Chapter Fourteen
A few days after reading Dan’s letter, Jane was at the register ringing up a new mystery for Alicia when the older woman looked over her shoulder and smiled.
“I know that look,” Jane said, sliding Alicia’s bag across the counter. “Did you spot Colin Firth driving by in a taxi?”
Alicia shook her head. “Not Colin Firth. That cowboy. The one who knows you.”
Jane froze. She stared at Alicia, unable to turn her head, as every one of the fine hairs at the back of her neck stood up.
It couldn’t be. They’d exchanged texts a few weeks ago—Hi, how’s it going, everything’s fine, how about you—and Caleb hadn’t said anything about coming to New York. Nothing like By the way, I’m coming to town soon. How about dinner?
She still couldn’t move. She felt like she was in one of those dreams where you need to run, but your feet are stuck in cement.
“Hello, darlin’.”
The sound of his voice released her from her strange paralysis, and she whirled to face him.
She was vaguely aware that Alicia had taken her bag and discreetly left the store, leaving them alone.
He hadn’t changed. His tan might have been a little deeper and his hair a touch lighter, but his hazel eyes and his lazy grin and his Stetson were still exactly the same. In spite of herself, she remembered the sensations she’d relived so many times since Christmas—the heat of his skin, the weight of his body.
The memories whipped color into her cheeks. Her hands clenched into fists. When she spoke, her voice was trembling.
“What kind of person flies in from freaking Australia without letting people know? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Well, darlin’—”
“Don’t call me that.” She reached out, snatched his hat off, and slapped it on the counter. “What are you doing here, Caleb?”
Without the hat, his eyes were a little easier to read. The dominant emotion seemed to be relief.
Why did he look relieved?
“I heard you were planning a trip to Canada,” he said.
“So? What business is that of yours?” Something else occurred to her. “Wait a minute. Who told you I was going to Canada?”
“Well . . .”
She reached a rapid conclusion. “Oh my God. It had to be Kiki or Felicia. You asked one of them to spy on me, didn’t you?”
“Well . . .”
She didn’t let him finish. “I can’t believe this. You had someone keeping an eye on me.”
“If you just—”
“You couldn’t be bothered to call or visit, but you asked one of my employees to report to you about my—what, exactly? My mental state?”
“Jane—”
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Not much, if you won’t let me finish a sentence.”
She slapped both hands on the counter and glared at him. “Fine. Go ahead and finish one.”
There was a short silence.
“I didn’t ask Kiki to keep an eye on you. She had my number from last fall, when we were worried about you. She got in touch with me a few days ago and said . . .”
“Yes? What did she say? That I’m going to Canada, so I must be out of my mind?”
He looked at her for a moment. Then he reached out and covered her hands with his, and his touch sent a wave of longing through her that she was terrified he’d see.
She snatched her hands away. “Was that it? You were worried I was going crazy or something?”
“No, and neither was Kiki. She was just concerned about you charging off to another country to meet the man who wrote that letter. She thought . . .”
“What? What did she think?”
“That you might have some, ah, unresolved grief about Sam, and that this trip of yours might not be the healthiest way to deal with it.”
She frowned. “Since when do you talk like a psychologist?”
One corner of his mouth rose. “Those aren’t my words, they’re Kiki’s. But I thought she might have a point.”
She folded her arms. “You thought she might have a point. So instead of calling, you hopped on a plane and came halfway round the world to see me?”
“I needed to come back soon anyway. Visa requirements.”
That caused a pang. “You could have told me that, too. Like, say, a few weeks ago, when we were texting.”
“I wasn’t planning to come to New York. I was going to Colorado, but then I heard from Kiki and—”
“You decided to drop by and check on me? How sweet.”
He had to come back to the United States, but he hadn’t been planning to come to New York. Not until Kiki told him she was worried did he take the trouble to come and see her.
The knowledge hurt more than she would have expected. More than she would ever let him know.
It was obvious their one night together hadn’t meant much to him after all.
He didn’t think of her as a lover. He still thought of her as Sam’s kid sister, someone who needed to be protected.
All those hours she’d lain awake, reliving that night, seemed really stupid now.
“Jane.”
He reached out and grabbed her hand again, but this time his touch wasn’t gentle.
Just like that she was in her apartment again. Caleb was holding her in a grip like iron, and there was hunger in his eyes.
But there wasn’t hunger in his eyes now. Only concern.
“How I got here doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’m here, and yeah, I’m worried about you. I don’t think you’re crazy, but I do think you’re making some bad decisions.”
She tugged on the wrist he held, and unlike that night at her apartment, he let her go.
“My decision making is fine, thank you very much.”
“Then prove it to me. Let me buy you dinner tonight, and you can tell me all about this trip of yours.”
“I don’t have to prove anything to you.”
“True,” he said, taking his hat from the counter and putting it back on. “But if you don’t have dinner with me, I’ll call your parents and tell them how concerned Kiki and I are about you.”
Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
“My mother will call me nonstop. My father will send me long worried emails. One of them will fly out here. Maybe both of them.”
“Yep.”
She took a deep breath. “I didn’t realize you’d actually resort to blackmail.”
“Well, darlin’, now you know. I’ll meet you at that barbecue place in your neighborhood at eight o’clock.” He tipped his hat and winked at her. “Till then, ma’am.”
Before she could think of a retort, he was out the door and gone.
Caleb made it around the corner before he had to stop and lean against the brick wall of the building beside him.
Sam had predicted once he’d fall hard someday. He’d told her she was crazy, and she’d insisted he was the type who’d go all in for the right woman.
She may have been right about that. But if she’d known the right woman was her own kid sister, she wouldn’t have been so damn gleeful about it.
Because Sam had also understood that he was addicted to travel. She’d said that if he ever did fall for someone, she hoped to God it would be another adventurer.
But his job wasn’t the only reason he and Jane couldn’t be together. Of course Sam could imagine him being with a soul mate—she’d never known that a part of him was broken, for the very good reason that he’d structured his life so no one would find out. If he was the kind of man who could share his life with someone—really share his life—then he would have stayed with Jane last Christmas.
But he hadn’t stayed.
So yeah, maybe he’d fallen for Jane. But he didn’t have what it would take to make her happy.
In fact, he was probably the worst thing that could ever happen to her. And judging by her reaction just now, she knew it.
It had been stupid to think she might be happy to see him—especially if he showed up unexpectedly. A part of him had hoped that in the first moment of surprise she might betray some of what he felt for her.
She hadn’t.
There was no future for them, and no present, either.
Which meant he was left with one night to remember. One night that would haunt him like a beloved ghost for the rest of his life.
But before he left again, he had a job to do. Sam had trusted him to look after her little sister, and he wasn’t going to let her down.
He was at the barbecue joint half an hour early, but he didn’t order a beer. He didn’t want any alcohol in his system, anything that might make him susceptible to the fierce urgency he felt whenever he was around Jane, the need to throw her over his shoulder and carry her off to his cave.
He needed a fully sober brain to override his body.
Jane was early, too. She came in at ten minutes to eight, looked around, and spotted him at the corner booth he’d snagged.
“Hi,” she said, sliding in across from him.
“Hi.”
The waitress appeared before they could say anything else. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Um . . . a Diet Coke?”
“Sure thing. Are you two ready to order, or do you need a minute?”
Jane glanced at the menu in front of her, but she didn’t open it. “I’ll just have a salad.”
She looked a little thinner since the last time he’d seen her, and the need to stuff her full of high-calorie food overrode the voice in his head telling him not to push his luck.
“This is a barbecue place,” he said. “You should get ribs.”
She glared at him. “Just a salad,” she said to the waitress.
His hand curled into a fist on his thigh. “I’ll take a full slab of ribs, beans, slaw, and cornbread.”
“Sure thing,” the waitress said, flashing him a smile before leaving.
Jane was still glaring at him.
“What?” he asked, defensively.
“Did you get her number yet?”
“Whose number? What the hell are you talking about?”
“The waitress. The one flirting with you.”
“Jesus.” He took off his hat, dragged a hand through his hair, and put the hat back on. “I didn’t even notice her. Can we talk about Canada, please?”
She still didn’t look happy. But she shrugged, reached into the quilted bag she’d put on the seat beside her, and pulled out a letter.
“Here,” she said, handing it to him. “This is why I’m going to Canada.”
He read it through once. Then he read it again.
He handed it back to her. “You have to be kidding me.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, slipping the letter back in her purse.
“You’re going to Canada to meet this bullshit artist? Why?”
For a moment he thought she’d walk out on him. He could see her thinking about it. But then the waitress came with her Diet Coke, and the moment was over.
She took a sip of her drink. “This bullshit artist, as you call him, is actually capable of falling in love.”
The obvious implication being that he wasn’t.
Jane went on. “He’s going to be there at sunset on May 1, waiting for a woman who will never come. And it’s my fault.”
“So write him a letter or something. You don’t have to go all the way to Canada.”
“I don’t have his address or contact information. I have to go in person.” She bit her lip. “Don’t you understand? I didn’t tell him the truth about Sam. I didn’t tell him who she really was. I can’t leave things like that, knowing that lie is in the world. I have to make it right.”
He shook his head. “You’re torturing yourself for nothing. I’ll bet you a thousand dollars Horn-Rims won’t be on that damn bridge. I know his type. He’s got some kind of pathetic romantic fantasy going with some other woman by now, Jane. I promise you that.”
She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing, and he prepared himself to be yelled at.
But she didn’t yell. She pressed her lips tightly together, sat back, and fished around in her purse again. Then started to write, keeping the pen and paper out of sight.
After a moment, she slapped something down on the table between them.
A check made out to him for $1,000.
“It’s a bet,” she said.
He looked down at the check and back up at her. “You’re not serious.”
“Yes, I am.”
Her eyes were glittering, and he knew if they really got into it things would get ugly.
Then something occurred to him.
“Fine.”
She blinked, and he realized with satisfaction that the last thing she’d expected was for him to call her bluff.
“But since it’s a bet, I have a right to proof.”
She was still trying to assess this new twist. “Proof?”
“How will I know if Horn-Rims was really on the bridge when he said he’d be? You could lie and say he was, but—”
Her eyes narrowed and fire looked imminent once again. “You think I’d lie about it? You think I’d—”
“I don’t have to think anything. I’d rather know for sure.”
“And how exactly do you expect to—”
“I’m going with you.”
She blinked again, and the expression on her face was worth being back in New York.
“What do you mean, you’re going with me?”
“I mean I’m taking you to Canada.” He paused. “How are you planning to get there, anyway? I looked it up online, and most people drive across the Confederation Bridge from New Brunswick and use their own cars to get around the island. Seems like a simple plan, with one obvious problem.” He cocked his head to the side. “You don’t have a car or a driver’s license.”
She flushed. “I live in New York! Lots of people in the city don’t drive.”
“There’s a whole world out there to explore, you know. New York isn’t actually the center of the universe.”
“I know that! I—” She shook her head sharply. “Okay, not the point. The point is, I can take a plane to the Charlottetown airport.”
“And then what? Get around by taxi? Sounds inconvenient and expensive. Wouldn’t it make more sense to have your own transportation?”
“Well, sure, but—”
“Now you do.” He folded his arms. “Me.”
She folded her arms, too. “You’re the last person in the world I want to take a sixteen-hour car ride with.”
That stung a little. “Too bad. I have a right to oversee my bet.” He paused. “Unless you decide to cancel the trip altogether. You’d be off the hook then.”
“You can’t bully me into cancelling.”
“I’m not bullying you, damn it!”
Her lips twitched a little. It wasn’t much, just the hint of a smile, but it eased some of the tension between them.
He unfolded his arms, rested his forearms on the table, and clasped his hands. “Tell me why this is so important to you. Please, Jane. I really want to know.”
She looked away for a moment, her expression uncertain. He just waited, still and silent, hoping the waitress wouldn’t pick this moment to arrive with their food.
Finally Jane looked back at him. “Because he loved Sam. Or at least he thought he did.”
Bullshit, he wanted to say, but for once he kept his stupid mouth shut.
After a moment she went on. “I thought you’d see it, too, once you read his letter. I know you don’t believe in love at first sight, but you read how he described her.” She took a breath. “‘It was as though all the light in the universe was shining through you.’”
She put her elbows on the table and her head in her hands, and he wanted to reach out for her so bad it hurt.
But he stayed still, and a minute later she looked up. Her eyes were dry, but they were bright.
“How can you say he’s full of shit after reading that? It’s the most perfect description of Sam I’ve ever heard.”
His heart twisted in his chest. “She wasn’t an angel or a saint.” His throat felt tight and his voice was gruff, and he grabbed his water glass to take a sip.
“I never said she was. But she was so . . .” Her hands lifted, sketching shapes in the air. “So bright. You know she was, Caleb. She was full of life, full of joy. Full of light.”
The tightness in his throat spread to his chest, making it hard to draw a deep breath. His eyes stung, and he fought so hard to keep tears from forming that he almost missed Jane’s next words.
“I know I screwed everything up by lying to him, but it didn’t stop him from seeing into Sam’s heart. Her essence. Don’t you see? He saw something in her worth loving. Something bright and beautiful. And it wasn’t just her physical beauty.”
“You think he saw into her soul or something?”
He wasn’t able to hide his skepticism.
“I don’t know,” she said. “But it’s possible.” She leaned forward. “And I’m not going to let him go to that bridge and wait for her and wonder why she didn’t come. I’m going to meet him, and I’m going to tell him I lied about her loving books and wanting to be a writer and all that stuff, but that the Sam he fell for was the real Sam. I’m going to tell him who she was and that he was right to love her.”
He could deal with feisty Jane and pissed off Jane and sarcastic Jane. But when she was like this, all earnest and intense and sincere, she was too much for him.
“All right, fine. But I’m still coming with you.”
“But why? And don’t tell me it’s about the stupid bet.”
Jane thought she could find a way through her pain by going somewhere else, and that was something Caleb understood. But if Jane was finally going to leave this city on an actual journey, he would damn well make sure she accomplished something worthwhile.
“Because there’s one important thing you’re going to do on this trip, and it isn’t meeting Horn-Rims at the Lake of Shining Waters. Whatever the hell that is.”
“What important thing? What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about scattering your sister’s ashes.”