The Sooner the Better (Deliverance Company #3)

The Sooner the Better (Deliverance Company #3) Page 35

“So I understand.”

“Have you decided where you’re going?”

“No.” Jack preferred not to think about the future. His one and only decision had been to sell Scotch on Water. He couldn’t go back to the cabin cruiser. Every night he’d be haunted by the memory of Lorraine and their time together.

“Are you returning to the boat?”

“Sold it,” Jack muttered. “You sold Scotch on Water?” Murphy didn’t seem to believe it. “But you loved that boat.”

“That time of my life has passed.” It was all he intended to say on the subject. Murphy would never know the real reason.

“Don’t you think it would’ve been better to wait and make such a drastic decision later?”

“Drop it!” he barked.

Murphy sat down in a nearby chair.

“Is that why you’re here?” Jack asked sarcastically. “To check up on the boat?”

“No. Letty sent me. Said I was to bring you home.”

Jack snorted. “Not on your life.”

“Hey, good buddy, you don’t know my wife the way I do. That woman is stubborn. When she told me to bring you back, I knew I’d better do it.”

Arguing was a waste of energy, but he wasn’t going to involve Murphy and Letty in his troubles. “I’ll take care of myself,” he insisted.

Murphy gave no indication he’d heard. “Letty had me working on the old foreman’s house. She’s cleaned and repainted the place and ordered a hospital bed and whatever else Dr. Berilo suggested. She also had me widen the doorways to accommodate your wheelchair.”

“I plan to walk again.”

“You will,” Murphy said swiftly. “This is just until you’re able to get around on your own. I’m telling you, Jack, you don’t know my wife. That woman’s unstoppable once she sets her mind on something. I don’t dare come back without you.”

Well, Letty would just have to be disappointed, Jack thought.

“Another thing. Letty and Francine have been talking up a storm. Last I heard, Francine’s hired a physical therapist who’s flying out to work with you.”

“Is that a fact?” Jack asked with a heavy dose of sarcasm. He appreciated all the trouble Letty and Francine, the wife of another ex-mercenary friend, had gone to, but he’d rather stay in Mexico.

“I tried to explain to Letty that you’d prefer your own company. I tried, Jack, I really did, but she said you need family now and we’re the only family you’ve got.”

“I’m not a charity case.”

“I should say not!” Murphy snapped. “You’re paying for that physical therapist.”

“Letty doesn’t have time for this.”

“I know that, too. With three children under the age of four, she’s got plenty to do without worrying about you, but she’s convinced you’ll recuperate faster at the ranch with us than anywhere else.”

Again Jack reserved his strength rather than argue. Murphy could say what he wanted, but Jack had no intention of allowing his longtime friends to play nursemaid to him.

Three days later, however, Jack was loaded onto a medically equipped private plane and made the long trip from Mexico City to Boothill, Texas. He wasn’t pleased to have Murphy step in and take charge of his life. But at this point Jack’s options were few.

He needed physical rehabilitation, plus people to assist him. And time. Lots of that. But it’d take more than time for him to heal. He’d never be the same again, emotionally or physically, and he knew it.

The flight to the ranch exhausted him, and staying awake long enough to get himself settled in the foreman’s house was about all he could manage.

Just as Murphy had said, the structure, which was some distance from the main house, had been set up as a miniature hospital, complete with a bed, wheelchair, walker and more. He fell into a deep sleep the minute he pulled the covers over himself.

His dreams were full of Lorraine. Of her lying in his arms, talking about movies while he tried not to kiss her. Of the two of them sleeping, arms and legs entwined, on the deck, gazing up at the moon. He could hear the sound of her laughter. It rang in his ears like a forgotten melody. He felt the softness of her skin against his. It seemed so real.

His eyes fluttered open and he saw a figure sitting in the dark, rocking back and forth in a high-backed wooden chair.

“Lorraine?” he whispered. It had to be her. Must be her. Heaven help him, he didn’t have the will to send her away a second time. How had she found him? Who’d told her?

“It’s Letty,” Murphy’s wife said.

The disappointment was almost too painful to bear.

“Sleep,” she murmured.

He yearned to tell her he’d done enough of that in the past six months. If there was any justice in the world, he’d—

Jack’s musings were interrupted by the sound of someone else coming into the room.

“How’s he doing?” Murphy asked.

“He woke up briefly. He seemed to think I was someone named Lorraine, but he’s asleep now.”

Jack would’ve loved to shock them both by bolting upright, but he hadn’t the strength. It demanded more than he could muster even to open his eyes.

“Did he tell you about her?” Letty asked.

“Not a word. He’ll say something when he’s ready.”

Letty seemed to consider her husband’s statement. “He’ll recover.”

“Dr. Berilo said as much.”

“I mean emotionally,” Letty explained. “He loved Marcie and regrouped after they split up. He’ll do it again.”

Little did she know, Jack thought. Technically Letty was right; he had loved Marcie. But what he felt for Lorraine was far stronger. He’d willingly surrendered a large part of himself, his heart, his very being—his life—when he’d asked Dr. Berilo to tell Lorraine he was dead.

It had been a noble thing to do, or so Jack had believed. What he hadn’t realized at the time was how close to the truth that lie actually was. Without Lorraine, he found little purpose in life. Without her he was empty. He’d been willing to die so she could live. Now he had a more difficult task to accomplish.

He had to learn to live without her.

“He must love her the way I love you,” Murphy said.

In that moment Jack understood why he considered Murphy his family. Murphy knew him like no one else.

“Yes,” Letty whispered.

They were right, both of them. Jack loved Lorraine with that same intensity. Enough to send her away. Enough to make his own life hell because she was no longer part of it and never would be again.

Thomas Dancy dismissed his last class, but remained in the classroom as he often did these days. He sat at his desk and studied his schedule, although his thoughts weren’t on his work.

His American friend was dead, and Lorraine seemed to blame him. It was the only reason Thomas could conceive of for the fact that she completely ignored his letters.

Almost six months earlier he’d received a hysterical phone call from her about Jack. He’d immediately left the school and joined her at the hospital in Mexico City. Along with Raine, he’d kept vigil at Jack’s bedside while his friend hovered near death. For countless hours, he’d talked to the hospital staff in an effort to glean what information he could. It was from the nurses that he came to understand the gravity of the situation. In his own way he’d attempted to prepare Raine for the worst.

When the inevitable happened, his daughter had wept as he’d never heard a woman weep. In her grief she’d collapsed against him. Her agony clawed at his heart, and Thomas recognized anew how much he loved his daughter. Her pain was even worse for him than the loss of his friend.

He was the one who led her out of the hospital, who spoke to the doctor and, with his help, made the burial arrangements. He’d had only a glimpse of the body through the door of Jack’s room; it was all he could stand. Later that day, he’d tried to bring Lorraine home with him. She’d politely declined, which had confused him. Now, like her mother, she wouldn’t answer his letters, and as each day passed without word, she broke his heart.

This was crueler than Ginny’s abandonment. He’d accepted his wife’s decision, but had pleaded with her when Raine turned twenty-one to tell their daughter the truth, allow her to make her own judgments.

Raine had done that, it seemed, and rejected him. Rejected his love.

This grief was the most painful yet.

“Thomas?”

Azucena stood at his classroom door. She was by herself, which was rare, and his fears were immediate.

“Is everything all right? The children?”

“They’re fine,” she assured him as she walked into the room. “They’re with Consuela.” Her cousin.

Azucena’s beauty was unassuming, and at first glance few would find her pretty. He’d been guilty of that himself. For years he’d used her body as an escape from a hell of his own making. He’d loved Ginny, pretended in the dark of night that it was his wife’s body he sank into, his wife who cried out in joy as she received him. But it had been Azucena who slept next to him, Azucena who comforted him when the dream came, who woke up with him in the morning. Azucena who gave him a second chance at life and bore him three wonderful sons.

Azucena who was his wife now.

She was by far the most beautiful woman he’d ever known, and his heart swelled with love at the sight of her. He started to get up, but she stopped him.

“Stay,” she instructed.

“Stay?”

“I need you to write a letter for me.”

“You don’t need me to write your letters.”

“In English.”

His curiosity was keen now. “To whom?”

Azucena’s gentle smile reached out to him. “Your daughter.”

Nothing could have surprised him more. He wanted to tell her it would do no good. He’d poured out his heart to Raine, pleaded with her to respond—and she’d refused, with no explanation and apparently no regret. Her silence baffled him. Hurt him.

He took out a fresh sheet of paper and a pen while Azucena removed a folded paper from her pocket. “Please translate this into English for me,” she said, and handed him the letter.

Thomas read it over and frowned. He read it a second time, then slowly set it aside. He loved Azucena, but she was a simple woman with little education or knowledge of the world. “I don’t think—”

“If you love me, you will do this.”

It was unusual for her to ask anything of him. Thomas felt he had no choice. Besides, what did he have to lose? Lorraine hadn’t responded to his letters, and he sincerely doubted she’d respond to Azucena’s heartfelt message, either.

November 21

Dear Lorraine Dancy,

If I could put my arms around you and comfort you, I would. Your grief must be very great. You’ve lost your mother and Jack, and now choose not to answer your father’s letters. I can only assume that you are disappointed in the man your father has become. As his wife, I feel I must come to his defense.