Once in Every Life

  With the dream had come a pervasive sense of peace. Tess didn't believe it was just a figment of her desperate mind; she knew it was a vision. A picture of a future that was destined to be. A future she'd come back one hundred years to find.

  And Jack was screwing it up.

  She'd be damned if she'd let him.

  Tess yanked her skirts up and hurried up the steps. She'd had to die to find love, and now that she'd found it, nothing would take it from her. Nothing.

  Not even a stubborn, pigheaded man who didn't know when to say "maybe."

  She reached for the doorknob and wrenched the huge oaken door open. It slammed into the brick wall and cracked hard.

  A man looked up from his paper-piled desk in the center of a small, shadowy room.

  "Hello," Tess said. "I'm Lissa Rafferty, and I'm here to see my husband, Jackson."

  The man scrambled to his feet and pulled a clanking set of keys from his pocket. "This way, ma'am." He glanced at Ed and Charlie. "One visitor at a time."

  Ed touched Tess's arm. "Good luck, Miz Rafferty."

  "Thanks, Ed." Turning away from the men, she followed the jailer down a narrow hallway.

  385

  "Rafferty! There's someone here to see you."

  Jack scrambled to a sit. He shoved a hand through his

  disheveled hair and peered through the bars. "Lissa?" She stepped away from the jailer so he could see her

  better. "Hi, Jack."

  The jailer opened the cell and ushered Tess inside. "Normally I wouldn't let you in, you understand, but Ed Warbass says you can be trusted. No funny business, right?"

  Tess nodded and swept into the small, dank cell. The metal bars clanged shut behind her. A key jiggled in the lock, then footsteps echoed down the hall, and they were alone.

  She sat beside Jack on the narrow, sagging cot and twisted around to face him. She reached out, took his hands in hers. There were so many things she wanted to say, so many arguments she'd prepared herself to make, but now, sitting here in the filthy darkness with him, all she wanted to do was cry. "You shouldn't have come," he said quietly. She snapped her head up to meet his gaze, and the urge to cry disappeared. "I shouldn't have to." "Lissa?"

  "Don't you 'Lissa' me, Jackson Rafferty. I've had enough of your melodramatics, do you understand? No more hiding."

  "What do you mean?" He tried to withdraw his hands, but she wouldn't let him. She clung tightly, squeezing hard.

  "You know exactly what I mean. I want you to try to remember."

  "Don't you think I've tried?"

  The agony in his voice tore through Tess's resolve. She had a sudden urge to take him in her arms and stroke his brow, tell him everything would be all right. But she didn't

  386

  move. Everything wouldn't be okay, goddamn it, if he didn't try.

  She stared deeply into his eyes, trying to will him to see the goodness in himself. "It's all in there, Jack. In your head. Every memory, every moment, is stored inside. You just have to believe."

  "I can't?"

  She pressed a finger to his lips. "I'm not asking you to say you didn't kill those people?even though you didn't?I'm just asking you to admit maybe you didn't."

  Fear filled his eyes, made his breathing speed up. He shook his head slowly. "What if?"

  She let go of his hands and grabbed his shoulders. "What good are your precious 'what if s' to your kids, Jack? Your kids, who are sitting at home right now, crying, terrified they'll never see their father again?" She flipped her leather skate bag open and wrenched out the girls' letters, waving them beneath Jack's nose. "Read these, Jack, and tell me they don't matter."

  With shaking fingers, Jack opened Savannah's letter. By the time he reached the bottom, his eyes were sheened with tears. He looked up at Tess, his face twisted with pain. "What do you want from me?"

  "What if you're not the murderer, Jack? Did you ever think about that? If you're innocent, we're still in danger?the kids and I are alone out at the farm. Alone. And I couldn't shoot a barn if I was standing in front of it."

  He swiped his eyes and sighed. "Christ, Lissa, who else could it be? I'm the only crazy on the island."

  "Joe and Kie Nuanna borrowed a gun from the Hannahs during your blackout. They returned it splattered with blood." She paused to let the facts sink in, then added, "Human blood."

  A spark of hope flared in Jack's eyes.

  387

  Tess seized on the moment. "Have you ever hurt anyone, Jack? And I don't mean getting to Johnny too late; that was just bad luck, pure and simple. I mean hurting someone yourself. With your own hands." He frowned. "No. But that doesn't prove?" "And what about the Dwyers, Jack? You knew them, for God's sake. Selina was killed in her own home. She died clutching the baby dress she was knitting. She was soaked in her own blood, and her face was a mass of bruises. Did you do that, Jack? Did you shoot Henry Dwyer in the back of the head, then beat Selina Dwyer senseless and shoot her, too?"

  Horror rounded Jack's eyes. The color seeped from his skin. "Christ Almighty ..."

  Tess shook him hard. "Did you do that, Jack? Could you do that?"

  Jack stared into her pale, determined face and felt the first crumbling sense of doubt. It was nothing really, just a spark, a flicker of hope. "I don't know...." "You do know, Jack."

  He squeezed his eyes shut. A memory of last night flashed through his mind. As he'd sat in the middle of this lonely cell, pouring his heart out onto that scrap of paper, he'd felt... reborn. And yet here he was now, clinging to the same old fears, reliving the same old horrors.

  What if Lissa was right? asked a small voice inside him. If he wasn't the murderer, then someone else was. Someone who wouldn't want Lissa poking her nose into the investigation.

  He took a deep breath and released it in a shuddering, frightened sigh. He opened his eyes, and found Lissa still staring at him with absolute trust in her eyes.

  His hands started to tremble, slowly at first and then harder. Fear crept through his blood in a chilling, ice-cold wave.

  388

  He felt like a man standing on the edge of a black, bottomless pool, poised to dive headfirst into waters that held a thousand deadly terrors.

  He looked into his wife's eyes and felt a rush of love so strong, he felt the sting of tears. "You never doubted me, did you?"

  Tears glistened in her eyes. "And I never will, Jack."

  He swallowed with difficulty. "I'm afraid."

  She smiled. It was a slow, bittersweet smile that broke his heart. "So am I."

  At her soft words, so filled with love and trust and hope, Jack felt his last vestige of resistance melt away. She was afraid, too, and yet she forged ahead, believing. Always believing.

  Christ, how he wanted to be like her, wanted desperately to let himself believe. Not just for her, but for all of them. For himself, for her, for the children they had now and the children they'd have in the future.

  He held his breath and dove into the icy waters of that shallow pool?and hoped to hell she was there to catch him.

  "Maybe . . ." The word stuck in his throat. He had to force it past his lips. "Maybe I didn't do it."

  Lissa threw her arms around him, planting dozens of kisses all over his face. "I knew you could do it!"

  He held her tightly, feeling the hot sting of tears in his eyes. Years' worth of fear and self-doubt slid away. Without the familiar armor, he was left feeling frightened and shaky and more than a little lost. "I love you, Lissa," he whispered desperately.

  She pulled slowly away and looked up. There was a bright, mischievous smile on her face. "I love you, too, Jack. Now, let's get you the hell out of here."

  Three days later, Tess was standing on the windswept hillside above Kanaka Bay, with her arms crossed, staring

  389

  out across the glasslike water. The shadows of twilight had just begun to fall, casting the world in shades of gray. Ed Warbass stood beside her, and the children were sitting on a huge plaid b
lanket. Every eye was turned to the Straits.

  She chewed nervously on the scraggly nub of her thumbnail. Once again her gaze narrowed, scanned the shadowy water.

  "What's taking them so long?" she muttered.

  Ed laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "The telegram said they'd be here tonight. Maybe Jack and Charlie had some paperwork to finish up on the hearing."

  She glanced around, noticing for the first time the number of people congregating down along the water. She frowned at Ed. "What are they doing here?"

  He shrugged. "Who knows?"

  Tess dismissed the question. She had more important things on her mind anyway. Finally her husband was coming home.

  She turned her gaze back to the still waters. And waited.

  Jack sat in the small canoe, his hat drawn low across his brow, paddling toward Kanaka Bay. A brilliant red-streaked purple twilight sky reflected off the water. In the distance, their destination was a jet black curl of land against charcoal gray sea. He thought about the last few days. He and Charlie had worked side by side, gathering evidence, lining up witnesses, putting together facts, but as it turned out, the authorities didn't need much of it. Joe Nuanna's confession had wrapped the murder up in a nice, neat package.

  "Looks like there's a bunch of people waiting," Charlie said quietly.

  Jack's rhythm shattered. Awkwardly he rammed his paddle in the water and tried to recapture the even lift-

  390

  plunge-pull motion. Water slapped against the sides of the canoe.

  "Folks make you nervous?" Charlie asked, leaning back in the canoe.

  Jack nodded.

  Charlie leaned back in the canoe. "Don't be. You're one of us, son. Looks like I'm not the only one your wife convinced of that."

  Jack looked up. "Thanks, Charlie. I really mean that. Without you ..."

  He laughed. "Without me, nothing. It was your wife that did all the work, son. You're a lucky man to have a woman who loves you so much."

  He smiled, slow and easy, thinking of Lissa. "Yeah, I am."

  They lapsed back into silence as Jack expertly maneuvered the canoe into the harbor and up to the sagging wooden dock. The islanders stood back from the dock, their bodies a tangle of shadows that were curiously silent.

  Jack and Charlie stepped out of the canoe, their feet splashing in the cold water. Alone, Jack brought the canoe onto the shore and pulled it high on the beach. The wooden hull scraped loudly on the pebbles and sand.

  Then, slowly, he turned and faced the silent people.

  Charlie was the first to speak. "You all heard about the Nuanna boys, I know. Well, Joe admitted to me that he did the killings. Trial's set for a week from today in Port Townsend."

  The crowd rustled around, talked quietly among themselves, then, slowly, Jerry Sikes came forward, his hand outstretched. "Welcome back, Jack."

  Jack stood stunned, unable to do anything except stumble forward and take the man's hand. One by one, the other islanders came forward to greet him, welcome him home.

  391

  "Good to have you back, Mr. Rafferty." "Guess it feels good to be home." "Hope you and Missus Rafferty'll come on over for supper sometime soon."

  Jack tried his best to answer all the well-wishers. Finally, overwhelmed, he looked up.

  And saw his family standing on the hill. A huge ache spread through him at the sight of them.

  "Lissa." Her name came out as a whisper of longing. "You'd best be runnin' along," a woman said beside him. "She's been waitin' on yah all day."

  Jack drew his hand back. The crowd parted as if on cue, giving him room. He ran through the darkened grass and bounded up the shadowy hillside.

  "Daddy!" Katie came at him first, braids flapping. She threw herself into his arms. He swept her into a bear hug and twirled her around, reveling in the high, clear sound of her laughter.

  When they came to a stop, he kissed her soft forehead and whispered, "I missed you, little Katydid."

  He looked up and saw Savannah standing a few feet away. He dropped to one knee and opened his other arm. Grinning, she hurled herself down the hill and slammed into him. The three of them toppled over, rolling breathlessly down the hill.

  Laughing, they started to get up. Jack was halfway to a stand when he felt his wife's gaze on him. Crouched in the grass, an arm around each daughter, he looked up. His heart tripped hard, slammed into his throat.

  Lissa was close enough that he could see the welcoming softness in the brown eyes, close enough that he could smell the lavender scent of her hair. He swallowed thickly. God, she looked beautiful.

  His hands slid down the girls' backs and fell to his sides. Drawn to his feet, he moved toward her. All around

  392

  them the wind whispered through the grass. Stars poked through the twilight sky and twinkled overhead. A tiny mewling sigh came from the wicker basket at Lissa's feet.

  She smiled. "Hi, Jack."

  He took her in his arms. She melted against him, her arms circling low and casual around his hips, her face tucked in the crook of his neck. They stood there for a long time, as long as it took the pale orange sun to sink into the horizon. Neither one of them said anything; there was nothing that needed to be said. What they needed now was togetherness, and together, standing in the middle of the shadowy field, with their children gathered around them, they began to heal.

  Finally Jack pulled away. Taking her face in his hands, he stared down into her luminous, love-filled brown eyes and felt a surge of emotion so strong, so big, he almost buckled at the force of it. "I didn't do it," he whispered quietly. "I ... remembered."

  There was a long, pregnant pause. Tears sparkled in her eyes. "I never thought you did."

  "I love you so much." Jack's throat closed up when he said the words.

  "I love you, too, Jack."

  He leaned down and kissed her. A slow, lingering kiss that held nothing back. Then he pulled away and whispered, "Let's go home."

  She looked up at him, her eyes shining with happy, loving tears. "Home."

  That's all she said. Just a single, simple word, but Jack had never heard anything as wonderful in his life. The word sank into his soul and caused a glowing warmth. He looped an arm around her shoulder, and together they stared down the shadowy road toward their farm. They couldn't see any buildings, but in their hearts, they saw it

  393

  all. The picture-memory of it filled their souls, beckoned them to return to the place where it all began.

  Home.

  Jack bent down and picked up the basket. Caleb blinked up at him and gurgled a welcome.

  Jack grinned. "Hey, he smiled at me!"

  Lissa slipped her hand in his. "Of course he did." She leaned against his shoulder. "You're his daddy. Now, let's go home."

  Epilogue

  CHRISTMAS EVE 1873

  Tess stood beside Jack, her arm curled around his waist. Outside, a winter storm raged. Rain burst from the heavens in a great whooshing sound and hammered the pitched roof overhead. Running water blurred the small window-pane, turning the glass into a square of undulating silver.

  She and Jack stared through the small, waving pane, their gazes searching the darkness for the small white cross on the hillside above the barn. The moon slid past a charcoal gray cloud, sending fingers of blue-white light across the barren landscape.

  Tess felt the tremble in Jack's body, and she knew what he was thinking. Though the blackouts were no more, a good hard rain still triggered the painful memories of his past. She sidled closer, letting her body form to his. Her cheek rested on the hard ball of his shoulder.

  "I still miss him so much," Jack said in a throaty whisper.

  Tess kissed his shoulder. "I know."

  Together they stood against the storm, staring out the window. Far in the distance, Tess saw a flash of white in the moonlight. She smiled softly, remembering the day, not so long ago, when Jack placed that plain white cross in the

  394


  395

  ground. It had been sunny that day, the air tinged with the scent of the sea and a million blooming flowers.

  The family sat in a circle around the cross, holding hands. Slowly, through tears and laughter and memories, Jack told his children about the uncle they'd never known.

  Such a little thing, she thought, making a grave, and yet it had given Jack a place to go where he felt close to Johnny. A way to say good-bye.

  Somewhere a bell tinkled, snapping Tess out of her memories.

  "What was that?" Tess asked.

  Thunder boomed through the night. Jack shivered and crossed his arms, staring intently at the shimmer of white through the night's darkness. In times like this, when the power of the past was strong, Jack focused on the cross and remembered the good times. "What? Huh?"

  Tess eased away from him. "I'll be right back." Reaching for her flannel robe, she kissed him good-bye and left the bedroom.

  In the shadowy darkness of the hallway, she paused.

  The bell tinkled again. Louder this time.

  Frowning, Tess moved toward the living room. The bedroom door slammed shut behind her. She jumped at the unexpected sound. "Hey, what the ..."

  She smelled smoke. And roses. Tess's frown deepened.

  From somewhere?she couldn't quite place where? came the rustling sound of fine silk. Suddenly the shadows parted. A pale, rose-hued cloud rolled into the hallway, swirling around Tess's bare feet. The smell of roses intensified, turned sickeningly sweet.

  Tess reached blindly for the bedroom door, and found it locked.

  "Jack." His name was a whisper from her too dry mouth.

  She took a deep breath to calm down. Somehow she'd

  396

  accidentally locked the door. Except ... except the door didn't have a lock.

  "Tess," came a hoarse, feminine voice from the living room. "I'm waiting."

  She told herself not to move. She didn't want to know what was going on. She just wanted to stand here, waiting for Jack to open the door.