silence following her words seemed to last an eternity.
"Were you with her?" he finally asked, as he had asked once before, but this time his voice rasped like a file over metal.
"Yes." A single tear trickled down Jann's cheek. Then, as though a dam had broken, the trickle turned into a flood.
The sob erupting from her breast had to be coming from someone else. She didn't cry. Not anymore. But one sob followed another, until she couldn't breathe. All she could do was feel and the feeling was one great blanket of pain.
Dimly, she felt Peter take hold of her shoulders and pull her towards him, until she sank against his body like a ship at anchor, powerless to stop swaying with the tide.
His breath warmed her cheek and his arms warmed her body, holding her safe within their circle. His was human warmth, warmth of the living. Somehow it managed to push back the agony she'd been fighting since the night her friend had died, pushed back her dread that Alex would be next just because she loved him.
As she had loved Claire. And her own parents.
The warmth moved inward through her skin until it touched her soul, and for one glorious moment she felt at peace.
She sat as still as she was able, for if she moved, the spell might vanish. Peter's heart thumped against her cheek, the sound of it loud, so reassuringly there. It seemed incredible that this man, whom she'd thought so dangerous, was so undeniably safe.
She lifted her head and looked at him, the slight stubble on his chin grazing her forehead. A tremor went through her that he seemed to feel, also, for he looked down at her and the expression in his eyes softened.
At the sight of Peter's lips, so warm, full and close, her lips parted. For an instant only, his lips touched hers, long enough to comfort, and then deny.
Sucking in a ragged breath, Jann pulled away.
He straightened, also, seeming to turn inward, away from her, separate.
After a very long moment he spoke to her again. "Why didn't you notify me when Claire was taken ill?" His voice cracked as he spoke as though from disuse.
Jann shivered, feeling as bad again now as she had before. She had intended to phone Boston, to contact the scratched-out number she could barely distinguish in Claire's address book.
But Claire had said no, had in fact screamed it long and frighteningly. Jann and Ruby had stared at each other helplessly, amazed at Claire's vocal and insistent refusal to contact her brother. And at the time, they hadn't realized it would matter. They had never imagined that three days later, Claire would be dead.
It mattered now.
"Claire didn't want us to," Jann explained, the words sounding ridiculous, the pain in Peter's eyes rubbing her heart to the quick.
"Didn't want you to?" he demanded incredulously. "Surely she was past knowing what she wanted?"
"No, she wasn't. She was very definite."
"What explanation did she give?"
Jann hesitated. To repeat Claire's words seemed impossible somehow.
"Claire said no one really cared," she began reluctantly. "She said all her aunt and uncle were concerned about was money and power. She'd been living with them since she was ten..." Jann looked away from Peter again, tried to soften her words. "...since your parents died."
"I know where she'd been living."
"Then you should have known how unhappy she was."
Jann was right, Peter thought guiltily. He should have known.
"She had everything she needed," he went on slowly, thinking back to the list that had been recited to him, "a home, friends, and family." But he had been Claire's closest family. He should have been there when she needed him the most.
"She had a house," Jann countered. "That was all. There was no warmth there. Her so-called family didn't bother with her other than to see that she was fed and clothed. They simply wanted her to do what she was told and not make a fuss."
Peter closed his eyes, wishing he could as easily shut out Jann's barrage of words. His father had often told them they
"Were you with her?" he finally asked, as he had asked once before, but this time his voice rasped like a file over metal.
"Yes." A single tear trickled down Jann's cheek. Then, as though a dam had broken, the trickle turned into a flood.
The sob erupting from her breast had to be coming from someone else. She didn't cry. Not anymore. But one sob followed another, until she couldn't breathe. All she could do was feel and the feeling was one great blanket of pain.
Dimly, she felt Peter take hold of her shoulders and pull her towards him, until she sank against his body like a ship at anchor, powerless to stop swaying with the tide.
His breath warmed her cheek and his arms warmed her body, holding her safe within their circle. His was human warmth, warmth of the living. Somehow it managed to push back the agony she'd been fighting since the night her friend had died, pushed back her dread that Alex would be next just because she loved him.
As she had loved Claire. And her own parents.
The warmth moved inward through her skin until it touched her soul, and for one glorious moment she felt at peace.
She sat as still as she was able, for if she moved, the spell might vanish. Peter's heart thumped against her cheek, the sound of it loud, so reassuringly there. It seemed incredible that this man, whom she'd thought so dangerous, was so undeniably safe.
She lifted her head and looked at him, the slight stubble on his chin grazing her forehead. A tremor went through her that he seemed to feel, also, for he looked down at her and the expression in his eyes softened.
At the sight of Peter's lips, so warm, full and close, her lips parted. For an instant only, his lips touched hers, long enough to comfort, and then deny.
Sucking in a ragged breath, Jann pulled away.
He straightened, also, seeming to turn inward, away from her, separate.
After a very long moment he spoke to her again. "Why didn't you notify me when Claire was taken ill?" His voice cracked as he spoke as though from disuse.
Jann shivered, feeling as bad again now as she had before. She had intended to phone Boston, to contact the scratched-out number she could barely distinguish in Claire's address book.
But Claire had said no, had in fact screamed it long and frighteningly. Jann and Ruby had stared at each other helplessly, amazed at Claire's vocal and insistent refusal to contact her brother. And at the time, they hadn't realized it would matter. They had never imagined that three days later, Claire would be dead.
It mattered now.
"Claire didn't want us to," Jann explained, the words sounding ridiculous, the pain in Peter's eyes rubbing her heart to the quick.
"Didn't want you to?" he demanded incredulously. "Surely she was past knowing what she wanted?"
"No, she wasn't. She was very definite."
"What explanation did she give?"
Jann hesitated. To repeat Claire's words seemed impossible somehow.
"Claire said no one really cared," she began reluctantly. "She said all her aunt and uncle were concerned about was money and power. She'd been living with them since she was ten..." Jann looked away from Peter again, tried to soften her words. "...since your parents died."
"I know where she'd been living."
"Then you should have known how unhappy she was."
Jann was right, Peter thought guiltily. He should have known.
"She had everything she needed," he went on slowly, thinking back to the list that had been recited to him, "a home, friends, and family." But he had been Claire's closest family. He should have been there when she needed him the most.
"She had a house," Jann countered. "That was all. There was no warmth there. Her so-called family didn't bother with her other than to see that she was fed and clothed. They simply wanted her to do what she was told and not make a fuss."
Peter closed his eyes, wishing he could as easily shut out Jann's barrage of words. His father had often told them they
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