140
love. For even as she'd seen him standing by the crib, she'd known that he was desperately afraid to be there, afraid to need his child's love, and yet, as afraid as he was, he'd stayed there, reaching out. Most people retreated from life and gave up on love. Tess knew; she'd done it herself. But not Jack. He'd sheathed himself in anger and tried his best to forget, but he'd never walked away. And that meant he'd never given up.
Last night, in the moments before he'd fallen asleep, she'd seen her first glimpse of the real Jack, the man beneath the angry mask. And he was a frightened, lonely man who was tired of being alone. So much like her ...
She thought about the times she'd caught him smiling, or looking at the girls with love, or carving a rocking horse in the middle of the night, and her heart swelled with emotion. At the memories, something inside of her broke free. Deep inside her, in the tiny, oft-overlooked corner of her soul where she'd long ago put her dreams of love and family and forever, something stirred. Something that had been asleep for a very long time.
Tess felt the heavy weight of Savannah's gaze on her face. She looked up suddenly, and found Savannah staring at her intently. "What is it, Savannah?" she asked quietly.
Savannah shook her head slowly. A sad little frown plucked at her mouth. "Nothin'."
Tess reached over and squeezed Savannah's hand. Their eyes met and held. "You know, Savannah," Tess whispered, "I'm here for you if you ever need me. For anything."
Savannah swallowed hard. "Th-Thanks, Mama."
Katie thumped her elbows on the table. "Mama, you promised to show me how you done that thing with the spoon."
Tess smiled and slowly withdrew her hand from Savannah's. "Okay," she said. "Here goes. First you blow on it.
141
Like this." Tess blew on the spoon until it steamed up nicely. "See? When it looks like that, you stick it on your nose." She placed the spoon on her nose like an expert.
"It works!" Katie cried, clapping her hands.
The spoon fell off Tess's nose and hit the table with a clang. "Of course it does. A mother never lies."
Savannah's eyes narrowed. "Really?"
Tess's smile faded as she looked at Savannah. There was a long, quiet moment as they studied each other. Tess got the distinct impression that she was being tested. "Really."
"C'n I try it?" Katie asked eagerly.
Tess and Savannah looked at each other for another second or two, and then Tess turned to Katie and nodded. "Of course you may."
Katie frowned in concentration. Cautiously she blew into the bowl of her soup spoon. The metal turned a dull, milky gray, and she gently set it on her nose. The spoon stuck fast.
Her eyes bulged open in surprise, and a quick, excited giggle dislodged the spoon. It clinked onto her empty plate.
"Okay," Tess said. "Now all together."
Jack stared at the house. Advancing night shrouded the small clapboard structure, turning the whitewashed wood a deep gunmetal gray. The porch railing was nothing but dark lines and shadows cast along pale wooden planks.
Wind chattered through the leaves of the oak tree. The rope-swing's slatted seat thumped methodically against his left leg.
Jack's gaze moved up the porch and along the shadowy building. Thin, ghostlike strands of smoke spiraled up from the brick chimney, its trail a momentary whisper of gray against the midnight blue sky. Amber light blurred
142
the kitchen window, made it look like a square of captured sunlight in the middle of a cold, darkening night.
The kitchen curtains were open, as if the inhabitants were no longer soldiers under siege, but, quite simply, a farm family waiting for someone to come in from the fields. The house he'd built so many years ago looked like something it had never been: a home.
He shoved the swing out of his way and turned away from the house. Staring out at Haro Strait glittering far below, Jack tried not to think about the window that looked so inviting.
It's an illusion, Jackson, just a damn illusion.
But he couldn't quite make himself believe it this time. Somehow the changes seemed more substantial, more tangible.
More dangerous . . .
He thought about the doctor's words, wondering if maybe?just maybe?the changes he saw in his wife were real. Lasting.
Maybe she really is changing. Maybe . . .
"Damn." He shoved a cold hand through his hair and sighed loudly.
Damn it, he couldn't let himself believe in her. He'd done that once, long before, and it had cost him?and the kids?nothing but pain.
But what if it's real this time?
It was that question more than any other that fueled Jack's fear and turned his stomach into a writhing coil of anxiety. He'd spent a long time building emotional armor strong enough to keep his one-sided love contained. If the walls came down, even for a second, he didn't think he'd ever get them back up.
And then what would happen to him?
You know damn well what would happen. It would be like before.
143
He shivered at the thought and flipped his collar up. Before.
Then it had taken him years to find his way back to sanity?if, in fact, he ever had. Years of wandering, alone and hungry and friendless; years of praying to find his way. Years spent huddled in the blackest void a man could imagine.
He had to remember what kind of woman she was, how easily she used people and how well she pretended. Nothing about her was real except her hatred of him. Think about the night Caleb was conceived. All she'd had to do that night was smile and touch Jack's cheek, and he'd run to her bed like a callow schoolboy. And given her another innocent weapon to wield in the war of their marriage.
The "change" had lasted less than an hour, and then she'd been back, hating him with a vengeance. Day by day he'd watched her swell with child, and every hour of every day he'd had to fight the need and shame in his own soul. Every day she'd taunted him with the manner of the baby's conception, laughed at how weak and easily led Jack was.
"All I have to do is smile, and you come running. You 're pathetic."
Jack winced at the memory. It was true, God help him. He'd always wanted to be loved by her.
Every day he'd seen her stomach grow, seen her secret, deadly smile when she looked at him. Every night he'd lain in his lonely bed, dreading the moment of the child's birth. Knowing he'd condemned an innocent soul to a life so cold and lonely, it amounted to purgatory. No wonder he'd wakened that morning in the barn, alone, with no memory of where he'd been or what he'd done. The strain of her pregnancy had nearly killed him. He wouldn't let her manipulate him again. He would
144
not. There was no way he'd let himself believe in her this time.
Remember, he told himself. Remember.
Jack crossed the shadowy yard. With the wooden steps of a man walking to the gallows, he climbed the porch steps and eased the kitchen door open. He was completely unprepared for the scene that greeted him.
Lissa and Katie and Savannah were sitting stock-still at the kitchen table. None of them turned to look at him.
It didn't surprise him, considering they had spoons hanging from their noses.
"Jack!" Lissa turned suddenly. Her spoon flew off her nose and clattered on the floor.
Katie and Savannah immediately flinched and looked up. Their spoons crashed to the table.
Lissa got to her feet and pulled out a chair for him. She patted the seat. "Here, sit down. The food's ready."
Jack eyed all three of them warily, noticing the quivering smiles that hovered on their faces. They were having fun; he could feel it in the air. Longing spilled through him and twisted up his insides. He wanted so desperately to join them. Stiffly, trying not to look at their smiling faces, he moved to the table and sat down.
Lissa hurried to the kitchener and dished up supper. Then she returned and set the plates down.
Jack stared down at his
plate in confusion. Three eggs, all with broken, overcooked yolks and blackened edges, were lined up alongside three crusty, burnt pancakes. There was a low layer of smoke clinging to the crockery plate. "This is supper?"
She gave him a bright smile and sat down at the opposite end of the table. "Bon appetit."
On either side of him, the girls tried hard not to giggle. They did not completely succeed.
Jack frowned. "It's breakfast."
145
Lissa looked down at her plate. "Is it?"
He slammed a fist down on the table so hard, the salt and pepper rattled. "Goddamn it, Lissa, you know it is. You're serving breakfast for supper."
She blinked innocently. "I thought I just woke up." She glanced at the girls. "Am I wrong?"
Jack lurched to his feet. "I can't take any more of this. Not today." He started to leave, but as he turned, his stomach rumbled loudly.
"Stay, Jack," she said quietly. "You're hungry."
Slowly he turned back around. She was smiling up at him, but this time there was no taunting curl to her lip. She was simply smiling. There was a silent invitation in her eyes that clawed at his self-control and made him want to stay.
He was pretty hungry, he told himself.
Before he was aware he'd made a decision, he was lowering himself onto the chair once again. He scooted close to the table. Careful not to look into her dangerous eyes again, he kept his gaze riveted to the food on his plate.
"I know what you're thinking," she said.
He snorted. "Yeah?" Reluctantly he looked up, met her gaze. "What?"
"You're thinking you've got to be pretty hungry to eat this food."
He smiled before he could stop himself.
"See?" she said in a voice so quiet, he knew it was meant for him alone. "It doesn't hurt a bit."
He felt himself pale. The easy smile slid off his face. He looked into her warm brown eyes and felt a stab of longing. "You're wrong. It hurts like hell. Now, let's eat ... breakfast before it gets cold."
Lissa glanced down at her smoldering eggs and grinned. "I think we've got plenty of time." * * *
Plf
146
After the supper dishes were done and put away, Tess went outside and sat on the porch swing. Holding Caleb in her arms, she rocked gently back and forth, staring across the darkened fields to the tarnished, moonlit water far below.
Caleb gurgled playfully and squeezed her finger in a red-fisted grip.
Tess laughed quietly, gazing lovingly down at him. "Hey, kiddo, that's quite a grip you have."
He gave her a gummy grin.
Behind her, the door creaked open. "Mama?"
"Yes, Savannah?"
"Can I ... talk to you?"
"Sure, kiddo. Sit down." She scooted sideways, making room.
Savannah perched tentatively beside her. Back stiff, eyes straight ahead, hands coiled in a nervous ball at her lap, she didn't say a word.
Tess waited silently.
After about three minutes of bone-jarring silence, Savannah cleared her throat. "I ... I was wondering about ... Oh, this is stupid. Never mind." She popped to her feet.
Tess reached out and grabbed her hand. Savannah turned, looked down at her.
"Is it about a boy?"
Savannah gasped. Her eyes rounded. "How did you know?"
Tess smiled. "I was twelve myself once."
Savannah slowly lowered herself back onto the swing's slatted seat. "It's Jeffie Peters." She turned suddenly, pinned a confused adolescent stare on Tess. "When he talks to me lately, I ... I feel like I'm gonna throw up."
Tess nodded sympathetically. "You like Jeffie?" Savannah nodded solemnly.
147
"There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. It's perfectly normal."
"Then why do I feel all afraid and stupid when he talks to me?"
Tess smoothed the hair from Savannah's cheek and tucked a curly ringlet behind the girl's ear. "It's all part of growing up. It's nothing to be afraid of. And you know what?"
"What?"
Tess leaned closer. "I'll bet he feels the same things when he looks at you."
"Really?"
Tess smiled. "Really."
Savannah threw her arms around Tess and Caleb. Tess hugged the girl tightly. Finally Savannah drew back and looked at Tess through huge, overbright eyes. "Thanks, Mama. I ..." Her voice dropped to a throaty whisper. "I love you."
Tess gasped. Emotion tightened her throat. Tears burned her eyes. "I ... I love you, too, sweetie."
Savannah smiled and swiped the tears from her eyes. Then she clambered to her feet and disappeared back in the house.
Tess sat there, too stunned to move.
/ love you, Mama. The simple words circled around and around in her brain, each repetition bringing with it a pang of joy so strong, Tess almost couldn't breathe. All her life she'd waited to hear those simple words?ached to hear them. And now she knew why. They filled her soul with a brightness she'd never even imagined before.
The next day dawned sunny and beautiful. Perfect for Tess's plan.
"Why'd you have Vannah make all this food, Mama?"
148
Katie asked, watching Tess load a jar of pickles into a big basket.
"Because no one would eat my cooking," she answered easily. "Savannah, honey," Tess said over her shoulder. "Go get your daddy out of the barn. Tell him to hitch up the team."
"Why?"
"We're going on a picnic."
Savannah and Katie gasped.
"Daddy won't wanna go on no picnic," Savannah said.
"He won't want to go on any picnic," Tess corrected.
"I know. That's what I said."
Tess turned around, wiping her dusty hands on her apron. "He'll go."
"But, Mama, Daddy won't go?"
The door swung open suddenly. "Where won't I go?"
Savannah jumped guiltily and crammed her hands together. Katie froze in the middle of the room.
"Oh, hi, Jack," Tess said brightly. "You're just in time to hitch up the wagon. We're going on a picnic."
He laughed sharply. "No we're not."
Tess walked over to him, smiling broadly. "I guess you didn't hear me. The work week is over, and this family is going on a picnic."
He crossed his arms. "It'll be a long walk."
"No it won't. We're taking the wagon."
"Oh?" One eyebrow cocked derisively upward. "You know how to hitch it up?"
"No. I don't need to. You will. Or else." She squared off with him, toe to toe.
He laughed again. "Or else what?"
"Ever heard of a strike?"
He stared at her in disbelief. "You'd hit me?"
"Of course not." She tried to remember when strikes had been invented. Apparently sometime after 1873. "A
149
strike," she informed him, "is a refusal to work until you get what you want."
"And the relevance of this fascinating bit of trivia is . . ."
"The girls and I won't work this week unless you hitch up the team and take us on a picnic. Today." The girls gasped.
Jack's head jerked up. "Are you two in on this?" There was a long silence.
Tess crossed her fingers. Come on girls, come on ... "Are you?" he yelled.
"We?" Savannah's voice was a squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again. "We are."
Jack glared at Tess. Tension emanated from him like heat waves. He was fighting hard for control. Or the appearance of control. "Don't do this."
She blinked innocently up at him. "Do what?" "Make us a goddamn family."
The frightened plea almost broke Tess's heart. There was a bleakness in his eyes that hit her hard in the stomach. He looked lost and aching and alone. And desperately afraid. "We already are." He paled. "It's not safe." "Yes it is."
His anger came back, replacing the momentary flash of emptiness and fear in his eyes. "Fine. I'll do it for them. But don't try this ... strike thi
ng again. I'm a man of limited patience."
He spun back around and stormed through the open door. He was on the bottom porch step when Tess called out his name.
He paused and reluctantly turned toward her. "Yeah?" "Just for the record, Jack, you're a man of no patience. But don't worry, I've got tons."
150
Jack stared at her, speechless for a heartbeat, then he turned and walked away.
Tess flashed the girls a triumphant grin and gave them a thumbs up. "Way to go, girls."
Five minutes later, Katie was still staring at her mother. Mama was lying on the floor, tickling Caleb's toes and
laughing.
Katie turned to her sister, a grave look on her small face. "There's a stranger in Mama's body," she said quietly.
Savannah nodded. She, too, was staring at her mother. A faraway, wistful look crept into her eyes. "I hope she
stays."
Katie slipped her hand into Savannah's and squeezed it
tightly. "Me, too."
Two hours later, Tess stacked the last basket in the back of the wagon. Clapping the dust from her hands, she eyed the spread with a critical eye. Basket and boxes lined the wagon's planked side, their interiors filled to overflowing with fried chicken, cold potato salad, hard-boiled eggs, fresh-baked bread and homemade jam, pickles, and canned peaches. A bottle of cider stuck up amid a stack of plates and cups, its metal lid glinting silver in the morning sunlight.
The girls buzzed around the loaded wagon like excited, nervous bees. Every now and then one of them would laugh, and the clear, high-pitched sound assured Tess that she was doing the right thing. This family needed? desperately needed?to have some fun.
"Get in," Jack said in a gruff, angry voice that cut through the girls' laughter like a hot knife.
Katie flinched, paled. Dropping her gaze to her feet, she shuffled wordlessly to the wagon and climbed aboard.
151
Tess grabbed Jack by the sleeve and spun him___.._.
"Remember when you asked if I'd hit you?" she hissed. He nodded, eyeing her warily.