demanded.
“How can you tell otherwise after only one day with him?”
Jake clenched his hands. He dropped his head and stared at his plate for a long moment, thenpulled in a deep, slow breath. “Why don’t we finish this later, Rachel?”
“Fine.”
From the vicinity of the bathroom came the sound of a door opening, then footsteps. Reaching the dining room, Michael hesitated. Jake looked up.
“Hey, all set?” Jake sent him a reassuring smile. “Okay, I don’t know about you, but we’re starved. Let’s eat.”
For Rachel, only one other day had ever been worse: the day Scotty disappeared. By the time bedtime rolled around, she was hanging on to her fragile composure by a thread. She seethed with emotions too intense to identify. Every time she looked at Michael she felt as if her body was charged with explosives about to shatter her into a million pieces. Every time she looked at Jake she felt such an overwhelming rage it almost scared her. Almost.
They hadn’t talked yet. There really hadn’t been an opportunity. Michael’s presence at the dinner table prevented her from doing what she longed to do: annihilate Jake with words, spew out her sense of betrayal, her bitterness. But not jealousy. No, indeed not. She comforted herself that she wasn’t jealous because he’d turned to some conscienceless woman all those years ago. She couldn’t bejealous if she didn’t love him. And she didn’t love Jake anymore. Focusing on that thought, she discovered, brought a numbing sense of calm.
The French doors opened suddenly. Jake and Michael came in looking relaxed and totally at ease with each other. They had been outside a good thirty minutes. After she’d waved aside their offer to help with the dishes, they’d escaped—there was no other word for it—to the garage and boat shed. Scotty had loved to spend time with Jake there. Man stuff, he’d informed his mother with endearing male superiority. The boat was out there, Jake’s power tools, his fishing tackle, his archery equipment, the spiffy new bow rigged with some kind of apparatus that made it possible for even a six-year-old to cock and shoot. Jake had been teaching him. Pain caught in her throat.
Pulling the door closed behind them, they were halfway across the den before catching sight of Rachel. Jake’s expression became guarded, Michael’s wary. From outdoors wafted the scent of sweet olive. She’d planted the shrub there so her family could enjoy its unique fragrance. Her family.
Jake and me and Scotty! Not this scruffy, needy adolescent.
“We’ve been in the boat shed looking at the Pelican, ” Jake told her, reaching around Michael to flip off the light switch for the shed.
“So I assumed.” Rachel swallowed hard. Scotty had named the boat for his favorite bird. She and Jake had laughed, unable to figure out why he had chosen such an awkward, unattractive bird when he could have chosen the exotic flamingo. Or white crane. Or even the small egret that inhabited every spot in Florida that held water. But Pelican it was, and because Scotty had named it, the Pelican belonged to Scotty. Jake had no right…
“It’s a real beauty,” Michael said, bright eyed with excitement. And happiness. A blind person could see the joy in the boy’s face, Rachel thought.
“We’ll take it out soon,” Jake promised, taking pleasure in Michael’s enthusiasm.
“That’ll be great!”
Jake smiled. “Yeah, it will.”
“You won’t have to worry about me, either,” Michael said.
“Worry? How’s that, Mike?”
“I mean, I can swim and all. I don’t know much about fishing, but at least I won’t drown.”
Jake laughed and clapped him gently on the shoulder. “To tell the truth, I assumed you could swim, Mike. And as for learning to fish, there’s nothing to it. A couple of times out and you’ll be pulling ’em in so fast we won’t have enough room in the freezer. Trust me.”
Trust me. Rachel turned and headed toward thehall,
“How can you tell otherwise after only one day with him?”
Jake clenched his hands. He dropped his head and stared at his plate for a long moment, thenpulled in a deep, slow breath. “Why don’t we finish this later, Rachel?”
“Fine.”
From the vicinity of the bathroom came the sound of a door opening, then footsteps. Reaching the dining room, Michael hesitated. Jake looked up.
“Hey, all set?” Jake sent him a reassuring smile. “Okay, I don’t know about you, but we’re starved. Let’s eat.”
For Rachel, only one other day had ever been worse: the day Scotty disappeared. By the time bedtime rolled around, she was hanging on to her fragile composure by a thread. She seethed with emotions too intense to identify. Every time she looked at Michael she felt as if her body was charged with explosives about to shatter her into a million pieces. Every time she looked at Jake she felt such an overwhelming rage it almost scared her. Almost.
They hadn’t talked yet. There really hadn’t been an opportunity. Michael’s presence at the dinner table prevented her from doing what she longed to do: annihilate Jake with words, spew out her sense of betrayal, her bitterness. But not jealousy. No, indeed not. She comforted herself that she wasn’t jealous because he’d turned to some conscienceless woman all those years ago. She couldn’t bejealous if she didn’t love him. And she didn’t love Jake anymore. Focusing on that thought, she discovered, brought a numbing sense of calm.
The French doors opened suddenly. Jake and Michael came in looking relaxed and totally at ease with each other. They had been outside a good thirty minutes. After she’d waved aside their offer to help with the dishes, they’d escaped—there was no other word for it—to the garage and boat shed. Scotty had loved to spend time with Jake there. Man stuff, he’d informed his mother with endearing male superiority. The boat was out there, Jake’s power tools, his fishing tackle, his archery equipment, the spiffy new bow rigged with some kind of apparatus that made it possible for even a six-year-old to cock and shoot. Jake had been teaching him. Pain caught in her throat.
Pulling the door closed behind them, they were halfway across the den before catching sight of Rachel. Jake’s expression became guarded, Michael’s wary. From outdoors wafted the scent of sweet olive. She’d planted the shrub there so her family could enjoy its unique fragrance. Her family.
Jake and me and Scotty! Not this scruffy, needy adolescent.
“We’ve been in the boat shed looking at the Pelican, ” Jake told her, reaching around Michael to flip off the light switch for the shed.
“So I assumed.” Rachel swallowed hard. Scotty had named the boat for his favorite bird. She and Jake had laughed, unable to figure out why he had chosen such an awkward, unattractive bird when he could have chosen the exotic flamingo. Or white crane. Or even the small egret that inhabited every spot in Florida that held water. But Pelican it was, and because Scotty had named it, the Pelican belonged to Scotty. Jake had no right…
“It’s a real beauty,” Michael said, bright eyed with excitement. And happiness. A blind person could see the joy in the boy’s face, Rachel thought.
“We’ll take it out soon,” Jake promised, taking pleasure in Michael’s enthusiasm.
“That’ll be great!”
Jake smiled. “Yeah, it will.”
“You won’t have to worry about me, either,” Michael said.
“Worry? How’s that, Mike?”
“I mean, I can swim and all. I don’t know much about fishing, but at least I won’t drown.”
Jake laughed and clapped him gently on the shoulder. “To tell the truth, I assumed you could swim, Mike. And as for learning to fish, there’s nothing to it. A couple of times out and you’ll be pulling ’em in so fast we won’t have enough room in the freezer. Trust me.”
Trust me. Rachel turned and headed toward thehall,
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