Society Rules (11 page)

“I thought I would come to see if you’d changed your mind,” he offered with a smile that was heart stopping in its sincerity. “I mean, about that moment of your time,” he added hastily, as if to head off a misunderstanding of some kind.

“Nope,” Indie threw back in what she hoped was a disinterested tone. She began walking back toward the house while pretending to be fantastically interested in an ad for some pest control service. “But thanks for stopping in. Goodbye!” Indie spoke without looking at him, trying not to trip over her own feet as she fled.

Jackson stared after her, bemused for a moment, then looked around quickly and released a sigh.

“May I come in?” He fixed his suddenly weary, but intense eyes on her hopefully, while removing his sunglasses, and hanging them from the collar of his tee shirt.

Indie stopped in her tracks and looked back at the man in disbelief. “Bring you into my house? Are you out of your mind?” Indie whispered in the most ferocious voice she could make, which was somehow lamely unthreatening.

“First of all, I don’t even know you, and second of all, what I DO know about you is weird and scary, so why on earth would I bring you into my house?” she demanded.

He pushed away from the car, and began moving towards her with appealing grace, hands in his pockets. Indie became immediately distracted by the way he moved. The man seemed amused by some private joke when she met his eyes.

At once it became clear . . . he
knew!
The idea filled her with horror, but somehow, she realized that he was clearly aware of what she was thinking; how the motion of his body moving in her direction mesmerized her.

She felt a full on face burn as she clapped her hands over her eyes.

“Get out of here!” she ordered, but it sounded more like begging. He stopped instantly, the amusement in his eyes dying just as quickly. “I’m sorry. I truly don’t mean to upset you.” he spoke very seriously.

“But you DO! You ARE, and I really don’t know why, exactly!” Indie almost wailed.

“Don’t you? Can you truly think of no reason why my presence disturbs you in . . . various ways?” he asked in his devastating voice, his eyes appraising Indie in a way that felt almost possessive.

He then stopped speaking, as if uncertain what to do next, no longer smiling. He was beginning to take on a look of despair. Turning his back to her, Jackson dragged his hand through his dark and wild hair. He looked for all the world like a soul in pain.

Indie had never been able to bear pain in others, and this stranger’s pain seemed particularly difficult to witness, as if it affected her physically as well.

It was a natural part of who Indie was; to give comfort to those who suffered, and this threw her for a moment. She looked around, and sighed. Oh, well. Let the neighbors make of this what they will. Like anyone was watching anyway.

“Listen,” she drew a deep breath, “you can come in for a minute, but . . .” she hesitated. He turned around cautiously, stress playing across his features. Then abruptly he smiled at her.

“Really?” he asked with all of the disbelief at his good fortune hanging out for the world to see.

“Yes,” Indie sighed, “I—I guess I really would like to . . . talk to you. About yesterday, I mean,” she admitted reluctantly. Indie did not know why the need for that clarification sailed out of her mouth, but oh well. She was resigned to some serious weirdness at this point.

“I must offer you heaps of admiration for being such a risk-taker,” he said with disarming humor. “After all, what would life be without the occasional surrender to impulse?”

Indie frowned, and wondered if she had been played. Somehow, she didn’t think so. It seemed like she could truly feel his emotions, and she also knew that her distress had been the cause of his pain. She did not know what to make of this idea, but felt a sudden need to find out, and to find out now.

“Listen, if I bring you in, and you cause me trouble, I will have no trouble kicking your butt, understand? And if you don’t give me some answers, I just might end up killing you!”

Jackson looked surprised at her words, and then spoke with tightly suppressed laughter. “You might want to re-think the killing part, just in the interest of your own self-preservation!” He couldn’t hold back the soft laugh that managed to break free at the confused look on Indie’s face at his comment.

After taking a short moment to scowl at the intruder for his continuous use of odd statements, she led him up the stairs into the living room, wishing she had done more cleaning and less staring out the window this morning. Really though, did she honestly care what this stranger thought of her housekeeping skills? Well . . . she kind of did, didn’t she?

He looked around politely.

“Um, have a seat,” Indie waved nervously to the couch, snatching off the pile of newspaper that Will had left behind, along with his coffee cup on the end table. Indie wasn’t sure, but she almost felt that the man suffered a flare of . . . anguish maybe, at the sight of the errant cup.

But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it?

He sat, and looked at her with a scorching gaze that would bring any woman to her knees. This unfortunately happened to include Indie, so she sat down with a sigh. In the same instant, Max immediately came and curled up at the feet of this stranger, no sign of tension in his shaggy body.

How
strange
, thought Indie. Max was usually timid around new people. She caught herself staring at the stranger’s build, admiring, against her will, the way his arms were taut, firm and well muscled. He smiled that enigmatic, uncertain smile again, and dropped his eyes, looking somewhat embarrassed. Indie flushed and sighed again, letting her own embarrassment wash over her.

Oh,
whatever
, she thought, a little irritably. Obviously, she couldn’t hide her rotten little thoughts, so why try.

“Can I ask you something?” she ventured.

“Anything!” was his prompt response, and she was a little taken aback by the heat in his voice.

“Er . . . can I ask how old you are?”

He smiled fully now. “I am forty years old.” Impossible, Indie thought, looking at his youthful face.

“Surprised?” he asked innocently.

“Well . . . yes.” She admitted. “You look much . . .
much
younger. In fact, if you told me you were a day over twenty-five it would be hard to swallow.”

“One could say the same about you, could they not?” he challenged with a frown.

“I guess so . . .” she couldn’t deny
that,
wondering if he somehow already knew her age.

“You know so,” he said seriously. “You hear it all the time, from everyone.”

“How could
you
know that?” she asked, a little defiantly.

This caused a short burst of a laugh to escape the man, although Indie could see nothing funny about the question. The laughter was short-lived, as the humor faded.

He closed his eyes briefly and sighed.
Just
lay
it
out
there
and
reel
her
in,
Jackson
, he urged himself . . .
spark
her
intrigue
.

“This was not supposed to be a battle. Don’t you want to know who I am . . . who YOU really are, and why I am here?” Indie’s insides quaked. He had a point, and was apparently getting right to it.

“Right . . . okay, yes,” she agreed. “Tell me then, who you are, and what do you want?”

“Alright,” he breathed out slowly. She waited, watching his eyes play out some sort of argument within himself, the emotions flipping across his features; seeming to run the gambit from determination, to complete and utter desolation.

He looked up and met her stare, then suffered an obviously torturous bout of full-fledged despair and uncertainty. It was impossible not to feel his torment. His hands clutched at the air and his voice was unsteady. He laughed nervously, mirthlessly.

Help
me
through
this
 . . .
please
someone
 . . .
I
cannot
blow
it!

“I . . . don’t know how to start, now that I have obtained an audience with you, which is exactly what I was seeking!” He shook his head. His face . . . the pain in it became simply unbearable to look at.

“What is it?” Indie asked, alarmed now. “What can you have to tell me that is so awful, that makes you so sad?”

He stood up suddenly, and she thought he might streak out of the house. What would she do if he tried, she wondered, because he looked as if he wanted to do just that?

Could she take him down, she wondered wryly.

“Ah. I’m so afraid this is all wrong,” he whispered, jamming his hands deep into his pockets. He looked up, and seemed to be speaking to someone other than Indie.

“I don’t know how to do this. To bring on the pain this will initially cause you. There’s never been a case like yours, like
ours
before!” He pulled his hands through his hair once more.

“The
children
!” He shook his head again and fixed her with a breathtaking stare. “No, there is no way that this can be right,” he decided, and began to walk toward the back door.

Indie leaped to her feet. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“I—I am going back to where I came from, and I am going to find a way to be without you, for a little while longer, at least!”

She stared, open mouthed, at his answer.

“Be without me?” Indie asked, weakly. “Explain yourself, please, before I go mad!” Yeah. If he tried to bail on her now, he was definitely getting tackled. He was still backing away from her, and the look on his face caused a strange urge to cry to manifest in her throat. He stood looking exactly like a man sentenced to hang for a crime he did not commit. The suffering was intolerable to look at. He was shaking his head, eyes now closed.

“No,” his voice shook. “I can’t do it now. I
won’t
!” It sounded like an argument was taking place in a realm apart from where they stood now, and Indie was instantly filled with an irrational fear that if he walked out the door, that she would never see him again. Inexplicably, this idea filled her with terror.

She tried to tell herself that the terror was sparked by the idea of never understanding the words of Miss Maggie, and having the events of yesterday remain a mystery forever. However, deep down, she had to admit to herself that mostly she knew that she just plain did not want him to disappear from her life.

She did not know how this could be, exactly, as she didn’t even know him, but there it was, a simple fact. Indie was not letting him get away.

Not yet, anyway, she’d already decided.

“Stop!” she shrieked, and he froze. “How
dare
you follow me around, show up at my work, my
home
, convince me to let you in here so you can explain things to me, and then try to take off, without any explanation? And after the things you’ve said!” Her voice was tight with anger and some other choked back emotion.

“I wasn’t kidding when I told you I might just kick your butt if you don’t tell me what’s going on!”

He held her stare for a long moment before giving her a bleak smile. “Actually, you said you’d kill me.”

“You told me I wouldn’t want to do that, remember? ‘In the interest of self-preservation,’ right? You need to tell me what that means, before you go anywhere.” Indie spoke with determination, mingled with a touch of desperation.

Jackson then moved very slowly back toward the couch, and he sank down, almost in some sort of trance.

“I’ve done it anyway, haven’t I?” he said, softly. “No matter what I do now, you will be hurt. I can’t bear it, I honestly can’t.”

The agony in his voice had to stop. She couldn’t bear
his
hurt, either, somehow. But how can this be? She wondered, bewildered by her strong reaction.

“Jackson,” Indie began, more gently now, and he visibly leaned toward the sound of her voice saying his name as if pulled by some unseen force. She liked the sound of it coming from her lips as well. Insane.

“Whatever it is that you came here to tell me, I need you to do it, because I will lose my mind if you don’t, do you understand? Don’t worry about causing me pain, because nothing in this world could cause me more pain than if you walk out of here, and leave me forever in the dark. Whatever you have to say, I want you to spit it out, brutally, if it helps you, but I
must
know, and right now!”