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He’d waited all his life to hear those words. They gave lim a giddy sense of hope he hadnt had in years.
Tomorrow, he thought. Ill tell him the truth tomorrow. And for once, the words didnt ring false. Jake actually believed them. Tomorrow hed tell his father the truth.
Smiling, he set down the metal ladle and held the hot bowl in two hands. Turning, he left the kitchen and went outside.
The first thing he noticed was the steady creak-creak-creak of the porch swing. His good mood fled, pushed aside by the sadness of seeing Mariah. Beside her, on a small, rickety table, a candle burned, sputtered. Its acrid scent filled the tiny porch, and banished the shadows of the night.
He stepped onto the porch and quietly shut the door behind him. "Mariah? Ive brought you something to eat. "
Sh« didnt move, just kept rocking, staring into the night. Creak-creak-creak.
He moved closer, peered around the arm of the swing. "Marian?"
She waved a wan, pale hand. "Im not hungry. " "You have to eat something . . . you know, keep your strength up. " That sounded good, he thought. A grown-up thing to say.
She laughed bitterly but said nothing. Jake set the bowl down on the top step and moved into her line of vision. Crouching down, he stared at her, seeing the network of lines that drew down her mouth, the sadness that glazed her eyes.
"My mama died last year," he said softly, resting his palms on his bent knees.
She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed tiredly. "Im sorry, Jake. "
Jake felt a surge of hope. It was the biggest reaction hed gotten from her in days.
"You saved my life," he said quietly, "you and Rass. "
She looked at him then, and he almost wished she hadnt. Her eyes were dulled by immeasurable pain, her mouth was a sad, downward curve. He felt like hed been punched in the stomach just looking at her. "Please. " The plea sounded torn from her throat. "Dont do this to me. . . . "
Jake didnt know what to do. Uncertainty flooded him. He wished Mad Dog were here to tell him what to say. "I—"
She turned away from him, stared unblinkingly ahead. "Just go. Please. "
Confused, Jake pushed to his feet. "You said once that I always had a home here.
Did you mean it?" She waited a long time, then slowly nodded.
He stared at her, tried to will her to look at him, but she didnt move, stared past him into the falling night. "I . . . I love you, Mariah," he said quietly.
She winced, then stiffened. A tear beaded in the corner of her eye, caught the candlelight like a diamond, but didnt fall.
It was the only indication that shed heard him.
Mariah was still sitting on the swing when Mad Dog returned from town.
He ran across the shadowy yard and bounded up the sagging wooden steps. The whole porch rattled and shook at the suddenness of his arrival.
He walked the length of the porch and stopped directly in front of her. Grinning, he slammed a dark brown bottle on the railing. "Im back. "
Mariah didnt even spare him a glance. She just sat there, stiff as a nail, saying nothing.
His labored breathing scored the quiet. He sat on the wide porch rail and studied her, his long fingers curled around the bottle beside him. "Enough is enough, Mariah. "
She pushed slowly to her feet. "I think Ill go to my room now. " Stiff-backed, staring at the floor, she started to edge past him.
He brought his foot up, slammed a cowboy boot down on the left side of the porch swing. The chain-links clattered together; the slatted seat tilted sideways. She was trapped between his leg and the porch, rail. There was no exit except past him—and he had no intention of letting her go.
She lurched to a stop, staring down at his dusty boot as if it were a two-headed snake. In the flickering, uncertain light of the candle, her profile was waxen and hard.
