Just Joe (11 page)

"If he got very angry
with her I imagine, knowing Freight, that he would punch a wall."

"He might hit
her," Mattie said in a distant little voice. "She's smaller than he
is."

"Mattie—" Joe
shook his head "—Jen could flatten Freight with one look. He lives for
her. He adores her."

"But
physically—"

"No man would ever
raise a hand to the woman he loves," Joe declared with flat finality.
"No real man. Oh, there are some pretty sorry specimens masquerading as
men, but they're not. Only cowards hurt those weaker than

themselves. Only cowards
intentionally hurt others at all. A man doesn't prove he's a man by how much
pain he can inflict, Mattie. He proves it by how much love he can give."

Mattie's stunned eyes
locked on his face.

"Don't you see,
sweetheart?" Joe asked softly. "Freight may have the muscles, but
he's given Jen the power. There are many kinds of strengths. Love is the
biggest of them all."

"The ultimate
weapon," Mattie muttered cynically.

"The ultimate
healer," Joe corrected her quietly, pain glimmering in his eyes. "The
ultimate healer, Mattie."

Later, after the wood had
been chopped and stored, the cabin cleaned from top to. bottom and a long,
rambling walk in the surrounding woods taken, they were both seated comfortably
on the floor in front of the fireplace. Mattie was leaning against the overstuffed
couch, and Joe, lying full length on the floor, had a cup of hot chocolate
balanced on his flat stomach. The silence was broken only by the crackling of
the fire, and their occasional sleepy attempts at conversation. They both knew
that they had to leave for Dallas soon, but for now, neither was capable of
moving.

It felt right, Mattie
mused silently. Being here with Joe, warm and sheltered from the biting wind
outside, comfortable with the silence and with the words. He was so warm and
relaxing___

"Like a cup of
cocoa," she murmured, unconsciously happy.

Joe roused himself
sufficiently to question her words. "You want some of my hot cocoa?"

Mattie smiled, realizing
that she had spoken aloud. "No, I was just thinking out loud. I'm so
comfortable here with you. You're like a cup of cocoa on a cold day."

Joe was silent for a
moment, his eyes closed. "Thanks," he finally muttered dryly. "I
think."

Mattie gathered all of her
strength and turned her head slightly. "Well, it was a compliment! You're
my best friend, Joe." The last came out in a quiet, solemn tone. Saying it
aloud somehow made it a commitment in Mattie's mind, and it was a commitment
she did not take lightly.

Joe took a deep breath,
his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Mattie, I don't want..."

But whatever he had been
going to say was lost in the unmistakable sounds of sleet and ice beating
against the windows and roof of the cabin. Joe surged to his feet, placing the
almost empty cup on a nearby table and crossed to the door. He twisted the knob
impatiently and threw the door open.

A freezing rush of air ran
in, like a thief from the night, and Mattie shivered reflexively. Sleet was
raining down, mixed liberally with drops of pure ice. The late afternoon sky
had darkened to a nighttime shade.

"Good Lord," Joe
breathed in amazement. "It's snowing, too."

"Snowing!"
Mattie jumped to her feet and joined him in the doorway. "It can't be
snowing. This is Texas!"

"Nevertheless,"
Joe began, turning to her with a little-boy grin. But his amusement died instantly
when he met her gaze. He became dazed, as though he had just been punched in
the stomach with a sledgehammer. "Mat-tie...oh God, we have to get out of
here!" He dragged one hand through his thick hair. "Mattie, gather
your things. We have to leave before this gets any worse. These roads are bad
enough in the summer..." The last statement was tossed over his shoulder
as he slammed the door and strode to the hearth to bank the fire. He was
clearly agitated and

tense, Mattie realized
curiously. She crossed the room and plunked herself firmly on the couch.

"Mattie," Joe
said impatiently, spying her on the couch. "We have to hurry!"

Mattie shook her head
deliberately, her chin rising stubbornly. "If you think that I—" she
pointed to herself "—am going driving on those treacherous hill-country
backroads with you—" she pointed to him "—when it's doing this—"
she waved her hand expansively to encompass the great outdoors "—then you
are insane."

Joe held back reluctant
laughter and dropped beside her on the couch. "Mattie, you are so... don't
you realize that if this keeps up, these roads are going to be impassable?
There's no telling how long we'll be stranded here."

"Well, we have plenty
of food, don't we?" Mattie pointed out reasonably.

"Yes, but—"

"And heaven knows we
have enough firewood to last us into the next century.''

"That's not the
point." Joe tried again.

But Mattie reached for the
radio and turned it on, drowning out Joe's words with the determinedly cheerful
voice of a local DJ.

"—rtional Weather
Service had issued a traveler's advisory for Austin and the surrounding Hill
Country through 6:00 p.m. tomorrow evening. Most roads in the Hill Country are
already impassable, and city streets are rapidly worsening. The sleet and
freezing rain are expected to continue for at least another hour, with
accumulations of up to two inches in the city and four inches in parts of the
Hill Country—" Joe's eyes met Mattie's in silent defeat, "—possibly
turning to snow with expected accumulations—are you ready for this, y'all?—of
up to four inches by morning. With no equipment to handle the ice and snow,
Austin is going to be a winter wonderland by morning, folks. So build a fire,
grab your loved one and practice some serious heat conservation."

"Stranded," Joe
muttered blankly. "For days... Mat-tie." His eyes met hers intently.
"I didn't know this was going to happen. I never thought—"

Mattie studied him with
unveiled amazement. "Of course you didn't," she reassured him
soothingly, snapping off the radio. "Why would you want to be trapped up
here with me?"

"Now there's a
question," Joe agreed mockingly beneath his breath.

"What?"

Joe swallowed audibly and
shook his head. "Nothing. . nothing."

Mattie shrugged.
"Okay. We'd better get organized here. We'll need to bring in some more
wood and open the faucets a bit and keep that fire going. Do you have any
kerosene lamps, just in case?"

Joe's eyes were bemused.
"Mattie, I don't think—"

"You don't have the
kerosene lamps? That's okay," she told him forgivingly. "I know you
have a flashlight in the car. But you really ought to have some alternate form
of lighting here. You never know—"

"Mattie," Joe
broke in desperately. "I
do
have kerosene lamps."

"Why did you say you
didn't, then?"

"I didn't say I
didn't! Why would I say I didn't when I did if I didn't—" Joe broke off
abruptly. "Forget it, Mat-tie. Just forget it. I don't know what I said.
You.... you
confuse
me so much!"

"But—"

"No! Not another
word. I'm going to get some wood."

Joe turned and strode out
the back door. Mattie shook her head sadly. "Poor man. That cocoa went
straight to his head."

Joe stood in the dark,
cold woodshed and let loose a stream of imaginative and heartfelt curses.
Snowbound, for who knew how long, alone with Mattie. And she was treating it
like an outing with the Girl Scouts. She hadn't one thought of what he would go
through trying to keep his hands off her. Oh, no! Not one smidgen of an idea
that he might try to take advantage of the situation. No, her innocent mind was
taken up with the adventure of it all.

While his own brain, Joe
acknowledged disgustedly, wasn't doing much of anything but laughing as his
body reacted.

"Damn."

Her best friend. Mattie
had said that he was her best friend, Joe remembered, his face etched with a
curious gentleness. A part of him wanted to rant and rave and demand much more
than friendship, to say that he would have everything from her or nothing at
all. But for the most part he felt a swelling joy and gratitude to know that she
felt
something
for him. Friendship was something real, Joe thought
determinedly. Something he could build on and strengthen, and... snowbound for
days... alone with Mattie.

"Damn," he
repeated.

Okay guys, he silently
addressed the various troublesome parts of his mind and body, let's be rational
about this. So you're going to be alone with her. Big deal. You've been alone
with her before.

Not really, his body
jeered in response. Not completely alone, thrown together all night long, with
nothing to stop you from taking what you really want, really need.

Mattie and I will find
things to do, Joe told himself sternly. There won't be time to think about what
I want.

Things to do? his body
taunted. Oh, yeah. Sitting in front of the fire with your arm around her, her
head resting on your chest. Snuggling up to each other to keep warm.

Things that don't require
touching, Joe amended tautly, his mind full of vivid images of touching Mattie,
holding Mattie, loving Mattie.

You think you can stop
yourself from touching her?

I'm strong. I can handle
it.

The disbelieving and
contemptuous silence of his mind spoke for itself.

Joe began to methodically
pile logs in the canvas carryall he kept in the shed. Despite the dictates of
his body, he knew that he would not try to force any intimacy on Mat-tie. Not
when he wanted so much more. The loving without the love would be a bitter pill
to swallow, and it was not a medicine that Joe was willing to take. Not while
there was a chance of having it all. The friendship she offered was such a big
part of the whole, he thought achingly. Affection, and better yet, trust were
such an implicit part of that friendship. And given a choice, Joe acknowledged,
he would take her friendship with a promise of forever over one night of
possessing her body.

I must be a masochist, he
decided grimly as he left the woodshed and moved toward the cabin through the
snow.

Evening came quickly and
silently, finding them in the same positions in front of the fireplace as
before. Mattie wore an old T-shirt of Joe's that he had found and her faded
blue jeans. It reached well past midthigh, and Mat-tie thought that it would
make very comfortable nightware once she removed her jeans.

She tried to relax, but
she was picking up an indefinable tension from Joe. He had been this way ever
since the freezing rain had started. Maybe he just needed to talk, Mattie
thought reasonably.

"Talk to me,"
she ordered.

Joe, jolted out of his
confused thoughts, turned to face her warily. "What about?"

"Anything,"
Mattie insisted vaguely. "Ships and shoes and sealing wax—"

"—and cabbages and
kings—"

"—and why the sea is
boiling hot—"

"—and whether pigs
have wings." They both broke off, laughing, and Mattie brightened.

"I've always loved
that poem," she told him happily.

Joe nodded. "Me, too.
I used to beg my mother to read it to me every night for three years. Finally,
she got sick of it and made me memorize the whole thing."

Mattie studied him
thoughtfully. "What was your mother like?"

Joe's face softened with
loving memories. "She was a wonderful lady. Very warm and gracious. A
little shy around strangers. She adored my father, and he would have laid down
and made a rug of himself if she had said the word."

Mattie listened to his
words, but they seemed unreal to her, pure fiction. Joe's father must have been
a strong, proud man to have raised Joe as he was. She couldn't picture him
bowing to the wishes of a weaker being, even his wife... especially his wife.

"They're both gone
now?" Mattie asked hesitantly, then wanted to call the words back as she
witnessed the flash of pain in Joe's eyes.