Coming Home

by Shirlee Busbee

  She and Jeb hadn't been secretive, but because of his job he was gone most days and some nights and the rest of the time, they were either alone together at the house or out of town. It was winter, a quiet time in the valley and most people weren't out and about, everyone tending to stay home near the fire, and the people most likely to tumble to the brewing romance had been busy with their own lives. Her folks had come to inspect the new house and to visit a couple of times, but each time they'd come, Jeb had been conveniently away. She made a face. Convenient, hell—she'd made certain he and the dogs were gone when they came. Ross and Samantha had both returned to their respective homes in Santa Rosa and Novato so she didn't have to worry about them, and Sloan, Shelly, Nick, Acey, and Roman had been taken up with various winter ranch projects. Roxanne had talked to all of them from time to time or bumped into them in town by herself, but so far no one had made an inopportune visit. It was almost like the gods were watching over them, keeping them cocooned and protected in their own little world. It was a miracle that no one had seen them when they had driven to Ukiah after the door locks. Ukiah was a large town, but since it was also the county seat and the town where most people in Oak Valley did their major shopping it was a rare trip that you saw no one from the valley.

  She treasured this interlude, hugging the knowledge of their relationship to herself. She didn't want to share it with the world just yet—as much because she wanted no outside intrusion as the realization that she didn't quite know what to make of it.

  Jeb seemed satisfied with the way things were and Roxanne, for the first time in her life, was so uncertain that she just drifted, unwilling to do anything to change their relationship. They were not exactly living together, although Jeb slept at her house most nights. There were a few times due to the pressures of work that he'd either stayed in Ukiah or had simply fallen exhausted into his own bed for a few snatched hours of sleep before returning to the field. Neither one of them appeared to want to formalize the living arrangements. Jeb kept only the minimum possessions, besides his dogs, at Roxanne's house: a couple changes of underwear, a jacket, a razor, two shirts, and a well-worn pair of jeans.

  Roxanne wasn't certain how she felt about the whole situation. Having him actually move in with her was a step she wasn't certain she wanted to take and yet she knew that she cared far more deeply, more passionately for him than she ever had for any man. She'd lived with a man before—two in fact, not counting Todd Spurling, but she easily dismissed him. What she felt for Jeb was so different, so much more powerful and intense than those affairs that it was like comparing tap water to a rich, full-bodied Cabernet Sauvignon. She smiled. No doubt about it—she was drunk on Jeb Delaney.

  The amazing thing was how much they both enjoyed each other's company, in and out of bed, and she found it hard to believe that El Jerko himself had turned into a nearly irresistible Prince Charming. During the past six weeks or so since New Year's Day, she'd seen many sides of Jeb Delaney and with each one, she slipped a little further under his spell. He was dedicated to his job—they'd spent hours discussing it, the pros and cons of recent court decisions, the death penalty, the politics, and the day-to-day boring drudgery of just being a cop. A lopsided smile on his tired face, he'd said one night after a particularly brutal day, “Trust me, Princess, glamorous it ain't. But I can't imagine myself doing anything else, or doing it”—he'd shot her a long look—“any where else. The valley's my home. My roots are here. My family's here. I've got no plans of moving on.”

  She'd felt that he'd been trying to tell her something, something, she thought ruefully, she didn't need telling. It was clear that Sergeant Jeb Delaney had no plans of making use of any of those advanced criminology classes he'd taken to push himself up the advancement ladder. He was an ambitious man, but, and it was a big but, he had no ambition to become a big hotshot in law enforcement somewhere else. His heart was here in Oak Valley and he wasn't leaving—he'd used those classes and his years of knowledge for the betterment of his county. He'd even fought old Bob Craddock, the current sheriff, to keep from moving from the valley once he'd become a detective. Technically he was supposed to live in Willits or Ukiah. The sheriff grumbled but Craddock left it alone—Jeb was too well connected politically—retired judge for a father; an uncle on the Board of Supervisors, and a sister in the DA's office—had made Craddock think better of fighting about it. But Craddock's main reason for letting it go had been because Jeb was too valuable to the department to lose over a little thing like his choice of residency. And Jeb had been adamant: he wasn't moving from the valley. Neither was Roxanne, although sometimes she suspected that Jeb didn't really believe it. He was careful about it, but it was apparent sometimes that he thought her return to the valley and the building of the house might just be a rich celebrity's whim. She didn't try to disillusion him. She knew she was home to stay and in time he'd come to realize that fact himself.

  Another astonishing facet of their relationship was that they seldom seriously argued. Oh, they had some heated discussions, but when the debate was over, most times with neither one of them changing the other's mind, there were no hard feelings. She liked that about him. She liked a lot about him.

  Roxanne didn't examine her own feelings too deeply, but she knew that what was happening between the two of them was like nothing she'd ever experienced in her life. The depth of Jeb's feelings for her, she couldn't guess. Sure, she knew he cared for her—the Valentine's Day sign had been a dead giveaway that he felt something for her besides pure lust. The tenderness with which he made love to her, the dozens of thoughtful acts—bringing dinner home when he was running late, picking up a magazine he knew she liked, or surprising her with a huge bouquet of flowers all showed his feelings. And yet, they were both wary, as if they were balancing on a tightrope, neither one wanting to be the one to push them over the edge.

  Roxanne's problem was that she didn't think she wanted to continue on the tightrope, wonderful and exciting though it was. On the other hand, she didn't think she was ready for the next step. Once that step would have been to simply formalize their living together, but this time, once or twice to her bewildered shock, she had caught herself thinking of what it would be like to be married to Jeb Delaney.

  That she even considered the idea of marriage indicated that she was well and truly trapped. She was still fighting the knowledge that she was wildly, passionately, deeply in love with Jeb Delaney of all people. The thought was at once wonderful, terrifying, exciting, and appalling. Marriage had never been on her agenda, well, maybe, when she grew up. She sighed. Problem was she'd never seemed to grow up, she'd floated through life, gaily tripping along figuring that someday.…

  Standing in front of the French doors in the great room, midmorning on a gray Monday, she sipped a mug of coffee and stared at the valley below. Fog obscured large parts of the valley floor, but occasionally she could see several fields that were beginning to show that almost blinding green of new growth. Above the valley, in the foothills, here and there the pink and gray buds of the oak trees were beginning to swell and at this time of year the manzanita bushes had boughs of tiny white flowers standing out above the stiff green leaves. She was restless, but she couldn't put her finger on the reason. There were tons of things that needed doing—she and Jeb had gone shopping in Santa Rosa over the weekend and she'd bought a gazillion items for the house—and they all needed putting away. Except for a few personal things and closets full of clothes, she'd simply locked her apartment, put it in the hands of an agent, and walked away. While glamorous and expensive, her apartment in New York had only been a place to entertain, eat, and sleep to her—she'd enjoyed living there, but those rooms, that space held no special meaning for her. She'd had an interior decorator furnish it and the elegant decor and furnishings were just part and parcel of being Roxanne. None of it mattered. But this house …

  This house was home. Not just a place to sleep and eat. It was important to her and she wanted it to reflect who s
he was and what she liked. And if the choices she made sent an interior decorator yelping into the night … big deal. It was her house. She bit her lip. And maybe, she thought uneasily, Jeb's. He'd certainly had a hand in picking out bathroom accessories, kitchen stuff, and even some of the furniture. She glanced into her empty dining room. They'd chosen a dining suite this weekend at Ethan Allen's that would be delivered on Friday. For reasons that escaped them, both had fallen in love with an exotic black and gold lacquer Chinese set with scarlet satin seats. Jeb had winked at her and murmured, “Must have been all that Chinese food to go.” She smiled at the memory, but it made her anxious. They'd been almost like a married couple. …

  They were a couple, yet they weren't and she supposed that was what was bothering her; she felt she was in some kind of limbo—an exciting and delightful limbo, but limbo none the less. She bit her lip again. That was the problem; she thought she might want out of limbo and yet she was frightened of taking the next step. What if she was wrong? What if Jeb was simply a nice, charming guy who thought she was a great lay? It wouldn't be the first time a woman had misread the situation … but it would be for me, she thought unhappily—she'd never fully risked her heart before. Of course, I could flat out ask him, she reminded herself. Just force the issue. Demand to know where this was all going. She smiled bleakly. Demand to know his intentions.

  The ringing of the phone interrupted her thoughts. Picking it up, she was pleased to hear Shelly's voice. They talked for a few minutes, then Shelly said, “I'm up at Nick's and since we haven't seen each other in a while, thought I'd stop by before I head back to the house. Is that OK with you?”

  “Sure. Great. Listen, why don't I fix us something to eat? I'm bound to have something in the refrigerator.”

  “Sounds good. I'll be over in about an hour. Expect me when you see me.”

  In the kitchen Roxanne threw together a green salad, scrubbed two red potatoes, seasoned some chicken breasts with wine and garlic, added the potatoes, and popped them in the oven. No dessert, she told herself virtuously. She might not be modeling full-time anymore, but there was no reason to throw away a lifetime of watching what she ate. As she moved around the kitchen, Boss and Dawg were constantly underfoot, hoping for a handout, and scolding them, she put them in the mudroom with their favorite blankets and water … and a pair of beefy neck bones she just happened to have in the refrigerator. Shutting the door behind her, she realized another benefit of locking the dogs away; she wouldn't have to explain to Shelly what she was doing with Jeb's dogs.

  The kitchen was cozy and warm on this dreary day; cheerful, ruffled curtains in a bright green and gold country print hung at the windows that faced the front and the long banks of maple cabinets gleamed pale amber. Roxanne hummed to herself as she set the table and put out the new tan and orange place mats, using the matching napkins on opposite mats. She and Jeb had purchased the set this weekend at Macy's in the Coddingtown Mall in Santa Rosa. The mats and napkins looked nice against the dark green painted wood of the table just as she had known they would. Opening a cupboard, she took out plates and mugs and put them on the table. She'd ordered them from the Wildlife Federation catalog and had been thrilled with them. The background was almond with each piece of the set bearing one of four different animals—bear, fox, moose, and wolf done in soft shades of brown, russet, and gold. She thought they looked charming.

  The crunch of tires on the driveway about forty minutes later let her know that Shelly had arrived. Meeting her at the door, Roxanne smiled. “Welcome to Roxy's Roost,” she said almost shyly.

  Shelly laughed and hugged her. “I saw the great sign. Wherever did you get it? It must have cost you a fortune—burl wood is hard to come by.”

  Roxy sidestepped the question. “Thank you. I'm very pleased with it.”

  Shelly stepped into the great room and stood there gaping at the wonderful space, the soaring handsome open-beam ceiling overhead, the French doors with their commanding views, and the birch floors. “Omigod! Wait until Sloan sees this. It's gorgeous!” She glanced back at Roxanne. “Did you know he's building us another house?”

  “No.” Roxanne's face lit up. “Expansion room for a growing family, I hope?”

  Shelly's smile faltered. “Not yet—we're still ‘practicing’ to get pregnant,” she said brightly. Turning away, she added, “Sloan says that the cabin was built with a single guy in mind and while we've added on my studio and another bathroom, he says if we keep making it bigger, it's just going to end up being a hodge-podge of cobbled together rooms. Better we start from scratch with a new house entirely.”

  “But what about the cabin? You're not going to just abandon it, are you?”

  Shelly shook her head, her shoulder-length tawny hair flying. “Oh, no, nothing like that. We figure we'll either use it as a guest cabin, or more likely Sloan will hire someone to help with the horses and they can live there. It won't remain empty, believe me. Now show me around this fabulous place, but I warn you, I'm going to steal all sorts of ideas.”

  They spent several minutes wandering from room to room, Shelly eagerly asking questions and admiring and cooing over the view from the various windows that faced the east and the barbaric splendor of Roxanne's bedroom. To Roxanne's relief, when Shelly peeked into the bathroom, there was no obvious sign that she shared the room. It wasn't, she scolded herself, that she was trying to hide the relationship with Jeb, she just wasn't ready to announce it. Back on that damned tightrope, she thought grimly.

  She'd forgotten about the dogs and pushing open the door to the mudroom a few minutes later to show it to Shelly, she was greeted by Dawg who rained slobbery kisses on her hand and Boss who sent her a reproachful look as he brushed past her. One minute she was confidently balancing on her tightrope and then the next she had stepped off into space.

  “Oh, you got yourself some dogs,” Shelly exclaimed, immediately dropping to her knees and promptly having her face washed by Dawg. “You darling.” Shelly laughed, pushing Dawg away. “I think you're adorable but I have a rule about kissing on the first date.” She ruffled Dawg's ears and stared down into her wrinkled face. Rising to her feet, Shelly stared from one dog to the other; Dawg wiggling slavishly at her feet and Boss sprawled like a sultan on a satin couch in front of the cabinets near the sink. As if aware of Shelly's interest, Boss yawned hugely, showing how indifferent he was to Dawg's unseemly display of affection.

  “Where did you get these guys?” Shelly asked, a little frown on her forehead. “I swear I know them.” She blinked. “Why, they're Dawg and Boss, Jeb's dogs.”

  Roxanne remained frozen in the doorway. Numbly she thought, Oh, God, it's out of the bag now …

  Shelly smiled uncertainly at her. “What are you doing with Jeb's dogs? Did he lend them to you because of all the break-ins?”

  Roxanne would have loved to grab the excuse, but she knew it would only postpone the inevitable.

  Shutting the mudroom door, Roxanne muttered, “Uh, no, not exactly.” Her cheeks were flushed and she looked much like a Christian facing the lions.

  While her scrambled brains hunted for a way out, Shelly stared at her, dawning excitement in her green eyes. Shelly was no dummy and Roxanne could almost see her working out the explanation.

  “So this is why Jeb seemed to have disappeared lately,” Shelly said thoughtfully. “Mingo was complaining about it just the other day. Said his brother seemed to have vanished from the vicinity.” A big grin broke across her face. “Oh, wow! You and Jeb. I thought he might have a new lady friend, but I never suspected that the woman would be you.” She shook her head. “You and Jeb—that's a pairing I never considered—and believe me I've paired you with just about every single guy in the valley.” She hugged Roxanne's limp form. “This is just great! I always knew that sooner or later my favorite cousin would find the right woman. Those two wives of his were idiots—they didn't deserve him anyway. And as for all those other women—don't worry about any of them, he was just marking tim
e.” She hugged Roxanne again. “Now tell me all—every lurid detail.”

  Roxanne stared dazedly at Shelly's smiling face. How much to tell? Just as important, how was Jeb going to react when he found out that their affair was no longer secret? And where to begin? Oh, God! She wasn't ready for this. Or was she? Maybe she'd subconsciously planned for Shelly to find the dogs and leap to the right conclusion. It made Roxanne uncomfortable to think that she could be that sneaky and underhanded—even if she hadn't been aware of it.

  “Um, well, ah, I guess you could say we started, urn, thinking differently about each other after your party,” she managed, still trying to avoid the moment of truth. The timer on the oven went off and swinging in that direction with relief, she babbled, “Our lunch is ready. Let me get that served first.”

  If she thought she was going to deflect Shelly she sadly underestimated her opponent. Shelly didn't press while Roxanne busied herself putting out the green salad and ranch dressing and then serving the baked chicken breasts and red potatoes. Shelly even managed to hold her tongue when Roxanne fussed over selecting something for them to drink, finally settling on tall glasses of milk, when Shelly passed on white wine.

  “Practicing to get pregnant, remember?” Shelly said quietly.

  “Oh, right. Sorry.”

  When Roxanne finally sat down at the table, Shelly picked up her fork and said, “OK. I've been a wonderful guest and sister-in-law, I haven't pushed, but you start talking right now or I'll just have to go back to Sloan with all sorts of wild suspicions and guesses.” She grinned. “You might as well tell me—I'm going to keep asking until you do. And once I tell Sloan …” She giggled. “Well, you know your big brother.”

  Roxanne stared at her, wondering when Shelly had become so practiced in the arts of the Inquisition.

  “So, give,” Shelly prodded when Roxanne continued to stare at her like a bird paralyzed by a snake. While she waited, Shelly took a bite of her chicken, closed her eyes, and gave a blissful moan. “Hmm, this is good—I didn't realize how hungry I was.” She swallowed the chicken. “So,” she said, deciding to give Roxanne a shove, “are you and Jeb living together or what?”