His Christmas Gift, page 15
Her voice was wobbly, and he guessed she was crying. He drew her closer, rubbing soothing circles on her back. She sniffed, and he registered a vague movement in the darkness and realized she was wiping her cheeks with her hands. It made his chest ache to know she carried such a deep wound inside her. He found it almost impossible to believe that any father wouldn’t want to be a part of her life. She was bright and brilliant, generous and funny – and yet her father hadn’t seen her for years, had allowed her to drift away because of a tragedy that had already taken one daughter from him. Maybe Sawyer was nuts, but it seemed crazy that two people who had suffered so much loss – first Jenna’s mother, then her sister – should also lose each other. Especially when family clearly meant a great deal to Jenna.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to cry all over you again.”
“You can cry all over me any time,” he said gruffly.
He’d climb mountains for her; he could certainly handle a few tears. He smoothed circles on her back until her breathing evened out and he felt her drop off to sleep. He was wide awake, however, unable to let go of what she’d said to him.
I don’t want to hear how much my father hates me.
He was admittedly biased, but he didn’t think it was possible for anyone to hate Jenna. There was too much good in her, too much light and kindness and openhandedness. Look at what she was doing for Lacey, what she’d no doubt done for other pro bono clients.
She deserved love.
He probably dozed off at some point, but mostly he spent the night staring at the ceiling as a conviction formed slowly within him.
Jenna needed to resolve the issues with her father one way or another, or she was going be living with this grief for the rest of her life. It was going to eat away at her, stealing her happiness, tainting the life she’d built for herself. It would always be there, a specter at the feast.
When the bedside clock told him it was seven, he eased away from her and grabbed his crutches. Scooping up his jeans, he crutched out into the hallway and shut the door behind himself. He waited until he was in the study to dress. Then he fired up his computer and pulled up the phone directory for Bismarck, North Dakota. There were twelve Macintoshes listed, a result he whittled down to just five by the time he’d ruled out the listings with feminine first names.
It was nearly seven-thirty by then – a little early, maybe, but not beyond the pale. Grabbing the phone, he dialed the first number.
*
Jenna woke to a kiss, a phenomenon that prompted a cascade of memories, most of them deeply X-rated. Smiling and stretching, she opened her eyes to find Sawyer sitting on the side of the bed wearing nothing but his butchered jeans.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he said.
“Mmmm. What time is it?” she asked.
“Nearly nine. I made waffles.”
“If you have maple syrup, I might have to explode with happiness.”
“I have maple syrup.”
She made an exploding sound, then pretended to be dead, flopping loosely back against her pillow.
“And the Academy Award goes to…not Jenna Macintosh,” Sawyer teased.
“Oh, come on. That was pretty good exploding acting.” She pretended to be indignant, but she couldn’t stop herself from laughing.
She felt so good this morning, so light. She might have woken in the night, fretting over her father, but discussing the situation with Sawyer had helped clarify things for her. She’d made her decisions where her father was concerned, and she was good with them, for now. Maybe one day, she’d get braver. But that day wasn’t today. Not by a long shot.
In the meantime, she had Christmas to look forward to with Lacey and Sawyer in two days’ time, and she was a little embarrassed about how excited she was. Mostly because she’d be spending the day with Sawyer, but also because it had been so long since she’d sat down with people she knew and liked and ate turkey with all the trimmings.
It was going to be awesome.
“You want to shower first, or have breakfast?” Sawyer asked.
She thought about it for few seconds, but her rumbling stomach answered the question on her behalf.
“Breakfast it is, then,” Sawyer said.
In the kitchen, she discovered there were not only waffles and maple syrup but freshly-squeezed orange juice and a pot of coffee.
“You’re spoiling me,” she warned Sawyer.
“Fair’s fair – you’ve already ruined me,” he said.
Looking at him sitting across the table from her, she had an out-of-body experience. All of this – Sawyer, the waffles, how happy she felt – felt too good to be true. Things like this didn’t happen to her. She’d never considered herself lucky or fortunate. The opposite, in fact. Not that she classed herself as some sort of hard-done-by victim of circumstances, but life had taught her that good fortune was rare and sadness and loss far more commonplace.
But what was happening with Sawyer was unreservedly good and real. This was happening.
“Eat your waffles before they get cold,” Sawyer said, reaching out to smooth her hair.
She’d learned very quickly that he was given to small, affectionate gestures. He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it, but when he held her hand he massaged circles into her palm with his thumb, and when they’d watched the movie last night he’d pressed kisses to her temple, the top of her head, her neck. Just because. No agenda, no follow up.
He had a big heart. A huge heart. Was it crazy to think she could claim a small piece of it for herself? That she could wriggle her way inside the realm of things that he considered his to become a part of his life?
And was she insane to be having these kinds of thoughts when they’d spent a single night together?
Possibly the answer to both questions was yes. But it was early days yet. And the here and now was so damned spectacular, she really didn’t need to waste time worrying about what might happen next.
They showered together after breakfast, an exercise that involved much laughter and maneuvering and balancing. Looking up into Sawyer’s laughing, open face, it was almost impossible to believe that not so long ago he’d been shuttered and unknowable.
They’d just finished dressing when a knock brought Jenna to the front door. It was Lacey, looking happier than Jenna had seen her in a long time. A knowing look came over Lacey’s face as she studied Jenna.
“I guess I don’t have to ask how last night went,” Lacey said.
“How did you….?” Jenna asked, embarrassed warmth flooding her face. Surely Sawyer hadn’t told his sister about their night together?
“Afterglow,” Lacey said. “You could probably power a small town, the way you’re lit up right now.”
“I hope it’s not weird for you,” Jenna said. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel.”
“I told her it didn’t matter,” Sawyer said from behind her.
Jenna’s blush intensified when he rested a hand casually on her shoulder. Lacey’s gaze followed the gesture.
“That must have been some meal you made last night,” she said.
“Mind your own beeswax, munchkin,” Sawyer said, but when Jenna glanced over her shoulder at him he was grinning like a fool.
Lacey pretended to shield her eyes. “More afterglow. You guys are radioactive. I might have to go be sick somewhere.”
“Did you want something or was this just a general drive-by shit-stir?” Sawyer asked.
“Mom and Dad finally got back from their cruise,” Lacey said. “Guess who had chicken pox in preschool?” She aimed a thumb in her own direction. “Your memory sucks.”
“So you’ve been exiled from your own home all this time for no good reason?” Jenna asked, dismayed.
“I can think of a half a dozen good reasons why it was good for her to be exiled,” Sawyer said.
Jenna nudged him with her elbow. “Behave. Lacey, I’m so sorry.”
The other woman smiled. “I’m not. My alternative sleeping arrangements turned out to be pretty spectacular.”
“Does that mean you’ve worked things out with Wilder?” Sawyer asked.
“Yeah, it does.” Lacey studied the toe of her boot for a second, a secretive smile curving her mouth.
Sawyer held up a hand. “Spare me the details.”
“Relax, you weren’t going to get them,” Lacey said. She made a shooing gesture. “You want to stand back so I can come in? I’m freezing out here.”
“God, sorry,” Jenna said, side-stepping out of the way and almost falling over Sawyer’s crutches.
He steadied her, his strong hands gripping her firmly. “I’ve got you.”
Jenna was about to respond when her phone rang. She checked the call ID, but didn’t recognize the number. She hesitated before taking it, but it might be a client.
“Jenna Macintosh speaking.”
“Jenna. It’s me, Dad.”
For a moment shock froze Jenna in place, stealing every thought from her mind.
“Jenna? Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“I wanted to say Merry Christmas. And ask how you are. How are you?”
Her father’s voice was painfully familiar, even though she hadn’t heard it for years.
“I’m good. I’m good.” She couldn’t think, couldn’t get past the miracle of this call. “How are you, Dad?”
“Been having a bit of back trouble, but otherwise I’m holding up okay. I’m not sure how you’re situated in the next few days, but I’d like to come visit. If that’s okay?”
A visit? Her father wanted to actually see her?
“I’m sure we can sort something out. I’m in Marietta at the moment. I caught chicken pox and I’ve been quarantined at a client’s house.” It was amazing how normal her voice sounded when her insides felt as though they were vibrating with shock.
“Chicken pox. Right. You never had that as a kid.”
“Well, I’ve had it now. But I should be home again in a couple of days. Maybe I could call you then and we could work something out?”
“That sounds good. I look forward to hearing from you. Take care of yourself, Jenna.”
“You, too, Dad,” she said, the stiff formality of her father’s words making her eyes burn with emotion.
She ended the call, then stared at the blank screen, not quite believing what had just happened.
“That was your father,” Sawyer said. It wasn’t a question.
“He wants to see me. He wants to visit.” It seemed surreal to Jenna, especially when she’d been anguishing over him so much in the last few days.
“Do you not see him much, Jenna?” Lacey asked, her expression concerned.
“No. We…we haven’t been close for a while. I don’t really know why he’s called now, to be honest.”
“You could always put him off,” Lacey said.
“No, I want to see him.” Jenna shook her head, aware that she must be coming across as semi-demented. “Sorry. That just threw me, that all.”
“It’ll be good for you two to talk,” Sawyer said.
“It’s just a visit,” she said. “Maybe he’s feeling sentimental or something.”
“Maybe.” Sawyer nodded his head stiffly, as though he was forcing himself to agree with her.
There was something about the small gesture and the way he was holding himself that made her study him more closely. His gaze shifted from hers, focusing on Lacey.
“You want something to drink? I think I’ve perfected your hot chocolate recipe.”
“I doubt it, but you’re welcome to demonstrate your puny efforts,” Lacey said.
Sawyer and Lacey headed for the kitchen, but Jenna was slow to follow them. She didn’t consider herself a suspicious person, but years of working with people who had fallen foul of the law had taught her to listen to her gut when it told her something was up.
And something was up. She ran the last few minutes back over in her head, and it occurred to her that Sawyer hadn’t looked remotely surprised when it became clear who she was talking to. She’d been reeling from the shock of her father calling out of the blue, but her gaze had flown to Sawyer instinctively when she heard her father’s voice come down the line – and Sawyer had been watching her, a carefully neutral expression on his face.
An insidious thought wormed its way into her mind. Surely Sawyer wouldn’t have contacted her father on her behalf? Surely he wouldn’t have done that after she’d told him her fears in the dark of the night?
Surely.
At least you’d know. You could deal with it, move on.
His words from last night came back to her, and the seed of suspicion in her mind bloomed into something more substantial. Her steps slow, she followed Lacey and Sawyer to the kitchen.
Sawyer was busy breaking a block of chocolate into smaller pieces at the kitchen counter but he glanced toward her when she entered. There was a flicker of something in his eyes as he looked at her, and suddenly she knew, with bone deep certainty.
“You called him, didn’t you?” she asked.
To his credit, he didn’t try to deny it. “This morning, while you were sleeping.”
Even though she’d guessed what he’d done, hearing him confirm it was like a blow to the solar plexus.
“I’m sorry. I know you said you wanted to leave things the way they were, but it’s making you so miserable, Jenna. I hate seeing you like that.”
She opened her mouth to say something but the only words that came boiling up were so ugly and angry she couldn’t get them out her mouth. Instead, she turned on her heel. Her footsteps rang on the floorboards in the hallway as she strode to her bedroom. It took her less than sixty seconds to stuff her clothes into her overnight bag and grab her laptop. Her toothbrush was in the bathroom, but she could buy a new one back in Billings.
She was slinging the strap for her laptop bag across her chest when Sawyer filled the doorway.
“You’re going?”
He actually looked surprised.
“Yes, Sawyer, I’m going. Could you please get out of the way?” She gestured for him to step aside so she could pass, but he didn’t budge.
“Jenna, I’m sorry. I know you’re angry, but if you’ll just hear me out –”
“Get out of my way.” The words came out of her filled with all the fury she hadn’t been able to express back in the kitchen. Her body was rigid with the outrage, the betrayal she felt at his actions.
“Jenna, come on –”
“I trusted you, Sawyer. I told you exactly how I felt, what I was afraid of. I told you my deepest fear and you just, what? Decided you knew better? With your fucking master’s degree in psychology and forestry management?”
“I want you to be happy.”
“You had no right. No right,” she said, jabbing her finger at him, hot, angry tears burning their way down her cheeks. “I didn’t ask you to fix me. I didn’t ask for that. You had no right to go behind my back like that.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry. I should have talked it over with you first.” His face was flushed and contorted with concern.
“You should have minded your own effing business,” Jenna yelled. “That’s what you should have done. I am not your responsibility, Sawyer. I’m not your problem to fix. I’m in charge of my life. Me. No one else.” She thumped her fist into her chest, the sound loud in the small room.
“I’m sorry,” Sawyer said, reaching out to try to catch her hand.
She jerked out of his reach. “I want to go home, so could you get out of the way, please?” she asked with a calm she didn’t feel.
She could see Sawyer battling with the urge to argue more, but after a few tense seconds he stepped out of the way and she brushed past him. Lacey was hovering in the living room, looking worried.
“Jenna. Are you okay?”
“I’m going home. I’ll email you any updates about your case, okay?”
“At the risk of getting my head ripped off, maybe you should take a moment before you get behind the wheel,” Lacey advised.
Jenna bared her teeth at the other woman in a facsimile of a smile. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
She grabbed her coat from the hook beside the door and wrenched the front door open. She barely felt the cold as she marched down the steps and into the yard. She popped the trunk on her Volvo and threw her gear in, then strode to the driver’s door. The engine turned over first try and she gave it a couple of revs before reversing. She saw Sawyer standing on the porch as she straightened up, and the sight of his worried face sent a bolt of searing pain through her.
How could he do this to her? Just when everything had been so wonderful. That should have been your first clue.
She slammed her car into drive and took off, her tires spinning briefly before they found traction. She didn’t bother looking in the rear view mirror to see what Sawyer was doing.
She didn’t want to know. He’d gone behind her back and organized her life. He’d donned his hobnail boots and stomped all over what was a very private, personal matter because he had a freaking Galahad complex the size of Jupiter. It wasn’t enough that he took on all of Lacey’s problems as his own. He had to wade into Jenna’s life, too, and wave his big fix-it stick around.
And now her father wanted to come visit, and God knew what Sawyer had primed him to say so Jenna could move on. She didn’t want to move on. She’d been perfectly happy with her life exactly the way it was.
Dashing away the tears on her cheeks, Jenna put her foot down and headed for home, her stomach knotted with hurt and anger and trepidation.
Chapter Eleven
‡
He was such a fuck up.
Sawyer swung away from the sight of Jenna barreling down the driveway, unable to watch her speed out of his life. He wanted to smash something – preferably his stupid, fat head against something hard and unforgiving. He settled for sending one of his crutches spinning out into the yard, where it landed with a satisfying crack against the side of his truck.
“Before you throw the other one, you might want to remember you have a broken leg,” Lacey said behind him.
