He felt something brush the back of his calves, and he whipped himself around.
Billy!
He grabbed the lifeless boy hard against his chest and kicked furiously for the surface, swimming with one hand and holding Billy tight against him with the other. He broke through the surface, gasping for air. He quickly rolled Billy to his back and his face to the sky. The boy's eyes were closed, his mouth slack, his skin a deathly white. Pond water dribbled from his mouth.
Swallowing back the fear that rose, Jack wrapped an arm around the boy and swam for the pier, towing the boy along with him.
"Don't you dare die on me, Billy," he threatened, his voice raw. "Don't you dare die."
Jack sat beside the hospital bed, his shoulders hunched forward, his elbows on his thighs, his hands dangling between his knees. His gaze was fixed on the little boy who lay on the bed, a monitor bleeping a record of his vital signs while he slept.
Alayna wondered what was keeping Jack upright. He had to be exhausted after sitting beside the bed all through the night. "Jack?" she called softly.
When he didn't respond, she tiptoed across the room and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Jack?"
He twisted around at her touch, brought her into focus and slowly rose. "Did you talk to the doctor?"
The sight of his ravaged face nearly brought Alayna to her knees. She pressed her fingers to her lips to still their trembling. "Y-yes. H-he's going to be all right," she said. "The scan showed no sign of brain damage."
Jack dropped his chin to his chest and heaved a breath of relief. "Thank God," he murmured.
"Jack," Alayna said, reaching out to touch his arm, "why don't you go home and get some rest. I'll stay with Billy."
Jack spun and sat back down, resuming his watch. "No. I'll stay."
"But, Jack—"
"No," he repeated more firmly. "I need to be here when he wakes up."
Alayna wanted to argue with him, insist that he go home and get some sleep, but she knew that she'd just be wasting her breath. Jack wasn't leaving Billy's side until the boy woke up and assured Jack himself that he was going to be all right. Jack blamed himself for the accident and nothing anyone could say or do would convince him otherwise.
Wanting to comfort him, to ease his guilt, she placed a hand on his shoulder. She felt the tension in him, felt the shudder that passed through him before he lifted his hand and covered hers with his own. The strength of his grip, the desperation in it, brought tears to her eyes.
"If anything had happened to him… If he had… I—"
But Alayna couldn't allow him to say the words she knew he was going to say. She leaned over, and wrapped her arms around him from the back, pressing her cheek against his. "It wasn't your fault, Jack."
"I shouldn't have let him go near the water."
"But you didn't know that Billy couldn't swim."
"Still…"
Frustrated by his insistence on shouldering the burden of guilt alone, Alayna withdrew her arms from around him, and knelt on the floor at his side. Taking his hand in hers, she squeezed, forcing his gaze to hers. "This is about more than Billy isn't it, Jack?"
Sucking in a raw breath, he tore his gaze away from hers.
She squeezed tighter. "It is, isn't it, Jack? This is about your son."
He bolted to his feet, tearing his hand from her grasp. He stared down at her, his chest heaving. "Don't try digging around in my head, Doc. I told you before, you might not like what you find there."
Alayna rose, too. "Jack," she said softly, reaching for him.
He took a step back and away from her, lifting his hands high to avoid her touch. Then he turned and stalked to the window. Alayna stared at his stiff back, her heart breaking. She wanted so badly to help him, to comfort him. She dropped her chin to her chest. But how could she help him when he refused to talk to her, refused her offer of comfort?
"It was my week to have him."
At the sound of his voice, Alayna slowly lifted her head, afraid to move for fear that he would stop talking.
"He had just turned four and he and his mother were going out of town. I was supposed to drop him off at her house on Friday afternoon. On the way there, I got a page from my office. We were nearby, so I decided to just whip by the office and see what the problem was. Josh loved going to my office."
She could see Jack's reflection on the glass, and saw the soft smile that the memory of his son drew.
"He liked to sit at my drafting board and draw pictures. And he liked to build forts from the brick samples we kept on hand." He drew in a deep breath, and firmed his lips, leaning to brace his hands against the window-sill. "I had my secretary call Susie and tell her that I was going to be late. That really peeved Susie off. Within minutes she was storming into my office, screaming at me and telling me what a lousy father I was, what an even lousier husband I had been, and that this was a perfect example of how she couldn't rely on me for anything." He paused, his fingers tightening on the sill. "Josh started crying. He hated it when we fought. But his tears seemed to anger Susie even more. She grabbed him and tore out of my office." He pushed from the ledge and stood tall, folding his arms across his chest, his gaze narrowed on the glass. "That was the last time I saw my son alive. They were both killed in an accident less than an hour later."
"It wasn't your fault, Jack."
He grunted, but kept his gaze on the window. "Yeah, I know. At least I do here," he said, stabbing a finger viciously against his temple. "But my heart," he said his voice softening as he dropped his hand to massage at his chest, "tells me different. If I'd taken Josh to his mother's instead of stopping by the office, as I was supposed to, then maybe things would've turned out differently. Maybe they wouldn't have been on that stretch of road when the 18-wheeler lost control and hit them."
With all her education, with all her experience in dealing with people with emotional and psychological problems, people who had experienced grief as deeply as Jack had, Alayna should have been able to think of something to say to him. Something that would take away his guilt, or, at the very least, ease it.
But she could think of nothing. Nothing.
And she knew the reason why. She loved Jack. She didn't know when her feelings for him had deepened to that level, but they had. And because she loved him, she'd lost her objectivity, her ability to offer him anything other than her comfort.
And he didn't seem to want even that from her.
She moved to stand behind him and lifted her hand, wanting to touch him, to reassure him, to give him the solace of her heart. But he must have sensed her intent because he stiffened and shifted away.
"Go home, Alayna," he said, his gaze fixed on the window. "Molly needs you. And Meggie needs you. I'll stay with Billy. I give you my word that I'll keep him safe this time."
Alayna felt the tears rise. They burned her throat, stung her eyes. Slowly she turned away. At the door, she paused and looked back. I love you, Jack, she wanted to say. We all do.
"Jack?"
Jack jerked up his head, instantly awake. Billy lay in the bed opposite him, his eyes open and filled with fear. The monitor that had bleeped during the night was silent. Jack wondered when the nurse had turned it off, and felt guilty that he'd fallen asleep during his watch.
Jack rose quickly, and braced his hands on the side of the bed. "It's okay, champ," he said, his voice thick with emotion. When he saw the boy's lips tremble, he lifted a hand and combed the hair from the child's forehead. "You're going to be just fine. I promise."
Billy stared up at him, his eyes filled with tears. "Are y-you mad at me?"
His heart nearly breaking, Jack eased up on the bed beside Billy. Wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulders, he drew him to his side. "No, I'm not mad at you, son."
"But I lied. I told you I could swim and I couldn't."
Jack laughed weakly, relieved to see that Billy was all right, and that the kid was more concerned about the lie he'd told than he was about his close brush
with death. "You sank like a rock."
Billy inched closer, pressing himself against Jack's side. "I know. And it was spooky. I kept trying to find my way back to the top, but it was dark. I guess I got lost."
Jack hugged the boy tighter against him. "Yeah, I guess you did. But you're going to be all right now."
The door opened with a soft whoosh and Billy and Jack both looked up. Alayna's head appeared in the doorway. Her gaze met Jack's and locked, then she forced her gaze on to Billy's. She smiled, her eyes filled with a mixture of tenderness and relief as she looked at him. "You're awake."
He rubbed a hand over his head, mussing his hair, embarrassed. "Yeah."
She opened the door wider. "I brought someone to see you."
She stepped to the side, revealing a very frightened Molly who stood in the opening holding her Teddy.
"It's okay, Molly," Billy said, with a wry grin. "I ain't dead or nothin'."
Molly tucked the bear under her arm and ran across the room. At the side of the bed, she stopped and held up her bear. "You can keep Teddy so you won't be afraid."
Billy scowled, his face turning red. "I ain't scared." When he saw Molly's disappointment, he reached for the bear. "I'll keep him, though. Just in case."
Molly beamed a smile, then climbed up on the bed and parked herself beside Billy. "I'm not scared, neither," she said, leaning close to whisper in Billy's ear. "Not anymore."
Jack wasn't sure which it was—the gift of the bear, or Molly's admission that she wasn't afraid any more—but he suddenly felt a lump in his throat the size of a watermelon. He stole a glance at Alayna and saw that she was standing, staring at her makeshift family, her fingers pressed against her lips, tears glistening in her eyes. Obviously the little scene between Billy and Molly had moved her as much as it had Jack.
But Jack didn't belong in this scene. He wasn't a part of this family. He didn't want to be a part. He eased his arm from around Billy's shoulders and off the bed. "I guess I better head home. I've got work to do."
"Don't go, Jack!" Billy cried.
Jack set his jaw. "Alayna's here now. She'll stay with you." He turned quickly away, and dragged his cap from the bedside table. He jerked it on his head as he headed for the door. "Call if you need me," he said to Alayna as he passed by her.
Then he was gone.
Jack worked like a madman, completing one job only to race on to the next. He was a man with a mission … and his mission was to finish the remodeling job and get the hell off the Double-Cross Heart Ranch and as far down the road as he could get.
He never should have taken the job in the first place, he told himself as he laid tile on the newly remodeled bathroom floor. He should've just kept driving, chasing that white line, burning up miles while he tried to outrun his guilt, his grief.
He tore out the weathered boards that sealed off the fireplace, and cursed himself for being a fool.
He scraped chunks of dried caulk from around the windowpanes and prayed that he could finish the job before he lost his resolve.
He'd told himself that he wouldn't let them get to him—Alayna or her brood of kids—but somehow they'd managed to slip inside his heart when he wasn't looking.
He'd thought for sure he'd died in that car wreck with his son over six months before, or convinced, at least, that his heart had died. But he'd discovered that his heart was still beating. He could still feel pain. He still had the ability to care.
And he didn't want to care. He didn't want to hurt anymore.
And he didn't want to hurt anyone else.
At night, when he should've been sleeping, when the Pond House was dark and Alayna and the kids were safe in their beds, he'd slip out to the barn and work on the old harvest table. He'd give her that, he promised himself. He'd give Alayna the table that had seemed to mean so much to her.
But he couldn't give her any more than that.
He just didn't have it to give.
"He's leaving."
Mandy glanced from the baby she held to Alayna who was standing at the sink, her arms hugged around her waist, staring out the kitchen window. "Who? Jack?"
Alayna nodded.
Mandy shifted Meggie to her shoulder and crossed to the sink to stand beside Alayna. She looked out the window and saw Jack tossing old lumber onto the bed of his truck. "Looks to me like he's working," Mandy said dryly, "not packing."
Alayna let her arms drop and turned away, unable to bear the pain of looking at him any longer. "That's just it. He works from dawn till dusk, without ever taking a break. He doesn't even come to the house for dinner anymore."
Mandy followed Alayna to the table and sat down beside her. "Has he said anything about leaving?"
Alayna picked up a plastic toy of Meggie's and slowly turned it in her hands. "No. But he wants to. I can sense it."
"He's a grown man, Alayna. If he wanted to leave, he'd leave."
Alayna wagged her head. "No. He gave me his word when I hired him that he'd stay until the remodeling job was finished." She glanced toward the window again, and caught her lower lip between her teeth. "That's why he's working so hard. He wants to finish. Jack would never go back on his word."
Merideth sailed into the room, fluttering her hands above her head. "Somebody else has to entertain Billy for a while," she said wearily and sagged down onto a chair. "I'm pooped."
Alayna forced a smile and pushed to her feet. "I will," she said, but Mandy stopped her with a hand on her arm.
"No, you will not." She rose, shifting the sleeping baby to her shoulder. "I'll pop in a video for Billy and put the baby down for her nap, then I'm coming right back down here and we are going to have a talk." She turned to Merideth. "And you," she said, pointing a stern finger, "are going to make a batch of margaritas. I think we're going to need one. Maybe two," she added as she headed for the stairs. "And call Sam," she tossed over her shoulder. "We may need her input."
Jack opened the front door and slipped inside. He could hear voices coming from the kitchen, and assumed that all the women were still gathered in the kitchen. Kind of late for a gab session, he noted with a glance at the grandfather clock in the hall. It was after ten. Usually Alayna was in bed by this hour. With a shrug, he tightened his hand on the burlap sack he carried and headed for the stairs.
He had to hand it to them, though, he thought with a nod of approval. The McClouds stuck together. All three of Alayna's cousins had filled in for Alayna while Billy had been in the hospital. They'd taken Molly and Meggie home with them and shared the duties of caring for both girls during Alayna's absence from home. And after Billy's return from the hospital, they'd been on hand every day to help Alayna entertain him and to help her out in any way that they could. And when a boy with as much energy as Billy was confined to bed for a week … well, he required a lot of entertaining.
Jack reached the top of the stairs and turned for Billy's room, then stopped. He was leaving, but he couldn't leave without saying goodbye to all the kids.
He crossed to the first room, the nursery that he'd helped Alayna set up. He tiptoed across the room to the crib. Bending over, he laid a hand on Meggie's narrow back, feeling the rhythmic beat of her heart beneath his palm. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, filling his senses with the scent of baby powder and innocence, those sweet, sweet smells associated with an infant.
She shifted beneath his hand, and flopped her head over, turning her face to the opposite cheek. In the glow of the night-light, he stared at her profile. The bud of a nose. The puckered lips. The sweep of lashes against her cheek. The tiny shell of her ear. Leaning closer, he pressed a kiss to her cheek, then withdrew, placing a finger against the spot he'd kissed, as if to seal it.
"Goodbye, Meggie," he whispered. "Sweet dreams."
He dug a wooden doll from the sack and set it on the changing table, then left quickly and slipped into the next room. Molly was asleep on her side, her chin resting on the top of Teddy's head. He brushed a finger across the blond curls that f
eathered her cheek. Such a sweet face, he thought, staring at her. Such a brave little girl, he reflected, thinking of all the nights she'd stayed alone with no one but Teddy to keep her safe.
He remembered the night she'd sent Teddy to him, knowing what a sacrifice that had been for her. He remembered, too, the kiss she'd given him, the feel of her little body pressed against his legs when she'd wrapped her arms around his thighs and clung.
He leaned over and brushed a kiss on her cheek, then slowly withdrew, setting each feature to memory. "Be safe, Molly," he whispered. Reaching into the sack, he pulled out the high chair he'd made for Teddy and propped it on the floor beside the bed. He rubbed a finger beneath his nose as he stole one last look and told himself he wouldn't cry. He sniffed before he made a liar out of himself and turned for the hall.
In Billy's room, he paused and drew in a deep breath, knowing that this goodbye might well be the hardest. He crept to the bed, holding the sack in one hand and leaned over.
Billy popped up and they bumped heads.
"Jeez," Jack muttered, rubbing his sore forehead. "What have you got in there? Rocks?"
Billy stretched to turn on the bedside lamp, then flopped back against his pillow, grinning. "Nah. Just a lot of brains."
Jack chuckled and dropped down on the side of the bed, still rubbing his forehead. "Yeah, right." He cut a glance at Billy, frowning. "What are you doing awake at this hour?"
Billy shrugged. "I never sleep." At Jack's skeptical look, he added, "Well, not much." Seeing the sack, he crawled to Jack's side and plopped down on the edge of the bed beside him. "Whatcha got in there?" he asked, peering at the sack curiously.
Jack lifted the sack, then let it drop. "Just something I picked up in town."
"Something for me?" Billy asked, leaning farther over for a better look.
Jack caught him by the collar of his pajamas and hauled him back onto the bed before he fell to the floor. "Yeah, something for you."
"What is it?"
Jack handed him the sack. "See for yourself."
Billy opened the sack and stuck his head inside. "Oh, dude!" he whispered. "This is too cool." He pulled the sack from over his head and shoved a hand inside, fishing to the bottom of the sack. He withdrew the gift and held it up. "A tool belt," he said, staring at it in awe. "Is this really for me?" he asked, turning to look at Jack.
That McCloud Woman Page 13
