Indivisible. Part 32

He stiffened. "That's enough."

"Jonah, I know know you. I get it. We have ... so much in common." you. I get it. We have ... so much in common."

"Liz."

"You loved two sisters, and I-"

He raised his hands, palms out at her. "I need you to stop. I can't deal with this now." His flinty face was all sharp edges.

This wasn't the man she'd seen hurting by the creek, who'd come to her for help, who'd needed her. He was a stranger, a liar, a thief. He had stolen her trust and thrown it back. She s.n.a.t.c.hed the candle from his hands and pushed past him out the door.

He stood, fists clenched, until a hand on his arm released the tension.

"Jonah?"

When he turned, Lauren searched his face.

"Bad news?"

He controlled his breathing with difficulty.

"Do you need to sit?" The nurse taking charge.

"No."

Her touch was gentle, her expression caring. They had shared a few meals around his table, cooking for her the least he could do after putting Sarge through his paces.

"I take it that wasn't your girlfriend."

"I don't have a girlfriend."

"Your former fiancee?"

"Not even close."

Her gray-green eyes s.h.i.+mmered like shady pools. He could imagine her as the enchantress Tia had read aloud from Malory's tales, enamored with knights and kings and magic. He'd gladly be enchanted, beguiled, bewitched, even betrayed if it meant an end.

"Your pulse is racing."

When had the anger kicked in? When he pictured Liz in Tia's shop, describing the whole pitiful scene, and Tia wondering why he'd sent someone to buy candles for his home, surrounding himself with parts of her. Pathetic.

And Liz. He pressed a hand to his face.

"Can I help?" Lauren held his arm.

"No, I don't think so."

"You don't have to do everything alone."

"Well, it's a lot smarter that way."

"Smarter? Or safer."

He expelled his breath. "Yeah, that."

The scent of b.u.t.terscotch from the waxed pine cones mingled with the wood fire was one of the best mood-setting aromas she knew. Tia glanced over at Piper curled up on the opposite end of the settee with a novel. Tia would have liked to read, loved reading, but she couldn't find solace in imagination now. It was time to face reality.

The doorbell rang. Piper pried her eyes from the page. "Are you expecting someone?"

"No." Tia got up and opened the door to the last person she would have imagined. "Liz?" She looked from the woman to the candle she held. "Is something wrong?"

"I want my money back."

Tia stared for a moment as a chill crawled up her back. "This is my house, not my store. How did you-"

"Jonah didn't like it."

Oh, the irony. "Why don't you just come by the ..."

"I paid twenty-eight dollars plus tax." Liz looked past her at Piper.

Irritation rose, lacing the words, "That included the melts for your sister. Do you have your receipt?"

"No, I don't."

"You know what? Never mind. Let me get my purse."

"Tia?" Piper sent her a disbelieving glance.

What difference did it make? As she moved toward the mud room where she kept her sling-back purse, she heard Liz saying, "Why are you here?"

And Piper, "I live here."

This was surreal. Tia took out a twenty and a ten. Liz had stayed at the open door, and the cold that swirled in around her might have emanated from the woman's body. Tia handed over the money, feeling invaded.

Liz thrust the candle at her. "He told me he wasn't over you, but he is."

Tia drew the candle to her chest. "I could have told you that."

"He has someone there, right now."

"That's not my business. Or yours."

Something s.h.i.+fted in the woman's face. "When we first met, I wanted to be friends." A fleeting poignancy touched her voice. "Before I knew."

"Knew?"

"What you'd done to him. How you've wounded him."

Tia swallowed. "Well, that's what we do best." She probably should have held her tongue.

Liz's eyes narrowed. "Are you so hateful?"

Apparently. "I'm sorry I've offended you."

One nostril and the side of Liz's mouth flickered up. "You would have to matter to offend me."

Tia barked a soft laugh. "Okay. We're done here." She closed the door.

"What was that?" Piper half whispered.

Tia rubbed her temples. "Fallout."

Piper grabbed her shoulders. "You have to tell him."

"Who?"

"Jonah."

"Tell him what? His scorned girlfriend whacked out on me because he's with someone else?"

"Tell him she's ... weird."

Tia's mouth pulled. "I imagine he knows. And so what? You know what I think, Piper? Everyone's weird. Everyone's got stuff. She was just hurting enough to let hers show."

Early the next morning, Liz watched Tia set out. To the mountain, of course, pa.s.sing through the chilly mist like a wraith. Pressed into the side of the house next to Tia's, Liz stared after her. She'd heard from Catrin Draper, whose chocolate lab, Monster, had required forty st.i.tches, that Tia had been lost in the storm on that mountain. Lost and injured. Only a sprain, Catrin a.s.sured her. "But I'd have been terrified. Mountains are not forgiving." "But I'd have been terrified. Mountains are not forgiving."

Neither were people. Confronted with Jonah's pain, Tia had not even defended herself. Wounding each other was what they did best. Liz clenched her hands. She'd called it hateful, but could there be anything more honest? Could it be that bare honesty that drew her again and again to the woman she wanted to despise?

Appearing through the mist where the trail bent back around, Tia stopped, leaned her head back, and stretched out her arms, a mythical being who stood for long beats of the heart as the fog pa.s.sed over and around her like tattered gauze. When Tia slowly raised her head and lowered her hands, Liz breathed, as though released from a trance, and saw only a woman climbing farther up the mountain.

After a long day including two domestic calls, Jonah exited the courthouse with a warrant to question a punk who'd been peddling crank at the middle and high school. With any luck they'd tie him to Caldwell or Greggor or both. He was ready to get home, but when he reached his vehicle, Ruth's voice came over the radio. "Jonah, you know I hate to pile on."

"Go ahead."

"We had a 911. I think you'll want to respond."

"What is it?"

"The address is your mother's."

"Medical?"

"EMTs are en route. Sounds like a heart attack. I'm sorry."

"Who called?"

"Laraine called it in herself, but she collapsed in the process."

He put the Bronco in gear, hit the lights, and took off. He had not seen this coming, but who ever did? He activated his Bluetooth and called Jay. "I might be tied up awhile. Can you check in on Sarge and Enola?"

"I'm not sure I can get away."

"Then don't worry about it. They've got to make friends at some point."

"What's going on?"

"My mother's had a heart attack." Strange it should come now. Why not during all the years of heartbreak? Except it was never really her heart breaking.

"You're going over?"

"She's my mother."

"Don't take this wrong, Jonah."

He braced himself. "But what?"

"Is it in her best interest?"

"You mean, will I make her worse?"

"To put it bluntly."

Jonah considered that. "I'm not sure who else she has. I don't want her to be alone."

"No, you should go. But remember, if a circle tries to bend too far, it's no longer a circle."

"Where do you get this stuff?"

Jay didn't laugh. "Just remember who you are."

And also, as Sarge had said, who he never wanted to be. At his family home, more than anywhere, the lines blurred. He saw himself in the old man and the old man in him. It was like the story Jay had told amid the sweats and potions.

"There is a fight going on inside of you, a fight between two hungry wolves. One wolf is fear, envy, sorrow and regret, greed, spite, arrogance, and self-pity. It is guilt, resentment, false pride, superiority, ego, and unfaithfulness. The other wolf is joy, peace, love, hope, humility, kindness, and forgiveness. It is integrity, benevolence, friends.h.i.+p, empathy, generosity, truth, compa.s.sion, and faithfulness. The fight goes on and on, each one trying for control. Which wolf wins? It is the one you feed."

He reached his mother's house and parked beside the ambulance. The team was inside, and Jonah joined them. Curtains were drawn, making the house dim. Stacks of mail and magazines covered most surfaces, cups and dishes on the corners of tables and lining the counters. He moved through the rooms to her enclosed porch where his mother lay on the brick-red pavers. She was conscious, pale, and trembling, wearing a blood pressure cuff, finger monitor, and oxygen.

She said, "What are you doing here? It's not Sunday." Splotches appeared on her cheeks.

"How're you doing, Mom?" When she didn't answer, he asked the EMT, Mack Dougal.

"Pulse is thready."

"I shouldn't have to put up with you more than one day a week. Shouldn't have to do it then." The clear plastic mask fogged.

"Take it easy, Mom," Jonah murmured.

"Easy," she snarled, her irregular heart tones increasing.