Point of Betrayal (29 page)

She let Rory in and gave her a hug. “I’m glad you’re okay,” Rory said. “How scary that must have been for you.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m fine, too,” Jane announced. She glared at Rory with her arms crossed.

“I didn’t ask you,” Rory replied.

She sensed another fight brewing. It was probably a mistake to ask her for a lift to the airport.

“I’ve got something I want to say to you,” Rory said.

“What? Are you going to humiliate me like you did the other night? Or maybe you’d like to insult my vocabulary or mock me with words I don’t know?”

Her lips curled into a smile. “Tempting, but no. I want to be very clear so I’ll keep it simple.”

“Well, if you avoid too many multisyllabic words, I might be able to get it,” Jane said, scowling. “What do you want to tell me? I’m ready.”

“You’re amazing.”

The scowl vanished as Jane saw the earnest look in her eyes. “Oh,” was all she could say.

Rory pulled her into an embrace and kissed her softly. She seemed to be swooning. Rory’s strong arms were the only thing keeping her upright.

“I haven’t enjoyed anyone’s company like this in a long time. I love sparring with you, and one of these days, Jane, I’ll be ready. Then I’m going to show up on your doorstep. Okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Until then I’m just going to keep whippin’ your ass at Words with Friends.”

Her challenge reignited the sexual tension that had swirled between them for the entire trip. Jane practically jumped in her arms for a kiss that demanded privacy.

“I’ll meet you guys downstairs,” Ari said, grabbing her bag. Now she was ready to go home.

* * *

Swinging the pickax felt good. Ari loved the steady motion and the thrill of the steel flying over her head before it punctured the ground. She’d soaked the large rectangle that would be her vegetable garden for two days so the stubborn Arizona soil wouldn’t break her pick. Her old sneakers were covered in mud and felt like cement blocks. She wiped the blade again, enjoying the dirt on her skin. Ironically, being outside cleansed her after a terrible week.

When she and Jane had returned home, her father had been waiting on the porch. He told her of Biz’s arrest for murder and her involvement in Molly’s dismissal. She’d been too stunned to cry at the time, but the tears came later that night. So had the shame. She felt like a co-conspirator and she didn’t think she could ever face Molly again. If she’d known…

She hefted the pick over her head again and walloped a fresh piece of earth. It helped her forget everything. She added a slight grunt with each motion and put more force behind her swing. It was going to be a damn good garden.

After another row she took a break and dropped onto a pile of bricks, nearly panting. This was much harder than planting flowers.

She heard the back gate close. Her dad or Jane was coming by to ask her to go out, no doubt. She quickly formulated her refusal. She just wanted to be alone.

The woman coming across the garden path wasn’t Jane, and for a split second she didn’t recognize her. She looked so different, so
healthy
. Her beautiful blond curls were styled in a blunt cut, and she’d lost a lot of weight. She looked fabulous in a tight T-shirt and jeans. She came to the edge of the tiny grass strip and stopped, not wanting to muddy her sleek black boots.

They hadn’t seen each other for nine months, three-fourths of a year or nearly two hundred and seventy days, depending on how you counted it. On some days, she’d counted every way imaginable. She’d lost track of how many times she’d thought of her, of their life.

She couldn’t speak. She only stared. Molly was always beautiful but now she was… She looked at the ground. She was losing control of her emotions.

“I rang the bell, but I didn’t think you heard me,” Molly said.

She shook her head. “No, I can’t hear anything out here. That’s why I leave the back gate open. I don’t think anyone would want to steal my garden.”

“That’s not really advisable,” she replied, sounding like a cop. She stood with her weight on one leg, her thumb looped in her front pocket. Typical Molly.

“You’re right. I’ll get a padlock for the latch.”

“Good.” She nodded and they returned to the awkward silence until they both started to speak at once. Then they stopped and then they started. Finally, they just laughed. It felt so good to hear her laugh and even at a distance her crystal blue eyes shone.

“Sorry, go ahead,” she said. “What did you want to say?”

“No, you first,” Molly insisted.

She realized she must look ridiculous. Her hair was matted against her head and she was covered in mud, wearing her most tattered cutoffs and disgusting T-shirt, the mud on her face like war paint. She was a sight.

“I just wanted you to know that I had no idea about Biz. If I’d known—”

She held up a hand. “I get it. It’s okay. I know you weren’t involved.”

The corners of her mouth turned up in a consoling smile and her voice was soothing, calm. She had never heard this tone. Molly was usually gruff. She spoke in clipped sentences. She was a cop.

“What did you want to say?” she asked. “Why are you here? Not that I mind,” she added quickly. “I’m just surprised. After the email you sent…”

She shifted her weight uncomfortably. “I was angry. I guess I still am, a little.”

She bristled and Ari prepared for the outrage that usually followed, but instead, her shoulders sagged and she looked at her meekly. “Do you remember the night I was so drunk I tripped and we fell down?”

She looked perplexed. There had been
many
nights that fit that description. “I’m not sure.”

“I wanted to go bowling and you wouldn’t go. You sprained your ankle in the fall.”

She nodded. “And I called Jane to pick us up. Yeah, I remember. What made you think of that?”

She swallowed hard before she said, “I just wanted to say I was sorry, and I think your hair looks great. You look great. That’s what I wanted to tell you.” She offered a little wave and headed to the gate.

She’d said what she came to say and that was it.

“I’m sorry too,” Ari whispered. She jumped up and clomped across the overturned earth. “Molly?”

She turned slowly and Ari saw she was crying. “Yeah?”

“Could we go to lunch next week?”

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