Author's Note: Thanks for the feedback, everyone!
Yep, exactly what I was trying to do, YazminXD! :)
Waya17: Yes, they probably wouldn't let Emma sit in his lap on a plane, but we only saw a few seconds of that closing scene. Plus, we already know that Jason is willing to break airline rules a bit when it comes to her. A stewardess probably kicked her off within moments after that scene. :)
The sudden shift to her distance in the previous chapter was intentional for a couple purposes. She has the ability for reason to overrule emotions temporarily. We've seen this here and there where she tries to talk herself out of an emotion, but here she actually forces herself into something that she thinks will rescue their relationship from a codependency problem she thinks is developing. She wanted to cut a problem at the root before it became an issue. She values the relationship and is willing to let reason rule to save it. It also shows that even though Jason was confused by the sudden shift in their dynamics, the relationship is strong enough that he was willing to hang in there for a couple weeks and trust they were alright before he started pushing her for answers. They have the trust to give each other space like that without feeling threatened. These things will be important in upcoming chapters.
Cloelius Princess: check your PM. :) I had to get through some things in the other chapters because they can't emotionally progress super fast all the sudden. I think you'll like this chapter.
She stood in her old bedroom at his house and finished buttoning on one of Jason's white shirts.
"I can get this tomato sauce right out of this summer dress, don'tcha know." Trudy smiled.
"Thank you. What time is Pete picking him up from the airport?" She nibbled her lip and glanced at a clock.
"He's due back from his business trip in an hour. I'll have this right as a pig's nail so you're nice and hairpin pretty when he arrives." Trudy swept out of the room with the yellow dress.
The shirttails fell to her knees. She couldn't very well wander the house like this, so she rolled up the sleeves to her elbows and picked up the featherduster to finish the room for Trudy.
Her self-sufficiency plan had died at 3:01 pm at just thirteen days old. That had been a month ago. Now Pete picked her up at half past seven each morning while Jason was on business calls with the east coast. Jason would ride along to take her home. Her cases came together faster working in her old study, and Jason seemed to love her being around every day again. Life, in a nutshell, was great.
She flipped on the radio on her cell phone. 'Everything' started playing. She smiled. A little old fashioned, but it sounded like the old big band music Jason would've liked. The happy energy was perfect for dancing while dusting. Swinging her hips, she started with dusting the mantle and singing along. It must've been an old music station because a fast-paced old tune came on next.
She spun on one foot and danced around so fast she almost tripped herself. Prince just looked up when she hopped over him. Sweeping the featherduster over more surfaces, she danced like a crazy maniac. Her heart beat fast and felt so light. Jumping on the bed, she sang into the handle of the featherduster to belt out the last notes. She panted but the energy was still bursting inside.
'Feeling Good' came on next, a perfect sexy contrast to the previous song. She hopped off the bed and sashayed across the room to the beat toward Prince. A smile curled her lips when the dog looked at her like she was a lunatic. Raising her hands in the air, she wiggled down in a way that would make a man go crazy. Singing with such energy strained her throat a bit, but it was so good to feel this carefree. Straightening with her bottom sticking out in a seductive move, she spun around to belt out a lyric. And squeaked in surprise.
Jason stood in the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the frame with his arms folded over his chest. A lusty, contented grin was plastered on his face. "Please, do not let me interrupt that dance," he said in all earnestness.
She stared with wide eyes. "How long have you been there?"
"Since you turned on the radio." A naughty gleam lit up his eye.
The blood drained from her face. Oh god, the earth needed to swallow her up.
The sexy beat still played over the radio. He shut the door and started half strutting and half dancing over to her, letting his suit jacket slide down his arms. Tossing it on the bed, he started losening his tie as he approached.
Her heart raced, and she giggled. He was doing a soft strip tease.
He pulled off the tie with a smile and swung it in one hand while his other undid the top couple buttons of his shirt. When he reached her, he held the tie in both hands and looped it over her head to hook around her back. He pulled her closer to press against her. His hand took hers in a dance hold, but his thigh pressed between her legs and hers between his from their bodies being so close. That hard, muscled body wiggled against hers as he danced with her without moving his feet.
A flush swept up her face. Dear heaven, this man should be a sin. This dance should be a sin even though he didn't do anything inappropriate. She melted when dipped her backwards in his arms and took his time uprighting her, kissing his way up the column of her neck. When his eye met hers, she breathed hard. His lips were a hairsbreath away - his glorious lips that could weave hypnotizing magic.
"Tell me you missed me the last twenty four hours." His deep baritone oozed smooth and creamy.
She couldn't manage anything but a shy smile.
A satisfied smile played on his face. "Why are you half naked, princess?" He still didn't fully upright her.
"I spilled tomato sauce on my dress. Trudy's washing it." She giggled like a silly teenage girl meeting her popstar crush.
"Welcome me home like this every time, and I'll buy you a dozen new dresses each time."
"Set me up, you goon." She laughed and swatted his chest. When he did, she had to grab handfuls of his shirt to keep her knees from buckling. "Was this the trip for the patent?"
His arms held her steady, and he smiled. "A couple days ago. Yesterday was something else."
It must've gone well. "And?"
He grinned and pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket. "The FDA and Europe approved the patents."
"No! Really?!" she squealed. "You said they'd reject them because some paperwork was missing."
A hearty chuckle bubbled up from his chest. "Dr. McLeod felt so bad he missed that part of his paperwork that he's spent the last six weeks pulling strings. I guess he pulled the right one." He held up a paper. "This, my dear, are the first set of profits because the clinical trials were so good. Legal fees and such need to come out too, and this needs to get split up amongst the investors, mind you." He handed her the paper.
She unfolded it. Her mouth fell open at the profit, and she looked up at him.
He chuckled and tucked it in his pocket. "I say we go celebrate your job now that you're not crazy busy, and the past two years of sweat and tears for this patent."
She walked on his arm down the quiet street in town and sipped on a milkshake. The man had a weakness for ice cream.
"Isn't it melting, sweetheart?" He smiled.
"I can't down it all in one gulp like you." She took a final sip. He took the empty cup to carry himself. "You don't have to carry my trash." She frowned and reached for it.
He held it away. "It's just having manners. We'll pass a garbage can on the corner. How is work going?"
She relented and simply enjoyed walking on his arm in the morning summer sun. "Good. Remember the analyst giving me a hard time?"
"Which one?" he growled. He looked straight ahead, but subtle anger hardened his face.
A flush of embarrassment crept up. "Most of them are getting better now that I've solved two cases that had stumped them all."
"Don't make excuses for them being sexist," he grumbled. "I'd punch their damn faces if they were here."
She smiled at his protectiveness. "They're not that bad. Anyways, he asked me for my opinion on his case. He'd probably poke his eye out before admitting to anyone that he asked, but he asked." She smiled up at him.
"It's about time." He kissed her hair. "You're good, and don't let them tell you otherwise. I still can't follow how you figured out what back doors to have the computer guy hack to trace that embezzeled money. That was awesome." He grinned and dropped the empty cup in the trashcan. "I admit, I didn't think you both were going to get out in the two minutes before getting caught."
She laughed. Jason had been on an adrenaline rush, right along with her as he'd watched a hacking into what turned out to be a real mobster's computer system. "You doubt my awesomeness?" She grinned. "I was freaking out too." She laughed.
He stopped and turned to brush a kiss over her lips. "I no longer doubt your awesomeness." He chuckled. "Do you want to go in?" He turned her around.
The regal old cathedral church stretched up into the sky. The stone walls spoke of nineteenth century architecture. It's stained glass windows glinted in the sunlight and doors sat wide open, beckoning the people. She'd come here a time or two on her own last winter, but it hasn't seemed quite so beautiful as it did looking at it with him.
GLancing at his watch, it indicated Sunday mass would start in thirty minutes. Turning in surprise, she stared at him. "You want to go to Mass? With people?"
He shrugged, a hint of anxiety in his eye as he focused on the church. "I can't leave you to drag the children to church on your own every Sunday. It's been four years. Maybe it'll be better." He glanced at her.
She smiled and took his hand. "It will be, or I'll break out the crazy lady routine."
A nervous laugh was his only response.
"It will be alright, Jay." She kissed his cheek and then pulled him up the steps.
A priest in his early sixties smiled and walked over from the front of the empty church. "Jason? Are you joining us today instead of Monday?" The priest shook his hand with enthusiasm.
"Trying it. Em, this is Father Bob. Father, this is my girlfriend, Emma." His voice quivered just the slightest bit, probably undetectable by most people. He set a hand on her back.
She shook Father Bob's extended hand.
"Welcome, Emma." Then he clapped a hand on Jason's shoulder. "Anyone who is unkind will answer to me," he said in all protectiveness. "I'll hold Communion afterwards, if you choose. Would you like Reconciliation today?"
He shook his head. "Not today, thank you." The priest patted his shoulder. His hand was clammy when he took hers and led her to the back right corner pew. He stepped aside for her to enter first.
She turned and searched his strained face. "We don't have to do this." He seemed so terrified. When he shook his head, she sighed and knelt before entering the pew. He followed suit and then pulled out the kneeler. She knelt with him to pray, but it was impossible to do anything but worry about him.
His nailbeds whitened under his fierce grip. He sat back after a few seconds, as if too distracted to actually pray either.
Her hand slipped into his and she sat back. "Jason, tell me what happened."
Several seconds ticked as he stared down at his lap and clutched her hand. "Father Bob knows the whole story and my real name, but no one else here does." His voice shook the tiniest bit. "I couldn't wear a mask or anything over my face for a long time while everything healed. I holed up for a year, but coming here was...a relief. I'd come at night to be shrouded in the darkness and sit on the front steps. I was depressed, but I believed that if I kept coming here, I'd start to see my purpose. I couldn't fathom why I hadn't died - I have no family, Charles and Charlotte died, I'd already pulled people out of the fire...I didn't understand the point of me not dying too."
She turned a little to face him and laid a hand on his back. It hurt that he had endured so much alone. But faith had pulled him through when noohing else in his life could have.
"I didn't have the mask yet and couldn't wear anything on my face because the skin grafts were still too fresh. Father Bob sat down on the steps one night, probably thinking I was a lost soul." He touched his chest. "Everything just started pouring out. I told him everything. Absolutely everything. The man probably thought I was crazy. But he looked at me." He met her eyes. "At that time, he was the first one who had ever looked at my new face and saw just me." Awe filled his voice. "He unlocked the church and invited me inside. He asked me to come to church that Sunday." He snorted and leaned his elbows on his knees, letting go of her hand to clasp his together. "I was so stupid and thought everyone here would be just like him, was just as accepting. Twenty minutes into Mass, I couldn't stand the comments and whispers and stares. So I left. Since then, Father Bob leaves the church open for me on Monday mornings and will leave a host for me in the tabernacle if he's unable to be here himself. On occassion, he holds a full Mass just for me." A soft smile of gratitude touched his lips.
Father Bob saw in him what she did. She swallowed hard. That man should conduct the wedding - the man who had taken care of Jason when he'd been lost. Rubbing Jason's back, she frowned. "Perhaps people will be kinder now. I can't imagine there will be much for comments with a mask now either. What is there for them to say about a mask, honey?"
He shook his head and took her hand again, although he didn't straighten. "The world is not as kind as you, Emma."
People started trickling in, and he remained hunched over with his head bowed. She frowned - this wasn't like him to not sit tall and calm. Then her eyes widened as her stomach churned - people stared and whispers started. He had expected this and was trying to keep out of sight as much as possible. They should've come late and snuck in.
A young boy walked past with his brother and parents. "There's the monster who lives on the mountain. He eats bats," the kid snickered.
"Hush, Tommy!" his mother scolded and pulled him along, with a wary glance at Jason.
She sat forward for a private conversation. "Jay, we can go. Or maybe leave and come in late." He shouldn't be subjected to this.
He shook his head. "Late arrivers are ushered to the front. I don't want people whispering about you or the children. If I'm present, the stares and talk will be directed at me instead. Gossip will be old by the time the children arrive."
Tears burned. He offered himself up for sacrifice now in place of his family later. Her heart constricted. She held his hand tighter and leaned down to him. "I'm honored to have such a noble man." She stroked his cheek with the back of her knuckles.
When he turned his head to her, grief filled his eye. "You and the children should not suffer because of me."
"We won't. I don't want you to do this. Come. Let's go home, Jay." She pleaded, but he stared at the floor.
He released a shakey breath and clasped his hand over hers. "Tell me when it's over that you aren't ashamed of me," he whispered and turned his head to look at her with tears in his eye.
She frowned. "Jason, I'm never going to be ashamed of you. Why would you think such a thing?"
"I need you to say it when we get to the car." His voice grew thick.
"Of course. But you don't need to do this to yourself." She brushed at her eyes. When he shook his head, she wrapped an arm around his back and held tight. If he insisted on the torture, she protect him in whatever way possible.
A little girl about four years old stared at him front a couple rows up. Then she walked up to him, her little blonde curls bouncing, and patted his arm. "You can't wear a costume at church," she whispered with a giggle. "Mommy won't let me wear my princess dress."
He cracked a smile and turned his head to look at her on his blind side. "That's right that you probably shouldn't wear a costume at church," he whispered back. "I have an owie and this is like a bandage."
The little doll frowned. "Do you want a kiss? Mommy gives me a kiss and hurting is all gone. Is she your mommy?" A chubby little hand pointed.
He followed her finger and chuckled. "No, she's my girlfriend."
"Oh. My dog is my girlfriend," she stated with pride.
He bit back a laugh. "It's a liberal world, why not?" When a frown of confusion marred that sweet little face, he changed the topic. "You look like a very smart little girl."
That little chest puffed up with pride.
"But do you know what smart little girls must always remember?"
She shook her head, making her blonde curls bounce.
"Never talk to strangers." He held up a finger. "Stranger can mean danger."
Those little hands perched on his leg. "I know you now, so you are not a stranger. You're nice. Do you wanna play ponies with me? Mommy let me bring two."
Before he could respond, the father walked over and scooped her up. "Sorry. Annie, don't be talking to strangers." He strode away with the little girl. She looked over her dad's shoulder and waved.
Jason smiled and waved back.
"Not all little girls fear you," she whispered with a smile.
He glanced at her with a sheepish smile and sat up now that most of the congregation had arrived.
The poor man went through the motions but obviously didn't have his heart in it because he was so tense. He didn't even sing but kept glancing around at the people here and there who would turn and stare for a moment. During the exchange of peace, the people in front of them turned to shake hands. The man blinked in surprise but shook Jason's hand.
The woman froze midreach and just gave him a nod. When the woman turned around, she leaned over and whispered to the man, "I hear he kidnapped that poor woman and seduced her. Now she has some kind of Stockholm Syndrome and stays with him out of pity. I've heard he's burned and looks like some creature."
Jason paled. Her blood boiled. She reached in front of Jason and tapped the man on the shoulder. When the man turned, she asked, "Is this your wife?" He nodded. "I'm sorry." She shook her head in empathy.
The woman spun around in outrage.
She held the woman's glare. "It doesn't feel good to have people assume they know what you're like, does it?"
"Emma," Jason whispered in plea.
"No, I'm sick of just sitting here and taking all the whispers and gossip." She looked at the woman. "Go spread this gossip: I stay with him because I love him, and he is the last one on earth to take advantage of a woman. Winters are very isolated out here, and he is the closest doctor around for miles. I suggest you do not insult the man who might one day have your life in his hands."
The woman harrumphed and turned around.
When a hand slipped into hers and squeezed, she looked up at him.
'Thank you,' he mouthed. And he stood a little taller, a little prouder.
She stayed in the pew with him during Communion when he made no move to go. The priest had mentioned giving it after Mass - he must've realized Jason wouldn't want to walk up in front of all the prying eyes.
Just a few minutes before the end of Mass, Jason stood and took her hand to slip out. He looked at her over his left shoulder and headed for the door. "We'll come back in after everyone is gone. I'd rather not be - "
Someone slipped in through the heavy wood door in front of him on his blind side. "No!" she cried and jerked his hand to try to get him out of the way. But the door slammed into the right side of his face with a loud crack.
He stumbled back into her. Gasps of horror filled the room. She looked over her shoulder to grab a pew to steady them. Dozens of people stared with horrified faces, followed by whispers.
"Ew!"
"Geez, is that really his face?"
"Oh dear Lord."
"Sick, look, man!"
Jason's weight shifted away. Her head whipped around to see if he was alright, but he was gone. The mask lay on the floor in three pieces. Blood covered the edges of where the mask had split on the forehead. Her heart stopped. Everyone had seen him. Oh god, this wasn't happening.
She scooped it up and ran into the vestibule, her heart galloping. He wasn't anywhere in sight. He wouldn't have gone outside without the mask. The rush of running water came from the restroom to the left. Running over, she knocked on the door. "Jason?"
"Let me know when everyone is gone." His voice shook.
"Are you alright?" He didn't say anything. "Jason, there's blood on the mask. Let me help you."
People started coming out after Mass and stared at her. One woman came forward. "I'm a doctor. Is he alright? It sounded like a hard hit."
"I don't know. He won't open the door." She bit her lip and knocked again. The water shut off. "Jason, please let me in. There's a doctor here."
The door unlocked. She looked at the doctor. "Let me go in and see if he'll let you come. His face is burned - "
"Yes, I was sitting in back and saw." The woman's voice held only compassion.
She slipped in.
He sat on the floor against the far wall. His arm propped on his knee and his other held his forehead with a wad of paper towels strategically arranged on his face and scalp. Red blood blossomed at the forehead area and leaking saliva wet the bottom of the paper towels near his mouth.
Her face crumpled. The man who could rescue lost souls, heal a damaged heart, battle the darkest demons...the man who had the courage of a thousand lions and a heart more beautiful than a thousand suns, sat on a bathroom floor in humiliation and despair. His beautiful blue eye - that could instill trust within moments in the most frightened soul - shimmered with unshed tears and rose to her. A silent tear glided down his cheek.
Cupping a hand to her mouth, she held back the sobs. He looked so broken. She dropped to her knees before him. To ask was to be denied, and he needed a human touch more than he understood. His heart called for it - and her ears heard what had been silent until this moment.
Without hesitating, she cupped both sides of his face through the paper towels. The burned side was hard and far less contoured from so much tissue burned off and incomplete bone reconstruction. The layers of paper towels hid any details beyond that.
Panic flashed across his face, but she held his eye. She didn't flinch. She didn't waiver. And she didn't let go. "Nothing could ever make me ashamed of you," she whispered. "I love you."
His other hand reached up to cup hers on his burned cheek. That strong, guiding hand now trembled with fear. The pain in his heart pierced through her. And she wept.
His face crumpled, and his head bowed in defeat as tears began to flow. "They were so horrified. What if you see and react like that? What if you fear me?" He curled up his legs and held his head as he wept too hard to speak.
She climbed into his lap and held him tight, desperate to absorb some of his pain. "Scars do not make up the man, Jason," she cried. "I'm not going to love you any less. Give me a chance to prove it. Let me see you. Let me slay this monster that tortures you."
He shook his head but clutched her like a lifeline as his shoulders shook with silent tears. So she simply held him.
Once he quieted, she dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and dried his tears and then hers. "Did it hit hard enough that you need to be checked for a concussion?" When he shook his head, she held his eye. He seemed to be at war with wanting to push her away and pull her closer. "Let me check if it needs stitches."
"It can't be stitched. The scar tissue is too delicate to hold that kind of tension."
Her eyes dove into his, trying to find him in the sea of pain. "Please, Jason. Let me help. Let me in."
He searched her eyes for a moment and then nodded.
It was a step in the right direction. She got up and washed her hands, glancing at him in the mirror when he stood up. When she turned, he bowed his head a bit for her. Tearing a hole in the papertowel, she took a deep breath without looking. "Did you see it?"
"It's too far on my blind side to get a good look." His free hand held her elbow tight. "Don't faint. Stevens is in the car. He can check it."
"No, I want to do it for you." She took a deep breath and peeked from the corner of her eye. Her stomach churned. "Oh, it's kinda big." Her voice sounded distant. Closing her eyes, she shifted her feet to keep the blood pumping to her head.
"Emma, it's alright. Sit. You're pale."
If she bowed out now, he might think it's because of the scar tissue. Not that it had even been apparent with the gallons of blood gushing. "Give me your phone. I'll take a picture, and you tell me what to do. And don't be all macho if you should be going to the hospital."
He cracked a smile and handed over the phone. When she gave it back, his smile died.
She glanced at the wound. Pink, bubbled skin was exposed a half inch all around the one-inch gash. "Come on, that's not as impressive as your shoulder." She shrugged off the scarring. "So, are we going to the hospital?"
His eye studied her for a moment, as if calculating if it bothered her or not. Then he studied the photo. "Lovely," he sighed. "Let's pack it and see if it heals. It split so bad because it's on contractured skin."
"I thought you had skin grafts." She frowned.
"Full thickness skin was grafted from the groin area - where my hip and torso join - and transplated to my face. However, even skin grafts heal with tension when over burns." He pocketed his cell.
Her eyes teared. "You have scars from grafting too?"
He looked away. "They're just linear scars."
"But still more scars. Oh, Jay," she sighed with a heavy heart. "If I ever meet your ex, I'll punch her lights out. How could she be so heartless to leave you to face it all alone," she fumed.
"It was better than her staying out of pity."
"Still. I reserve the right to get in a cat fight with her." She stepped out to tell the doctor it was alright, his laugh following her out.
Pete stood there with Jason's medical bag and the priest. "I was wondering where you were. The doc said what happened, so I got his bag and told her that you and I can handle him," Pete said.
"I locked the church up so he can come out here in better light to be treated. Is he alright?" Father Bob wrung his hands. "Next weekend I'm preaching about acceptance and kindness. The poor boy looked so humiliated even from the front of the church."
She engulfed him in a hug. "Thank you. You do so much for him."
He patted her back. "He clings so strongly to God to help him. I only do what I can."
Disappearing back into the restroom, she took Jason's hand. "Pete is here with your bag, and Father Bob locked up the church. We can fix you up out there in daylight."
"No, just bring in my bag. You and I can do it." Distress wrinkled his brow.
Her heart skipped a beat. "You want me to help instead of Pete?"
"I mean, if you want to." He suddenly looked so vulnerable, as if ready for rejection.
"Of course I want to." Her heart melted, and she hurried out to get his bag. He wanted privacy - and her to be part of that. She wasn't getting the door shut in her face this time. "Here. He wants me to do it in the bathroom." She held out her hand for the bag.
Pete blinked. "Just you?" He cocked his head.
She bit her lip and grinned.
A smile lit up Pete's face. "By all means, take it. Go! Go before he changes his mind." He shoved the bag at her and spun her around by the shoulders. "You show him what love is about, Emma! Whoo!" Pete cheered.
Father Bob laughed with glee as she ran back to the bathroom.
She burst through the door, her heart beating fast with hope. Jason looked up in surprise. Her feet came to a screeching halt before him. She looked up at him, the love about to burst her heart. Without waiting for worry or fear or any emotion to get between them, she flung her arms around him and planted a hearty kiss on the bare side of his mouth. "Dear heaven, I love you." Then she let go and laid out paper towels on the counter to set his bag on a clean surface. She washed her hands again and glanced at him in the mirror.
He still watched her as she got out supplies. When he bent down for her to reach the wound, he adjusted his hold on the paper towels a bit. "What has you so happy?" He seemed curious.
Dabbing at the wound to clean it, she couldn't stop grinning. "I love you. Tell me if it hurts."
"I have no feeling on most of that side of my face."
Her smile faded, and she met his gaze. "Is that why you touched my hand? Because you couldn't tell if I was touching your face?" He wouldn't have even been able to see if she'd been touching him either.
His expression didn't change, as if he wasn't focused on the conversation. "Yes. But, loving me doesn't explain why you're so happy."
The smile couldn't be smothered for long and it returned, making her cheeks ache with its strength. She turned her face up to him like he was the warm summer sun. "Because you chose me."
Confusion settled on his face. "For bandaging a bloody wound? You are an easy woman to please." He smiled.
She cut strips of gauze for packing the gash and beamed a smile up at him. "For taking care of this side of your face."
A soft expression of wonder transformed his face. It was like he was seeing her for the first time...and saw some kind of miracle.
"I told you I loved you." She brushed a kiss over his lips and rubbed the tip of her nose against his playfully. Then she resumed taking care of him, even blood not enough to stop the joy in her heart.
"Yes, you did," he whispered, studying her in awe. "I love you too, sweetheart."