Indivisible (31 page)

Tia and Piper squeezed so long, he wasn’t sure they’d separate. Miles looked like he might pass out. Jay eyed him as though he’d performed a shape change, then shook his head, smiling.

“No Cherokee wisdom?”

“No. But the Danes say, ‘If envy were a fever, the whole world would be ill.’”

Hands clasped at her throat, Piper beamed all the way to the car. “I can’t believe they did that. After all the pining and fighting, they’re actually married. I’m so happy.” She hugged herself.

Miles said, “I’m happy too.”

“That we didn’t die?”

He looked across the car top. “Not exactly normal, am I?”

“Oh, normal. Normal’s overrated. Has your blood pressure dropped yet?”

“Probably.”

“That’s good.”

He still looked pale, but he hadn’t fainted or panicked or knocked anything over. She tipped her head. “Are you letting me into the car?” When he didn’t move, she said, “You make a good statue, something titled
Cast in Stone.”

He swallowed. “More like
Petrified.”

She giggled. “We don’t have to go to your house. We could just drive.”

“Okay.”

The highway back to Redford wound through one of the most ruggedly gorgeous panoramas she’d ever seen. Glacial ice streaked the stony reaches where the crevices stayed cool. The creek widened and narrowed, wending through the canyon, flanked by gold and russet and copper leafed trees and bushes. So beautiful. She sighed.

“What’s the matter?”

“I was hoping I could put roots down here. Now Tia’s married and the house is for sale. I guess I’m out.”

“Can’t you rent another room?”

“Maybe.” She leaned her head back. “Miles?”

“Yes?”

“Can we just keep driving?”

“No.”

She turned surprised.

“We’re almost there.” He put on his signal for the Pine Crest exit.

She held her breath as he wended past one marvelous home after another. His house nestled into a grove of golden white aspen with multicolored shrubs and evergreens. A pond from the golf course lay sedately to one side with a carpet of lawn rolling over a slight hill. The house had clean lines and a contemporary style that managed to complement its setting.

“Wow.”

“It’s very nice inside.”

“I imagine it is. But, Miles, if you don’t want me in there, it’s okay.”

“We can wash off all those hospital germs.” He shuddered. “Sick people with sick germs. We’ll wash up.”

She pictured an anticontamination chamber in his entry, but it was like any other except bigger, brighter, and more amazing in architectural design than anything she’d seen. “Wow,” she said again.

“I designed it.”

“Miles, you’re amazing.”

“My shower’s upstairs. I’ll use it now.”

“If you’re not back in three hours, I’m coming after you.”

He gave her a troubled look, then turned and walked upstairs. She spent the next forty-five minutes walking all over the main level of his house. There was no dedicated library, but each area had shelves of books and cutting-edge electronics. As far as she could tell, that was where his spending money went.

That and new clothes. He came downstairs in fresh khaki slacks and a golf shirt, put the clothes he’d worn earlier into a plastic bag that he cinched and sent down a chute to a dumpster under the massive deck that looked over the gorge behind the house. She waited quietly while he performed his ritual, then he said, “There’s a guest shower at the far end of the hall upstairs. It’s never been used.”

“That’s fine, but I don’t have a change of clothes.”

“I’ll bring you something from the ladies’ boutique at the club.”

“You belong to the country club?”

“It’s required. I’ve never used the membership. But I toured the facility.”

He would not relax with her wearing contaminated clothing, so she shrugged. “Size four, long.”

“I’m going to set the alarm so no one can get in while you shower. If I’m not back, don’t open an outside door.”

“Will it yell at me if I do?”

“The noise is not pleasant.”

“Well, thanks for keeping me safe.”

She went up the stairs and along the inner balcony to a massive bath, steam sauna, and shower room. It might be overboard, but it was overboard in style. If he was going shopping, she may as well make this maiden flight worthwhile.

Later, in the flirty, flowered slacks, yellow silk shell, and three-quarter-sleeved jacket, she felt chic and pampered. She looked down at the beige, beaded-leather, moccasin-style sandals and splayed her toes. If she wasn’t careful, she’d get used to this. “You have good taste.”

“I described you to the salesclerk.”

“Oh yeah? What did you say?”

He sent her an enigmatic glance from his seat beside her on the deck. “Enough for her to choose that.”

She pouted. “You’re not going to tell me?”

“It’s called teasing.”

“No, teasing would be, ‘I told her you weigh four hundred pounds and have hairy warts.’”

“I would never say that.”

She sipped the lemonade he had poured from the glass pitcher in his stainless steel french-door refrigerator.

“I said you have golden skin and sky blue eyes, a bubbly personality, and sunshiny smile. All clichés, but they are true.”

Her mouth curved up. “Oh.”

“I could have told her more, but she got the idea.”

“You’re sweet, Miles.”

He stared out over the gorge. “I like you so much it makes my stomach ache. I know that isn’t romantic, but there’s a hole inside that gets bigger every time I say your name or think of you or …” He spread his hands. “Anything.”

She stood up and walked to the galvanized metal rail, looking down the narrow, forested gorge, then glanced back, seeing his misery. “I won’t lie to you, Miles. I need hugs.”

His face drooped.

“Do you think you can learn to like it?”

He took ages to say, “I might hurt you.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Hugs don’t hurt.”

In spite of the brisk fall temperature, sweat beaded his hairline. “Could I … touch your hair?”

The smile broke over her. “Sure.”

His hand might have been made of lead, but the big fingers came up, slowly extending from his palm. He brought them trembling to the hair hanging over her ear, a more intimate touch than a big bear hug, but she didn’t say so.

Pressing his forearms to his head, he stepped back and looked down at her. “Someday,” he said hoarsely, “I’m going to hug you.”

Thirty

Let those love now who never loved before;
Let those who always loved, now love the more.

—THOMAS PARNELL

C
hafing at the pain and confinement, Jonah leaned back in the bed. Earlier, the doctor had closed the ceremony by shooing everyone but Tia out and conveying the cheery news that he would not be released for several days at least, longer if infection developed in the bowel or surrounding tissue—a real possibility with gunshot wounds, Dr. Vargas had reiterated, even one that passed through. Foreign matter had repercussions in the human body that took time, rest, and care to heal.

Duly chastised but still impatient, he stroked Tia’s hand. “This is not how I pictured our wedding night.”

“I’m thankful you lived to have one.” Tia frowned. “Have you seen the news?”

“I was there.”

“A flaming meth lab? Assault rifles?”

“Redford’s growing up. The mayor should be proud.”

“The mayor tried to see you. So has every news outlet in the area.
‘Police Chief Jonah Westfall was critically injured by gunfire in the meth lab incident that claimed the lives of two others
’”

“I wasn’t critical.”

“Yes, Jonah, you were. And a half inch to the side might have been fatal. Not to mention toxic smoke, bruises, and burns.”

“Hey.” He pulled her close to him. “Enough.”

“You said you were indestructible.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Why weren’t you wearing a vest?”

“Someone else had it.”

She shook her head, incomprehensibly. “Would you allow your officers—”

“No. It was stupid. The situation unfolded without a plan.”

“Oh well, if that’s all.”

“Wife.”

She raised her brows and jutted her chin. “Don’t tell me how to do my job.”

“No, of course not.” Only she could abuse those words so thoroughly.

“I apprehended an entire drug ring.” He winced as the tiny shift in position shot pain through the rib.

“About that … I should have said
three
dead.” She stroked his arm. “Officer Moser came to tell you Greggor didn’t make it. Shrapnel from the explosion and burns.”

Jonah looked down. “When?”

“About an hour ago. You were sleeping.”

Three dead. And she was right. Besides the gunshot and the pursuant blood loss, he had a minor burn and cuts on one arm, a bruised spine and kidney. Kevlar would have been prudent.

“Officer Donnelly came with Officer Moser. She’s desperate to see you.”

Jonah scratched his jaw. He’d have to deal with that, but right now he’d leave her to Moser. He lay back and closed his eyes. “Ti?”

“Hmm?” She ran her fingers through his hair.

“Did you marry me? Or am I dreaming?”

“If it were my dream?” She leaned in and whispered in his ear.

Suddenly very much alive, he gripped the nape of her neck, his kiss long and deep.

Liz formed a smile for the woman who came in Monday morning with her Himalayan cat in a fancy carrier.

The woman smiled back. “Mary Carson. I have an appointment for Chelsea.”

“I’m all ready for her.”

Mrs. Carson glanced at the small television playing the news. “We’ve certainly hit the map with that story, haven’t we?”

Liz had watched the aerial shot of flames, the burnt shack, and of course Chief of Police Jonah Westfall in the hospital, saying, “Redford doesn’t tolerate crime.” Again and again.

“We’re lucky he wasn’t killed. But I must say I’m less surprised by that whole affair than his getting married.”

Liz stiffened. “His what?”

“Wedding. Right there in the hospital room. To my dear friend, Tia. I guess in life and death moments, you realize what really matters.”

Life and death moments. What really matters
.

The woman prattled on as Liz administered Chelsea’s shots and performed the physical. She must have made the appropriate responses because Mrs. Carson paid and left, satisfied that her pet had been properly cared for. And it had. She was a good vet.

“I’m sorry, Lizzie.” Lucy’s voice was hardly more than a breath in her ear. It was the first time she’d risen from her bed in a long while.

“He deserves her. They deserve each other.”

She would have cared for him as she cared for Lucy, unflinchingly, unsparingly, selflessly. She had seen the haunting in his eyes, yearning for what should not be. Now he had succumbed to Tia as to the bottle, sating himself, oblivious of the wreckage to come. She could have saved him.

“It’s all right to cry.”

Liz turned. “I would never cry for him.”

Lucy stroked her face. “So strong. So brave.”

“You’re the brave one, Lucy.” She had almost lost sight of that, so brave and precious, so indispensable.

“It’s easy to be brave when I have you.”

They embraced. Lucy had her, but how much longer would she have Lucy?

After seeing that Scout and Enola had everything they needed and that the pup was at least responsive, Tia brought Sarge his egg salad sandwich. She sat down with a mug of hot chocolate, wishing her husband had sent her anywhere but here. Dying a thousand deaths, she said, “I don’t know if Jonah told you—”

“That he went and married you?”

“Yes, that.”

“I suppose you’ll be taking over here now?”

“I certainly hope not.”

He frowned at her. “I know you.”

“No, Sarge, I don’t think you do. You know my mother’s version. And guess what? She never knew me either.”

He growled, “What’s your point?”

“My point is I think we both deserve to be taken at face value, where we are now, who we are today. Jonah will be more peaceful if you and I find a way to get along.”

He studied her. “You love him?”

“I always have.”

“Then I accept your recommendation. He’s one of the few people I admire.”

“He feels the same about you.”

Sarge looked away. “Guess this wasn’t how you imagined starting out together.”

“I’m learning to take whatever comes and be glad for it.”

“One tough cookie, huh?”

She shrugged. “When I have to be.”

He turned back and studied her even harder. “You’re more like your mother than I realized.”

“Why would you say that?”

He shrugged. “She took things head on, just like you. After the affair, I thought she’d end the marriage.”

“Affair?”

“But, being pregnant, she chose to stick it out, showed some real—”

“Are you saying my dad cheated?”

“Well, that depends.” Sarge scratched his bristled jaw. “Which dad you mean.”

Tia sat mute, unable to request clarification.

He grasped his mug and drank, then set it clumsily down. “I assumed you knew.”

She started to shake. “My
mother
had an affair?” A dark shade seemed to come down, while at the same time everything grew clear. Her mother’s hatred, her dad’s disinterest. The projection of immorality onto her before she even knew right from wrong.

Why had Sarge sprung this on her the second day of her own marriage? But she saw in his face that he had believed she knew, had not intended to insult her. She pushed back from the table, went outside, and staggered to the creek. She looked up through the pines, to the leaden sky, drawing damp air into her lungs, at once dazed and vindicated.

It had not been her behavior or her nature or anything about her Stella rejected. No matter who she was, her mother would have hated her, the reminder of her sin—or of what she’d given up because of her. She pressed her hands to her face. Daughter of infidelity, destined to the same?

No. She would not put her sin on her mother as her mother had on her. She and Jonah had failed and paid for it. But she had paid for her mother’s sin as well. How cruel and unfair was that?

She blinked back tears. “Lord.” What would she tell someone calling for prayer? God is bigger than the storm, his grace a haven from the tempest. If life throws you overboard, then swim! She clenched her fists.

God had loved and forgiven her. He had given her hope and wisdom and purpose. With Jonah, she’d already found joy. How could she possibly care who had impregnated her mother? And yet …

She went inside and, gripping her mug, sat across from Sarge, who looked as if he wished he’d beaten a quick retreat. She appreciated that he hadn’t. After releasing her top lip from her teeth, she asked, “Who was it?”

At the bakery counter, Piper placed the last selection into the box, drew a deep breath, and looked up at Miles, the only person there after closing time. “Tell me if I’ve completely lost my mind.”

“Not completely. I could make a logarithm to determine the percentage of mind loss at any given time, but it’s a constantly shifting, dynamic variable.”

“What percentage of crazy am I now?”

“Just enough.”

“I want Sarge to still feel a part of this. It’s his business.”

“He put you in charge.”

She slid the box lid on. “Yep. And raised me one whole dollar every hour.”

“That makes you the manager.”

She beamed at him for not belittling her wage. It was ridiculous, she knew. But she was proud of that dollar.

“When he came in that one time, it seemed like he was telling the bakery good-bye. I hate that. It’s hard enough knowing Tia won’t be working next door.”

“You should expand.”

“What?”

“You could open the wall and triple your seating and add more menu options.”

She looked at the brick wall between the businesses. “Make it a bakery bistro?”

“Soup and salads.”

“And quiche.”

“And desserts.”

She bit her lower lip. “And hire someone to work the counter and wait tables. Want a job?”

He looked aghast.

“Kidding.”

“I know. But it’s no less horrifying.”

She took the money pouch out of the safe. She’d make the deposit on the way to Jonah’s—Tia’s—the Westfall’s house. “With that kind of business, I might make tips or have a real salary. I could afford to stay.”

“You shouldn’t delay. Once something else goes in, the chance is gone.” Miles looked ready to take the wall down the minute she said the word.

“Sarge will have to love the idea—and he’ll need money to expand.”

“Or have a partner.”

“My three cents won’t go very far.”

“What about your family?”

She shook her head. “They offer all the time, but I can’t take it. You know why.” Since he’d been so open with her, she’d given him the same.

“A silent partner then. Someone who finances but isn’t involved in the business—unless you wanted him to design the expansion and give an opinion on menu items.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You?”

“Is that going too far? Did I overstep?”

“No, it’s it’s I don’t know what it is.”

“I make investments.”

“I appreciate the offer, Miles, but …”

“I want you to stay.”

She released a slow breath. “It’s a long shot that Sarge will even consider it. Change is hard for him.”

“Change is hard.”

They went out, and she locked the bakery, then took the box from him.

He said, “Can I see you tonight?”