Indivisible (15 page)

Tia set up the worktable she had moved into the newly available space near the front counter. She had poured a dozen candles the night before that she could decorate while she watched the shop, replenishing her stock. She tried to focus on that, but seeing Jonah with the vet, sitting where he’d sat with Reba, had upset her.

He had every right to move on, and it shouldn’t surprise her that he’d chosen someone similar in type to Reba, but it didn’t make seeing it easier. She closed her eyes, then looked up as the fingerprint man came through the door. Wonderful.

He had told Piper he didn’t mean to wreck her shop. She’d said the same, assuming she would never see the big guy again, yet here he was. Just in case, she limped to the counter where she’d left her cell phone.

“You’re hurt,” he informed her.

“The sculpture hit my leg. When you bumped it.” The skin had turned purple, and the bruise throbbed with every step. She slipped her phone into the loose pocket of her cotton poncho-style top.

His big hands opened and closed beneath the immaculate cuffs of his starched, blue dress shirt. “You changed things.”

“I removed the damaged merchandise and displays.”

“It’s not so crowded,” he said with sincere relief. “That’s better. Much better.”

She lowered her chin. “Can I help you?”

“The tapers broke. When they fell.” His shoulders hunched. “I need them.”

“Thankfully that display wasn’t damaged.”

He turned and headed to the side wall, inspected and chose a pair of linked tapers. He brought them to the counter. “They make a very nice gift.”

Was it possible he had blocked out his part in the incident, rewound to the point right before his panic? Could this be a redo? She felt a keen kinship, a stab of hope for his success. “Would you like them wrapped?”

“No.” He took out his wallet. “Just like that.”

With a sense of déjà vu, Tia saw her hand brushing his, the chaos that had followed. With everything in her she willed this time to be different. If
he
could do it … “Miles?”

He startled, surprised she knew his name.

“Why does touching bother you?”

He stiffened. “People don’t touch. People—”

“Touch all the time.”

He dropped the wallet and put his hands to his ears.

Was she trying to set him off? He’d taken a chance just by coming back. “I’m sorry.” She used her Hopeline tone. “Sometimes talking helps.” And sometimes, it obviously didn’t.

He didn’t know or care about her education, her degrees, or all the good Carolyn thought she could do. He wanted to be left alone. She took the cash for the tapers, put the change into the pouch, and laid his wallet on the counter beside the candles.

Not quite willing to give up, she set a Hopeline card beside his wallet. “I’m here if you ever do want to talk.”

He snatched everything up and hurried for the door. She watched him leave, sad that he only knew human contact as a threat. But was he so different from her? Or just more honest.

As if her mood couldn’t get worse, Jonah entered the shop, all six feet drawn up taut. “Don’t even try to tell me that wasn’t the guy who busted up your store.”

“Okay, I won’t.” He must have seen Miles leaving.

“I guess you forgot he’s dangerous?”

“I don’t think he is.”

“Oh, and you’re the expert?”

More than he knew. She limped to the worktable and plunked the hypodermic filled with shimmery gold wax back into the hot water. “He’s just a guy with issues.”

“If you had called when he came in, I could have shown up to determine that.”

“Look.” She turned. “It was like a seizure that first time. That’s how much control he had over it.”

“What if he has a seizure at the bakery? Attacks Piper?”

“He can’t
touch
people.”

“You’re still limping from the way he couldn’t touch you.”

She sighed. “If it was Helen Henratty’s shop he’d tossed, would you be this tenacious?”

“Helen Henratty would cooperate. She would want compensation for her losses.”

“And you’d feel as personally committed as you do now?”

He crowded her. “You know the answer to that.”

“Jonah, I don’t want special treatment. Just trust me. He’s not the psychopath you’re looking for.”

Jonah hung his hands on his hips. “Why was he here?”

“He wanted candles.”

“He came in to shop?” Aggravation gathered his features again.

“The other tapers broke. He needed to replace them.”

“Tia …” He seemed lost for words.

“You’re taking it too seriously.”

“This isn’t only about you. There are other people, other shop owners to consider. If he can come back to shop after what he did to you—”

“He didn’t do it with intent, Jonah. And I just … couldn’t bring you down on him.”

He looked as though she’d struck him. “Bring me
down on him?”

She swallowed. “I know how you get.”

His eyes narrowed. “How I get?”

She pressed her hand to her forehead. “Do you hear yourself? Don’t you realize how intimidating you are? What it tells people you’re capable of?”

His eyes went stone cold. “What am I capable of, Ti? Blowing my dad’s head off with a shotgun?”

Her breath came sharp and quick. “No.”

“You think I’m too nice?”

She shook her head. “Stop it, Jonah.”

“You don’t know, do you? You’ve never asked.”

“I don’t need to.”

“You’ve kept a nice, safe distance, though.”

“That’s not why—”

“Ask.” The icy demand chilled her marrow. Tears burned. “I won’t.”

His teeth clenched down on a cold whisper. “Ask me.”

She swallowed hard. “Did you shoot your dad?”

“No. But I got to watch, which was almost as good.”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Pretend to be that person you’re not.”

“What makes you think I’m not?” His temple pulsed. “You see it. Down inside me. The rage.”

“There’s rage in every one of us.”

“Not like mine.”

“That’s a lie.” Her voice rasped.

“But you believe it.”

“No, I don’t. I have never believed you shot him.”

His throat worked. “Then why …” His pain surfaced like blisters on a burn.

She could not let it go on. “You wanted to save Reba from the backlash, told her she didn’t deserve to be shackled to a man like you. But the truth is, you shouldn’t be shackled to someone like me.”

He looked away and swore, then turned back and gripped her shoulders. “This thing, the way I feel, didn’t happen because of what we did, it’s
why
we did it.”

She searched his face.

“I love you. I loved you before we betrayed your sister, before I slid the ring on her finger.”

She gulped back tears. “I don’t—”

“That day on the ledge, when you followed me to the eagle nest? I wanted to make love to you. I wanted to take off your clothes and let the sun shine all over you. That’s what I was thinking while we talked about your sister.”

Her tears broke free.
If that were true …
“Then why …”

“I needed everyone to know I was good enough for
Reba
Manning.”

Her throat felt raw, her chest hollow.

“
That’s
what I’m capable of.” He let go and stepped back.

She felt like he’d pulled a stake from her chest and her life was pouring out. She stood unmoving as he walked away.

Fifteen

Loyalty means nothing unless it has at its heart the absolute principle of self-sacrifice.

—THOMAS WOODROW WILSON

L
eaving Tia’s shop, Jonah’s mind reeled. His body shook. He had determined to hold on, but something inside snapped. He had repelled her as surely as if he’d slammed his palms into her collarbones. The ache, the need for her howled, almost driving him back inside, but he had shown her the beast, and she would only recoil.

His phone rang, and he wanted to throw it. “What?”

“Jonah Westfall?”

“Yes.” His teeth clenched.

“Sarge asked me to call.”

Sarge. It must be the nurse. What was her name? “Lauren.”

“Very good.”

“What’s up with Sarge?”

“His daughters are here. They’re moving him to a nursing home.”

“What? No.” His hand clenched. “I tried to get back to them. They never—” He rubbed his face. “Can you stall them till I get there?”

“How?”

“Tell them you need another test or the doctor has to sign something.”

“The doctor’s already spoken—”

His breathing hardened. “Just ask them to wait until I get there.”

“You better hurry. They want to be done with it.”

Done with it. With Sarge. He wouldn’t debate the reasons for their decision, but he hoped to change their minds. Shutting the phone, Jonah sprinted to the Bronco. He put on the light and siren and kept the pedal floored.

He’d expended his emotional energy on Tia, and he hadn’t prepared for this, but it might be his only chance to give back to Sarge for the things he’d done. Maybe guilt and regret had driven the old man’s actions, but the result was the same. With the kind of anger he’d built up, Jonah could be doing time instead of fighting crime, if Sarge hadn’t stressed things like taking life head on and making his way through the trenches no matter what the enemy had planned.

Stan had taken credit for his son’s decision to join him in law enforcement. But it was Sarge who had encouraged him. “Read the enemy,” Sarge told him, “assess his strengths, then do it better, harder, and with a clear conscience.”

It all stemmed from the tragedy, from the night in the woods when their souls had intersected. In some ways, Sarge’s life had stopped that night. The clock quit ticking. He’d gone into a tunnel where nothing changed. His menu, his schedule. Hiring Piper had been a bigger step than anyone realized, certainly not the daughters who had been gone for years. Hurt, perhaps, by his inability to move out of the past, they had started over without him.

Now Sarge needed a new start, but not the one they planned. Charging out of the elevators, he encountered Lauren, looking drawn. “Where is everyone?”

She pointed to Sarge’s room. “Still there. Barely.” She looked him up and down. “You really are a cop.”

He’d worn the uniform because he was supposed to be in court this afternoon. “Did you think I was making that up?”

“Seeing is believing.”

He crooked a smile. “Thanks for calling me.” She smiled back. A lovely, hopeful smile.

Jonah reached the room and entered. The women who turned to him were fifteen or twenty years older. They probably had no memory of him. They might remember his father though, as their expressions suggested. The resemblance was striking. Especially in uniform.

“Hi.” He extended his hand. “Jonah Westfall.”

“Of course. I’m Billie. This is Stacey. Dad’s been hollering for you, but I’m not sure what you have to do with this, unless he’s broken the law.” A ludicrous thought, her raised eyebrow told him. Sarge laid down the law; he didn’t break it.

“He hasn’t broken any laws.” Jonah looked at Sarge in the bed, shrunken even more than he’d been. “Hey, Sarge.” Low simmer, Jonah gauged, by the return stare.

“The hospital is ready to release him to a VA care facility that will continue pain management and—”

“I can manage my own pain. Always have.”

Billie rolled her eyes. “The drugs impair balance, cause drowsiness. He won’t be able to drive or walk long distances. He’s—”

“Not deaf or on my deathbed.” A rolling boil.

“He has numbness and slight paralysis in the right leg that will worsen as the spine constricts the nerves. He needs care that my sister and I can’t provide.”

Jonah nodded.

“We have considered the options—”

“I’d like to discuss one you haven’t considered.”

That caught her off stride. “Another option?”

“Let him move in with me.”

Both women stared at him, slow blinking.

“You want Sarge to live with you?” Stacey tried for an inquiring tone, but it came out incredulous.

“I’ve just about completed the addition to my home.” He hadn’t started it with Sarge in mind, but as he’d driven, the thought had come. It was all he could come up with to keep Sarge out of a place where he’d be utterly powerless.

“I don’t understand how you’re involved.” Billie looked more suspicious than her sister. “What’s in this for you?”

“Sarge is my friend.”

She barely masked her disbelief. “I don’t know what he’s promised you—”

“I’m not looking for compensation. I’d like to give him a place where he can stay on the mountain and keep a hand in the bakery.”

Billie looked at her sister. “We were thinking we’d sell the bakery.”

“Over my dead body,” Sarge barked.

“It would pay for quality care—”

“My own daughters, digging my grave.”

“Sarge,” Jonah said mildly. “Everyone wants what’s best for you.”

“Best for me? Let me live my life. My way.”

“We’re trying to do that.”

“Not those—”

“You’re not helping your cause, Sarge. Let me handle it.”

Billie scowled. “Has he said he wants to live with you?”

“I haven’t invited him. What do you say, Sarge? Want to bunk with me?”

“I don’t need to bunk with you. I have my own place.”

Jonah hung his hands on his hips. “That’s not an option. It’s my place or the home.” Nursing care was not cheap. The daughters should jump at the chance.

“Dad?” Billie fixed him with the fierce, beaky stare she’d clearly inherited. “For reasons I can’t fathom, Chief Westfall is making you an offer.”

Sarge looked up. Jonah saw a desperation that could have been interposed on the wounded coyote.
Come on, Sarge
. He waited.
Take the chance you’ve got
. Sarge would have wanted to fight it, to hold the line and not retreat. He never pretended to be what he wasn’t, but right now it was clear he wasn’t sure who or what he was.

“I don’t have a choice, I guess.” His voice sounded thready, but the glare had lost no potency.

Jonah breathed his relief, wiping the sweat from his palms. It didn’t seem to matter who was in a vulnerable situation. It always got him in the gut.

“We’ll work out the details, Sarge.”

Sarge’s mouth moved, but no words came. His big hands clawed the sheet.

“I’d like to see you in the hall,” Billie said. “Sit with Dad, Stacey.”

This apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. Jonah followed her out.

“We will be selling the house. There is no way we can pay for a residence he’s not living in—or ever going to again. He should have sold that place years ago and gotten proper care. It’s a shrine to the dead.”

“It’s paid for, but you’re right.” Jonah nodded. “I’ll help him clear—”

“No. Stacey and I are here. We’ll clean it out.”

Jonah looked toward the room. “He’d like some say in it.”

“He’d like to control the whole thing, but that’s not going to happen. You think I’m a hard woman. I see it in your face. But I lived with him. Longer than I should have had to. This time, we’re doing it my way.”

Jonah didn’t press it. He’d drop by and collect things Sarge valued when the time came. He’d need to call Jay to complete the finish carpentry. They’d move Sarge’s furniture and bring the man in. He wasn’t sure who’d be at greater risk, Sarge or the coyote, but he wasn’t about to bring that up now.

Lauren touched his elbow. “Coffee?”

He took the cup. “Thanks.”

“Who won?” She raised her thick lashes.

“I’ll be taking him home, I guess.”

Her eyes softened. “Do they issue halos with that badge?”

“If they did, mine’s long gone.” He sipped the coffee. “This is good.”

“The new cappuccino machine. Makes it perfect every time.”

“Removes the human element.”

She nodded. “So have you thought this through?”

“Kind of freestyling right now.”

“I paged the doctor to come talk to you.” She signed the chart brought to her by a stocky, male CNA who tried to disguise how much he enjoyed standing in her presence. She turned back. “You’re going to need medical assistance with Sergeant Beaker. I could help you get him set up and provide ongoing care.”

“It would be a long drive.”

“I’m up that direction. My family owns a town house complex in Pine Crest. I have my own unit.”

He studied her face. “You have a card?”

She removed one from the slim wallet in her pocket. “My cell’s on the back.”

“Sure you mean it?”

“I’ve been inoculated.” The corners of her eyes tipped up. “Who else are you going to find to put up with him?”

“That’s a very good point.”

“I’m a good point maker.”

“I’ll bet you are.” He slipped the card into his pocket. He’d just burned whatever bridge had been left with Tia. Looking at Lauren, he ought to feel something—besides lust. Something like potential. He sighed.

“Call me tonight.”

“I’ll be getting things figured out.”

“Tomorrow then. We’ll send Sarge with a walker, but it won’t be long before he’s wheelchair bound. I can show you what you need.”

He had not thought through the details in his rash offer. He’d negotiated the prisoner’s release but probably did need help getting Sarge organized. He and Jay could ramp the back entrance, but there were probably a dozen other things he wouldn’t think of. “Okay.”

She looked up. “Here’s the doctor.”

Jonah turned, and it hit him that he’d just taken responsibility for another person. God help them both.

Piper looked up as Jonah’s morning companion came back into the bakery, searching the tables instead of approaching the counter. Piper eyed her curiously. “Can I help you?”

“Oh.” Liz turned. “I wanted something from the candle shop next-door, but no one’s there. I thought maybe Tia had dropped in over here.”

“I haven’t seen her. Did she put the sign up? Back in half an hour or whatever?”

“No. But I looked all through. Even the bathroom was empty.”

“You mean the store’s open, but Tia isn’t there?”

“Yes, I found that strange.”

More than strange. Tia would never leave the shop unsecured.

“I’m ready to order.” The woman who’d been perusing the board decided.

“Can you warm this raisin roll for me?” The squat man behind her queried.

Piper released her breath. “Okay. Sure.” She grabbed the roll and asked the woman, “What would you like?”

The microwave took forever, then the register tape jammed, then someone else wanted a coffee refill. When she looked up Liz had gone. She’d have to check Tia’s shop herself.

As she started to round the counter, Bob Betters came in with a toothy female companion who wore an embarrassing amount of makeup, trying to look fancy enough for Mr. Successful. Bob had swallowed a canary whole. He would not wait while she searched for Tia.

“What can I get you?”

“No goat cheese?” Bob didn’t exactly sneer.

“Just what Sarge has on the board.”
Come on, come on, come on
.

“Two cheddar rolls. And warm them up, peach.”

Maybe that was what his companion wanted, but she hadn’t seen him ask. Piper bagged his order, but he and his date sat down at a table. She didn’t like leaving customers in the store but had to check on Tia. As much as Bob annoyed her, she didn’t see him ripping her off. She keyed in the register lock, let herself out from behind the counter, and rushed through the kitchen.

Tia’s back door was locked, but she hurried around and found the front open. “Tia?” Could she have forgotten to lock her store? The shop seemed undisturbed. The back room looked the same as always except Tia had moved her worktable out front. Piper checked the shelf where Tia kept her sling-back purse. Empty.

Piper speed-dialed her cell phone and got voice mail. “Call me, Ti, okay?” She locked Tia’s front door, though she couldn’t shoot the bolt without a key, then went back to the bakery.

Bob lounged back. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “More iced tea?”

“Sure.” As she poured the refill, he said, “Thanks, peach.”

What was with the peach thing? She filled his date’s glass. “I’m Piper.”

“Ainsley.” The girl had lipstick on her teeth.

“How’s the roll?”

Ainsley glanced at Bob and back. “It’s good.”

Mary Carson came in. “Oh, lovely. You have one last lemon scone.”

“Just for you.” Piper lifted the flap to get back behind the counter. “To go?”

“Yes, please.”

Piper snagged the scone. “Do you know where Tia might have gone?”