Hummingbird Lake Part 10

"Yes, they are," Ali said, obviously confused. "They're sick children and you're a doctor."

"A children's doctor," Nic interjected.

"And an artist. I'm not asking you to treat them," Ali explained. "I'm asking you to teach them to paint."

Sarah folded her arms. "What's your problem, Sage?"

Sage closed her eyes. They didn't understand. They couldn't understand. That didn't stop them from judging her, though.

Sarah wasn't finished. "You know, Sage, we've been trying to help you, but you won't let us. It's obvious that you have secrets-Nic and I figured that out when you moved here-and it's plain as day that you don't want to share them. Okay, fine. I understand about keeping secrets. My big secret is going off to college in the fall. So keep your secrets. But you can't expect us not to care. We're your friends. Look at yourself! I'll bet you've lost ten pounds since Thanksgiving, and believe me, it doesn't look good on you. You're falling to pieces!"

Sage's chin came up and she prepared to defend herself, only Sarah wasn't through. "You even blew off the twins' christening celebration. And you're one of their G.o.dmothers! What's wrong with you?"

Familiar guilt rolled through Sage at that. Her only defense for that sin was that Cari and Meg had plenty of other G.o.dmothers-Ali, Celeste, Sarah, and Gabe's three brothers' wives. However, that was a pitiful, weak excuse, and Sage wasn't going to float it. Nor was she going to explain that she couldn't overcome her aversion, that her only option was to stay away. These women didn't know what it was like. They couldn't know. And for their sakes, thank G.o.d for that.

"Now, Sarah," Celeste began.

"No." Sarah lifted her chin. "I'm sorry, Celeste. I know you said to let it be, but I don't see that letting it be solves anything. Ali needs Sage's help, and Sage should give it. Those children need her."

A flash of memory hovered at the edge of Sage's mind: white diapers and bright red- "No." She shook her head hard, flinging the picture away. "No. I don't do children. Ever. For G.o.d's sake, have you not noticed? Do I volunteer at the school? Do I help coach the girls' basketball team?"

"You helped at the Valentine's daddy-daughter dance last year," Sarah said.

Well, she'd been different then. Stronger. But she couldn't explain, and while she searched for an acceptable comeback, Nic argued her case by quietly stating, "You won't hold my girls. You won't even touch them. You ask how they are, you give me medical advice, but you keep it all clinical. You've even distanced yourself from me since they were born."

Sage's breathing quickened. Pressure built in her chest and she closed her eyes. Nic's accusation was true. She had pulled away from Nic since she'd had her babies.

A lump rose in Sage's throat. She hadn't realized it-okay, admitted it-until this very second. She'd been trying to tell herself that this current state of emotional turmoil had occurred because of the trouble in December. Now, faced with Nic's accusation, she recognized that she'd been lying to herself. Her PTSD recovery had hit a wall last September when Nic had her babies, when Sage had delivered those two sweet, precious girls, then fled the house and fallen apart.

"It's hurt me, Sage," Nic added, driving the nail even deeper.

Sage wanted to disappear. To melt away into a puddle of nothing. Someone throw water on me. I'm the Wicked Witch of the West. The Wicked Witch of Eternity Springs.

But she couldn't melt into a puddle, and she couldn't show weakness, because if she did, these women would pounce. They'd make demands. They'd press her for information. Without knowing what they were doing, they'd send her back to Africa. Make her relive the horror.

Well, that wasn't going to happen. She couldn't deal with pouncing, so she wouldn't show them weakness. Instead, she hardened her voice and said, "Well, sorry about that, but you're just gonna have to deal."

Turning to Ali, she added, "And you're gonna have to find someone other than me to teach your art cla.s.ses." Her hands were shaking as she grabbed up her tote bag and said, "Sarah, you need to find someone else to pound on, because my emotional punching bag has been beaten to death. I'm going home. Please, do us all a favor and don't come calling. I cooperated during your little intervention, but that is over. I need my privacy now."

With that, she rushed from the kitchen, but not before she heard Sarah say, "Wow. She really let loose her inner b.i.t.c.h, didn't she?"

Sage was breathing as if she'd run a mile as she paused at the front door to pull on her coat. Her chest hurt. Her throat was tight. Pressure built behind her dry eyes.

"Sage?" Celeste Blessing came into the hallway outside the kitchen.

"No, Celeste. Please. I can't. I just can't."

Celeste linked her fingers in front of her. "It's okay, dear. You'll be okay. I'm praying for you."

Oh, G.o.d. Sage rushed out into the cold, zipping her coat and yanking on her hat and gloves as she hurried up the street. She went straight to her Jeep, thankful that before leaving the gallery she'd packed it with the art supplies she'd need during the remodel. She shoved the key into the ignition, started the engine, and put the car into gear before allowing it to properly warm up.

She kept her eyes straight ahead as she drove faster than was truly safe. Her breaths continued to come in shallow pants. The pressure behind her eyes built and built and built.

Shame swirled inside her. Shame and hate. She hated herself. Hated her actions. Her cowardice. She wanted to lie down and die. She should have died. It all came back to that. She should be dead.

Like everyone else.

She reached the turn onto the point in under five minutes. As she pulled onto the road that led to her cottage, she realized she was whimpering aloud. She arrived at the gate. Her cottage was dark, empty, and cold, while next door lights blazed and smoke rose from the chimney. Without conscious thought, she turned into the neighbor's drive, parked behind Colt Rafferty's rental, and literally ran toward his front porch.

He opened the door as she approached. "Sage? Honey? What happened? What's wrong?"

She simply stood there. Silent and aching and desperate. Beseeching. Searching for sanctuary. Looking for a soft place to fall.

"Oh, baby." He scooped her up into his arms and carried her over toward the fireplace and an old wooden rocker. He sat with her on his lap, cuddled her close, and rocked her as he murmured against her ear. "It's okay, Cinnamon. I have you. You're safe. Let it go, honey. You can let it all go."

So she did.

NINE.

Since his job often brought him into contact with people in the midst of horrific circ.u.mstances, Colt was familiar with tears that poured from the soul. They were different from those that flowed from the heart or those from the part of the brain that registered physical pain. Soul tears had a unique depth, a singular intensity, that signaled pain that almost couldn't be borne. Soul tears were those that a person saved for the big things and shed on rare occasions.

The first time he'd seen Sage Anderson cry, she'd offered up soul tears. Here again, the same.

His own heart ached a little for her as he held her. His interest in the mystery of her increased. What was the genesis of her pain?

Because he was a man who tried never to overlook any possibility when attempting to solve a puzzle, he entertained the notion that she might have him fooled. Had he read her wrong? Maybe she was no more than a bubbleheaded drama queen who screamed over a kiss and lost it over something no more serious than a parking ticket. After all, the woman painted fairies for a living.

Following a moment's consideration, he shook his head. It simply didn't ring true. His instincts were telling him that this woman in his arms carried wounds as deep and as painful as any borne by those he'd encountered through his work.

"Attagirl," he murmured. She remained oblivious while he eased her out of her coat. "You get rid of all that poison. Just wash it away."

Her fist held the flannel of his s.h.i.+rt clenched in a tight grip. Her entire body trembled and shuddered. Little kitten mewls of pain escaped her. She was pitiful to behold, a strong woman brought low. He cuddled her a bit more tightly against himself and started to speak.

"I grew up in a midsized town in Texas about an hour from Houston. When I was eight years old, my dad bought a little runabout boat and we spent every day we could steal at the lake. We always packed a cooler with sandwiches and drinks, and we'd tie up or anchor in a cove or creek off the main body of water to have our lunch. After lunch, we'd diaperize-which in the Rafferty family lexicon meant wearing your life jacket upside down, with your legs through the armholes and the jacket around your b.u.t.t like a diaper. That way you floated with your shoulders above the water without doing much work-it made it easier for my dad to drink a beer. Anyway, we'd float for a while and talk about baseball or the upcoming college football season-important things."

Sage sniffled and shuddered, and Colt couldn't tell if she was hearing him or not. Nevertheless, he continued. "My younger brother was one of the most annoying kids on the planet, a total show-off. He also liked to fish. We always kept a fis.h.i.+ng pole or two in the boat. So one day during our float time after lunch, he decided it would be a good idea to fish while he was in the water. He diaperized, jumped in with this pole, and started casting. Think he was using a spinner bait, if I remember correctly."

Colt tugged a tissue from the box atop the lamp table beside the rocking chair. He set it within reach of her hand, then continued his tale. "My aunt and uncle were with us that day, and Uncle John had just climbed back into the boat and begun to towel off when Jason called out, 'I caught one.' He'd hooked a six-inch sand ba.s.s."

He saw her fingers snag the tissue, and she brought it up to her face and wiped her eyes. Colt smiled. "Jason held his rod up out of the water and he was turning the reel, winding in the line, when all of a sudden that fish turned on him. Started swimming right toward him. Jason let out a yelp and started paddling backward, backstroking with one arm and holding the fis.h.i.+ng pole out of the water with the other."

Sage held out her hand and wiggled her fingers, and he handed her another tissue. As she blew her nose, he said, "The fish swam right up his swim trunks and got wedged inside because of the life vest. Jason squealed and my mom hollered. Uncle Johnny laughed so hard that he fell out of the boat." Colt grinned at the memory, then added, "That was a great day."

A half minute of silence ticked by. Without lifting her head from his chest, Sage spoke in a soft, slightly peeved tone. "Why in the world did you tell me that story?"

"I don't know." He combed his fingers through the auburn curls that spilled down her back. "Just seemed like the thing to do."

"You were trying to distract me."

Of course. "Maybe."

Following another half minute of quiet, she added, this time with a bit of petulance, "With a fish story."

He stroked his fingers up and down her arm. "A good fish story, you have to admit."

He continued to rock her, and she remained snuggled up against him, limp and relaxed and awash in a fragrance that smelled of springtime. In that moment, Colt wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else in the world.

Eventually she said, "Last time I sat in your lap and cried you kissed me."

"Yeah." His smile widened at that particular memory. "Unfortunately, the last time I kissed you, you screamed."

"I apologized," she said, stiffening a bit.

"Yes, you did."

"I wouldn't do it again."

He trailed a finger along her arm. "Well now, that sounds like an invitation."

She didn't respond, but he sensed her antic.i.p.ation. It would be so easy to sink into that mouth, but following a moment's thought, and with a full measure of regret, he said, "As enticing as I find the idea, I think I'll choose a different direction today. I don't want to be predictable."

She sniffed with disdain, and seeing a little of her starch return only made him want to kiss her all the more. While the devastated Sage touched his heart, the p.r.i.c.kly woman stirred him farther south, so to speak.

Colt liked puzzles and he loved challenges. Sage Anderson was both, all wrapped up in a gorgeous package. His sojourn in the snowdrifts promised to be more interesting than he'd expected.

He also liked women. A lot. He'd been involved in two separate long-term relations.h.i.+ps since his "starter marriage" ended. He'd cared deeply for both women, and each time he'd believed they were headed for marriage. He had a few scars from the subsequent breakups, but nothing that had turned him off the idea of marriage.

Following that twinge of envy he'd experienced in the Callahan kitchen, he'd just about decided that in addition to that home and dog he wouldn't mind having, he might like a wife and children, too. Once he returned to Was.h.i.+ngton, maybe he'd step up his partic.i.p.ation in the dating scene.

In the meantime, since he wasn't dating anyone seriously back home, he could consider making a play for the intriguing bundle presently in his arms. Yet he held back. She obviously had some issues to deal with. He didn't want to do anything that would make her situation worse.

Although sometimes a carefree, no-strings-attached fling improved a person's outlook. Maybe that was the medicine she needed.

He picked up a strand of her fire-streaked hair and let the silken curl slide along his fingers. "So, are you dating anyone right now?"

"No." Again she sniffed. "If I was, it'd be pretty scuzzy of me to be sitting here like this. I may be the Wicked Witch of Eternity Springs, but I'm not scuzzy."

Wicked Witch of Eternity Springs? "Why aren't you dating?"

"It's not really any of your business."

He expected her to push out of his arms at that point, but she remained right where she was, which pleased him. "Now, see, I can't agree with that. Look at it from my perspective. Say the reason for your, um, distress was a fight with your boyfriend, and you broke up, so you aren't lying when you tell me you're single. Say said ex realizes what an idiot he's been and comes rus.h.i.+ng out here to beg your forgiveness. He might see your car stopped in the drive and your footsteps in the snow and follow you to my cabin. If he looked in the window and saw you in my arms, he might burst in and brandish his rapier and challenge me to a duel."

"Have you been talking to Ali Timberlake?"

"What?"

"Nothing. You're ridiculous."

"Made you smile, though, didn't I? I felt it against my strong, muscular chest." Her only response was a snort, but since it was a sleepy sort of snort, he allowed the silence to continue. Soon her body relaxed even more and he knew she'd fallen asleep.

Colt would have been content to hold her for hours, but when his phone rang and he recognized his brother's ring tone, he knew if he didn't answer, Jason would continue to call until he did. His brother was annoying like that.

Rising, he carried Sage to the sofa and gently laid her down. She stirred but didn't awaken. He covered her with a woolen throw and moved to answer the phone.

He saw that Jason had left him a voice mail, but rather than answer it, he returned the call.

Jason answered on the first ring. "Hey, bro. Did you get my message?"

"Didn't listen to it. What's up?"

"I'm headed your way tomorrow for a meeting at the Pentagon. Gonna be there a couple of days. Are you gonna be around? I'd love to see you."

Regret washed through Colt. "I'm not in Was.h.i.+ngton."

"Well, shoot. I knew my chances of finding you in town were slim, but I had my hopes up. We missed you at Christmas, Colt."

He closed his eyes. He'd been on call at the office and unable to get back to Texas. "It was a d.a.m.ned lonely holiday."

"So where are you this time?"

Colt hesitated, uncertain whether he wanted to share his professional frustrations with his family. Every Rafferty in the clan would feel the need to weigh in on the matter. The Raffertys were like that.

On the other hand, his relatives were smart, savvy, and for the most part happy with their lives. He could use their guidance. "I'm in Colorado. Actually, Jason, I'm in Eternity Springs. Wait until you hear why."

Warm and relaxed and oh so comfortable, Sage drifted awake slowly, an unfamiliar scent teasing her nose. Citrus, sandalwood, and musk-a masculine scent. A man. Her eyes flew open. Oh, dear.

A man's bed.

Colt Rafferty's bed.

Yesterday's events roared down upon her thoughts like an avalanche and made her want to burrow under the covers and never come out. The snit she'd thrown at quilt group. Sobbing on Colt Rafferty's shoulder. She'd been embarra.s.sed the last time she'd done it. This time she was mortified.

She didn't remember him carrying her to bed. He'd taken off her shoes, but nothing else, thank goodness. How long had she slept? An hour, maybe? Two?

At that point, it registered that the light in the room was coming not from a lamp, but from the sun. Sage rolled over and sat up. Sunlight? She'd slept the whole night?

"I slept the whole night," she said aloud.

No wonder she felt so deliciously comfortable, so wonderfully rested. She'd almost forgotten how great sleeping through the night felt. Glancing around the bedroom for a clock, she spied one on the dresser to her right, read the time, blinked, then looked again. Eight-thirty? She'd slept, what, twelve hours? Wow. Just wow. If she hadn't been so mortified about the circ.u.mstances, she'd have leapt up and shouted hurrah.

She did allow herself a silent fist pump before throwing back the covers and quietly rising from the bed. With any luck at all, Colt would already be out and about for the day, and she wouldn't have to face him. Or he'd still be asleep in one of the loft bedrooms upstairs.