On Deadly Ground (6 page)

Then reality swept away contentment, and a cold hard stone settled on her heart. She was at Jenna’s, in one of her rooms at the Blackberry. Her home and everything in it was gone.

It all came back to her. She remembered the fire, remembered the fear … remembered Jake holding her and washing her feet.

“Come on. Sit down and let me do this. Looks like you stepped on a piece of glass
—
probably when you broke into the store.”

“I’m okay. I can do it.”

“I know you can,”
he’d replied, the compassion in his eyes touching her.
“But let me.”

She smiled sadly. Who would have thought a big man could be so gentle?

Blinking back tears, she got out of bed, grimaced a little when her left foot touched the floor, then pulled Jenna’s robe over the nightgown she’d borrowed. She’d
asked Jenna to wake her if she slept past twelve-thirty, and according to the clock beside the bed, it was nearly that now. She found her friend in the sunny little breakfast nook off the kitchen, setting the table with white china cups, saucers and plates ringed in tiny pink roses. It was a lovely, welcome sight after the horror of charred wood and broken dreams.

“Good afternoon,” Jenna said, smiling and looking up. “Did you sleep well?”

“Better than I can remember,” Rachel replied, returning her smile. She took a seat. “If all the beds in the Blackberry are as comfortable as mine, no wonder business is booming.”

“I’m not sure it’s booming,” Jenna said, pouring coffee for the two of them. “But reservations are coming in. I’ll be full—except for your room—on Monday.”

“How wonderful,” Rachel returned, then took in the table. Glazed cranberry-almond scones were piled on a footed crystal platter, and at each of their place settings, glasses of orange juice sat beside small bowls of chilled berries and fruit. Pale green rings held pink linen napkins.

She wasn’t used to such lavishness. She loved nice things and enjoyed dressing up for special occasions. But for the most part, she was a hot dogs-and-mountains, pies-over-a-fire woman. It still felt wonderful to be pampered—if only for a day or two.

Jenna was moving again, taking a bowl of whipped cream from the refrigerator, then adding a huge dollop of it to their fruit. “Now what else can I get you? An omelet? Cereal? Waffles?”

Rachel had to laugh. “Nothing. This is almost more than I can handle.”

“You’re sure? It wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, then.” She took a seat across from Rachel and drew a deep breath. “What’s your plan today?”

The hurt came back. “I guess I should contact my insurance company first. Then I’ll call Ben. He said the fire marshal would probably be investigating today. And I suppose I should drive down to the campground—see what I have to work with in the light of day.”

Jenna’s look softened. “That should be a lot of fun. Need some company? I’m not busy today.”

“Thanks, but I need to face this on my own. Besides, I’ll be there for a while. I need to have the glass replaced in my door, and call my guests—give them the option of bowing out. I’m afraid the smell of the fire could linger for a while.”

“What about your parents?”

“I know I should call them—at least let my mom know. But with Dad still recovering … Jenna, I just can’t. She’d want to be with both of us, and it would tear her apart.”

Jenna stirred cream and sugar into her coffee. “They lived here for a lot of years. What if they hear it from someone they still keep in touch with? This
is
the era of texting, emails and instant messaging.”

Rachel sighed. “I guess I’ll deal with that if it happens.”

Her dad’s job had taken her parents back to historic Williamsburg following her wedding, and Rachel’s Southern belle mom had loved returning to her roots on the James River where so much history had been made. Then two months ago, her dad had suffered a slight stroke, and Rachel had hurried to Virginia. Toward the
end of her two-week visit, she’d convinced her mom to surrender her dad’s care to her aunt Chelsea for a few hours, and they’d toured an old plantation. Her mom had insisted that she’d had fun, soaking up tales of traveling tinkers and spoon-stealing union officers. But Rachel knew she’d worried constantly. The last thing she wanted to do was add to her worries.

Reluctantly, she met Jenna’s eyes. They were the same lovely blue as the figure-skimming V-neck rib-knit top she wore with matching slacks and a tiny pearl timepiece dangling from long, thin chains. Rachel couldn’t recall a night or day when her friend didn’t look as if she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything. If I have it, it’s yours.”

“I need to borrow something to wear so I can shop for my own. I think the only clothes I salvaged are sweats.”

Jenna smiled. “My closet is your closet.” Then she asked the blessing, and Rachel added to it.

“Thank you for giving me good friends and neighbors, Lord. Bless them, especially Jenna who’s given me a home, the firemen who worked so tirelessly … and my friend Jake who always seems to know exactly what to say and do.” She smiled at Jenna. “Amen. Now pass those wonderful scones. I’m starving.”

At four-fifteen, Jake pulled into the Blackberry Hill Bed and Breakfast, shut off his truck and grabbed the bag beside him on the seat. A few moments later, he was standing in the foyer and handing it to Jenna. “She’s not here?”

Jenna shook her head. “She needed to do some
shopping—and she wanted to drive down to the campground to see where she stood. I offered to go along, but she wanted to do it herself.”

He got that. The best way to handle lousy news was to face it head-on. Despite her tears last night, she had the strength to do that. “Okay, I’ll catch up with her later. I just wanted to drop those off. They’re probably the wrong size, but maybe they’ll work anyway. The salesclerk said they’d be comfortable.” He paused. “Just tell her I—”

A car pulled in outside, and he turned to glance through the screen door. “Never mind,” he said, glad to see her red Explorer. “I’ll tell her myself.”

Blue eyes twinkling, Jenna returned the bag, opened the door and saw him out. “Take your time.”

Jake wasn’t sure what all that twinkling was about and he didn’t ask. He concentrated on Rachel—concentrated on keeping his head straight and their friendship just that. Risking her life to save her wedding portrait from the flames had sent an indelible message. In some ways she would always be David Patterson’s wife—and they were ways that counted to a man.

“Hi,” she called as she left the car loaded down with packages of her own. It was cool today, but sunlight shot her thick sable shag with highlights. “What brings you to my foster home?”

“Your feet.” He was surprised to see her sounding and acting so calm. She looked pretty in the outfit she wore—olive-green cotton slacks and a white sweater with a scooped neckline trimmed in olive-green. He nodded at her new neon-white sneakers as she ascended the steps. “But it looks like you won’t need these after all.”

With a curious tilt of her head, she accepted the bag he offered. She smiled when she withdrew the shoe box and opened the lid. “Sandals?”

“You can return them if you don’t like them or they don’t fit. Because I wasn’t sure of your size, I sort of—” He positioned his hands this way and that as though he were holding her foot again. “Guessing isn’t an exact science.”

Her green eyes warmed, and a matching feeling rose in his chest. Then he watched her take a seat on the porch’s wicker sofa, ease off her sneakers and short socks and slip on the low-heeled, cushion-soled, strappy leather sandals he’d bought for her. The bandages he’d applied to her left foot last night had been replaced with fresh ones.

“Will they work?” Ridiculous as it seemed, he couldn’t recall ever giving a gift that made him feel so … He didn’t know what the right word was, but if spending a few bucks made him feel this good, he’d buy footgear for the whole town.

She stood and flashed a foot. “They’re great! I love them. I feel like Cinderella.”

And he felt like the prince. Although the service revolver on his hip and his tan uniform were a far cry from a plumed hat and a silver sword.

“I have to pay you for them.”

“No, you don’t. Just consider them a fair trade for six months worth of coffee.” He dropped his voice and changed the subject. “How did things go today? Did the fire marshal get in touch with you?”

Sobering, she sat back down and he took a seat beside her. “I haven’t heard anything yet. But my insurance
company’s in the process of putting through the claim.”

“That has to be a relief.”

“You have no idea,” she returned. The light in her eyes dimmed for an instant, then she called up a quick smile. “But I’m good now. I lived through visiting the rubble, so now it’s onward and upward.”

“You’re still planning to open Memorial Day weekend?” He’d walked down to her house today, too, and the smell of charred wood and chemical odors still remained. Yards of yellow police tape couldn’t hold back the stench.

“Yes. Thank heaven my guest list and information was in the camp store’s computer, too. I was able to phone everyone who’d booked sites and tell them I couldn’t guarantee the smoke smell would be gone when they arrived.”

Jake smiled inside when she tucked her socks, sneakers and the empty shoe box into the bag, but kept the sandals on her feet.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I gave them the option of canceling, but no one wanted to. My business survived. I’m feeling blessed.”

“You feel blessed? By God?”

“Well, yes,” she said with a grin. “He’s the guy in charge of that stuff.”

Jake shook his head. “You amaze me.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re so at peace with everything. So accepting. So positive. It’s just hard to understand how you could lose your home and—”

“Watching my home go up in flames was devastating,”

she assured him. “But there’s nothing I can do about it. Would you rather see me crying again?”

“No, but I can’t understand why you stopped. You’re like my mother. You’re devout. You pray, you go to church every Sunday even if you’re exhausted. Don’t you deserve better than this? Why aren’t you mad at God?”

She tilted her head. “Why would I be mad at Him? He saved my life. He woke me up.”

“That wasn’t God you heard. Your smoke detectors woke you up.”

“No, they didn’t. I woke up before they went off. But even if I’d had to depend on them, God gave someone the intelligence to invent them, so in the end …”

Jake sighed at her unshakable faith and conceded. She
was
like his mother. Full of forgiveness. “Okay, God woke you up. I got it.”

“Good, because it’s true.”

She got quiet then, and as birds called to each other and the sun slid behind a thick bank of clouds, Jake realized it was time to leave. She had things to do. At the very least, she probably needed some rest.

“You’re sure I can’t pay you for the sandals?” she asked, rising with him, then joking. “I’ll be getting a big insurance check soon, so I can afford it.”

“I’m positive.” It still astounded him that she could make light of her loss—at least on the surface.

“Then let me thank you another way—for the sandals and for everything you did last night.” Her next very familiar words made Jake wonder if he did have his head on straight where she was concerned. “Let me treat you to an early dinner. Nothing fancy. Just chicken at the diner, and maybe ice cream for dessert.”

He battled with himself for a few seconds, wondering if saying yes was a good idea. If he started caring too much about someone who was unavailable, he could be running around with a hole in his gut again. He hadn’t liked it the first time, and he was pretty sure the second time would be even worse. But … they were friends, and she felt grateful. Nothing more. “Can you wait until I change clothes and check on Maggie?”

“No problem,” she said, indicating the outfit she wore. “I have things to do, too. These are Jenna’s. I’d like to toss the clothes I bought in the washer before I leave so I can wear my own things tomorrow. I don’t want to put her out any more than I have to.”

“Okay.” But he suspected that Jenna didn’t consider herself “put out” at all. “Do you want to meet me at the diner around five?”

“Five’s perfect.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

He was in his truck and about to pull out of the driveway and onto Main Street Extension when his cell phone pumped out a melody. Pulling it from the case on his belt, he checked the caller’s number. And everything inside of him shut down. Drawing a breath, he flipped open the phone and tried to keep his voice polite. Trying was a big fat waste of time.

“Hello, Heather,” he said coolly. “What do you want?”

The diner was noisy when they arrived, the chatter of conversation and clank of silverware nearly drowning out the pop music from the seventies. It was Saturday night. The lunch counter was jammed, short tables were pushed together to accommodate parents and kids,
and teenagers were packed six in a booth. Three waitresses moved along at a steady clip, trying to keep up. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.

Everyone except Jake, Rachel guessed.

He was trying to hide it, but something had definitely changed since she last saw him. “Where would you like to sit?” she asked. There were a few small tables available in the center of the room, but the booths were all full.

“Anywhere,” he said, forcing a friendly grin. “The food will be good no matter where we sit.”

But would the conversation be good, too? Especially with the two of them trapped in the middle of madness and mayhem? Rachel’s interest sharpened as a couple got up and left a back booth. The table wasn’t cleared, but—She turned to Jake and smiled. “Follow me, sir.”

Several people offered their sympathies on the fire as they threaded their way back. The women all eyed Jake with subtle interest, which was the nature of things. But their interest wasn’t confined to his broad shoulders, jeans and pale blue knit shirt. Rachel knew they wondered if she and Jake were a couple.