Firestorm (29 page)

Randall ran a pudgy finger under the collar of his shirt. “Y’all do that. Sorry to have called you away from your work. But I had to see you saying your feelings about Yates’s wife aren’t tied up with your statements about what he has done to your company.”

“They aren’t. I’ll see you at the trial.” Jake turned to leave.

“Don’t forget now. Bring Kate.” Randall’s voice echoed down the hallway as Jake made his way out of the courthouse annex.

Bringing Kate might seem a damn good idea to Randall, but Jake wasn’t so sure.

Maybe Scott had been right. Maybe hearing him testify and having to face his past head-on would hurt her. And he didn’t want that.

* * * * *

That night Jake slept over. They made love for hours—sweet, tender love unlike the usual fiery sex that left her body sated but her heart unsure.

It seemed to Kate that Jake’s feelings for her were growing stronger. And his solicitous attention over the next few days reinforced her happiness.

On the day of the trial, she dressed carefully in the yellow suit she’d had on when he asked her to marry him. She wanted to look her best, so as not to shame him in front of the woman he’d once loved.

“All this mess will be over soon,” he told her, holding the car door open for her in front of the courthouse. Strain showed in the lines that bracketed his mouth.

“I hate it that you have to go through this,” she told him.

“Not a problem. I’ve wanted to see Yates put away for a long time.” He put his arm around her, and they walked slowly up the courthouse steps.

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Kate spied a tall, blond woman surrounded by what looked to be an army of lawyers who were all wearing three-piece suits despite the August heat. Jake’s biceps muscle twitched against her back.

“That’s Alice holding court over there,” he said through clenched teeth.

His bitterness was evident, its edge as sharp as any knife. His expression had hardened, and his arm tightened almost painfully around Kate’s waist.

“Do we have to talk to her?” She could barely speak past the knot in her throat.

Not able to fight off envy, she stared resentfully at Alice’s blond curls and the white linen suit that set off her slender figure to perfection. No wonder Jake couldn’t bring himself to care for anybody else. He’d been married to a goddess.

Oh, no!

The goddess had just detached herself from the contingent of attorneys and was approaching them with a look of desperation on her perfect face.

Jake’s grip tightened even more.

“Alice,” he said curtly when she stopped directly in their path.

“Won’t you please have mercy on us? For old times sake?” she pleaded in a voice so smooth and sweet it reminded Kate of sorghum molasses.

When Kate looked at Jake, she cringed at the pure hatred she saw in his obsidian eyes. Whatever he may have said to Alice was lost to her, because he’d just broken her heart.

Jake might not realize it, but he was still capable of feeling deeply. He’d once loved this gorgeous woman, and now he hated her with a vengeance. It was painfully evident to Kate that Alice still stirred him in a way she had never been able to do.

She couldn't marry Jake. A man of deep passions, he someday would find another woman to inspire his love. Kate couldn't deny him that by shackling him to her with vows he would honor but wouldn’t mean.

She had to get away. Twisting her body, Kate eluded Jake’s grip and began to run, despite the steep steps and the high-heeled shoes she was wearing.

Blindly, not caring where she went, she stumbled along the sidewalk until her lungs ached. Finally she slumped onto a park bench two blocks from the courthouse. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she lacked the strength to wipe them away.

* * * * *

Consumed with fury, Jake concentrated it all on Alice. “I'll give you the same mercy you showed my baby when you got rid of it like yesterday's garbage,” he ground out from between clenched teeth.

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“You must be as crazy as Yates. After all he’s done to try and ruin GreenTex over the past few years, I wouldn’t lift a finger to save him for you, even if we were still together and madly in love.”

“Do you hate me that much, Jake? So much you’ll gloat over putting the man I love behind bars for years?”

Her husky voice used to drive him wild. Now it was just a voice. And his cock that used to spring to attention at the sight of her lay docile in his pants.

“Do you hate me so much you’ll let your hatred drive your new lover away?” she asked.

Suddenly Jake realized Kate was gone. His throat constricted. He scanned the curious crowd that had gathered on the steps. He glanced toward his car.

She wasn't there, either.

“Jake.”

When Alice spoke, he whipped around and looked into big, tearful blue eyes she used to use so well to get her way. Her perfect face that had captivated him for so long was contorted in a mask of regret and fear.

Jake took a deep breath. “Your husband stepped off the deep end a couple of years ago, when he graduated from libel to hiring goons to sabotage GreenTex wells and drilling sites. He needs to be put away, if for no other reason than to keep him from killing more people because of this crazy vendetta. Believe me, I don’t care enough about you to be going after Durwood for personal vengeance.”

He felt nothing. No anger, no hatred, not even the bitterness that had festered inside him for so long. Fear was what gripped him now—tense, chilling fear that he’d lost Kate by refusing to let go of old hurts and offer her the deep commitment she deserved.

Alice’s perfect lips curved into a bittersweet smile. “I had to try. I’ve known a long time now that Durwood was headed for trouble. He needs help more than prison, but he refuses to plead insanity. I want you to know I’ll have him committed to a psychiatric hospital if we manage to get him acquitted.”

She paused, her expression softening. “Go after her, Jake. Be happy.”

“Why are you so concerned about me now?” he asked, touched by the tears in her expressive eyes but suspicious of her motives.

“I loved you once. I still care about you,” she whispered. “One of us, at least, deserves a little happiness, don't you think?” she asked, using a tissue to wipe the moisture from her eyes.

“I don’t want you to hate me anymore,” she choked out as she looked down at the concrete step where they were standing.

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“I don't hate you.” When Jake said the words, he knew they were finally true.

“They’ll need you in the courtroom soon,” he told her softly as he bent and brushed his lips across her cheek in a gesture of farewell.

Then he raced for his car.

Kate couldn't have gotten far on foot. At least he didn’t think she could. Still sliding his legs inside, he turned on the ignition.

The trial could go on without him. Yates would be convicted on the evidence with or without his testimony.

Driving more nails in the man’s figurative coffin didn’t make so much difference now. Kate filled Jake’s mind and his heart, and he had to let her know.

Slowly he drove around the courthouse in a widening circle. Every minute he searched, he knew that Kate was hurting, sensed her drawing further away from him.

He had to find her.

He saw the little park first, with its ancient trees and weathered wooden benches.

Then he spied her. Her slumped shoulders and the bereft expression on her face tore at his conscience.

I love her.

Realizing that brought Jake no joy, for he had a sinking feeling that he’d lost Kate.

With unsteady hands, he pulled up to the curb and killed the engine. In a few long strides, he reached her. When she saw him, she turned her tear-streaked face away.

“Let me take you home, honey,” he said gruffly.

“What about the trial?”

“It can go on without us. Come on.” He reached out to touch her, but she pulled away.

“Don’t touch me. Please. I can't think straight when you do. Jake, I’m not willing to be window dressing.”

She said it quietly, but her voice rang with determination Jake hadn’t expected. “All right. Kate, we have to talk,” he said as they walked slowly to his car.

“Not now. I won’t air dirty laundry for anybody who walks by to hear.”

She’d drawn a curtain around herself. Closed him out. But if she wanted time, he owed her that. Owed her much more than being quiet for the few minutes it would take to get them to her house. Silently he opened the door for her and waited for her to get in.

The silence was eerie, punctuated by the drone of the car’s engine and occasional soft sobs Kate apparently couldn’t suppress. His breath caught in his throat when he Ann Jacobs

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watched her twist and tug at the ring he’d given her after she’d agreed to become his wife.

When he stopped in front of Kate's house, he killed the motor quickly and hurried to help her out.

She’d taken off his ring. Still he wasn't prepared when she dropped it gently into the handkerchief pocket of his jacket. For a moment he stared at her, disbelieving, before reaching out to take her in his arms.

She moved away, not stopping until five feet of the gravel driveway separated them. “I’ll talk to you. But not now. Don’t come after me. Please,” she implored before taking off down the path that led to a little pond in the woods.

Her voice was ragged, her eyelids swollen and her cheeks streaked with tears. But to Jake, she was beautiful. Silently he searched for words to tell her she was wrong.

If only she would calm down and give him the chance to say what he should have told her weeks ago.

Finally he went inside and shed his coat and tie, fishing out her ring and jamming it as far as it would go onto the little finger of his left hand. Its facets caught the noonday light, nearly blinding him as he stared at it.

Had he insisted on this gaudy token for Kate’s sake? He admitted now that he hadn’t. It was part of the window dressing she had accused him of doing to salve his ego with his family and acquaintances.

Ironically, if he were asking her to marry him today, he would be giving her this same ring. But he’d have bought it before proposing, because it was the best, most perfect gift he could afford to express the depth of his love.

He loosened his collar and rolled up his sleeves. For the first time, Jake really looked at this old house that Kate set such store by. As he wandered from room to room, he saw signs of age and hard times in the faded wallpaper and the well-used pieces of furniture Kate had kept here for them to use. Depressed, he went into her bedroom—the place where they’d made hot, sweet love so many times.

She’d decided not to send her bedroom set or the not-quite-antique round table to the ranch. Jake stared at the table where she used to have that picture of the doctor she’d almost married.

She must have put the photo away, or thrown it out, because Jake hadn’t seen it since the first time they’d made love. Now, though, he noticed an ancient looking journal resting where the framed photo had been.

The old book drew him. With care bordering on reverence, he lifted it and thumbed through its yellowed pages. Kate's great-great grandfather must have written this, he thought as he scanned entries set down in stilted English that chronicled the end of wandering, the making of a home.

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He smiled at the first entry, where the author set forth his purpose of improving his use of the English language. As he read, Jake could almost see the peddler, trying to eke out a living by farming the land he’d bought, then shrugging his shoulders and taking up the trade he knew and loved after proving his inadequacy at the unfamiliar art of growing things.

One entry touched him deeply, gave him insight into Kate’s devotion to her home.

He read it again, aloud.

“For as far as I can see, this land is mine. In the days, I smile. Never do I let those who come to buy from me know their scorn tears at my soul. In evening, this place brings me peace. It is my home, my refuge, my legacy to my son and his sons for all time.”

He set the journal down and stared out toward the woods. Kate had never expressed her feelings about her home in the eloquent way her ancestor had done. Or had she, when he’d been too concerned with guarding his own emotions to listen?

He thought of his own legacy, one of dollars and oil wells, buildings and equipment whose life spans would equal only their utility. While his grandfather had built a dynasty from oil, Kate's ancestors had tied their roots to this piece of Mississippi soil, much more than to the store that had been their livelihood.

Suddenly Jake understood. This place was all Kate had of her family, all she would have of her heritage to give their children.

Children they wouldn’t have if he’d killed the love she said she felt for him. Not able to wait any longer, he strode out of the house. She’d be down by the pond, in the spot where she'd once told him she went when she needed to be alone and think.

* * * * *

Kate’s heart ached, but she knew she had done the only thing she could. She loved Jake too much to sentence him to a lifetime of living with her without love.

He didn’t love her, but someday he’d love some lucky woman. A woman who would touch his soul.

She heard him before she saw him. Pine needles that blanketed the ground crunched rhythmically when he came into the clearing and knelt beside her.

When he looked into her eyes, she saw pain there that matched her own.

“Don’t leave me, honey,” he said, as if he really cared.

Her hand went involuntarily to his cheek, already scratchy beneath her fingers even though he’d shaved a few hours earlier.

Trying to hold back her tears, she held his gaze. “I have to. For you as much as me. I can’t force you to love me, any more than you can make yourself love me.”

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“You don’t have to force me.” He covered her hand with his, as if he was afraid to lose that small contact.