Home to Eden (15 page)

Jack and Gareth returned empty-handed from their fishing trip. They endured the inevitable teasing with good-natured stoicism and vowed that tomorrow was another day.

"Another day without fish, you mean," Susan said dryly.

"Oh, ye of little faith." Jack gave her a reproachful look.

"Oh, ye of vast experience," she shot back. "The only fish we've ever eaten up here come already breaded and shaped in neat little sticks."

Nick laughed out loud, and even Gareth's mouth twitched into a smile.

Jack sighed. "You're striking at the very heart of my manhood," he said mournfully.

"Last time somebody struck at the heart of my manhood, I threw up and couldn't walk for days," Nick offered in a conversational tone.

Susan snickered. Jack struggled to maintain his air of injured dignity. "A man's ability to feed his family is at the very core of what makes him a man. It's what drives him to strive for greatness, to reach for success, to—"

"I've heard this before," Susan said helpfully. "Is this where you do the part about dreaming the impossible dream and striving with unbearable sorrow and all that stuff? I love that part."

"You do not appreciate me," Jack said, his dignity somewhat spoiled by the laughter of his friends.

"Sure I do, honey." She slid her arm around his waist and hugged him. "If you want to provide sustenance for your family, why don't you start by getting the barbecue ready? I got out some steaks earlier and a couple of burgers for the kids. It takes a big, strong man with lots of heart to his manhood to get a grill going."

"As long as you appreciate me," he said in a petulant tone that made Kate giggle.

The girlish sound brought Nick's gaze to her. For the past couple of days, he'd tried not to look at her if he could avoid it. It hadn't been easy. There was something about her that drew his eyes like a magnet. No matter how often he told himself that she was strictly hands off, he couldn't stop himself from looking at her—wanting her.

He'd been lying when he told himself that he could forget how she'd felt in his arms, how her mouth had tasted under his. He had only to look at her and the memories came rushing back.

He wanted her. It was that simple. And that impossibly complicated.

Nick glanced at his brother. Gareth straddled a redwood lounger, his feet braced on the floor on either side of it. Kate sat on the end of the same lounger, her feet curled under her. They were close but not touching—a pattern he'd noticed more than once in the past two days. Maybe it was his imagination, but he didn't see any signs of a great passion between his brother and his fiancee. There was affection, warmth, but not the kind of intimacy he would have expected between two people who planned to spend their lives together. They seemed more like good friends and comfortable companions than lovers.

Wishful thinking, he told himself. Of course, they were lovers. The thought had him turning away, squinting against the late afternoon sun reflected off the lake. He knew exactly what was tying his stomach in knots. Jealousy. He was jealous of his own brother. Not just envious of his happiness but absolutely green with jealousy. He didn't look at Gareth and wish he had a woman of his own. He wanted the woman his brother had. He wanted Kate, with her tawny hair and eyes that looked blue in sunlight and then turned all smoky gray with passion. He wanted her in his arms, in his bed.

He was fiercely glad that the cabin had only three bedrooms, which meant that Kate shared a room with Rose, while he and Gareth bunked with Matthew. It was bad enough watching Kate and Gareth together, seeing him touch her without having to imagine the two of them in bed together each night.

I'm in big trouble, he thought, his hand clenching on the deck railing. It had been a mistake to come to the cabin. In fact, he was more than ever convinced that it had been a big mistake to come back to Eden at all. It was ironic that he'd been worried about dealing with the past. As it turned out, the present offered more than enough worries of its own.

He'd had plenty of time to think this past week, and he'd just about decided that, once the work on Spider's Walk was finished, he was going to fold his tent and steal away into the night. There was nothing here for him anymore, and he sure as hell didn't want to stay around to dance at his brother's wedding.

"Does anyone know where the kids are?" Susan asked as she came out of the house.

Nick turned to see her walking across the deck. Jack was behind her, carrying a sack of charcoal toward the grill.

"I haven't seen them in quite awhile," Gareth said, and Kate nodded agreement.

"They were together last time I saw them," Nick offered. "I don't think Matt would let Rose wander off."

"No, he's real good about looking after her," Susan agreed. She smiled, but her eyes remained anxious. "It's silly, I guess, but I always get nervous when they're quiet. That's when they're most likely to be getting into trouble."

"I'll go find them," Nick said. "Considering the amount of energy they expended today, they're probably both asleep."

''Children do not run out of energy," Jack said as he poured charcoal briquettes into the grill. "They come with an eternally charged battery pack. Trust me, they can run any adult into the—"

A shrill scream sliced across the air, cutting his words off instantly. The bag crashed to the deck, scattering charcoal across the redwood planks. A second scream came hard on the heels of the first. By the time it ended. Jack was off the deck and running toward the sound with Nick a half step behind him.

There was a third scream and then another, each running into the next, shrill, panicked sounds that inspired a matching terror. Nick rounded the comer of the house and saw Rose standing in the middle of a clearing, her small body absolutely rigid, her mouth a round O of terror. Her brother sat on the ground beside her, his hands clutching his left leg, which was stretched out straight before him. Blood seeped between his fingers and trickled down his leg to sink into the dirt beneath him.

"Jesus God.'' Jack's words were more prayer than profanity as he hit the ground beside his son. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry. Dad." Matt's young voice quivered with strain, but there was no sign of tears. Shock, Nick thought, taking in his pallor. He probably wasn't feeling any pain. Yet.

"It's okay," Jack said automatically. He reached to pull Matt's hands away from the wound.

Rose was still screaming, those terrible thin sounds of fear. Nick turned toward her, but Susan was already there, scooping the little girl up in her arms and pressing her face into the curve of her neck, murmuring softly, even as her frightened eyes locked on her son. Rose clung to her mother, her small form shaking with sobs. Kate and Gareth stood just behind her.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I know I shouldn't have done it." Matt's eyes looked painfully blue in his stark white face. "I was showing off. You told me not to but I wanted to show Rosie. It looked so easy when you did it." He looked pleadingly at his father, as if afraid that Jack was going to punish him for being disobedient. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Jack said soothingly. "Let me see."

He pulled the boy's hands gently away from the wound and stared, appalled, as blood welled up from a deep gash that sliced across Matt's lower leg.

"Oh, God!" He put his hand over the injury, but not before Nick caught the white gleam of bone. "God." Jack sucked in a ragged breath. His face was nearly as white as his son's, but he struggled to call up a reassuring smile for the boy. "It's okay. You're going to be okay."

"I just wanted to show Rosie that I could chop wood," Matt said.

Nick saw the ax laying in the dirt next to the boy and felt bile rise in his throat. Behind him, he heard Susan give a deep, ragged sob and turned to see her face pressed into her daughter's golden hair, her arms rigid around the child.

"Oh, God." Jack pressed harder on the wound, but the blood continued to well between his fingers, dribbling down Matt's leg to soak into the dirt beneath.

"He needs a tourniquet," Gareth said, coming forward.

"A tourniquet." Jack grabbed at the word as if it were a lifeline. "We need something to tie around his leg."

"Here." Kate reached up and pulled loose the silk scarf she'd used to hold her hair back. Gareth took it from her and came to kneel across from Jack.

"You did quite a number on yourself. Matt," he said as he deftly wrapped the tourniquet around the boy's leg. He took the stick Nick handed him and used it to tighten the knot.

"I'm sorry," Matt said again, but his voice was thin with shock and loss of blood.

"We'll get you fixed up," Gareth said, his eyes on the injury. Gradually, the bleeding slowed until it was no longer welling up between Jack's fingers. "It's pretty well stopped."

Susan drew a shaky breath. Kate went to her, setting her hand on her shoulder in a gesture meant to offer both sympathy and support.

"We can't leave this on very long," Gareth said, his eyes meeting Jack's over the boy's body. "He needs to get to a hospital as quickly as possible."

"The nearest hospital is at least two hours away," Jack said.

"What about a helicopter?" Kate asked, tightening her hand on Susan's shoulder.

"It might be hard to find a clearing big enough for one to land," Nick said, nodding to the woods that pressed in around the cabin.

"We have to do something," Susan burst out, her voice ragged. Hearing the fear in her mother's voice, Rose began to sob louder.

"Is Matt going to die?" she wailed.

"No!" Jack's denial was immediate and fierce, as if he was prepared to hold off death with his bare hands. "He's going to be fine." He started to stroke his son's hair from his face but stopped when he saw the blood that coated his fingers. He stared at them a moment and then slowly lifted his head and looked at Nick.

Nick saw the look in his eyes and shook his head, his expression nearly as agonized as his friend's. "God, Jack, don't ask me."

Bewildered, Kate looked from one man to the other. What on earth was happening? Why weren't they rushing Matt to a car or trying to get a helicopter to him? What was it Nick didn't want Jack to ask him? She looked at Gareth, seeking an explanation. His eyes met hers for a moment and then he looked away, his expression grim.

"He could die," Jack said simply, as if that answered Nick's protest. And perhaps it did.

Nick looked from him to the boy. Gareth had eased Matt back so that he lay on the ground. His eyes were closed, his face chalky. He looked alarmingly small and so fragile it was difficult to remember that, just a little while ago, he'd been running and playing, full of the pure joy of life. Nick looked at him and then lifted his eyes to Jack's face again. His expression was suddenly as still and calm as a photograph. Whatever turmoil he'd felt a moment ago, it seemed to be gone. Or hidden away somewhere inside.

"I can't promise anything."

"I'm not asking for promises." Jack said, hope blazing suddenly—startlingly—in his face.

Gareth rose as Nick moved forward. Their eyes met for a moment, but Kate was too far away to see what, if anything, passed between them. Then Gareth stepped back and Nick sank to his knees next to Matt. He reached out, his hands hovering over the gash, from which blood oozed with sullen malevolence. The gesture made Kate think of a blind man, judging by touch rather than sight. And then his hands settled gently on the wound.

"Take off the tourniquet," he said.

Susan sucked in a quick breath as if to protest, but Jack was already loosening the scarf around his son's leg. Blood gushed between Nick's fingers with frightening speed, and Susan started forward, her mouth open in denial. Acting on instinct, Kate tightened her hand on the other woman's shoulder, holding her back.

"Don't."

Susan turned her head, her eyes asking for an explanation Kate couldn't give. She didn't know what was happening, didn't know anything except that it suddenly seemed important that Nick not be disturbed. Whether Susan felt the same thing or was simply too frightened and confused to argue with her, she stayed where she was. Rose still sobbing softly in her arms. She rubbed her hand up and down her daughter's narrow back and kept her eyes on her son.

Nick was oblivious to the byplay. He didn't seem aware of anything but the boy who lay so still beneath his hands. His fingers rested lightly on the wound, too lightly to stem the flow of blood. Yet it seemed to be slowing.

Kate became aware of an odd feeling of energy filling the air, almost a warmth. Her scalp tingled with it, and she could feel the hair on her arms lifting. Her fingers curled into her palms, and she rubbed them across the base of her thumb, remembering those odd moments at the nursery when she'd felt a similar warmth, a sense that time no longer existed in quite the same way it always had. This was much stronger, and it kept building until the air seemed to crackle with it, until she could almost reach out and touch it. She knew, without questioning how, that Nick was at the center of that energy, that it flowed from him.

His hands hovered over Matt's leg, barely touching the torn flesh, and yet the bleeding was definitely slowing. With an effort, Kate dragged her eyes from his hands and looked at his face. In profile, his features seemed finely drawn, stripped of humanity, as if what was left was the pure core of life. He didn't look at his hands. He looked straight ahead, but his eyes were blind, turned inward to something only he could see.