All in One Place (25 page)

My mind slipped back, resurrecting the anger I needed to keep my distance from Jack. To keep my mind off his hand resting
on my neck. A small comfort I wanted to give in to, but didn't dare. “Amelia is not a loser; she's just lost. She needs guidance.
Why don't you let Madison stay with Amelia and put them both in a place where they can be taken care of?”

“I don't know if Amelia would agree to that.”

“She certainly won't agree to your taking her baby away.”

“You act like you don't care about other people, but you really care about this girl.” His hand still lay warm on my neck.
“And I want you, no—I need you—to know that I care about her, too. I'm not deliberately trying to hurt her. I do have a heart,
you know.”

A shiver trickled down my spine as his fingers lightly caressed my skin. I knew he had a heart. I also knew he was pursuing
me. And oh, how I wanted to lean into his touch. To be held by a good man.

“I care because Amelia is me. Her life is mine.” My voice faltered.

“What do you mean? How is her life like yours?”

I tried to stop the words, but they poured out of me like a river breaking through a dam that had slowly been cracked by steady
pressure. “I was pregnant. I was going to have a baby. Amelia managed to keep hers.”

Jack's fingers stilled. “What happened to your baby?”

My emotions teetered, but I clamped down. Regained control. “I had a miscarriage. I lost the baby.” I kept my voice even.
It was just a fact. Just a fetus.

“Oh, Terra. I'm so sorry.” The sympathy in his voice was almost my undoing, but I soldiered on.

“I didn't deserve her.”

“What are you saying?”

What
was
I saying? I waved his question away.

“What do you mean you didn't deserve her?” he pressed.

As if it had its own will, my hand crept up and caught his hand as it rested on my shoulder, craving the stability he represented.

His fingers tangled in mine, rough and large, squeezing as his concern washed over me like a subtle undertow and my grip on
my emotions loosened.

A sob heaved through my chest. Before it ebbed and I could stop it, another followed. And another.

And without knowing how it happened, I felt myself pressed against his chest.

His hand gripped my shoulder, his other arm held me at my waist, anchoring me to him while an unnamed sadness coursed through
me. And then from nowhere came hot tears slipping out like a stream, dampening his shirt.

The sorrow washed over my feeble resistance, laying bare the pain and sorrow I had kept hidden all this time. The tears I
couldn't shed in the hospital or in the weeks following, the tears I couldn't release even around my sister, now became a
deluge.

He just held me, saying nothing, stroking my hair, holding me against him.

A quiet refuge.

I allowed myself a few more moments in this calm place, letting his strength hold me up. How long had it been since the feel
of a man's arms around me created a shelter? I couldn't remember.

But slowly reality intruded into the little haven he had created for me.

The buttons from the pocket of his shirt dug into my cheek, and my arm tingled from being pressed between us, so I drew back.

I dug in my pocket for a worn tissue. Then his hand cupped my chin. He took the tissue from me and gently wiped away my tears.

The moment trembled between us, and even though I knew I was flirting with trouble, I looked up into his eyes. In their hazel
depths I saw gentleness and caring.

I was on the verge of nurturing this moment and letting it take a new shape in my life, even as a joke bubbled up that would
break the fragile spell Jack's tenderness wove around me.

But as Jack brushed my damp hair back from my face, I felt his kindness and concern in the light touch of his hands, the way
his eyes drifted over my face, waiting for me to open up.

Jack didn't deserve to have his benevolence treated with disdain just so I could keep a hedge around my emotions.

His hand lingered on my cheek, the calluses on his palms snagging on a few strands of hair that still clung to my face.

I gave in to an impulse and covered his hand with mine. As my hand tightened on his, something in his eyes shifted. And then
he came nearer, his face became a blur, and his lips were on mine.

I wasn't going to do this. I wasn't going to let this happen.

But my unstable emotions didn't let me hold my ground, and, Lord forgive me, I leaned closer. Let my free hand slip around
his neck and hold him there.

My hungry, lonely soul drank in the slightly salty taste of his lips, the connection created by our mouths.

And when his arms pulled me close again, the abrupt shift from the tenderness of his previous embrace to the longing I now
felt both in him and in myself gave me the strength to pull away.

“I'm sorry,” Jack murmured, but he didn't immediately lower his arms. Didn't immediately let me go. “That wasn't fair.”

I had to close my eyes so I couldn't see his face. I knew one look at his eyes, and I would be undone.

I wasn't the woman for Jack De Windt. My heart might not clue into the fact, but my head knew it for a certainty.

I had been in dark, hard places. He deserved someone with a whole lot less baggage, and I didn't need to get involved with
another man. What had I done? I had told myself again and again, with every footfall as I left Seattle.
No. More. Men.

This vulnerability was precisely the thing I needed to avoid. I couldn't take a chance on letting anyone get ahold of a piece
of my heart. Eric's snide erosion of my self-worth made moving on an easy decision.

Jack? Different man. Different story.

Much, much harder.

I pressed my fisted hands against my stomach, and thankfully Jack read my mute request. But when he withdrew, the lonely part
of me wanted to snatch back what he had silently offered and what I had refused. He confused me, and I didn't like the feeling.

“So now what?”

I had no answer. I had told him something I hadn't even told my sister. Becoming connected to Jack hadn't been part of my
Harland scenario. Leaving was not a matter of speculation; it was simply a matter of time. I had to keep moving.

“I'd like to go home now.”

“I'll drive you.”

I shook my head. At the moment I felt vulnerable and needy. Putting that mix into the confines of a pickup truck, in the evening,
with Jack, would be asking for trouble. “I'll walk.”

“It's dark out.”

I chanced a glance at him. “So now I'm getting an astronomy report?”

The barb served its purpose. Jack's face tightened and he pushed himself to his feet. “I don't want anything to happen to
you.”

Warning. Don't read more into his comment than he meant.

The way he pulled the sides of his mouth in made him look all tough and “I mean business.”

“I'm a big girl in a small town. I'll be fine.”

Jack's eyes narrowed as he held my gaze a heartbeat more, but I stood my ground.

He got up. He started to leave, but stopped in front of me, his hands on his hips in his cop stance. “I know what happens
in this town after dark. You're not walking.”

I wanted to protest again but didn't have the energy or strength. So I simply nodded and followed him to his truck.

As we drove, I kept my eyes ahead, trying not to relive his kiss. Trying not to remember how good it felt to be in his arms.
How I felt safe. Protected.

Trying not to remember what I'd spilled out while he was holding me.

We pulled onto my street and Jack stopped in front of the house. I was about to thank him for the ride, but he was already
getting out of the truck.

This guy is killing me with kindness,
I thought as I waited for him to open my door.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said, slipping out of the truck.

“I'll walk you to the door.”

“You know, I'm one of the criminal elements you're trying to keep me safe from in this town.”

“You're not a criminal,” he growled, an unexpected edge to his voice. “Ralph is an idiot, but I didn't have any choice. Not
when he had four of his buddies backing him.”

The streetlight shone in my face, cast his in shadows. All I saw was the glimmer of his eyes. Then his head blotted out the
light and his lips touched mine so lightly I might have imagined it.

“That's in case you thought the other one was simply for pity,” he said, brushing his knuckles over my cheek.

I couldn't breathe. I needed to breathe, or I was going to fall over.

“Thanks,” I said, my voice a feeble whisper.

Brilliant. You can't breathe and you can't think. A handsome, appealing, caring guy kisses you, and all you can come up with
is, “Thanks”

“You're welcome.” And I caught a glimmer in his eyes and a flash of white from his smile. “I'd like to see you again.”

“I'm always at the diner. Stop on by.” I gave him a casual wave. Somehow I had to get this evening on a footing I was more
comfortable with, but just as I was about to step away, he caught my hand.

“You know what I mean.” He twisted his fingers around mine.

Don't do it. Don't fall for it. You just broke down in his arms; you're all mixed up.

“I think I do,” I said, tightening my hand in his.

Leslie warned you against him. Are you going to go against your own sister's advice?

And since when did my alter ego care about Leslie?

“I'd like to try again,” he was saying. “Could we do dinner sometime?”

Don't get tangled up with the Christian cop before you go.

For once the cynical voice in my head held a tinge of truth and wisdom. Getting involved with Jack was the wrong thing for
me to do.

“We'll see,” I said vaguely.

“Let me know.” He lifted my hand and brushed a kiss across my knuckles. “But just in case you get all panicky, there are no
expectations. I just like being with you.”

Oh, c'mon. Is this guy for real
?

His eyes held mine and stillness pervaded my being. As if a quiet strength that was the essence of Jack was slowly seeping
into me.

No expectations.

I had stayed with Eric because of his confidence. His self-possession made me hope that by being with him, I might absorb
some of that confidence. But it had gone the other way. Eric had absorbed me; had slowly sucked away what self-confidence
I had.

With Jack, I felt as if I was receiving, not giving.

I didn't know where to put this in my guy experiences. This was a novelty and, I was afraid, an illusion.

Panic clustered around my heart. Panic and a touch of fear that had nothing to do with Jack's strength or his confidence and
everything to do with what I had just told him. Everything to do with the way he was looking at me now. The way his thumb
was slowly caressing my hand.

No expectations.

He leaned closer and waited, the moment stretching out between us, rife with waiting, and I knew what he was doing. He wanted
me to make the next move.

I closed my eyes, wavering between my past and the hesitant promise that trembled in the moment between us.

Don't do this. You're heading down a dark, dangerous path.

I wanted the voice to be quiet, but I let the panic take over and pulled away.

I had to go.

I had to get out of here before this guy got a stronger hold on my heart.

I pushed past him. I would go pack up. Head down the road. I had a little bit of money left over after paying Leslie back.
I could ask Lennie for my wages tomorrow. Then leave. I might not get as far as Chicago, but maybe I could find something
in eastern Montana, or the Dakotas. I found a job here. It shouldn't be too hard someplace else.

“S
o I heard you and Jack were at the park Friday night,” Cor said as I poured him another cup of coffee.

I wasn't going to blush. Wasn't going to let that memory intrude on the cold light of today.

Cor and Father Sam hadn't shown up on Saturday. Nor, thankfully, had Jack. I appreciated the reprieve and the opportunity
to gather my wits. To get lost in work. To make my plans. Yesterday I took on the Sunday shift to give Helen a break and,
of course, to earn what extra money I could. I had no intention of going to church.

When Leslie called to ask how my date went, I kept things vague, remembering how less than pleased she was with the idea of
my going out with Jack.

“He's a good boy, my Jack,” Cor was saying, adding his own sting to my self-flagellating thoughts. “What time do you get off
work? I can drop off your car,” Cor said, pulling a face at the foam from the fake sugar that bubbled up as he stirred his
coffee.

“I can pick it up.”

“No. I don't mind.” He looked up at me as if daring me to say anything different. “I can use the exercise.” He waited a beat,
giving his tea another stir. “I went to the doctor yesterday. He told me I needed to get more exercise. And he started me
on insulin.”