1Before There Was Darkness

Part Thirteen

"Jimmy…" A lazy Saturday afternoon, the remnants of a picnic lunch still spread on the ground beside them, they reclined on the blanket under the warmth of the spring sun. The Park wasn't yet crowded, a peaceful setting still a possibility and they had found one, sheltered under the green canopy of the budding trees. Another weekend or two, with the sun a little higher in the sky, the trees in full leaf, the boats moored again in the lake in anticipation of new lovers, signs of renewed life would return to the City and spill over into the Park.

"Ummm?" An air of quiet contentment had settled over him. Christie was snuggled against, him, her head resting contentedly on his shoulder, her body melded tightly to his. Her arm draped casually across his chest, her fingers tracing an abstract zigzag on his shirt.

"Tell me about your family." She could feel him stiffen slightly under her touch.

He opened one eye and peered at her. "What would you like to know?"

"Everything," she said, raising her head up, imploring him with the depth of those beautiful eyes, eyes he could easily lose himself in.

He knew this was coming; at some point it had to. While he had managed to steer their conversations clear of that subject, it was inevitable that she would want to know. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and drew his chin down in a matching shrug.

"Not much to tell, really. Mom lives in Indiana. I have two brothers, both younger, both in Indiana. Ricky's a cop, Deputy Chief in Muncie and Tommy's a civil engineer with the State.'

"I thought you said you grew up here, in the City?"

"I did, we did. She left a few years ago." He lowered his head and closed his eyes again.

"Is that it?" He had made it clear to her before that there were facets of his life that he guarded very closely. It was never easy with him; sometimes getting him to talk about things was like trying to pull teeth.

"No, of course that's not it." He paused. When he continued, it was with carefully chosen words. "Christie, I grew up in Red Hook. My father drank, a lot. I was 17 when he died." There was still that tinge of bitterness in his voice; it had a habit of sneaking up on him, invariably anytime the conversation turned to that man. He certainly hadn't intended it to, not with her.

"Jimmy, I'm sorry," she said, a sympathetic quietness to her tone.

"For what? Me? Don't be."

"No, not for you. I'm sorry because I didn't mean to pry open any old wounds. I just wanted to know about your family."

"Yeah, well now you know. I didn't grow up in the kind of home most kids dream about."

"Jimmy, please. What did you think would happen if you shared that with me? That I'd hold it against you or somehow think any less of you?"

"No, it's not that." He fought to control the sudden edge that had crept into his voice. "It's just a place I don't like to go."

She laced his fingers with her own and brought his hand to her mouth, brushing it with her lips. "Okay, okay," she soothed, "I won't ask again. But, Jimmy, when you're ready, let me in, please."

He rolled over and raised himself over her, confining her slender body beneath the bulk of his own. What he saw reflected on her face and in her eyes touched him; his hurt was her hurt. A wave of emotion swept over him. He took her beautiful face gently between his hands, cradling her, and lowered his mouth to hers. The intensity of the tenderness behind that kiss left them both breathless.

Holding her close, wrapped tightly in his embrace, he said quietly, "Believe me, Christie, you're already in." Finally releasing her, he patted her firmly on the behind. "Hey, let's head back to my place. What I'd like to do with you right now could get us both arrested."

She pulled back and laughed, that easy, spirited laugh that made his heart sing. "Well, then, what are you waiting for? Let's go."

He couldn't concentrate; tension was taking hold of the muscles at the base of his neck and arcing though his shoulders and back. He stretched until he heard the familiar crack in his spine; but that old trick didn't provide him with the relief he was so desperately seeking. Swallowing the last of what was now ice-cold coffee, he made his way down the hall to the break room, chiding himself as he walked. "Come on, Dunbar, snap out of it!

It wasn't like him to let his personal life interfere with his ability to focus on the job. He had tried to curb the multitude of thoughts running amok in his head and concentrate on the case file in front of him. But, having read the same sentence at least a dozen times over, he realized it was a useless endeavor and snapped the file shut. Reaching for the phone, he dialed a familiar number.

"Walter, it's Jimmy. Do you think you could meet me for a beer later?"

"Yeah, sure kid. Something on your mind?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Casey's? 5:00?"

'Great, that's great. See you then." He needed someone to talk to; he needed Walter. He certainly couldn't turn to his partner, not for this conversation.

The friendship that was so often cultivated between partners, working that closely together, day in and day out, trusting that person with you life, wasn't there with Dan. He was a little too young, a little too green, his interests a little too different. Jim appreciated the fact that as a partner, he couldn't have asked for anyone better to watch his back. Beyond that, though, there were no common denominators to encourage the bonds of friendship.

Seated in the privacy of a booth in the back corner of the bar, the din of the regular 5:00 cop crowd behind him, Jim glanced over at his mentor. He took a long swig from the bottle and set it back down on the table, twisting it absently between his hands. "I'm in trouble here, Walter."

"What's up kid? What's eating you?"

He tilted his head to the side and stretched his back and shoulders. "Do you remember that night at the Bistro, right after my accident?"

Walter shook his head in agreement. "Yeah, I remember…are we talking about who I think we're talking about?"

"We are."

"Jimmy, that was a long time ago, and if I remember correctly, you let that one get away."

"I did. But I went looking for her, Walter."

"You'll have to tell me about that sometime. I take it you found her?"

He nodded his head. "I did…and we've been seeing each other since."

"Jimmy that was, what, over seven months ago and this is the first I'm hearing about it? How could you keep something like that so quiet?"

"Come on, Walter."

"Yeah, I know kid. Building those walls again?" He was more than aware from past experience that Jim would guard something this important, hold it close to his chest until he was ready to let it go. "So, how can I help?"

Jim paused, his fingers nervously drumming the table. His silence apparently spoke volumes, the unsaid words conveying everything he wasn't quite ready to admit, not yet, not out loud, not even to Walter.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?" Walter's face split into a wide grin. He reached over and grabbed Jim by the arm. "So, what are you going to do about it?"

Jim could feel the flush on his cheeks. He looked a little sheepish, recalling the last time Walter had asked him that same question. "That what I wanted to talk to you about, Walter. I need some advice. And, since you and Dottie have made such a long go of it and still seem happy…"

Walter stopped him short. "You know, the problem with you, kid, is that you think too much. You don't need advice from me, Jimmy. You already know."

That much was true; he was well aware of the revelations of his heart. His feelings for her had grown so easily, so swiftly, it had surprised him. There was absolutely no denying the hold she had on him. But for all the truth he recognized in those feelings, there was still that underlying sense of insecurity. As outwardly confident as he appeared to be, inwardly he cursed those insecurities and the affect they seemed to have on the more personal dimensions of his life.

He was scared; scared of commitment, scared of rejection, scared of all those long-suppressed emotions, the ones he had yet tofully reconcile. Before her, those parts of his life had always been casual, no strings, no promises. He had never allowed himself to love, not like this, to become so attached to anyone, to want or to need the way he did with her. Falling in love with her was a complication; one that he wasn't sure he was the least bit prepared for; and yet, that's exactly where he found himself, totally and helplessly in love.

He shrugged his chin, took pause for a minute and then he grinned. "You're right, Walter, you're absolutely right. You know, I think I'm going to ask her to marry me."

"Ah, that's great, kid, just great!" He laughed. "I'm glad we had this little talk, Jimmy, glad I could help you set things straight. You didn't need me; you just needed to say it."

Jim laughed too; there was no stopping it. The stress had released him and in its place a sense of peace, the knowledge that his decision was the right one, a realization that she was the right one. He knew his life would never be the same, he could never think of himself again without thinking of her too. He raised his bottle in salute. "Yeah, thanks for that, huh? Hey, Walter, if she'll have me, I'm getting married."

"Oh, I think she will. Hey, Jimmy, you haven't even told me her name."

"It's Christine, Christine Sullivan."

Walter snapped his fingers, signaling the waiter. "We need a couple more beers here please. Looks like we've got something to celebrate."