EPILOGUE

August 31, 1978

Jessica was playing in the water again, down at the beach a hundred yards from the showers, where the park's maintenance crews had filled in sand instead of the thick muck covering the bottom of the lake everywhere else. Face watched her with genuine curiosity, not sure what to make of the childlike happiness that had accompanied hotdogs and marshmallows, and the walk after the kids were asleep.

"Why do you do that?" he asked as she caught his gaze and smiled.

She raised a brow. "Do what?"

"Walk in the water." He glanced up at the road they'd detoured from, then at the tiny beach with the "no swimming after dark" signs posted. "You're going to ruin those shoes."

"I grew up playing in the water," she answered. "Just a little creek, nothing impressive." She paused and tipped her head thoughtfully. "I guess this place kind of reminds me of home."

He shrugged. It was as good an explanation as any, and he was too preoccupied with hopelessly trying to kick the loose sand out of his shoes to offer any further conversation on the matter. He never had liked the beach, and ones like this least of all. This sand had been artificially and rather unceremoniously dumped here, and without the tide to keep it firm, it blew into his eyes every time a good gust of wind kicked up.

"Don't you have anything like that?" she asked, drawing his gaze again. "Something that reminds you of being a kid?"

He considered the question, and shrugged. "Not particularly," he admitted. "The church, I guess, but..."

She glanced up at him as he trailed off. While she walked in circles in the calm water, he stood and waited patiently, hands in his pockets. He wanted to sit down, but cringed at the thought of where the sand might get if he tried.

"The church?" she finally asked. He couldn't be sure if she was genuinely curious or just trying to break the silence.

"I was raised in a Catholic home." He didn't feel it necessary to further define "home" or to explain just how Catholic it had been.

She chuckled. "Really? I never would've guessed."

"I never said I was a good Catholic," he replied with a knowing grin.

"Clearly."

She stepped back, deeper and deeper until the calm water reached her knees. Her cutoff shorts were at the halfway mark of her thighs and with no waves to surprise her, the clothes were safe enough. "The water's so nice," she sighed happily. "Throw me the shampoo and I'll just skip the shower tonight."

He blinked in frank shock. "You're kidding, right?"

"I've bathed in worse," she answered with a laugh. "So have you, for that matter."

She was right about that, but he didn't like to think about it. Certainly, he didn't ever want to relive the experience. Casting a long look at the cement shower house, he paused to wonder how clean that water really was, all things considered. He was fairly certain the sewage lines didn't run from the nearest town.

With fine disregard for her clothes, she waded and splashed and finally emerged dripping wet. She had her bathing suit on beneath her white T-shirt, and it was plainly visible. He eyed her appreciatively as she came closer. "Ready now?" he asked, feigning impatience. She kicked water at him and he flinched, surprised. "Hey! What was that for?"

"Aw, what's the matter, Templeton?" she teased. "Still worried about your clothes?"

He frowned. His current outfit had nowhere near the monetary value of the one he'd worn last time they'd played out this scene. That didn't mean he was enthusiastic about the idea of walking back to the campsite all wet, and they both knew where that teasing tone was headed.

"So what's your excuse this time?" Another splash of water hit him right in the chest and he debated for a moment how he wanted to proceed. She wasn't being aggressive, and he didn't want to answer her with hostility. But she wasn't going to stop and he doubted his chances of success if he tried to make her see reason.

"Do I need an excuse?" he asked, buying time as he glanced back up at the empty road and debated his escape plan.

"I would expect you to have one ready to roll off your tongue."

Another splash, and the flicker of genuine irritation vanished as he took a good look at her smile in the moonlight. She looked just like a middle school kid flirting with a crush. And although this kind of innocent flirting was something he hadn't done in so long that it felt almost awkward, he couldn't help but see she was happy - truly happy - for what might have been the first time in ages. Out from under the threat of her past mistakes and looking at a much brighter future, she had a reason to smile. And who was he to take that from her by complicating the situation with his own worries and stress? Besides, the childlike innocence suited her.

"Knock it off," he warned with a challenging look - a glare covered by a grin.

She raised a brow he could see from where he stood and set both hands on her hips. "Or else what?" she retorted. "You can't do a damn thing without getting wet and we both know you won't do that."

One more splash of water kicked into his face and he suddenly launched toward her. Clearly not expecting that, she turned and bolted with a shriek the instant he moved. But even with a head start, she didn't get far. With as much disregard for his hundred dollar shoes as she'd shown for her cutoffs, he bounded the few steps into the water, caught her around the waist, and took her right off her feet. She shrieked again, surprised, as he threw her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, dragging her out deeper into the water. He only made it up to his waist before he lost his footing and plunged down, dragging her down with him. She was laughing hysterically as he surfaced, barely able to regain his stance before she shoved him hard and he fell back again. This time, he pulled her legs out from under her before he resurfaced.

They spent several minutes splashing and dunking each other before they finally washed up on shore. There, lying on the sand, he found himself kissing her. Startled, he pulled back abruptly as soon as he realized what he was doing, pushing himself up and away from her. How on God's green earth had he let that happen?

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

Her voice sounded foreign, somehow distant. His mind was swirling around too many other things to really hear her. "Sorry," he apologized quickly.

Why was he apologizing?

"For what?"

It was physical attraction, nothing more. He couldn't allow her to think that it was anything more than that or she would be in for another dramatic rollercoaster ride. By the look she was giving him, she could too easily believe that it was something more. And he didn't want to take advantage of her naiveté now any more than he had on that first, horribly failed date. He had to be out of his goddamn mind to let himself forget what kind of trouble he could be stirring up if she latched onto him.

That would never happen, he decided with such determination he could've changed the path of an oncoming freight train by sheer force of will.

Feeling awkward, dripping water everywhere and keenly aware of that sand in places he'd wanted to avoid, he pulled himself up and winced as his feet sloshed in his shoes. "We should -"

"Face..."

His name on her lips, a low whisper that he could barely even hear, cut off his thoughts. Glancing back down at her, he saw that she'd sat up. With her legs still out in front of her, she held her weight on one arm as she stared up at him with that innocent, inviting smile. So damn easy...

"No," he said simply, offering a hand down to her. Not now, not ever.

She blinked in shock. But by the time she'd taken his hand and risen to her feet, the look had turned to one of hurt and confusion. "Why?" she asked, quietly dejected.

"Because I'm not what you want," he replied firmly, leaving no room for discussion.

"How do you know what I want?" she challenged anyway.

Releasing her hand, he looked away. "Don't do this," he pleaded, making sure to keep the appropriate distance in his tone. "If you ever want to see me again -" turning back, he stared hard at her "- please don't."

She was hurt. But by the relative ease and determination with which she covered it up, he knew she'd been hurt plenty of times before and gotten over it. Like so many other women, she wore her heart on her sleeve. But this time, there was no happily ever after.

"Okay," she finally agreed with a nod. Looking away and clearly embarrassed, she hugged her arms over her chest. "So we're... friends?"

She cast him a sideways glance and he smiled in a pitiful attempt at reassurance as he nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly.

Her mood seemed to lighten again, and she gave another smile as she took a step back and looked down at his shoes. "I don't even want to know how much you paid for those," she taunted, changing the subject to one less uncomfortable. "But I don't think they're ever going to be quite the same."

He chuckled and stepped around her, putting one dripping wet arm around her shoulders to lead her to the road. "They're not the only thing," he muttered to himself as they headed back to the campsite where her three children were already sound asleep.