Lakeview Protector

The words ran through Jasmine’s mind again and again as she poured Sarah another cup of tea, unloaded the dishwasher and placed her mug and Eli’s into it.

Eli had been right, and she wasn’t happy about it. Imagining someone staring in the window was bad enough. Imagining that that person was an evil mastermind determined to harm Sarah made her want to put bars on the windows and doors.

“He rinsed his cup.” Sarah’s words drew Jasmine from her thoughts, and she turned to face her mother-in-law.

“What?”

“Eli rinsed his cup.”

“Should we give him a medal?”

“How many men do you know who clean up after themselves?”

“About the same number whose cleaning habits I know. None.”

“My husband didn’t clean up after himself. I remember spending the first three months of our marriage trying to get him to pick up his socks. I bet you had the same problem with John. I know he wasn’t neat when he was living at home.”

At the mention of John, Jasmine’s throat tightened. This was why she’d avoided Sarah for so long. Shared memories demanded voice and discussion, but only made the hurt that much harder to bear. “You’re right. He wasn’t neat after we married, either.”

“See? That’s my point. A neat man is something a woman doesn’t find very often.”

“So?”

“So Eli is handsome, strong, charming, neat. That’s a powerful combination.”

“What are you getting at, Sarah?”

“You’re young, Jasmine. Maybe it’s time—”

“It’s not.” She cut Sarah off, not wanting to get into a discussion about John, Eli, time passing. She knew it was passing. She felt it slipping away every moment of every day. That didn’t mean she was ready to jump into another relationship.

“I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. I just think we have more important things to discuss.”

“Like faces in the window? Security systems? Doctor’s appointments? I’d much rather spend the time before I go back to my room talking about more pleasant things. Things that aren’t going to keep me awake in bed.” Sarah sipped her tea and fingered the paperback book that still sat on the kitchen table, her skin parchment thin and lined with age, worry and sorrow.

Jazz’s heart clenched, her stomach churning with anxiety. The last thing she wanted was to give Sarah more to worry about. “It’s my turn to apologize. I wasn’t thinking about how scared you must be. How about we bunk together? I can sleep on the love seat in your room.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, Jazz.”

“Then it’s good you don’t have to.” She wiped down the counter and hung the dishrag to dry. “I’ll go get my pillow and a blanket. Then we’d both better get to sleep. We’ve got to be up and out early.”

Sarah agreed, standing with difficulty and heading toward her room, the click and shuffle of her retreat fading, then stopping altogether. Jazz took her time rinsing Sarah’s cup, loading it into the dishwasher. She didn’t mind sharing a room, but she didn’t want to talk anymore. Not about what had happened tonight and not about the past. Certainly not about men and dating. She was past those things. Way past them. She might only be thirty-three, but she felt older. Ancient even.

She sighed, grabbed her pillow and a blanket from her room and quietly entered Sarah’s. The deep, even sound of her mother-in-law’s breathing was a relief. No need to say good-night, no need to make conversation. Maybe she’d fall asleep just as quickly as Sarah had.

Or maybe she’d lie there until dawn listening to the house settling, staring into the dark room, wishing she could go back in time, relive all the moments that were still such a vivid part of her memories.

She blinked back unwanted tears, and moved to the window, pulling back the curtains. Night was already fading, the sky gray-blue and streaked violet with the first fingers of dawn. The rain had stopped, the silence beyond the window broken only by the soft tap of water dripping from the eaves. If she listened hard enough, Jazz imagined she could hear her daughters’ laughter drifting on the morning air, caught between here and there, the time before and the time after. Not quite audible, but not silent either.

Memories. That was what other people would say. To Jazz, the phantom sounds were imprints of lives lived with joy and vigor. Sometimes she thought if she tried hard enough, she could reach out and touch the images that had been hardwired into her brain from the moment her daughters had been born. She’d had so many hopes and dreams for them, so many memories she’d still wanted to make.

By the time dawn tinged the world with silvery-gray light, Jazz was stiff from lack of sleep, her body squeezed onto the love seat, her legs curved close to her chest. The room was lighter now, the cluttered dresser with its million and one photos of John and the girls seeming to mock Jazz’s efforts to sleep. Finally, she stood, folded the blanket and left the room, determined to put the long sleepless night behind her.

She brewed a pot of coffee, left it warming as she got dressed, pulled on a coat and stepped outside. A short walk. A little time away from the house. A few minutes to regroup. She’d feel better then. Later, she’d take Sarah out to breakfast, try to get both of their minds off what had happened the night before. They’d go to Becky’s Diner, have omelets and hot chocolate before they went to Sarah’s doctor’s appointment. It was a plan anyway, and that was a lot better than sitting around moping about what might have been but wasn’t.

Ice crunched under her feet as she walked down to the lake and stepped onto the rickety dock. Wood boards wiggled as she walked, and she frowned. She’d have to call around, see who she could find to fix it before the next vacation season. Maybe get someone to landscape the overgrown yard. The way she saw it, she was already in trouble for paying off Sarah’s mortgage. She might as well dig herself in a little deeper.

Ignoring the icy wood and the frigid wind, Jazz lowered herself onto the end of the dock, letting her feet hang over the edge. The lake was peaceful this time of the day, silent as the sun rose to bathe it in gold. In a few hours, she’d have to get to work, calling for the security system, calling around for a handyman, bringing Sarah to breakfast and to the doctor. Right now, though, all that she needed to do was sit and listen to the quiet.

Her fingers traced the weathered wood at the end of the dock, unconsciously searching for the deep indentations she knew would still be there, her mind drifting to another time, to bright sunlight and excited giggles, to the deep rumble of John’s laughter. Her heart yearned to rewind the clock, go back and live those moments one more time.

“It’s not such a good morning to be on the lake.” The words were as soft as a butterfly’s kiss, but still loud enough to make Jazz jump.

She turned, saw Eli walking toward her—his long legs and broad shoulders making him look like some action hero come to life—and felt something stirring to life. Interest? Attraction? Whatever it was, she didn’t like it, and scrambled to her feet to face the man. “You’re out and about early.”

“Seemed a shame to waste any of the day.” His deep Southern drawl washed over her, inviting her to relax into the moment as he moved closer.

She took a step back, one foot slipping off the edge of the dock, her arms windmilling as she tried to regain her balance.

Eli grabbed her hand, yanking her toward him, then holding her steady. “You okay?”

“Dandy.” She tugged her hand away, resisting the urge to wipe it against her jeans. There was no way, after all, that she could wipe away the lingering heat of his touch.

“You look awfully tired for someone who’s feeling dandy.”

“Nice of you to notice.”

“I also noticed that your eyes are more green than blue this morning and that your cheeks are the color of Gran’s prize roses—the most delicate shade of pink I’ve ever seen—but I figured you’d be none too happy if I mentioned it.”

Despite herself, she smiled. “Did you go to school to learn lines like that, or do they just come naturally?”

“Depends on who you talk to. I’d like to say I’m just naturally charming. Gran would probably say she whipped gentlemanly charm into me.”

“Did I say I found you charming?”

“Don’t you?” He smiled and the warmth of it spread through Jazz, melting ice that had surrounded her heart for three years, the feel of it new and exciting and horrifying all at the same time.

She looked away, told herself she was imagining things. “Maybe we better get off the dock. It needs some maintenance.”

“I was thinking the same.” Before she could move past, Eli wrapped a hand around her elbow, escorting her off the dock and back toward the house, the gesture courtly and charming. “You didn’t tell me why you look so tired this morning.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“So now I am.”

“Sarah nearly screaming the house down, the sheriff’s visit and tea with a stranger didn’t leave me much time for sleep.”

“Now, I wouldn’t say we were strangers.”

“I wouldn’t say we were friends either.”

“Maybe we will be.” He smiled again, but this time his eyes were sharply focused and Jazz caught a glimpse of the hardness she’d seen in his gaze the day before.

Southern charm and warm smile aside, Jazz was pretty sure Eli had an agenda. One that wasn’t as simple as spending a month alone writing, as he’d claimed when he’d made reservations. “I doubt either of us will be here long enough for that to happen.”

“It doesn’t take long for friendships to form.”

“I guess you’ve traveled around enough to know that.”

“I sure have.” He grinned, but it didn’t ease the hard angle of his jaw.

“Last night, you said you’d been in the marines.”

“That’s right.”

“And that you’re retired.”

“That’s right.”

“You didn’t say how you went from military to writing.”

“You didn’t ask.” His amusement was obvious. It might have been directed at her, at himself, or at the situation they were in. Probably, he was just the kind of guy who was amused by most things. The immature, unreliable type that Jazz’s mother had always been attracted to.

Even as Jazz told herself that, she knew it wasn’t the truth. There was something very solid about Eli, something that begged to be relied on. Not by her, of course. She had no intention of relying on anyone but herself. That would be asking for heartbreak and Jazz had definitely had enough of that to last a lifetime. “So, I’m asking. How does a person go from a military career to a writing career?”

“He gets half-near killed by a roadside bomb, gets shipped home, nearly goes crazy thinking about the good…no, the great…guys who died that day and then he decides he’d better find something edifying to do with his time, or he’ll end up wandering the streets with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.” He said it so matter-of-factly Jazz almost didn’t register the horror of the words.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”

“How could you have? My scars are pretty well hidden.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“It was a tough time, but I’m healing.” They were still walking, Eli’s arm brushing hers. Despite the poignant story Eli was telling, it felt nice to share the moment with him. Dawn had always been her favorite time of day, and she’d much rather spend it with a flesh-and-blood man than with a memory. Maybe she shouldn’t feel guilty about that, but she did.

She shoved the emotion to the back of her mind, not wanting to dwell on it, and turned her attention to the conversation. “What kind of writing do you do?”

“Human-interest stories. Mostly about injured veterans who’ve returned from the war and made something of themselves. Men and women who haven’t just survived, but thrived.”

“And you came to Lakeview to write a story?”

He hesitated, and she knew before he spoke that he wasn’t going to tell her the truth. “I’m researching.”

“That could mean a lot of things.”

“It could.” Before she could question him more, he released her elbow, stepped away. “It looks like we’ve made it back to the house. I’d invite myself in for tea, but I’m more a coffee kind of guy in the morning.”

She almost invited him in. Almost. Then common sense and the need for self-preservation prevailed, and she nodded. “Have a good day, Eli.”

“You, too.”

She started up the porch stairs, but was pulled up short by his hand on her arm. “If you have any more trouble, you know where to find me.”

“We won’t.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Jasmine. Your mother-in-law is a pretty savvy lady. If she thinks she’s in danger, she probably is.”

“I hope you’re wrong about that.”

“Until you know for sure, be careful. A woman went missing in the next town over a couple of months ago. I’d hate for the same to happen to you or Sarah.”

Jasmine went cold at his words. She’d thought Sarah’s claims of danger exaggerated. At least she’d hoped they were. But if a woman had disappeared, maybe there was more to Sarah’s claims than she’d thought. “What woman?”

“Her name was Rebecca McKenna.”

“I’ve never heard of her.”

“She hasn’t made the news, but she is missing. Her brother hasn’t heard from her in two months. He’s not sure he ever will again.” He let the words hang in the air before releasing her arm and stepping away. “Get a security system, Jasmine. Make sure you keep it on. I don’t think I need to tell you what an ugly world this can be.”

Before she could comment, he strode away, moving across the lawn and down to the driveway that led to his rental, leaving Jazz alone in the still morning air, his words whispering through her head. I don’t think I need to tell you what an ugly world this can be.

No, he didn’t need to tell her.

She knew.

And she’d do everything she could to make sure that ugliness didn’t touch her or her mother-in-law again.

FIVE

“You are not paying for the security system, Jasmine. If I can’t afford it on my own, I don’t need it.” Sarah’s clipped tone matched the scowl on her too-pale face, and Jazz had a feeling nothing she said could change her mother-in-law’s mind.

Of course, being as hardheaded as Sarah, she had to keep trying. “You do need it. And I can afford it, so we’ve got no problem.”

“We’ve got a big problem, and that problem is that you’re treating me like a child. Which I’m not. I’m an adult. Plenty capable of making my own decisions and paying my own way in the world.” Sarah pushed open the car door.

“Hold on, Sarah. Let me get the walker out of the trunk.”

“I’ll make it to the house without the walker.”

“The doctor said—”

“I don’t care what the doctor said. I’m fine. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure I could dance a jig if I wanted to.” She eased to her feet, but didn’t move away from the car as Jasmine grabbed the walker from the trunk. Between the late night and the doctor’s appointment, Sarah was looking worse for the wear, her deeply set eyes hollow in the early afternoon light, her mouth bracketed with lines that hadn’t been there three years ago.

Worry beat a throbbing pulse at the base of Jasmine’s neck, and she rubbed her hand against the ache as she handed Sarah the walker. “A jig, huh?”

Sarah smiled and shrugged, some of the irritation easing from her face. “It might be interesting to try.”

“It won’t be long before you can.”

“And it won’t be long before you’re heading back to New Hampshire.”

“I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

“I know you will, dear, but my point is that eventually you’ll go back to your life and I’ll go back to mine because we’re both adults. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself and my problems.”

They were back to the security-system discussion. Not exactly the direction Jazz had hoped to go. The more they talked about money—most specifically, Sarah’s lack of it—the more Jazz realized just how upset her mother-in-law was going to be when she found out the mortgage to her property had been paid off. Obviously, Jazz should have prayed more and taken a few days to think things through.

She hadn’t, so she’d just have to face up to Sarah’s wrath. But not now. They were both too tired for more arguments. “I know that, Sarah, but I want to help. You’re the only family I’ve got, and I want to make sure you’re safe.”

To her credit, Sarah didn’t bring up the fact that Jasmine had barely had contact with her during the past few years. “We’ll see what the security people say, okay? Once we know for sure how much it will cost to have a system installed, we’ll talk about it again.”

“I’d really like it to be installed today. Eli said a woman is missing. Someone from a nearby town. That makes me nervous for your safety.”

“What woman? I haven’t heard anything about this.”

“You were in the hospital for almost two weeks.”

“And you think the rumor mill couldn’t find me there? If someone was missing, I’d know about it.”

“Eli seemed pretty sure about it.”

“Who? Did he give you a name?”

“Rachel…Rebecca…Something like that.”

“Rebecca McKenna?”

“Yes. That was it.”

“She didn’t disappear. She left her husband. I can’t say I blame her. Reverend McKenna is a hard man with very antiquated ideas about the role of women in the home and in the church.”

“Antiquated as in traditional?”

“Tradition is good. Reverend McKenna’s approach is a little too extreme for my taste, and for the taste of most women I know.”

“You’ve been to his church?”

“I’ve heard about his church. You know how the grapevine works around here. Rumor on top of rumor on top of rumor passed from person to person, but always with a grain of truth. According to the people I’ve talked to about it, Fellowship Community Church is more a cult than anything else. But, like I said, I’ve never been.”

“If all you’ve got is rumor to go on, it’s possible Rebecca didn’t leave her husband. Maybe she really did disappear.”

“I doubt it. One of the girls who helped out around here for a while said Rebecca ran off with someone she’d met while she was taking classes at Liberty University. Mary was a member of the church, so I think she probably knew what she was talking about.” Sarah unlocked the front door and stepped into the house, her shoulders bowed as if a weight were sitting on them. And not just one weight. Many. The weight of disappointment. The weight of sorrow. The weight of financial difficulties.

Jazz wanted to put a hand on Sarah’s shoulder and tell her that everything was going to be all right, but she knew it might not be. That was the thing about life. You’d get moving along, everything going well, and suddenly the rug would be yanked out from under you and you’d find yourself flat on your back, staring at the ceiling and wondering how you’d gotten there. “I guess Eli got some wrong information.”

“That’s what it sounds like. Either that, or everyone else does. Maybe you should discuss it with Eli over dinner or a movie. Or both.” Sarah shot Jazz an amused look as she lowered herself onto the couch.

Jazz ignored the look and the comment. There was no way she was going to seek Eli out, let alone have dinner with him. Besides, Rebecca had probably done just what the rumor mills were saying and run off with another man. “It’s past noon. How about some lunch? I could make soup and sandwiches while we wait for the security company to get here.”

“I’m not hungry, dear. I think I’ll just read for a while.”

“Maybe you could just have some soup.”

“You’re doing it again.” Sarah grabbed a paperback from the side table.

“What?”

“Treating me like a child.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Sarah smiled John’s smile again, and Jasmine turned away, grabbing a pile of books that lay on the coffee table and placing them on the bookcase. All around her there were reminders of the past, of the simple rhythm of life before. Before John and the girls had been killed, before she understood what true grief was, before she realized that a heart could be torn in two and still go on beating. It could. It did. And she had no choice but to keep living, to keep doing her best to find the path she was supposed to travel.

Whatever that might be.

She sighed, walking down the hall and into her room, wishing she had the kind of faith that would make her feel as if something good would eventually come of her loss. She knew it was what she was supposed to believe; it was even what she wanted to believe. She just wasn’t sure she did believe it. How could good come from losing the only man she’d ever loved? How could it come from losing the children she would have given her own life to save?

“Faith needs to be a little easier, Lord. A little more concrete. Not feelings and emotions and hunches, but firmly grounded facts.” She snatched the sketch pad from the desk, but couldn’t focus enough to do any drawing. She’d known coming to Lakeview would be difficult, but she’d thought she was far enough away from the tragedy and her grief not to let the memories get to her. Apparently she’d been wrong.

The doorbell rang, and she hurried back toward the living room, motioning for Sarah to relax back down onto the sofa she was struggling up from. “I’ll get it. It’s probably the security company.”

“Just remember, you’re not paying for the system to be installed.”

Jazz ignored the comment as she pulled open the door. She expected to see a uniformed representative of A-plus Security Systems; maybe an older man carrying a clipboard and a DVD featuring underpaid actors telling tales of break-in horrors.

That was what she expected to see. What she actually saw was Eli. Standing in the shadow of the porch, backlit by watery sunlight, he looked dark and dangerous. More like the man she’d met at the cabin the previous day than the charming, easygoing guy she’d spoken to that morning. The dichotomy bothered her. Who was he, really? “Eli. What can I do for you this afternoon?”

“I was hoping to speak with Sarah.”

“About?”

“No need to screen my visitors, dear. Come on in, Eli,” Sarah called out from the living room, and Jasmine’s cheeks heated.

Eli shot a half smile in her direction before moving past, the scent of him tickling her nose as he stepped into the house—spicy, masculine. Compelling.

Her heart jumped and a million butterflies danced in her stomach. She didn’t like it. She should not be having this kind of reaction to the man. She would not have this kind of reaction to him.

She took a deep breath and followed Eli into the living room. He’d already taken a seat on the recliner and was leaning toward Sarah, his elbows on his knees, his golden eyes focused on her. If he noticed that Jazz had stepped up beside him, he didn’t acknowledge it. She had a feeling, though, that he had noticed. She was pretty sure there wasn’t much he missed.

“Sorry for dropping by uninvited, Sarah.”

“There’s no need to apologize. I’m always glad to have visitors.” Sarah smiled at him as if he were a Publishers Clearing House representative offering her a giant-sized check, her eyes sparkling for the first time since Jazz had arrived in town.

“Thanks. I had a few questions I wanted to ask if you don’t mind.”

“About the rental? Is everything okay with the cabin?”

“The cabin is fine. It’s probably the best accommodations I’ve had all year.”

“I’m glad. So, what did you want to ask about?”

“A young lady named Mary Cornell. I heard she worked for you until a couple of months ago. Is that true?”

At his words, Sarah stiffened. Not much, but enough for Jazz to notice. She tensed, too, curious and somehow anxious though she wasn’t sure why.

“Yes, it is. She worked here for six months.” Sarah leaned back in her seat, and Jazz was sure she was doing her best to look relaxed and unconcerned. It wasn’t working. Tension rolled off her, filling the room and demanding attention.