Meanwhile, Jake counted down the minutes until he could go home to Rebecca.
Rebecca, who owed him a few answers.
But Rebecca wasn't there. Which unsettled Jake even more, since his first thought upon entering the kitchen was he'd walked into the wrong house. Holding the note Rebecca had left that said she and Katie were out shopping for clothes and wouldn't be back for dinner, he stared at the beautiful claw-footed oak table and chairs that had replaced the battered Formica and chrome set he'd grown up with. The change certainly lent his outdated kitchen a startling air of elegance, but where had it come from?
The muted bong of a clock chiming in the dining room drew Jake deeper into the house. The air smelled soothingly of lemon oil. An impressive grandfather clock graced the far wall. A matching cherry breakfront dominated the room's inside wall, the delicate china inside it convincing Jake he'd definitely entered an alternate reality this time. The house might be his, but its contents belonged in some monster house in Glenhill.
Feeling more than a little disoriented, he crossed the living room—which he noted with some relief hadn't changed—and climbed the stairs. The two smaller bedrooms were now furnished with eye-catching ensembles of polished oak and cherry.
Add that to the rosewood set in his room and it was clear that Rebecca had tucked away more that ‘just a few pieces of old furniture.’ He was staring at what had to be a small fortune in antiques.
"Like it?"
He spun around, startled to realize he hadn't heard Rebecca come up behind him. She stood a good four feet away, obviously having learned her lesson with the raspberry pie. The reminder filled him with renewed remorse. He hid it with a brittle smile. “I thought you were shopping with Katie."
"I changed my mind. I couldn't stand the suspense. What do you think?"
Jake didn't know what to say. “It's ... incredible, Rebecca."
She smiled. “Thank you. I've put a lot of work into finding the right pieces."
"It shows.” Elegance aside, there wasn't a piece that seemed out of place. “How'd you get it moved so fast?"
"I paid three college students with a truck. I. didn't want to bother you."
More likely, she didn't trust him to keep his word. That stung. But he couldn't blame her, the way he'd been running hot and cold on her lately. Jake looked into the room that had been his as a child. “Is that a sleigh bed?"
Rebecca grinned. “I found it at an estate sale and refinished it. I just had to have it."
"You've really gotten into this antiquing stuff, haven't you?"
"Sure have. And now that I'm out of a job—"
"What do you mean, you're out of a job?” Had she lost it because of him?
"Temporarily. The library can't open again until the glass has been cleaned up and the windows replaced. Since finding food and shelter for the homeless are understandably the town's priority right now, the library's been closed until further notice. Once I get my FEMA and insurance claims filed, I intend to use my time off to go shopping for Barb Peca. She owns an antique store downtown. Sells consignment pieces for me now and again."
"You deal in antiques?"
Rebecca's smile actually turned smug. Jake thought she couldn't look sexier. Smiling and sassy, a warm and genuine self-confidence shining in her eyes. “Yep. And I've gotten pretty good at it, too, if I may say so myself. I spent years haunting the auctions and estate sales, looking, but not buying. No money. But then I learned the value of things, and I found the money. In the last three years I've picked up some beautiful bargains, refinished them, and re-sold the ones I didn't want to keep for myself through Barb."
"Why not open your own shop?"
Her smile fell as she met his eyes. “A single mother needs a regular paycheck."
Jake looked away, ashamed of himself all over again for abandoning her the way he had.
"Did you hate me?” he asked quietly, suddenly needing to know.
"The truth?"
He swallowed, knowing he wasn't going to like it. “Yeah."
"Then, yes, I hated your guts."
"I'm sorry, Rebecca. So sorry."
She reached out and took his hands, then looked him in the eye. “It wasn't a constant hatred, although in the beginning it was pretty strong and a big part of what kept me going. That and my anger and bitterness at being left alone—again. I missed you, Jake. Deeply. I was so hurt and confused and so very, very angry when you left, even more so when you refused to answer my letters. I ranted and raved and cried at the unfairness of it all more times than I care to remember. I lost count of the nights I cried myself to sleep, all the while cursing you to hell and back for not being with me when I needed you. For giving up on me and leaving me to face the hardships of parenthood alone."
"Rebecca..."
She squeezed his hands, hard. “Hear me out, Jake. This needs to be said. Because you also gave me Katie, and there is no way I could ever hate you for that. She's given me so much, I haven't got the words to describe all the differences she's made in my life. All the positive changes. I thought I was pretty grown up, after having spent most of my life making the decisions and taking care of the responsibilities my mother should have been taking care of, then taking care of myself when she left.
"But having Katie taught me that taking care of yourself, even at sixteen, is child's play compared to the responsibility of weighing every decision you make, every action you take, or don't take, in light of how it could affect the life of someone who is completely dependent on you for their survival. Not to mention the responsibility of teaching that person how to get along in what can be a very harsh and unforgiving world."
Looking deep into his eyes, she smiled so serenely it took Jake's breath away. “But having Katie also taught me I was worth loving unconditionally, and that, I think, has been the greatest gift of all."
Jake didn't know how to answer such unflinching honesty. So he just stood there, feeling raw and worthless, wishing he had the courage to tell her she'd had his unconditional love from the day they'd met.
"Deep down,” Rebecca said quietly, “I think I knew you had your reasons for not writing back. Ever since that day you rescued me from that group of bullies who cornered me behind the school, I've noticed you've been protective of me."
"Protective?” Jake snorted in self-disgust, using the opportunity to pull his hands free, to set her straight on what had been the most careless, thoughtless, selfish thing he'd ever done. “How protective is it to make love to a woman in this day and age without a condom? How protective is it to not even bother to ask her afterward if she might be pregnant?"
"You didn't know, Jake. I didn't tell you. I chose not to tell you. Don't be so hard on yourself."
He looked away, scrubbing a hand down his face. The guilt alone was enough to kill him. “Rebecca, when I think of you struggling to raise her alone—"
She caught one hand again. Firmly she clasped it between her own. “Exactly. If you had known about her, Jake, you wouldn't have ignored her, no matter what the circumstances. But I was young, idealistic. I wanted you to want me, to love me, before I told you about Katie.” She studied their joined hands, her slender white ones dwarfed by his darker, much larger one, scarred and calloused and dirty with oil and grease stains he'd never be able to fully get rid of. “But now I think Katie deserves a chance to know her father,” she said quietly. “And you deserve a chance to know her, no matter what my feelings are on the situation."
And what are your feelings? Jake wanted to ask, but was afraid to. Terrified to. Never in his life had he wanted or needed anything as much as he wanted Rebecca at that moment, and just the idea of her rejecting him when he was feeling so vulnerable was more than enough to keep him silent.
More than enough to fill him with self-loathing at the realization that he didn't even have the courage to open himself up to her after she'd been so brutally honest with him.
But he couldn't let her know how he felt. Even if he had the wor
ds, if he could somehow get them out. Telling Rebecca how he felt about her—and Katie—would trap him in Warner forever.
He couldn't deal with that. Not now. Not ever. Not with a bent-on-revenge sheriff who was convinced Jake had tried to kill him breathing down his neck, waiting for him to slip up so he could send Jake back to hell. Not with Avery Dillenger, the wealthiest and most powerful man in town, going so far as to try to kill a cop and frame Jake for it to get him out of town. Everybody knew they went for the death penalty on cop killers, and if they didn't, once you were inside, they'd make you wish they had.
Jake had been framed by money and power in a small town eight years ago. He might have grown up in Warner, but in the end it wouldn't make any difference. He was as much a stranger to Warner now as he'd been to that cesspool of political corruption in Wyoming. While the stench of corruption didn't hover over Warner the way it had in that courtroom in Wyoming, Warner hadn't remained untouched or unchanged in the twelve years he'd been gone. There was something fishy going on around here, something that had to do with Avery Dillenger, himself, and now Sheriff Sutter.
"Where's Katie?” Jake asked abruptly, suddenly needing to know. He hadn't realized how important it had become to him to have an idea of where she was at all times. But now that he was being targeted by Dillenger...
Rebecca released his hand, clearly trying to hide her disappointment. Jake realized she'd probably expected some kind of response to her emotional honesty, and felt as if he'd let her down all over again. Grimly, he wondered if he was destined to disappoint her no matter what he did.
"Over at Aunt Martha's,” she said quietly. “She wanted to stop in and say hello."
Jake stuffed his hands into his pockets and gave the furniture another quick look around. “So, is this everything you had in storage?"
"No. I just took a few of the pieces we could make use of right now."
He nodded toward the third bedroom, the one furnished in oak.
"I guess you and Katie will be moving out of my room."
Her response was noticeably neutral. “I thought you might be tired of sleeping on the couch."
He looked at her, and wondered how he'd gotten any sleep at all, knowing she was in the same house. “Couch is a lot better than a bed of steel."
She frowned, then looked away, as if she were either uncomfortable or embarrassed by his reference to prison. So much for that. Apparently she preferred to forget about that part of his life.
"I see,” she finally said. “Well, if that's it, I guess Katie and I will be going.” She turned toward the stairs. “We should be back by ten, so you'll have the place to yourself for a change."
A prospect Jake found depressing in light of his rapidly darkening mood, his chilling suspicions about Dillenger, and his renewed determination to leave town again ASAP. If Dillenger was out to get him, the last thing he needed was to spend any time alone. Alibis were hard to prove when you spent large chunks of time alone. “Feel like going out for dinner?"
Rebecca looked back at him in obvious surprise. “What about Katie?"
"I was hoping we could all go together. We could go clothes shopping afterward."
"You're sure?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, shopping isn't something many men consider a fun way to spend an evening."
True, but it was a lot more appealing than the idea of sitting around waiting to see what Dillenger had in store for him.
Not to mention wondering if he hadn't made targets of Rebecca and Katie as well by now. Inviting them to move in with him had not been a good idea. Especially with these latest developments.
That settled it. Until he figured out what Dillenger was up to, and if Rebecca or Katie figured into any of his twisted plans, Jake wasn't about to let either of them go anywhere alone at night.
With an effort, he dusted off his most disarming smile. “I'm sure we'll be able to work something out."
Chapter Twelve
The college age hostess, whom Jake had never seen before, recognized him. Her startled gasp of recognition echoed through Pizza Sam's as she hurriedly led their party of three to a dimly lit corner booth. When she proceeded to mangle the evening's specials, Jake began to wonder if he'd made yet another mistake in bringing Rebecca and Katie here. It didn't help that within minutes of their arrival, two of the four closest tables cleared out. Whether it was coincidence or not, Jake tried not to notice.
Then, as a teenage waitress more flustered than their hostess served their meal, Jake overheard a big, bosomy woman complain to her companion as they passed that it wasn't right that decent folks couldn't go out for a meal anymore without worrying about who they'd run into.
Jake looked at Rebecca, who simply smiled and thanked their fumbling waitress, then took over serving the pizza. Even so, she couldn't quite hide the soft flush that colored her cheeks. Anger rose in him, swift and sure, as Jake realized Rebecca had just been snubbed—because of him.
Suddenly he realized that Katie, who had talked non-stop in the car, hadn't said a word since they'd entered the restaurant. He looked over at her, noticed her subdued expression, and recalled thinking one of the younger girls who had left almost immediately after they had arrived had looked familiar.
Jenna. Katie's little friend from the pool.
Swearing silently, and wishing himself anywhere but in Warner, Jake forced himself to eat the two slices of pizza Rebecca had served him. Keeping his anger in check with an effort, he willed himself to choke down every last bite, even though it tasted like sawdust. It didn't take long. They left the restaurant half an hour after they'd arrived, without ordering dessert or even finishing their large family pizza.
No one spoke during the five-minute drive to Warner's outdoor mall. Jake had heard at Feeney's that the tornado had spared all but the drug store at the west end of the mall, veering off to trash a trailer park instead. In grim silence, they passed the entrance to what looked like a rubble-filled dump before pulling up to the mall.
Still, Jake had to smile. Warner's Main Street Mall couldn't compare to the one in Erie, seventy-some miles away, but it did offer the essentials. The three blocks of retail storefronts that faced each other had banded together to coordinate signage and seasonal promotions, and had come a long way since Jacob Donovan had last darkened any of its doors.
The late August evening was cool, the crisp scent of fall in the air. It reminded Jake of school nights, and brought to mind memories of chilly football games, concealed whiskey and hot cheerleaders.
After their experience in the restaurant, Jake was surprised by the number of people who stopped to talk to Rebecca, most to cluck over her loss of the library and apartment. Even though Jake knew it would be futile to do so, Rebecca made no effort to hide where she was staying. This inevitably resulted in an uneasy look cast his way, followed by a forced or nervous smile—and a hasty end to the conversation.
With each skittish departure, Jake's temper rose. He was the reason people stared at them. He was the reason they cut their conversations with Rebecca short. He was the reason some people weren't speaking to her at all, and probably never would again. Jake knew it as well as he'd known his inmate number. It burned him to watch people treat Rebecca warily because of him. It burned him deeply. He wanted her, no doubt about that, but not at the cost of her standing in the community.
His anger and frustration rose another notch when he noticed the salesclerks steering a wide berth around him—and consequently Rebecca and Katie. Shoving his hands into his front pockets outside the third store, he bluntly told Rebecca it would be better for all of them if he waited for them on the sidewalk from now on.
She gave him a sharp look, then offered a cool, “You're right. It would."
She took Katie's hand and left him standing there, stunned by her agreement. In the wake of her departure he felt even more frustrated and alienated. He hadn't realized until that very moment how much he'd hoped the new, spunky Rebecca would defend
his right to shop at the mall like any other law-abiding citizen in Warner.
But she didn't.
Jake stewed. So lost was he in his self-absorption that he barely noticed the giggling approach of two teenage girls. Shoving a small white paper shopping bag toward him, they blurted out a request for his autograph. As he stared at them in disbelief, Rebecca emerged from the store with her arms full of packages.
"Jake? Is something wrong?"
The girls froze as if afraid to move. As if suddenly realizing they were face-to-face with a convicted woman-killer. Jake didn't know what to do next.
"The girls were asking for my autograph,” he managed quietly.
"We just thought..."
"You being a hero and all..."
"Never mind,” they chorused, and bolted.
Jake watched them go, feeling very bewildered. A hero? Him?
Rebecca shifted, the packages in her arms rustling. To hide his sense of imbalance, Jake reached out to take the packages from her. “I'll run these out to the car."
She gave them up, but searched his face with such thoughtful intensity he wanted to throw down the packages and run. “Are you all right, Jake?"
The woman saw too much. Knew too much. She always had. “I'm fine."
He could tell she didn't believe him, but she only nodded thoughtfully. “We'll be in the toy store,” she said, then went back inside the dress shop to retrieve Katie.
Feeling even more unsettled than before, Jake loaded Rebecca's packages into the trunk of her Focus, then seriously considered giving her the keys and walking home. She'd be safe enough from Dillenger here, he thought, scanning the parking lot. Both the mall and parking lot were well lit and crowded enough. God knew he hadn't had a moment's peace since they'd arrived. Rebecca seemed to know everyone in town, even if they didn't stop to speak.
Jake's Return Page 13
