FLASHBACK Page 14

  He was no Lady Chatterley's lover, to be banished back to his gardener's hut when my lady was done with him. He, Jack, wanted to be master. Free to take her anywhere in the damn house he pleased. He wanted to drive himself deep inside her body, plant his seed inside her. Let all men know she was his. And most of all, make sure she understood she was his.

  Her eyes were dark, black almost, drawing him into her. He heard his own growl, deep and low as he claimed her mouth again, telling her with his lips, his tongue, his hands, that she was his.

  Reaching out, he flicked the light switch off, plunging the hallway into darkness but for the glow of moonlight stealing through the leaded windows.

  She whimpered as darkness cloaked them, her hands grabbing, grasping him everywhere, pulling him against her with a wild abandon that sent his own urgency skyrocketing.

  He dragged his jacket off, threw it on the floor. Hers followed. They tore at resisting buttons, stubborn zippers, yanked and tossed clothing anywhere in their blinding need to be naked and together.

  Panting, wordless, they fell on the piled clothing, where she wrapped her legs around him and drew him into her.

  He thrust deep and hard as though he could push through and into her very soul. She cried out, arching up to him, head thrown back, her body sucking him greedily into her depths.

  They rolled and she was astride him, her naked body gilded by moonlight so she resembled some ancient goddess come to sport with her mortal lover, She was wild, untamable, gripping his shoulders fiercely as she rode him.

  Panting, he matched her rhythm, driving up and up to some impossible pinnacle.

  A cry spilled out from deep in her throat, and her head tipped back even as her body began bucking wildly with the spasms that shook her.

  Her violent climax was too much for his self-control. He rocketed over the edge, right along with her, and shot straight to the stars.

  With a soft moan, she collapsed on top of him and he held her gently, listening to the sobbing pants in his ear. Her lips pressed to his neck, trembling with reaction.

  He felt such tenderness for this woman wrapped in his arms that his own hands trembled against her tousled hair and he smiled at his foolishness.

  Where he'd tried to proclaim mastery, he'd become more enslaved.

  "I'm freezing," she said, when they could finally talk again. Jack rose, reluctantly, but had to agree it was too cold for lazing around enjoying the afterglow. They ferreted through the darkness, for some reason loath to put on the lights.

  "How did your sock end up halfway up the stairs?" she demanded, half-naked since she couldn't find her bra.

  "Is this what you're looking for?" Jack fished a tail of satin and lace out of the fireplace.

  It was when he pulled on his jeans that it hit him. "Oh, my God. I didn't use anything." He slumped on the stairs as the awful realization struck a body blow. How could he have been so careless? He heard the horror he felt reflected in his voice.

  "Laura, I'm sorry," he rasped.

  It couldn't be happening, not again. Hadn't he learned all about birth control the hard way? He rubbed his forehead as though he could wipe away the stunned feeling that gripped him. "I, um … are you on anything?"

  "No." She spoke quietly, without anger.

  "I can't believe I was so stupid!" His rage was sudden and furious. He was plunged back in time to the awful days and weeks after he and Cory had made the same mistake.

  His ex-wife had been trapped and bitter, throwing furious accusations in his face every chance she got. She blamed him for ruining her life, as though he'd slipped up deliberately. He'd tried to be sympathetic, but late at night he'd sneak down to the high school football field and just sit on the bench for hours, knowing he'd lost his dream, as well.

  Jack had spent years atoning for his mistake. In the past weeks since Laura had come back into his life he'd felt he was getting another chance. A chance to get it right. And here was history repeating itself again. If Laura turned on him he wouldn't blame her. But deep down a seed of hope began to grow. What if he'd given her a child? She'd have to be a permanent part of his life then.

  "You're sorry?" Her voice echoed strangely in the dark hallway.

  There was a long silence. He didn't know what to say. "I'm a grown woman, Jack. I take part of the responsibility, too." Laura's voice grated. She sounded mad. She didn't want his baby. What had he expected?

  A huge chasm seemed to open between them in the time it took Laura to button her shirt and Jack to find his other sock. When he put his coat back on, the faint scent of Laura clung to it. He pulled it close around him. He wanted to take her in his arms, but she had a force field of anger around her that prevented him coming near.

  "Laura, I don't want to leave it like this. Please—"

  She swung on him. "Leave what? There's nothing to talk about."

  "But what if you're pregnant?" He'd been down this road before. He remembered the anger, the recriminations, the tears. The lousy five-year penance marriage. He wanted it to be different with Laura, but he could see history repeating itself, right before his burning eyes.

  "Haven't you ever heard of the morning-after pill? If you slip up and take this pill soon enough after, it prevents pregnancy," He didn't have to see her face; he could feel her anger.

  His own anger spurted. He felt like she was sloughing him off along with his unwanted sperm. "How do you know?"

  The temperature was rising rapidly in the cold hall. "I've read about it. I've never had to use it before," she spat. "My boyfriends are usually more careful. In your case, I should have been prepared."

  Ouch. That hurt. The recriminations were starting already, along with this sick feeling in his gut. He thought getting Cory pregnant had screwed up his life, but in a flash he knew that earlier experience was nothing compared to losing Laura. And he was losing her. He didn't know what to say to stop her from walking out that door.

  It was open. Cool air washed over him. He saw Laura silhouetted in the doorway. He had to stop her.

  "Wait, Laura, please—"

  The door shut quietly in his face.

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  «^»

  Tears ran unheeded down Laura's cheeks as she sat on the deserted beach. The rising wind smacked her wet face, its salt-tangy mist stinging her nostrils with every sobbing breath.

  A dark cloud mass rolled across the night sky, snuffing stars as it closed in. Good. Nothing should sparkle tonight.

  She sat on a damp log and listened to the waves thudding angrily against the rocky beach. In the Stupidest Days of her Life category, today was right up there. She had just had unprotected sex for the first time ever, and with a guy whose life had already been derailed once because of it. She banged her heels against the pitted log. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  She knew why she'd let it happen.

  She loved Jack.

  She had told him so with her body tonight, holding nothing back during their lovemaking. His body had responded with the same message – she was sure of it.

  Even in the amazing vortex of their passion, Laura had been well aware there was nothing between them. It hadn't mattered. In fact, it added to the excitement. She hadn't wanted any barrier between them. She was twenty-eight. Old enough to know what she wanted. Stupidly, she'd thought he felt the same way.

  She wanted Jack. She wanted children, too. Jack's children. Those chubby, rose-cheeked cherubs of her childhood fantasy. Except it wasn't a fantasy anymore. She wanted the real children. The ones who would keep her up at night when they were sick, who would bring home their skinned knees and dirty faces. Date kids their father didn't approve of.

  She even wanted the real Jack, the man who snored in his sleep, who got jealous when a guy like Chip came on to her – and who held his pride around him like a shield, pretending he was strong and tough even when he was hurting and vulnerable. She choked on a sob and tasted cold rainwater and warm tears.

  She had fo
und the man who could get past her fear of intimacy. She would still love Jack if he bit his nails.

  And he'd just made it brutally clear he didn't want her or another child. She wrapped her arms around her middle and rocked against the pain.

  In the distance, lightning forked tongues of fire in the black sky. One Mississippi, two Mississippi… She counted the time between lightning flash and thunder without even thinking. Eleven Mississippi, and the boom she'd expected still made her jump. The storm was eleven miles away, according to her scientific reckoning. Close enough.

  What had made her say that to Jack about the morning-after pill? She'd seen a poster about it in her doctor's waiting room once, but she wouldn't take a pill to erase what had happened tonight. It was such a long shot, anyway. Laura was toward the end of her cycle and really doubted a pregnancy would result from tonight's escapade.

  But if it did, that was fine with her. If she were going to have a child she'd choose Jack for the father any day. Even if he didn't come as part of the package. In twelve years Laura had never found anyone who appealed to her like Jack did. If she left the island with his child inside her, at least she'd have something.

  Laura's wind-whipped face felt raw. The storm was closing in. Five Mississippi – no, six.

  As she slipped off the log and eased away the damp denim plastered to her thighs, she was certain of one thing. Even if she had his child, she wouldn't take Jack just because he felt guilty. She was an emotionally stable and financially secure adult, not a frightened teenager. She was perfectly prepared to bring up a child on her own. She needed no guilty husband.

  *

  When she finally returned home, Gran was upstairs in her room with the light out, presumably asleep; at least Laura was spared having to face those shrewd eyes. She crawled into bed exhausted and cold, but calm. The storm outside was getting closer, but Laura's emotional storm had spent itself. She hugged her arms around her belly and closed her eyes.

  Sleep was almost upon her when she realized she hadn't thought once this evening about running back to Seattle. As painful as the process was, she had a feeling she'd finally grown up.

  It looked like Jack and she were history … again, but Laura knew she would finish the house. She remembered the pain in Jack's voice when he'd called out to her as she was leaving. He must be terrified she was going to make a lot of demands on him. Well, she wasn't. She would sit him down calmly and let him know he was off the hook. For his sake she would make sure he didn't see how she was hurting inside. Then she would finish the job she'd come to Laroche to do and finally take her rebroken heart away with her.

  And if she was very lucky she would have a precious reminder of the man she would always love growing deep inside her body.

  *

  Laura woke with a start, uncertain for the moment why. Then her dark room lit up as lightning flashed. Almost immediately thunder boomed. She winced at the sound and squinted to where her beside clock glowed 2:13 a.m. Laura groaned and shoved the pillow over her head to block out the storm, when a new sound broke in on her consciousness.

  A siren wailed in the night.

  In Seattle, the sound was common, but here in Laroche, where there was a total of one ambulance, one fire engine and two police cars, it was rare indeed.

  Laura threw back the covers, padded to the window and stared out into the stormy night. A stand of cedars whipped their ragged arms in a wild dance.

  The siren stopped its insistent wail, but Laura couldn't see any action anywhere. Why did she feel so uneasy? Another bolt of lightning shot out of the angry sky, and there was a pause of a few seconds before the thunder caught up.

  Laura couldn't shake her instinct that something was wrong. Knowing sleep was beyond her, she didn't bother climbing back into the rumpled bed. Instead she swiftly dressed in jeans and a sweater and crept downstairs.

  She needed to check on the McNair House.

  She grabbed a coat, stepped into a pair of Grandpa's old rubber boots and slipped quietly out the back door. As she strode up the hill, fat drops of rain fell. The air still felt charged and turbulent even though the storm was dying down to a distant rumble. Above the sound of the rain she heard her own panting as she quickened her pace.

  She saw the fire truck first.

  She'd turned the corner onto Main Street

  , her eyes burning as they tried to penetrate the darkness. The truck's red lights flashed rhythmically right outside the McNair House.

  "No," Laura whimpered, running forward.

  It was like being caught in a nightmare. The faster she ran in the clumsy rubber boots, the farther away her destination seemed. From this angle, the house looked fine. But the red flashing light warned her of disaster.

  It was only when she got past the fire engine that she saw the trunk of the giant old cherry tree split like a twig, its charred edges steaming beneath the rain.

  She remembered leaning out, trying to reach that same majestic old tree from the bedroom window when Jack had taped off the downstairs. Now the tree was reaching into the bedroom window. When it had fallen, it had taken a huge bite out of the roof.

  Her house, her precious house, was as damaged as her heart. The back of her throat ached. She wanted to cry, but her well of tears seemed to have run dry.

  She watched a firefighter hose the tree, the roof, the carefully decorated interior of the master bedroom, with great gushes of water. All Laura could think of was the hours she'd spent on those damned cabbage roses.

  "’Scuse me, ma'am, you'll have to stand over there." A firefighter pointed across the street. He glimpsed her face and his voice softened. "Don't you worry. The fire's out now. It's all over."

  She nodded. But she knew from experience that putting out a fire caused as much damage as the fire itself. She moved on leaden feet to the other side of the road, where half a dozen people stood around watching and murmuring.

  Jack was there, watching not the busy firefighters, but her. She walked toward him. Couldn't seem to stop her feet from moving in his direction. She didn't say anything, just stood beside him while rain pelted them. No one seemed to have an umbrella.

  After a minute he put an arm round her, and she was too unhappy to protest. She stood and watched water drip down the side of the old house like tears. The sky joined in earnest then, and she could hardly see for the downpour.

  Jack pulled his collar up over his neck, squinting as he gazed into the pelting rain. "As soon as they'll let me, I'll put a tarp over the hole. Stop the rain getting in."

  "What's the point?"

  He looked at her sharply. "I'll feel like I at least tried to save her."

  Laura shrugged and moved away. Then walked back. "Can I come with you?"

  He shook his head. "They're only letting me in because I'm trained as a volunteer firefighter."

  "Can you try and save the bedding?"

  She remembered her grandmother's precious quilt and her own foolish hopes. A lump rose in her throat.

  He nodded.

  She turned away and strode off through the rain, past the rumbling fire truck, unable to watch any longer. Unable to stand so near to Jack and not beg him to love her as much as she loved him.

  It was over.

  It was all over.

  *

  Laura woke the next morning with a headache, swollen eyes and chapped skin.

  She dabbed cold water on her eyes, covered the chapped skin with moisturizer and foundation, and put on makeup to hide the ravages her emotions and the elements had inflicted. She swallowed a painkiller for her aching head and wished they made one for heartache. Extra strength.

  When she got downstairs, Gran took one look at her and held her arms wide. Laura ran into them just as she always had from the time she was a little girl. The two hugged quietly for a long time.

  "I'm so sorry, honey," Gran said. "Thanks for remembering the bedding. Jack brought it over early this morning. It's a little damp in places, but it'll be fine. I should never
have sent it up there in the first place. Sentimental old fool."

  Laura felt her grandmother shaking in her arms. She couldn't be crying. Gran never cried. But a sniffle gave her away. A rush of feeling for this woman caught Laura and she hugged her fiercely, barely managing to hold back her own tears.

  "I'm sorry, too, Gran. I really loved that old place. Don't cry."

  "I'm not crying, it's just this darned cold," her grandmother sniffled. "Jack asked that you call him this morning."

  Laura turned away and went to pour coffee, busying herself with milk and sugar to avoid the old woman's eyes.

  "He said it was important."

  "I don't think it's about the house." Laura sighed. Better to get this over with. "We had a fight last night." She stirred the dark liquid intently, watching the spoon circle round and round the pottery mug. "I guess you know we've been … I…" Her voice petered out. She put the coffee on the counter, untouched, and wiped streaming eyes with the back of her hand.

  This time it was Gran who did the hugging. "So much disaster in one night," the old woman mused. "Are you going to call him?"

  Laura shook her head, sniffing. "It's over, Gran."

  "Maybe he'll call back."

  *

  The big old grandfather clock had just struck noon, and Laura was sitting, dazed, staring out the window at the rain.

  Disaster on all fronts.

  She had done the one thing she'd promised herself she would not do. She had fallen in love with Jack all over again.

  Or had she ever stopped?

  She'd loved him since she was sixteen years old. She would always love him. She accepted that no man would ever take his place in her heart; he was the missing part of herself and, even if she never saw him again, which would be wise, he would always be a part of her. Somehow, the old McNair House had got all tangled up in her feelings about Jack. And now even that was a disaster. She had so many dreams invested in that house. She wondered what would happen to it. Perhaps it would be kinder to pull the poor thing down and be done with it. Put up condos or a supermarket.

  When the phone on the table rang, Laura answered, her tone husky.