Chapter 26

Jennifer tuned out Plotzy as he rambled on and on and on to Kyle about the party at Clive’s. Her mind was what Kyle had told her.

He had tried to find her.

She had assumed his father was alive and would find a way of locating them, if he’d wished to do so. But Kyle’s father had died, and his circumstances had been nearly as terrible as her own. Maybe things had been worse for him, she decided. Kyle had a way of downplaying risky situations.

Just like his father.

And she was exactly like her mother. As much as she had loved her mother and mourned her death, Jennifer had to concede that her mother had been very self-centered. She had been so obsessed with Vince Parker that she couldn’t accept the love of a decent, caring man, Hiram Whitmore. Even more upsetting, Jennifer’s mother had killed herself just when Jennifer had needed her the most.

In many ways, she had the same failings as her mother. Jennifer had never seriously stopped to consider that something terrible might have befallen Kyle. True, she had been in a traumatic situation herself, but she should have known Kyle wouldn’t abandon her.

The warmth of his arm encircling her, his hand resting casually on her shoulder had been comforting a few moments ago. But now, taking a close look at herself, Jennifer felt ashamed and unworthy of his attention.

“Catch you later,” Kyle said as Plotzy trotted off.

“Right-o.”

“Let’s take a minute to enjoy the beautiful moon and the stars.” He gently rocked the swing back and forth. “Then let’s talk about us and the future.”

The future.

Those words brought forth a dull ache that she knew was her conscience scolding her. A part of her did want a future with this man, but how could she expect a future unless she was totally honest about the past?

She opened her mouth to tell him everything, but a twinge in her chest reminded her of the past. Of the pain.

The words did not want to come out. She sat there, lulled by the rhythmic movement of the swing and the softness of the balmy air and the comforting sturdiness of Kyle’s warm body next to hers. She should have been happy, yet she wasn’t and never would be until she told him the entire story.

“Jen, is something wrong?” His eyes probed to her very soul. “Is it Chad?”

Oh, Lordy. He actually thought she gave two hoots about that jerk. “No, I don’t care about him. I don’t know how I could have thought he was actually going to marry me. Even if he had, I never would be happy with him.”

His whole face spread into a smile that made her feel even more disgusted with herself. Tell him! Open up your mouth and say the words.

Looking into his eyes, she tried to gather strength, but it didn’t work. If anything, she was less inclined to dig up a past full of hurtful memories still capable of tormenting.

“Something’s wrong, Jen. I can feel it.”

“I like the way you call me Jen,” she hedged. “It’s not babyish like Jenny or as serious as Jennifer.” She leaned slightly into him, tilting her face up for a kiss.

He pressed his lips to hers, caressing her mouth more than kissing it. She curled her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back, letting him know how much she was enjoying this.

He pulled away, his expression darkening with some unreadable emotion. “Jen, level with me. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

I can’t bring myself to talk about it, she wanted to scream. Just thinking about it hurt too much. She found herself standing up, saying, “I need to be alone for awhile. I’ve made too many mistakes in my life to rush into …”

“Into what?”

She realized he hadn’t actually asked her to do anything. He hadn’t declared his intentions, or even said how he felt about her. She was leaping to conclusions by thinking he was committing himself. It was the same type of thinking that led to her disastrous relationship with Chad Roberts.

“I don’t want to be involved in anything but my career right now. It’s all that’s important to me.”

“Bullshit!” He shot to his feet and towered over her. “I’m the one, the only one for you. Sooner or later, you’re going to admit it.”

She ducked around him. “Come on, Sadie. Let’s do your business and go to bed.”

“Take your time, Jen. You know we belong together. We always have.”

His bittersweet words echoing in her ears, she walked Sadie into the sea grass. They did belong together. She’d known it from the very first time he’d kissed her all those long years ago.

She had tried to hate him, but even then in some little corner of her heart she never had stopped loving him. How did he feel? He hadn’t come right out and said he loved her. No. He’d insisted he was “the one” for her.

What did he mean?

All she had to do was turn around and call to him, but she couldn’t. If he rejected her, Jennifer wasn’t sure what she would do. If he actually came out and said he loved her, how would she respond?

Like phoenix rising from the ashes of the past, an unbidden memory returned. She saw her stepfather’s two best bloodhounds at the edge of the pond. She’d raced up—and looked—before Hiram could shield her. The little girl was floating face down.

In her head she heard herself scream. “Dear God, no! Why didn’t they call us sooner?”

She was still screaming half an hour later when old Doc Golden arrived and gave her an injection. Did she really want to risk another emotional upheaval by discussing something that still had the power to destroy her emotional equilibrium?

Almost as important, could she trust herself? She had been positive she loved Chad and wanted to marry him. Be cautious, warned an inner voice. Go slow.

When she returned to the porch, Kyle was still there, leaning one shoulder against a post, watching her. She climbed the two steps, then waited for Sadie to limp up. She braved a quick look at Kyle.

“I’ll carry Sadie to your room.” The emerging bristle on his jaw was as stiff as his voice.

“I’d appreciate it.”

They went into the empty house and took the back stairs to Jennifer’s room. She rushed ahead, unlocked the door, and turned on the light. Kyle wasn’t far behind, and he deposited Sadie on her rug.

Kyle gazed at Jennifer for a long moment. The air in the room was fraught with tension and the undercurrent of something she couldn’t name. He seemed to be on the verge of saying something, but instead he turned and left.

“You did the right thing,” she mumbled to herself as she locked the door. “Think carefully before you do anything you may regret.”

Kyle all but kicked open the door to his room. What in hell was wrong with Jennifer? Just when he thought he was on solid ground, she yanked the rug out from under him.

He pulled off his shoes, asking himself, “If she isn’t upset about Chad, what in hell is bothering her?”

One shoe hit the wall that he shared with Jennifer, but he didn’t give a damn. Let her wonder. She had him upside down. Wondering.

He threw himself across the bed, rolled over and stared at the wide blades of the ceiling fan rotating over his head. Jennifer had asked him about those years when they’d been separated, and he had been candid. He’d told her the truth.

Okay, okay. It was the bare outline of what had happened. He hadn’t confessed what a gut-wrenching experience Libya had been because he hadn’t wanted to worry her.

He’d tried to spare her and succeeded in alienating her instead. What did he expect? He’d never had anything more than a sexual relationship with a woman.

Jennifer was different and she always had been. When he saw himself with her, he imagined a world he had never known, a place where a happy family lived together. A happy family, he thought.

What a concept.

Not that he believed in all that Freudian crap, but it was possible his subconscious was speaking to him. He’d never known much about his mother except she had turned her back on him, walking away and leaving a helpless baby in the care of a career military man.

Not that his father had done anything wrong. Vincent Parker had tried his best, but a mother’s love was different. Aw, hell. Maybe it wasn’t. What did he know? Still, he’d missed … something.

And he wanted that elusive “something” for his children.

Children? The concept frightened him in a way that nothing in his antiterrorism experience ever had. Until this very moment, he’d never given much consideration to being a father.

Danger and adventure had given him such a rush that he’d never stopped to think about a normal life. Now, he seemed—strangely enough—ready to accept the responsibilities of being a father.

He couldn’t imagine any woman except Jennifer as the mother of his children. This revelation disturbed him because it altered his concept of his life and the future. He’d lived for the adrenaline high that danger brought.

A stable life with a woman he loved was a new idea, but it wasn’t difficult for him to accept it. He’d been redefining himself since the incident in Libya had damn near killed him. He wanted to settle down, he realized with a certain degree of amazement.

When had that happened? When had he stopped living for the thrill of danger?

He crossed his arms behind his head and critically examined the situation. It was clear to him that Jennifer had been hurt when he hadn’t found her despite the fact that he’d been going through hell himself.

The wound was much deeper than seemed reasonable to him. His sixth sense kicked in, telling him it was more than just the end of their relationship that was bothering Jennifer. Her unwillingness to talk about it indicated a dark, subterranean undercurrent, shaped by events in a past he knew nothing about.

“Okay, buddy,” he whispered to himself. “Where do we go from here?”

Waiting seemed to be his only option. For damn sure, he couldn’t make her talk until she was ready.

Mentally reviewing their conversations, searching for a clue to Jennifer’s problem, he drifted off to sleep. A boisterous laugh awakened him, and he levered himself up on one elbow. More masculine laughter followed by a fit of giggles. Apparently the gang had returned from the party and were soused.

He waited for Thelma Mae to come thundering out of her room to reprimand them, but the laughter faded as doors opened and banged shut, and people returned to their rooms.

Kyle stripped down to his underwear, then carefully stowed his dirty clothes in the hamper. Some habits die hard, he thought. He had automatically gotten ready for bed without turning on the light. SEALs regularly practiced in the dark because they needed eyes of a cat for night maneuvers.

“Those days are over,” he said out loud and flicked on the bathroom light.

He reached for his toothbrush, then squeezed a liberal amount of toothpaste on it. He took a close look at the label: Tartar Control Crest. Christ! He was already becoming an average Joe. Next thing he knew, he’d be flossing every night.

He brushed his teeth, then turned off the light. Crossing the room barefoot, a slight creak caught his attention. Jennifer’s door. He’d lain awake enough nights already, listening for her to come home.

He went to bed and told himself not to wonder where she was going at this hour of the night. What time was it anyway? His Breitling glowed in the dark, and a quick check told him it was after midnight. He’d slept for several hours.

Had Jennifer been able to sleep, or was something still bothering her? His curiosity got the best of him, and he rose. She often went for a late night swim. From the shadows on his balcony, he looked out at the beach.

The moon was hidden by a dark cloud with wispy trailers. He spotted a woman at the beach, but there wasn’t enough light to be certain it was Jennifer. Who else could it be?

He forced himself to go back to bed. There wasn’t any point in trying to get Jennifer to talk until she was ready. He lay down and picked up the sound of voices. It was faint, but from their tones, he knew it was an argument. The noise stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

Unable to fall asleep, Kyle continued to listen. The only sound was the whirring hum of the ceiling fan overhead. He waited and waited with all the patience he’d learned on SEAL missions—not moving just listening—hyper-alert for any unusual sound.

He wanted to know Jennifer was safe in her own bed, not wandering alone on the beach in the middle of the night. Another creaking sound made him sit up in bed. It was a different sound than Jennifer’s door, and it was farther away.

He lay down and told himself to get some rest. It had been too many nights with too little sleep. He dozed, half listening for Jennifer’s door.

He sat bolt upright and looked around his room. It was still dark but the faint rosy-gray light of another dawn in Key West was appearing on the horizon. A noise had awakened him, but he couldn’t identify the sound.

It was a dim echo in his brain like a half-remembered dream. He wasn’t sure that he hadn’t imagined it. The sound could have been part of a dream.

Pinpricks of sweat peppered the back of his neck, and he was slightly breathless, the way he often was when he dreamed about nearly dying in Libya. Aw, hell. That’s what had made him wake up so suddenly.

He hadn’t been troubled by those nightmares for months, he thought as he crossed the room and walked out onto the balcony to cool off. Telling Jennifer about Libya had brought back memories he would do better to forget.

He leaned against the railing and gazed out at the dark sea. Off to the side of the lawn, something caught his eye. A woman had collapsed on the lawn.

“Jennifer?”

No, not Jennifer. Relief hit him like a blow to the gut.

It was Thelma Mae, and she was crying.

That was what had awakened him, he decided as he hurried into the room and pulled on a clean pair of khaki shorts. Not bothering with a shirt or shoes, he rushed downstairs. The lawn beneath his feet was moist with dew, and there was a heaviness in the air, signaling an oncoming shower.

“What’s wrong?” Kyle asked, dropping down beside the older woman.

“My boy! My boy!” she cried, the words garbled by tears and frantic gulping for air. “My son’s been killed!”