Part 29 (1/2)

He looked her up and down, taking in her damp hair and her sleeping attire. ”I guess I should have called first.”

”No, it's all right. Really.” She eased back a couple of feet and invited him in with a sweeping hand gesture.

”I could have phoned you with the news, but...well, I thought it best to tell you in person.” He stepped over the threshold.

Cathy's heart stopped for a millisecond. ”What's wrong?”

He closed the door behind him, then looked her square in the eye. ”Mike called me about ten minutes ago. Reverend Kelley died tonight, less than an hour ago.”

”Oh G.o.d, no.” Emotion welled up inside her. How foolish of her to believe that a prayer vigil attended by hundreds of people could actually keep Bruce Kelley alive.

”It's probably better this way,” Jack said. ”The guy was in horrible shape. He couldn't have made it much longer, and he was suffering in the worst way.”

Cathy swallowed. ”Mark suffered.”

”Ah, honey, don't.”

When Jack reached out and pulled her into his arms, she went without protest, gladly letting him hold her close. Encompa.s.sed within his strong embrace, she felt safe. Her every instinct told her that this was where she belonged. With Jack, the man she had once loved more than life itself.

Chapter Twenty-two

Jack wasn't sure if his motives for coming here tonight to tell Cathy about Bruce Kelley's death were totally unselfish. Maybe somewhere deep inside him, he had believed that she'd need a shoulder to lean on; maybe he'd hoped she would turn to him for comfort. h.e.l.l, he wasn't sure of anything except at this precise moment, there was nothing more important to him than the woman he held in his arms. Cathy. His Cathy.

d.a.m.n it, man, she hasn't been your Cathy in nearly seventeen years, if she ever was, even back then.

She's mourning the man who replaced you in her bed and in her heart. She's crying for Mark Cantrell. She's hurting because she's remembering how much he suffered before he died.

Jack couldn't move, could barely breathe. All he could do was hold her and let her cry it out. While she trembled, sobs racking her body, he rubbed her back soothingly and pressed his cheek against the top of her head.

G.o.d d.a.m.n it, he hated seeing her like this.

He wasn't sure how long they stood there, just a few feet from the front door, Cathy secure in his arms. Finally, she lifted her head from his chest and gazed up into his eyes. His body tightened. His gut clenched painfully.

”You loved him a lot, didn't you?” Jack didn't know why the h.e.l.l he'd asked her such a stupid question. Wasn't the answer obvious?

”No.” The one word erupted in a hoa.r.s.e gasp. She shook her head gently and lowered her gaze.

He cupped her chin between his forefinger and thumb and tilted her face so that she couldn't avoid looking right at him. ”Want to tell me about it? Why you married him, why you had a nervous breakdown six months after he died, why you're still mourning him?”

”Does any of that really matter?”

”Apparently it does, at least to you.”

”I don't want to talk about any of that. Not tonight. And I don't want to discuss Mark with you. It's not fair to you or to his memory. He was a good husband, a good father, a fine human being. It wasn't his fault that...” She turned her head and pulled away from Jack.

He followed her as she fled, catching up with her when she stopped abruptly in the middle of the living room. He came up behind her, mere inches separating their bodies, but he didn't touch her.

”You've got to know that I don't want to hurt you,” he told her, his voice low and husky. ”I heard somebody say once that when a man wants to f.u.c.k a woman and wants to protect her at the same time, then he's in love. I don't know if that's true or not, but it sure is how I feel.”

She whipped around and faced him, her eyes wide, her expression filled with longing. ”I haven't been with anyone. Not since Mark died.”

”If you're still not ready...if the time isn't right, I'll understand. But I swear, honey, I'm about half out of my mind wanting you.”

”Oh, Jack.”

She all but flung herself at him, flying straight into his waiting arms. ”I don't care anymore if it's the right time, if I'm ready, if I'll regret it in the morning, if all you want is s.e.x. I just plain don't give a d.a.m.n.”

Her face glowed with the brightness of her smile, and that beautiful smile lit up his whole world, a world that had shrunk to include only the two of them.

Jack lifted her off her feet and up into his arms. He practically ran toward her bedroom. The door stood wide open. A single bedside lamp glowed dimly. The covers had been turned down, and her bed welcomed them.

When John Earl went into the kitchen for a late evening snack, intending to cut himself a piece of Ruth Ann's homemade pecan pie, he was surprised to find his mother-in-law sitting at the table, a mug of hot tea cupped in her hands. She glanced up at him as he entered the kitchen, and they exchanged weary smiles. Faye knew that he tolerated her presence in their home for Ruth Ann's sake. He tried not to blame her for what had happened to Ruth Ann, but if Faye had stood up to her husband...If, if, if.

”You're up late,” John Earl said.

”I was restless,” Faye replied. ”Those sleeping pills don't help much any more. I thought some tea might help. What about you? I thought you and Ruth Ann went to bed right after we got home from church.”

”She did. She's been asleep for more than half an hour. But I couldn't get that delicious pecan pie off my mind, so I sneaked back down here for a piece.”

”Why don't you sit down and let me get you some pie and fix you a cup of tea to go with it?” Faye suggested.

”Thanks. That would be nice.”

Just as Faye downed the last drops of her tea and scooted back her chair, the sound of agonized screams echoed down the back stairs and into the kitchen.

”My G.o.d, that's Ruth Ann.” Faye started toward the stairs.

John Earl moved quickly and dashed ahead of her. He took the steps two at a time and reached the partially open bedroom door before Faye was halfway up the stairs.

John Earl flung open the door and ran into the room. There in the semi-darkness he saw Ruth Ann thras.h.i.+ng about in their bed, her eyes closed, her dark hair disheveled, her arms flinging back and forth as if she were fighting off an attacker. Dear Lord, help her. Dear Lord, help her. His poor, sweet Ruth Ann could not escape the nightmare that had haunted her all their married life. It had taken years for the nightmares to subside from a few times each week to only occasional unwanted visits. But recently, with two more clergymen murdered-burned to death-those old dreams had resurfaced. His poor, sweet Ruth Ann could not escape the nightmare that had haunted her all their married life. It had taken years for the nightmares to subside from a few times each week to only occasional unwanted visits. But recently, with two more clergymen murdered-burned to death-those old dreams had resurfaced.

John Earl hurried to his wife, called her name as he sat on the edge of the bed and reached down to pull her gently into his arms. ”Wake up, Ruth Ann. It's all right. You were only dreaming.”

She beat on his chest, whimpering incoherently.

”It's John Earl, sweetheart. Open your eyes. You're safe. No one can hurt you.”

When he heard movement behind him, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Faye standing just inside the doorway. He shook his head.

”Can you understand what she's saying?” Faye asked, a concerned look in her sad eyes.