okay. Go on with whatever you’re doing. I can wait.” Mac turned around.
She sighed. “Please leave. I’m tired of talking.”
“You could just listen, then.”
“I’m tired of your talk.”
He didn’t say anything more. Jacqueline took a deep breath and counted to ten. As mad as she was, she couldn’t leave him out in the rain. “Come in, then, and say whatever you have to say.”
Leaving the door open, she turned and walked into the kitchen to brew her tea. He followed and took a seat at her table. It felt so natural, this ritual of him in her kitchen while she brewed tea. But he acted more formal than usual, looking down, holding his hat in his hands. And she wasn’t planning on having him stay.
“Jacqueline, I meant it when I said I was sorry this morning. And again tonight. I truly am sorry for everything.”
The heat rose in her chest again. “What’s everything, Mac? Are you sorry we’re together? Sorry we’ve gotten this far?”
“No. God, no.”
“Then, what? What do you mean?” Her hand shook when she reached into the box for a tea bag.
“I guess I’m sorry for being a jerk.”
Hmm. This was a start. Maybe she wanted to hear what he had to say, after all.
“Jacqueline, when you walked into my office that first day, it was like...” He paused. “I don’t know. Like sunshine came and warmed a place in me that had been this perpetual winter.”
She arched an eyebrow. “I’m just warning you that my BS meter is turned up pretty high.”
“I don’t blame you. But it’s not BS. It’s true.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “I didn’t know what to do, and I still don’t. But it’s like I can’t do anything else but crave more of that sunlight—at the same time being sure night is going to fall.”
“Why? Why does night have to fall?”
“I guess that’s just been my experience.”
Hope. He was talking about Hope. “So your strategy is to stop it from happening by pushing me away?”
“No, it’s not a strategy. It’s like I want to slow things down before the inevitable happens.”
“That’s stupid.” She stirred her tea somewhat violently.
“I know. It sounds stupid coming out of my mouth.”
“So why do you do it? If you know it’s stupid?”
“Has there never been anything in your life that you did even though you knew it was stupid?”
Jacqueline thought for several moments. “I must admit that I wonder sometimes if it’s stupid to keep caring about you.”
“But you do it, anyway.”
“Yes. And I can’t help but care. I guess we can’t choose those things. But I can choose to get off the roller-coaster ride you’ve taken me on lately.”
Mac looked as if she’d kicked him in the face.
She added, “And there’s something else that’s related to this, but it’s starting to feel ironic.”
“What is it?”
“My whole life I’ve wandered from place to place, never putting down any roots. My parents used to be in control
of that, choosing to raise me in that lifestyle, but I can’t blame them anymore. I’m an adult and I make my own moves.”
“How’s that related to us?” Mac stared at her, blinking. His jaw was set in concentration.
“You...your family...being here. It’s made me question the wisdom of living a nomadic life. I don’t want to keep doing it if I’m making a mistake. That is to say, if a real home—a place for me to call my own in this world—exists, then I don’t want to be stupid and keep running away from it.”
“That’s what you were feeling when you told me you’re all in.” Mac spoke quietly. “When I got back from that trip.”
Bingo. Jacqueline nodded. She bit her bottom lip.
Mac stood from the table where he was sitting. Laying his hat on the table, he walked over to her. Keeping her distance, she leaned against the counter by the stove.
“Do you think we could work on this together?”
His voice was tender, but it often was.
“I don’t know. I’m tired of feeling weird—of getting hurt.”
“Oh, Jacqueline, I don’t want to hurt you.” He touched her face.
She stared into his eyes.
“You know what? You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
A tear slid down her cheek and Mac kissed along the trail it left. Jacqueline was afraid, but she wanted him. Wanted what she believed they could have. She kissed him back.
“You feel so real,” he whispered, smoothing back her hair. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”
Jacqueline hoped he knew what he was saying. She didn’t want to feel hurt and confused any longer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SITTING AT HIS desk at home in his study, Mac reviewed the papers one last time. He smiled to himself, thinking of how close he had come to having his secret revealed the other day when Mavis King stopped by the office. Thank goodness she was her usual cantankerous self, or Jacqueline might have seen what he was up to. He wanted it to be a surprise. And it would be, tonight. Deciding everything was in order, Mac set the papers back down on his desk, straightening them into a perfectly neat pile. Then he exited his study, closing the French doors behind him.
