The Broken Road
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!
Chapter Fifty-Three
The door shut with a click, closing out the expressions of outright shock on the faces of the people within. The last sound Jim heard was Helen Belden's voice. While he wasn't able to make out any of her words, he couldn't mistake the intensity behind them. Forceful. He couldn't help but grin. His amusement faded fast. There was someone he needed to get to, and fast. Hurrying through the busy corridor, he neatly sidestepped past a small gathering of hospital personnel surrounding the nurses' station. The annoyed glances they shot his way didn't faze him in the least. He jabbed at the elevator button and shot a furtive look behind him, hoping that no one had decided to follow. He couldn't deal with them or their legions of questions. Not right now. Now, all he wanted to do was get to Trixie. "Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath, urging the elevator doors to open. He drummed a handful of impatient fingers against his thigh, wanting to be gone already.
After what seemed like forever but was really only a normal minute and a half, the elevator finally deigned to stop and allowed him passage. He must have looked fiercer than he realized. The young couple who came up behind him made a hasty decision not to board the elevator with him and stayed behind to wait for the next one. Their rejection didn't bother him. Hell, he hardly recognized it. The doors slid closed, letting him partake in the ride blissfully alone. Thankfully, the trip down to the lobby was short, sweet and without a single stop on any other floor. Hardly waiting for the doors to part, he bounded through them when they were still in the process of opening, his pace increasing with each step. By the time he made it past the sliding glass doors, he was at an all-out sprint, dodging casually strolling visitors left and right, and arrived at his vehicle in record time.
Breathing heavily from his mad dash, he patted down his pockets, searching for his car keys. There was one insane moment where he was afraid that he'd left them upstairs in Di's room. Luckily he found them deep within the pocket of his jacket. With a triumphant gleam to his eyes, he hit the unlock button and opened the door. The healthy sound of the motor turning over was the most lyrical sound he'd ever heard. Music to his ears. As he threw the car in reverse and backed up, he remembered to put his seatbelt on, and had just finished buckling before making it to the stop sign.
Luck, that oftentimes fickle thing, was finally with him. Even for Sleepyside standards, traffic in town was exceedingly light. The stop light that almost always turned red was even on his side. He sailed through it when it was showing a pretty yellow. His trek home was so easy he was through the center of town and hitting the outskirts of town before the current song on the radio had a chance to change. Then he was turning onto Glen Road. He traveled along the picturesque country road, not taking in the familiar scenery or the vibrant colors of the autumn sights. One thought, and one thought only, was in his mind. Trixie.
So eager for her, he nearly turned into the driveway for Crabapple Farm. But Dan's earlier words chose that moment to reassert themselves. Ten Acres. Although it practically killed him to agree with his friend, he couldn't deny it. Dan was right, damn his cantankerous soul. It had to be at Ten Acres. Grumbling a string of unintelligible mutters under his breath, he drove past her driveway with a slight scowl on his face and made the next turn, right onto his own property, only a short distance down the road.
With impatience guiding him, he sped up the driveway and parked the SUV at a strange, haphazard angle. Later he would wonder what exactly he was thinking. Totally living for the moment, Jim didn't even notice the oddness of it. He killed the engine with a quick flick of his wrist. Hardly sparing a glance at his house, he shot out of the vehicle with the undeniable force of a bullet from a gun, slammed the door shut and raced across the big front yard to the path that would lead him to Crabapple Farm. Unbelievably, the path to her house was still there; overgrown, almost forgotten, but it was there. It hadn't been used in years…seven years, to be exact. Yet, somehow, it was still there. If he'd had more of a poetic bent to his nature, he would have paused to acknowledge the beautiful simplicity of it all. But he wasn't. And it didn't matter, not to him. All he wanted was her, not some deeper theological thoughts. She mattered more.
His booted feet clomped over the twigs and leaves on his speedy tromp through the woods. He nearly tripped over an exposed tree root when he rushed down a short hill. A quick grab at a low hanging branch saved him from toppling the rest of the way, slowing him down. Taking in a deep breath, he reluctantly changed his pace. Walking was a much more feasible mode of travel through the forest. He gently parted a branch full of jagged prickers; shook the same branch off his leg after it grabbed onto his jeans, and looked straight ahead. He was closing in on his destination. There was a stream of the unbelievably golden sun typical of October evenings, laying a path for him that stopped at the brink of her backyard, guiding him on. He followed it, his mind whirling and swirling with what he wanted to say to her.
Then, he was there. Standing on the edge of the yard. Dark shadows cast by the trees and the house stretched along the ground like long fingers, beckoning him forward. Squinting to ward off the brightness of the low-riding sun, he glanced around but couldn't see her or the puppy anywhere within the vicinity. She was inside. Had to be. He turned his intent gaze on the house. The last time he'd been inside was as vivid as if it had just happened yesterday instead of seven long years in the past. That unforgettable day he'd found out she'd moved away. The memory used to poke and prod at him. Not anymore. Its potency had been lost. Its power severely diminished into nothingness. It didn't hurt any longer. And it would never hurt again. The edge of one lip curled up in satisfaction. Pleased to know he had truly put their past behind him, he started forward with a stride full of determination and fortitude.
He slowed down considerably when he neared the back door, the one that would lead to the kitchen. It almost felt like his ghost from the past was walking besides him, urging him on and ordering him not to screw it up this time. He flicked a two-fingered salute at the imaginary figure and took the short flight of porch stairs with carefully measured steps.
This time when he looked through the screen of the door, his emerald green eyes landed on the Belden he wanted to find, in direct contrast to that long-ago day when he'd discovered every other Belden was in residence except for her. This evening, she was there, standing at the other end of the kitchen. Her back was to him. She was bent over a gate, most likely taking care of the little puppy he could hear happily yipping away. He took a moment to admire the view of the material of her pants as it stretched alluringly across her backside. After all, he was only human. Then he took in a set of deep, fortifying breaths. The time he'd been wishing to come for months now was finally upon them. Willing his hand not to shake, he lifted it and knocked lightly on the doorframe, startling her.
With a bit of yellow fluff squirming in her arms, Trixie turned around, curious about her visitor. Her sharp gasp of astonishment was covered up by a shrill puppy yelp. "Jim!" she exclaimed, surprised by his presence. She didn't speak. She couldn't. All rational thought left the second she saw him through the tiny crisscross patches of the screen, standing on the opposite side of her door.
"Can I come in?" As always, he watched her intently, more intently than she realized. He wasn't about to enter the house on his own, no matter how much he wanted to. It was imperative that she invite him in.
"Oh! Right. Of course you can. Sorry. Come on in. I'm…ah…taking care of Goldie right now." Needing to be busy, and needing it quite badly, Trixie turned and gently put the puppy down on the other side of the gate, much to Goldie's immediate vocal distress. Ignoring the downright pitiful yelps, she grabbed the puppy chow, poured way too much of it into the dish, and watched Goldie happily pounce on the extra bit of kibble that spilled out onto the floor. Then she headed over to the sink to fill up the water bowl. Because the silence continued to grow, she called out over her shoulder, fervently praying for the ability to overcome her shock at his unexpected presence, "Moms was worried about her. I volunteered to come home and let her out."
"So I heard." After opening the door, Jim stepped foot inside the house. The very first time he'd done so since she'd moved away. Conscious of the fact, he watched his foot as it hit the well-used yet sparkling clean floor. To him, it felt like coming home. Hell, he'd missed this place and all the wonderful times they'd shared in it. He flicked a glance over to the sink, where she was busy filling up the water bowl. The emerald darkened. Oh, wickedly so. On a summer evening, just days before everything went so terribly wrong between them, he'd come through that exact screen door. She'd been by the sink, her back to him and in the same spot, singing along to the radio. Off-key and without an ounce of musicality to her voice. Her obvious tone-deafness hadn't bothered him. Instead, he'd been charmed. Certain of her response, he'd prowled up behind her, snuck his arms around her and pulled her into a warm, tight embrace. The memory was so brilliant, strong and bright; a perfect match for the sunlight streaming through the window. Because he wanted to follow through and relieve it, he tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and stayed just inside the kitchen. Far enough away for him to be safe not to follow through and live out his fantasy but close enough to be able to observe. His eyes, though…they carried the truth. A powerful hunger that couldn't be denied or ignored. Not any longer.
Unaware of his thoughts, oblivious to the intense look he was giving her, and totally ignorant of the significance of the moment, Trixie carefully carried the water bowl back to the laundry room with both hands. "There you go," she murmured to the little puppy, which was standing on her hind legs and yapping for attention. She carefully placed the bowl down over the gate, managed to do so with only spilling a few drops, and gave the puppy a comforting pet and a smile. Standing back up, she wiped her hands on her pants and half-turned. "I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you'd still be at the hospital with the rest of the clan. Have people already left?"
"As far as I know, everyone's still there." He shrugged and chose not to share that everyone else was currently questioning Dan on their now not-so-secret rendezvous in Las Vegas, as well as its astonishing outcome. There'd be time for that later. He fleetingly wondered how she would take it all. "Violet has a lot of company."
"Violet," Trixie spoke the pretty name softly and sighed with a great deal of happiness. She closed her eyes, remembering the sight of her brother holding his newborn daughter. "Gleeps! It's hard to think of Mart as a father. And to such a sweet baby girl."
Her long golden curls bounced as she swung her head from side to side in awestruck, sisterly amazement. Mesmerized, his fingers itched to touch them. He balled his hands into fists to prevent himself from reaching out for her. And watched her, exactly like he used to when they were much, much younger. Before they'd become an official couple. When he'd been more concerned about keeping his feelings a secret and not clueing anyone else in. He hadn't been very successful at it then. He highly doubted if he was more successful now. Dear Lord, he didn't think he could ever get tired of looking at her. When she inclined her head to the side, obviously waiting for a response, he did a rapid search of his memory banks to recall what she'd just said. He was impressed when the subject came back to him. "Don't worry. Mart's ready for it. And if he's not, Di will whip him into shape."
Because she didn't know what to do or where to stand, she remained by the low gate barring off the laundry room. The puppy was doing her best to turn herself into a pogo stick. She kept hopping up and down in a series of vain attempts to jump over the gate. Reaching down, Trixie stroked the little one on the head and received a few sharp little puppy nips for her effort. "I still find it hard to believe, though. Time's gone by fast. The last time I saw him he was announcing the pregnancy to our parents. Right here, in fact."
"After the wedding, right?" Jim remembered, nodding his head.
"Yeah." Trixie pushed back her hair and glanced around the room. With the baby on their collective brain, she offered, just a little hesitantly, a little unsure of herself, "I guess I've seen to everything. She's been fed, watered and taken outside. Do you want to head back to the hospital together? I can drive, if you like. I have a rental."
"No," was his immediate answer. Short, sweet and to the point, allowing no chance for a debate.
"No?" she repeated in a higher-pitched voice. Totally expecting an affirmative, she was taken aback by his answer. Until she got a good look at his face. Then her nerves started humming in an extremely familiar and delicious way. And she had to force herself to stay completely still.
A hint of humor tinged his tone, humor she didn't fully understand but she couldn't mistake, as Jim shared, "I don't think they're expecting us back at the hospital anytime soon."
It was October. October! And yet she was beginning to feel as warm as if it was the hottest day of the summer. Trixie cursed the blush currently smearing her face and threw all her concentration into speaking some kind of a coherent response. It was surprisingly hard, especially with the glints of desire jammering away at her. She needed him. Oh, how she needed him. All she was able to muster was a hoarse and throaty, "All right."
He reached behind, opened the door, and invited her casually, "How do you feel about taking a walk?"
"A walk?" she parroted back, feeling absolutely, positively stupid.
"Yeah. A walk. There's something I'd like to show you." Damn it all, he hated it when Dan was right. But there was a symmetry to it; a beautiful, gorgeous, undeniable symmetry. They had begun at Ten Acres, all those summers ago. A brash runaway; a much-too-curious-for-her-own-good teenager. The years since hadn't always been kind to them; hadn't always been happy or supportive or what they'd truly wished them to be. But, amazingly enough, a new chance was being offered, one where they could rectify all the mistakes, fix all the detours, and begin again at the right place. Ten Acres. Had to be. Hands down, the best place for them.
She walked slowly over to the door, never once taking her wide blue eyes off his. "Where…" Since her voice was full of unshared and voluntarily unnamed emotion, she coughed to clear it and tried again, "Where do you want to go?"
"I thought I'd show you my new house." Since it was autumn-cold out and nighttime would be approaching quicker than ever, he pulled a gray zip-up sweatshirt that probably belonged to Bobby off a nearby hook and handed it over to her. "You're gonna want this. The evening's are getting chillier now. You remember what it's like here in late October."
She accepted it by rote and slid her arms into the warm cotton. It swam on her. She didn't notice. Even if she had, she wouldn't have cared. For clarification purposes only since her mind seemed to have turned into a great big bowl of messy mush, she restated carefully, "You want to walk up to Ten Acres? With me? Right now?"
He ushered her out onto the porch and pulled both doors shut, effectively cutting off the sounds of the plaintive puppy yelps from inside. Internally apologizing to one sad and lonely pup, he nodded his head. "Yeah. You can be the second one to visit. So far Dan's the only one who's made it up to see the house."
Okay. She could walk with him. She could visit his house. Really, she could do it. Stuffing her hands into the pockets, she fell into easy step besides him. Their footsteps echoed along the wooden planks of the porch. Absently, she noticed that the gray paint was beginning to peel. And then what he said hit her. Her head shot up. "Seriously? No one else has been by yet? I'd have thought that your place would have been crawling with visitors by now."
He wanted to touch her, to smooth back the tempting halo of hair he always found so enticing. Since the timing wasn't exactly right, he settled for watching the last remaining rays of the day dance across her face instead. Damn, she was breathtaking. Even without an ounce of make-up on, she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever had the pleasure of viewing. "Bad timing," he informed her with a dry chuckle. At her confused expression, he added, "Apparently, I picked the wrong week to move in. My parents were away on business. Brian's schedule at the hospital was more insane than normal. Honey could have visited but she would rather not without him. And Mart and Di…." He left it up in the air, figuring she would realize exactly what the two had focused all their strength and energy on. "Anyway, it wasn't the best week to host a housewarming party."
Fresh fallen leaves crunched under their feet. The inner debate lasted less than a second within her. It needed to be brought up and she couldn't ignore such a perfect set-up. She slanted a curious glance at him and called up the courage to do it. Deliberately, she stated, "But it matched with your resignation from your father's company, though."
Astonished, he halted in mid-stride. His mouth fell open. How the hell could she already know? It wasn't long before he came to the conclusion he shouldn't have been surprised. Not really. She was always miles ahead of the rest of them. Had been since they'd first met. He couldn't count the number of times she'd had the mystery figured out well before the others had been remotely clued in. "You heard, huh?" At her curt nod of affirmation, he questioned, speaking the only name he thought would have told her, "Dan?"
"No, you can't blame Mangan. Not this time," she replied with a small chuckle. She couldn't fault him for his guess, though. Dan was an exceptionally good choice. He could stir the pot better than any person she knew. "Believe it or not, it was Honey. She told me when we took a break from the confines of the waiting room. It would have been right before Mart burst out of the room to tell us about the baby."
"Honey. Makes sense." His sister, as he very well could attest to, could not only interrogate and cross-examine like no one he had ever seen, but could also offer up the most surprising information at just the right time, too. She had a marvelous knack for it. He thanked her in his mind. Having Trixie already know about his job, or lack there-of, helped smooth the way a little more than he expected. It wouldn't be a stumbling block to what he really wanted to tell her.
"She's always been a good source for fresh information." Trixie smiled, allowing her dimples to wink a little. Being very familiar with the path to Ten Acres, she led the way into the woods. Years ago, she would have avoided the whole situation. Personal matters had never been discussed between them. But not anymore. It didn't occur to her not to ask him how he felt about his resignation. There wasn't a single hesitation in her next inquiry, yet another sign of her growing comfort with him, "How do you feel about it? Not working for your father anymore, I mean. It's got to be a big change for you."
"Actually, it feels good. Great, in fact," he answered evenly, without needing the time to think. Stopping, he put his hand on a branch, absently pulled off a leaf and started tearing it into small pieces. As the bits fell to the forest floor, he stared down at her, awed by his own internal realization, "In fact, I'm a little surprised by how great it feels. I don't miss living in the city. I don't miss the corporate world at all. While I enjoyed my time working for my dad, it didn't fit me anymore."
Those eyes of his, emerald bright and glowing with something she could not quite define, were boring straight into hers. It made her hold her breath, like she was getting ready for the most death-defying free fall of them all. "Oh," she murmured, struggling for a response.
Did she catch the true meaning behind his words? He couldn't tell. He certainly hoped so. She was the reason why his old life didn't fit anymore. She was the reason why he couldn't continue on his old path, why he couldn't be content to stay in the city and continue to work behind a desk. No, he needed more. He needed her. Brushing off the brown remnants of the leaf, he inclined his head towards the path. "There's not much daylight left, Trix. Let's go. I want you to get a good look at the house before it gets dark."
Oh, Lord. He'd said it didn't fit anymore. Didn't fit. Didn't fit. She'd just heard him say it. Oh, woe. Her heart was hammering out a strong, emphatic beat. It took a serious effort to force her wooden feet to move. How she wanted to ask him why it didn't fit, to question him on what caused the change in him and his old lifestyle. Why he no longer found it acceptable. Hope, that often fleeting thing, was floating up and within her, tiny little bubbles she didn't want extinguished any time soon. So she continued on, moving along the old, overgrown path, while the phrase echoed and re-echoed throughout her mind. Too caught up in her thoughts, she didn't see the thick tree root sticking out.
He caught her elbow before it tripped her up. "I've got you," he whispered, his other arm snaking around her waist.
Must she always trip over stupid objects like tree roots and stupidly placed rocks, especially when she was with him? It happened way too many times for her self-esteem. Trixie felt the infamous blush attack her yet again while she ticked off a few of the more memorable times. On her prom night; only she hadn't minded so much then. He'd been there to catch her, just like now. And again, that time during her first Christmas home from California. He hadn't made a move to help her. Not then. Not that she could blame him. Even if he had helped her, she wouldn't have accepted it, anyway. At that point, the emotional distance between them had been insurmountable. Then. But now…now…Now was a completely different story. Her voice was a soft velvety rasp. "Thanks."
"Any time." With a reluctance that was nearly painful, he dropped his hands from her but not before giving her a small squeeze. As one, they turned and soldiered on through the underbrush, their steps in perfect tandem. Exactly as he'd expected, once he started touching her, he found it nearly impossible to stop. He held a hand up to study it. Damn, she was enthralling. The warmth of her was still tingling on his fingers, even after such a brief touch.
For the next few minutes, the only sound was the crunching of leaves and twigs under their feet. While he worked to gain some control over his increasingly demanding libido, her mind was busy. Very busy. He hadn't brought anything up yet about California; hadn't questioned her about her mission or her abrupt departure from San Diego. Which was…surprising. She tilted her head to the side, stared out at him through lowered lashes. He was so natural with her, as if her abrupt departure from her beach house hadn't affected him in the least. Mentally preparing herself for opening up Pandora's box, she bravely brought up the subject, without an ounce of questioning from him. After all they'd been through together, he deserved the honesty. Quietly, she whispered, "I'm sorry I had to leave."
"Leave?" She caught him in mid-stride. He was the one to almost stumble this time. There wasn't any object of nature to blame it on, either. Puzzled, he frowned down at her. "Leave what? The hospital?"
"No. My house. In San Diego," she tacked on quietly, coming to a stop so she could closely gauge his reaction.
Hell, he hadn't expected her to bring it up. And so soon. Completing an abrupt about face, he turned around and moved in. "You don't need to be sorry," he declared fiercely, finally giving in to the urge and running a hand over her curls. They were even softer than he remembered. Even more tantalizing. The power they held over him was incredible. "I understand why you had to leave. I'm not mad, Trix. I'm not upset. You couldn't have done anything to prevent it. You had to go."
"I didn't want to leave," she admitted, wanting to give him as much of the truth as she could. After all he'd done for her, he needed all she could give him. Words started coming out, fast and furious. "I didn't. I wanted to stay with you. But I couldn't ignore the code the agency sent me. Once I received it, I had to accept the mission. I couldn't overlook it. I couldn't stay behind. I wanted to but I needed…"
Placing a gentle finger on her lips to stop her flow of words, he hastily interrupted, his tone intentionally soothing, "Trix. Listen. It's okay. You don't owe me any explanation. Not a single one. I went to your agency. I talked to both Heidi and Jocelyn. They filled me in. I know what you were dealing with. I know why you had to leave. It's okay," he repeated when she looked like she still wanted to argue with him. "Really. I'm not asking for an apology. I don't want it. I don't need it."
Okay, gentle understanding wasn't quite the reaction she expected from him. She liked it. Very much so. But it wasn't what she was expecting. Looking off into the distance, she recalled the bits and pieces she'd learned about his reaction to her departure. Courtesy of Heidi and Jocelyn. And even from Honey herself. Each and every vignette pointed to a man who'd been worried, anxious and upset. Not about her leaving; but about her safety, her whereabouts. All about her. Heady stuff. She mumbled a question, more to herself than to him, "You understand?"
He aimed a reassuring grin at her. She looked so perplexed, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing; what she was thinking or the conclusion she was drawing. It was so endearing to catch her at such a soft and unguarded moment. "I don't care why you were called in to the agency. I don't care that you had to leave me." He waited until she was staring back at him; her eyes big, blue and astonished. Tracing a finger along the edge of her cheek, he added, "All I care about is having you here with me now."
All right. She could deal with it. The guilt she'd been carrying over her sudden exit from their abbreviated San Diego chapter dissipated into the cooling air. She didn't need it anymore. With the guilt gone, another realization slowly dawned on her. Her eyes narrowed slightly, a mixture of confusion and accusation. Her voice was molasses-slow. "You're not asking about the mission."
"Hey. What can I say? I hung around with you CDA agents long enough to recognize 'classified' when I see it." He let out an amused chuckle. While he was curious about her mission…hell, beyond curious, he wasn't going to ask. For one, he didn't think he truly wanted to know about the dangerous situations she most likely encountered over the past few months. For another, it would put her in a place where she might have to compromise her integrity. She valued it too much. And he valued her. It wouldn't be fair of him. He leaned in closer, whispered near her ear, "I get it, Trix. I'm not going to play Twenty Questions with you. I'm not even going to play One Question. You have my word. You're back, safe and sound. You're here. To me, that's all that matters."
He was close, so close she caught a hint of the cologne he was wearing. Teasing and tormenting, she allowed herself a moment to breathe it in, and to let his reply settle. When it did, a full smile bloomed vibrantly across her lips. He wasn't going to demand answers or fire questions her way. There was a sense of wonderment to her voice. "You're not kidding. You aren't. You understand. You really do understand."
He twined a finger around a curl and watched it carefully as it unwound and sprang back to life. Totally tongue in cheek, he stated, "As much as a lowly civilian who ever crossed over the line into secret agenthood can."
Her eyes lit up with delighted laughter seconds before the glade they were in rang with the merry sound of it. "Jim!" she exclaimed, absolutely thrilled with his answer. Without thinking, without planning, she tossed her arms around him and gave him an impulsive hug. Exactly like she used to.
She was in his arms. In his arms! The place he'd wanted her in for so very long. Had dreamed about it for months. The feel of her warm body pressed up against his was a shock to his system. He was much slower to react. But when he did, there were no regrets. No hesitation. Just him and her. His arms wound their way around her, pressed her firmly against his chest. Not an ounce of space existed. He inhaled the sweet scent of her hair, laid his head on top of hers, and closed his eyes, simply to savor the overwhelming sweetness of the moment. Having absolutely no desire to let her go, ever, he held on as if his very life demanded it. Which, he wasn't embarrassed to admit to himself, it most definitely did. It was clear that he didn't do very well without her.
With her head cradled tenderly against his chest, Trixie's eyes were wide open and the biggest they could get. Finding it hard to believe her impulsive move, she stared unseeingly out into the woods, straight ahead, her mouth open and yet another bright red flush working its way across her face. Gleeps was all she could think. Here she was, in his arms, in his embrace, and it was all her doing. All her doing. Oh, and it felt like absolute, pure heaven. Custom made just for her. Holding on tight, she couldn't imagine being anywhere else. For once, she let herself enjoy the lightness of the moment.
Although he wanted to, and quite desperately at that, he didn't make a move to kiss her. Not yet. Ten Acres kept running through his mind, like an insistent mantra that simply wouldn't cease and desist. It had to be there. To make it complete, it had to be there. He gave her one last squeeze before reluctantly stepping back. Because he couldn't help it, because all the remaining walls were in the final stages of crumbling down around them, he let himself touch her one last time. He cupped her face in his hands, noted the pretty pink blush that followed, and shared hoarsely, "I'm glad you're home."
"Oh," she breathed out again. The touch, light and lovely, was more shattering to her equilibrium than the most passionate of kisses. She was surprised it didn't turn her into a puddle of inarticulate goo at his feet. "So am I."
As much as he wanted to get her to his house, his feet wouldn't cooperate. They grew roots. Maybe it was because she was still standing next to him. Maybe it was because he could still smell her shampoo. Or maybe it was because he felt like he was drowning in a sea of deep, delicious blue. Whatever the reason, he was loathe to end their encounter, even with the house of Ten Acres practically looming over them.
She didn't know how long they stayed there; two beings silhouetted against the vividly bright fall leaves. Soon the colors would start to fade, in preparation of the changing of the seasons. Right now, they were October bright and full of autumn pride. Attempting coy, and succeeding at it, she questioned teasingly, "Weren't you supposed to be taking me somewhere?"
His deep rich chuckles filled the air. Grabbing her hand, he tugged her forward, not wanting to waste any more time. "It's not that much farther. All we've got to do is go up that little ridge and then we're at the edge of the property."
"I think I remember how to get there," she remarked dryly, unconsciously lacing her fingers through his. It was such a natural motion to her it didn't register. Peering up at him, she added with a trace of sarcasm, "I've been to Ten Acres a time or two in the past, you know."
"Thank God for me," he said with a meaningful answering glance that stopped her heart cold.
Trixie couldn't imagine a better turn of phrase for Jim to share with her. Well, there was maybe one more. Three teeny, tiny, little words. Words she hadn't heard from him in a very long time. Rendered temporarily speechless, she trailed along until only a thin line of trees mixed with some straggling untamed underbrush stood between them and his property.
"After you." Stepping off to the side, he motioned for her to go first. He needed to see her reaction, like the way he needed the air from the sky and the blood circulating through his veins. He dropped her hand and immediately felt bereft.
There wasn't a smile on her face. Not any longer. Preparing herself, Trixie pushed back the last branch and stepped onto the edge of the yard. The house was there, standing proudly right at the peripheral of her vision. She didn't look in its direction. She couldn't. If she was being totally honest with herself, she didn't want to see it. Instead, she turned and found comfort in looking back at him and the woods. "It's been a long time since I've been here."
"Probably about as long as it's been since I've been to Crabapple Farm," Jim pointed out, watching her through eyes that were suddenly hooded. Silently, he urged her to turn around and look at the house. How would she react? What would she say? He needed to find out. Now. Right now.
"Seven years?" Trixie asked quietly.
"Seven years," he replied easily. Seven years. Seven years of separate, yet surprisingly parallel, lives. Where work came first. Where they chose to partake in a stilted and uncomfortable relationship. And where they willingly stayed apart; on the opposite ends of the country. Not any longer. Not ever again. He was going to make damn certain of it. Since she didn't appear to want to turn those dazzling eyes of hers onto his house, he spoke lowly, encouragingly, and gave her a gentle nudge, "Get going, Trix. You're almost there. Turn around. Tell me what you think."
