Jake's Return

by Liana Laverentz

  Jake studied her across the table. Her soft blue robe covered her from neck to toe, but he'd long since decided it was the sexiest piece of clothing he'd seen on her. She leaned forward just then, inadvertently causing the V-neck to open a little and give him a welcome peek of smooth, tanned skin and ivory lace. He nearly groaned aloud.

  "You have the power to make your life anything you want it to be, Jake,” she said softly, her eyes deeply earnest. “All you have to do is try. All you have to do is open up a little."

  Jake swallowed, hard. Rebecca was asking him to trust her. Being himself wasn't nearly as easy as she made it out to be. Jake didn't like himself very much, but didn't know how to be anything but what he was.

  So he fell back on his usual defense, even though it didn't seem as solid as before, even in his own mind. “It's not just me I'm thinking of, Rebecca. It's you and Katie. I can't stand the idea of people looking down on either of you because of me."

  "Then why did you invite us to move in with you?"

  Jake ran a hand through his hair in frustration as her robe slipped again and the erotic images that consumed his nights spilled into his day. “All I could think about at the time was you had no home and I'd done nothing to help you over the past eight years,” he muttered.

  "So you did it out of guilt."

  His gaze returned to hers. “I owed it to you, Rebecca."

  She set her coffee down, but kept her fingers wrapped around the iridescent gold mug from Feeney's, her face unreadable. “Do you still want us to leave?"

  The question was like a spear to the chest. “I think it would best. I won't throw you out on the street, but I can't give you what you want, what you need. Either of you."

  Her fingers tightened around her mug. “And what would that be?"

  "You need stability and security, Rebecca. You need a place to call home.” Couldn't she see that? How he was looking out for her?

  "And what about you, Jake? What do you need?"

  You. Katie. “I need to move on."

  She looked into her coffee, then picked up the mug and took a long swallow, keeping her eyes—and thoughts—to herself. “It always comes back to that, doesn't it?"

  "You're not being realistic, Rebecca. What you're suggesting, what you're hoping will happen, is pure fantasy."

  Her head came up, her eyes sparking with blue fire. “What about Katie? Is she pure fantasy, too?"

  "Of course not. She's my child. A child I've only known about for eleven days. I can't support her—or you—not working at Feeney's."

  "Money doesn't matter, Jake."

  "And what about the kids who'll treat her like scum once they find out her dad is an ex-con? Hell, they're already treating her like a leper and school hasn't even started yet. Did you see how crushed she was when her little friend Jenna walked out of Pizza Sam's behind her parents?"

  "Did you notice Jenna looked equally crushed? It's her parents causing the rift between them, not the girls."

  "Maybe, but you know about peer pressure, Rebecca. You've been there. You know how much being different hurts. How can you justify putting that kind of load on a seven-year-old?"

  She looked away for a moment, then sighed heavily. Jake ached to be able to give her what she wanted, but he didn't have it in him to make another person happy. To try to be what Rebecca wanted him to be, to do what she wanted him to do, to fail and see the same sad disappointment in her eyes he'd seen in his mother's eyes, day after day...

  "So what do you suggest we do?” she asked quietly.

  He answered before he could change his mind. “Split up as soon as we can. Once you're settled again, I can sell the house and take it from there."

  She just looked at him.

  "How else am I going to get any money, Rebecca? I need a fresh start."

  "Where?"

  "Anywhere but here, damn it! Anywhere Avery Dillenger isn't trying to send me back to prison."

  "What?"

  Jake swore. “I didn't want to have to say anything about it, but your good buddy Sutter stopped by the station the other day. Seems someone sliced the sheriff's brake cables while it was in the bay at Feeney's getting the alternator replaced."

  Rebecca stared at him in disbelief. “He thinks it's you?"

  "Who else would it be?"

  "Oh, for Pete's sake. Just because you have a record doesn't mean you're guilty of every unsolved crime in the county."

  "Yeah, but that's the beauty of being an ex-con. Anything goes wrong, and everyone looks your way first."

  "It's not funny, Jake."

  "You think I don't know that? I had access, Rebecca. And, some would say, motive. Sheriff Sutter and his deputies have been dogging me since I hit town. Who's to say it hasn't pissed me off?"

  "This is exactly what I mean about sinking to the level of other people's expectations. You're better than that, and you know it."

  "A leopard can't change his spots, babe, and you know that."

  "That's Mickey talking, not you. Now what's this about Avery Dillenger trying to send you back to prison?"

  Mickey talking? Jake was startled to realize she was right. How many times had he heard the old man say the exact same thing? Apparently, all these years later, he was still buying into the old man's lies. Repeating them, now.

  It gave him something to think about.

  "Dillenger was at the station just before the tornado hit. I left him there alone when I ran to the library."

  "You think he cut Bob's brake cables?"

  Bob. Jake met her appalled gaze, head on. “See? Who's going to believe me?"

  "But ... but why would he want to get rid of you?"

  She seemed genuinely bewildered. “Beats the hell out of me. Unless it has something to do with you. You did say you dated."

  "Briefly, Jake. Very briefly. Hardly long enough to give him any ideas about having a relationship. Besides, that was over two years ago. I've dated other men since, and he hasn't tried to run any of them out of town."

  "Like Bob?"

  She stared at him for a moment, then rolled her eyes. “No, not Bob. Now would you mind keeping the conversation on Avery? What makes you think he cut the cables?"

  "My boot knife's missing. The one I carried before I left for the service. I found it in the basement last week and took it to Feeney's without thinking. Now it's gone. What do you want to bet it turns up again one day when I least expect it?"

  Rebecca frowned, her wheels clearly moving. “You know, Jake, Robert Sutter really is a decent man. I think you should go to him with this."

  "Are you nuts?” Just the thought of seeing the inside of another police station had Jake's insides churning. “You think he's going to believe me over Dillenger?"

  "I don't think Bob would automatically accept whatever story Avery chose to tell him. There's been friction between the two of them in the past, and—"

  "Now Dillenger's backing the city boy from Pittsburgh?"

  "Exactly. Avery and Bob don't see eye to eye on a lot of issues. So what have you got to lose?"

  "My freedom, for one.” You. Katie. Jake leaned forward, his mission clear. Rebecca tended to see everyone in the most positive light possible, even scum like Dillenger, and it was clear she liked this Sutter dude. “I don't mean to burst your bubble, Becca, but Sutter's got a dark side just like the rest of us. The man wants me out of here. He doesn't think his streets are safe as long as I'm in town, and with that knife missing, I think he might be right."

  Chapter Fourteen

  The homeless shelter soup kitchen was big, hot, busy and noisy. Jake took in the controlled chaos, amazed at the number of people in Warner still without the means to feed themselves. Much like the victims of those killer hurricanes down south, Warner had a long way to go to recover even the basics of food and shelter for its residents.

  Meanwhile the rest of the world had moved on to the next big headline.

  Jake hadn't said a word since their arrival fifteen minutes ago, but i
f he'd given in to his gut, he'd have left fourteen and a half minutes ago. The place, which was filling up fast now that it was after four-thirty, reminded him too much of prison. The pitch of voices was higher because of the women and children, and the undercurrent of always being on the edge of violence was missing, but air of hopelessness and despair was the same, as was the smell of sweat and urine—and in this case full diapers.

  But it was the feel of the place that had his stomach churning.

  Institutional.

  Maybe you didn't spend six years working in the prison kitchen for nothing, Donovan.

  Jake blinked, blindsided by the thought. Where the hell had that come from?

  Rattled, he looked over at Rebecca and the volunteer coordinator, talking beside him. He'd called Rebecca when he'd gotten to Feeney's that morning, to ask her if she'd wait for him before going to the soup kitchen. She'd been thrilled with him until he'd told her he just wanted to check out the place before she signed on.

  But in the end, much to his surprise, she'd waited.

  She'd insisted on finding the volunteer coordinator right away. Turned out Rebecca knew the woman but hadn't seen her in a while. They'd done some catching up, then Becca had started asking questions about the shelter and before they knew it, they were getting the full tour.

  "So where do you need us?” Jake asked abruptly, startling both Rebecca and the coordinator. “The chow line?"

  The coordinator lady stopped in mid-sentence, stared at him, then beamed and hustled them across the room. Within minutes, Jake found himself standing on the front line with a spoon in hand, serving up some sort of goulash. He refused to look at Rebecca, dishing up peas and carrots beside him. He wasn't going soft on her—or on Warner—he'd simply recognized a need he knew how to fill.

  Their quick introductions to the regulars they'd replaced on the line had confirmed Jake's observations. Exhausted from putting out three meals a day for four times as many people as the shelter usually served, they were more than grateful for the break.

  After the last dinner had been served over two hours later, Francis Xavier Cullen, the shelter's director, turned to thank Jake and Rebecca for their help and invite them to stop by again any time. After having worked side by side with the big, burly, no-bullshit black man who'd had a smile for everyone, even during the meal's busiest run, Jake was suddenly surprised to find himself shaking hands with a fellow ex-con.

  "Ten years for armed robbery,” Cullen said, catching the sudden awareness in Jake's eyes. It took one to know one. “A bunch of county time before that. It's no secret around here. Call me FX."

  Jake looked at Rebecca, who was busy checking out the pea and carrot juice stains on her sneakers.

  She'd planned this? No wonder she'd been waiting for him so nicely when he'd come home.

  "Heard about you, too,” Cullen was saying. “Bad rap, man. Far as I'm concerned, you've paid your debt. People want to make something of it, that's their business. Me, I got too damned many people to feed to be worrying about where people come from. Besides, it's where you're going that's important, not where you've been."

  Jake and Rebecca made the five-minute trip home in silence. Jake didn't accuse her of maneuvering him into volunteering, because he'd done that all by himself. Instead, he pretended the experience hadn't fazed him a bit as he helped Rebecca put together a light supper of soup and sandwiches, offered to clean up while she spent time with Katie, then left a little earlier than usual for his nightly run.

  But later that night, alone in his strawberry-scented bed, Jake relived every minute of his first real experience at helping others.

  Amazingly, he'd enjoyed himself tonight at the shelter. Even managed to crack a smile or two, listening to Cullen carry on beside him in the chow line.

  Maybe Cullen and Rebecca were right. Maybe it was time to give looking forward instead of backward a try.

  Just the thought of it scared the hell out of him.

  * * * *

  Rebecca was amazed by the change in Jake in the days that followed. He seemed more relaxed and easygoing than at any time since his return to Warner. She couldn't help but notice—and regret—how he kept himself apart from her physically and emotionally, but to Katie and the children at the shelter he gave of himself unreservedly. His ideas for improving efficiency in the kitchen had FX promising to name his firstborn after Jake. It wasn't long before Rebecca found herself only one among many who looked forward to “Mr. Jake's” arrival each afternoon.

  The school year started, and Rebecca fell into the comfortable routine of going antique hunting in the mornings, arriving at the soup kitchen in time to serve lunch, then slipping home for a couple of hours to take care of things there before she returned to the soup kitchen with Jake and Katie in time to serve supper.

  Afterward, the three of them would go home and spend the evening together, taking turns helping Katie with any homework, then playing board games or watching rented movies. Even though he didn't touch her or make any attempt to spend time alone with her beyond their shared cup of morning coffee, Rebecca couldn't help but feel Jake was finally warming to the idea of a home and family.

  Caught up in her own budding hopes, Rebecca didn't notice that Katie wasn't asking to be taken anywhere to be with her friends. At the soup kitchen Katie spent most of her time playing with the younger children, and at home ... well, Rebecca assumed her daughter was enjoying Jake's company as much as she herself was. Every now and then she even caught herself feeling jealous of the seemingly unlimited time and attention Jake gave to Katie.

  But other than that, life was good.

  Until the letter from the town council came.

  Looking stunned, Rebecca slowly handed Jake the letter she'd just opened. As he read it, Jake felt the warm sense of well-being he'd sustained in the past two weeks vanish like smoke. A slow burn began inside him as he recalled Dillenger's superior smile that afternoon at the station. Dillenger still stopped by regularly to harass him, and Jake still had no idea what Dillenger planned to do with his stolen knife, but he'd long since given up obsessing about it. In all, life had become much too sweet to waste time worrying about Avery Dillenger.

  But now the bastard was starting in on Rebecca. He handed the letter back to Rebecca. “If the library lets you go, Becca, it's because of me."

  She scanned the letter again. “According to this, I'm in serious and flagrant violation of the morals clause in my contract.” She looked past him, her expression a mixture of confusion and disbelief. “I'd have to read my contract to find out exactly what they're talking about, but yes, I assume it has something to do with living here with you.” Her eyes met his. “Avery warned me something like this could happen a month ago. I didn't believe him."

  Jake said something Rebecca didn't ask him to repeat. “Have you found somewhere else to live yet?"

  Her eyes widened in obvious surprise. “No..."

  As in why would she have? Jake ignored his relief. Someone had to play bad cop here, and it looked like it was him. “Have you even been looking for another place?"

  "Well ... no ... I thought we were getting along."

  Except for his quietly going insane from wanting her every minute of the day and night, they were. He'd doubled his running time at night, just to keep himself out of the house until she went to bed. By the time he finally left Warner, he'd be ready to run the Boston Marathon if he wanted to.

  "We are getting along, Rebecca, but that doesn't mean you can live here indefinitely."

  "You still want us to leave?"

  The hurt and disbelief in her voice nearly did him in. He remembered having this same discussion the night they'd gone to the mall. He'd conceded her point that night, but now it was time to face facts. No amount of time spent at the shelter was going to change how the people who ran this town thought of him, and Rebecca and Katie were going to pay the price, the longer they stayed here with him.

  "My plans haven't changed, Rebecca,” he said q
uietly, already hating himself for what he was about to say next, because it he knew was a lie. “There's nothing for me here in Warner, you know that. I'm sorry if I said or did anything to make you think otherwise."

  She swallowed, hard. “I see.” Looking dazed, she stared past his shoulder, clearly struggling to absorb what he'd just said. “Well ... I ... I guess I'd better get busy finding a new home, then."

  With quiet dignity, she turned and left the kitchen. It took everything Jake had not to follow her, not to beg her to understand and forgive him for letting her down again. When he heard the first muffled sob as her bedsprings squeaked, it almost killed him. He felt lower than dirt.

  Damn it. Two weeks of looking forward instead of backward and nothing had changed. He was still the same old Jake, destined to disappoint Rebecca every time. Swearing, he left the house, letting the door slam shut behind him.

  He didn't make it to the soup kitchen that night, and didn't come home again until he was sure Rebecca was asleep.

  * * * *

  Rebecca barely spoke to Jake in the long week that followed. Jake didn't blame her. Katie seemed to have withdrawn as well. Jake forced himself to let both of them go. He'd have to cut them loose soon anyway. He'd returned to the soup kitchen and was grateful for the distraction, but three hours of carting industrial-size pans full of steaming food to the front line each night did nothing to dim the need he felt for Rebecca when they got home afterward.

  His need for her was especially intense now that he didn't have the company of her smile or conversation to cheer him. She'd stopped joining him for morning coffee. Her absence across the table had brought on such a physical ache Jake no longer drank his first cup of the day at home—although he always left a pot full for Rebecca. They weren't at war, he was simply in the doghouse and deserved it.

  But God, he missed her.

  Thursday night, his sixth week in Warner, Jake was downtiming in the living room after his shift at the soup kitchen, drinking a forbidden beer and watching television, when Rebecca came downstairs in heels and a knockout navy blue suit. Her red-gold hair was done up in one of her classy twists, and the double rope of pearls at her neck—probably another one of her antique finds—looked like they could have belonged to his grandmother.