Snow Angel (39 page)

Gone was the hairless, skinny chest and soft, childish belly. Jacob the man had a firmly muscled chest, abs sculpted like fine marble, and just the right amount of crisp, dark hair trailing down the center of his flat stomach before disappearing enticingly inside the waistband of his jeans.

Remembering, Melinda’s belly spasmed with lust.

Yet the biggest change of all wasn’t something that could be seen with the naked eye. It lived in both their hearts, and had the potential to tear them to pieces.

Thinking over her conversation with Eddie, she frowned.

Talk to Jacob, talk to Jacob.

Of course she’d talk to Jacob.

She just didn’t know what good it would do.

Because she was filthy from her tussle with the dogs and sweaty from all the chores, Melinda took a quick shower, threw on her favorite jeans, and pulled a dark burgundy cable-knit sweater over her head. She added the gold Celtic-knot earrings Jacob had given her for Christmas two years ago, and the Goofy watch from this year, and paced her room.

And thought.

And fretted.

And stalled.

And thought some more.

Regardless of the danger to her friendship with Jacob—to their families and friends and their entire circle—and unwise as it might be to act on the emotions swirling inside her, she had to admit the deep-down truth to herself.

Jacob was it for her.

And since that was the case, she wasn’t going to be happy anywhere on earth unless they were together.

As much as the idea of leaving Pasodoro made her sad and scared, the idea of living there without him was unbearable. Jacob was the one with the big career aspirations, goals that would require him to travel far and wide. She couldn’t ask him to give all that up. But if she removed the specific location of her dreams from the rest, she could still have almost everything she wanted if she went with him.

She’d still be a nurse-midwife, she’d still be helping her fellow women through one of the most transformative periods of their lives, helping them cope and adjust and giving care to her community. She’d still make a happy home for herself and Jacob and their future children.

Okay, so those children wouldn’t grow up with their grandparents and cousins right down the street, in a town where almost everyone would know and care for them. They wouldn’t walk to Ollie’s Ice Cream Parlor or go to events in Pasodoro’s town square. And maybe they’d have to find a different camp to go to instead of Eddie’s, and she’d have to meet new friends to share her life with. Maybe there would be some birthdays and holidays that the extended family would miss out on, but…

Belly pitching, teary-eyed, Melinda collapsed on her bed, all her strength streaming out of her muscles.

She was in love with Jacob. Her best friend in the world. It wasn’t rebounding. It wasn’t simple lust. It wasn’t a childhood or teenage crush she would out grow. And, miracle of miracles, he loved her back.

It should all be simple! It should all be happy!

So why was it so monumentally painful and complicated?

Scrubbing the tears from her eyes, Melinda sat up, and her gaze landed on her Cal State sweatshirt. Huffing out a breath, she considered the blue-and-orange logo on the front. Moving to Fullerton for college her freshman year had been hard, even with Jacob there, too. Harder than she’d anticipated.

Nearly three years later, she still missed being home, even though she enjoyed school and all the friends she’d made. She loved Orange County. She loved all the things there were to do there, all the opportunities. Still, the idea of leaving her life in Pasodoro behind for good felt like ripping off a limb.

But the idea of not being with Jacob felt like ripping out all her vital organs.

She could live without a limb. The organs? Not so much.

Standing again, she moved into her bathroom to splash her face with water, then gripped the edge of the counter with her hands, leaning close to the mirror to look deeply into her own eyes.

What she saw there told her the decision had already been made.

If she had to choose between everything in Pasodoro and Jacob, she’d choose Jacob. Every time.

The truth didn’t lessen the pain she felt over the decision, but the certainty centered her, confirmed it was the right choice, no matter how difficult.

Love trumped all.

Now that she’d made her decision, excitement filled her up, energy tinged with hope and nerves and urgency. It rushed inside her like water flooding the Mojave River, too big to contain in her body.

Too big for the house.

She needed the air, she needed to get outside.

She had to tell Jacob!

Too wound up to sit still, Melinda paced her room. She wanted to call, then worried over what to say. She tried out a few lines, discarded them, tested a few more.

Nothing sounded right. She had to get it exactly right, she had to…

She had to stop.

But…

Melinda paced some more, muttering under her breath, until she finally swiped a hand across her field of vision.

“Stop,” she said aloud.

This was insane. She’d never in her life worried about calling Jacob, or had to gather up her courage to talk to him. She wasn’t about to start now.

Grabbing her cell, she hit her speed dial and ignored the quick, nervy little pitch in her belly.

“Hey, chocolate curl,” Jacob said.

“Lemon drop,” she responded, so happy when he answered in his usual, boisterous tone that she did a little dance in place. “I like that one, by the way.”

She hoped he could hear the smile in her words and not the nerves.

“Thanks,” he said, humor in his voice now. “I figured you would. It has the word ‘chocolate’ in it.”

“Exactly.”

A short, uncomfortable silence, so unusual for them, fell across the phone line.

“So how’s the home-again organizing going?” he asked, as though everything was normal.

She tried to answer the same way, though the nerves were now crawling up her throat. “Pretty much done. You?”

“Yep, done. Good to have a few more days at home before school.”

“Yeah. Um, anyway,” she said, twisting a lock of hair around her index finger, “I was calling to see if you were busy or—”

“I’m not busy,” he interrupted.

“Okay,” she said. “Um.” Why was this so hard all of a sudden? “Good. Then I was wondering if you, uh, want to go for a walk?”

If she didn’t get out of the house in the next three minutes, the top of her head might blow off.

“Sure. Give me ten minutes, I’ll be right there.”

Ten! Oh, God.

They hung up, and the nerves kicked up her spine. Ten minutes sounded like forever.

She pulled on her boots and bundled up against the winter-desert chill—nothing compared to what they’d experienced in Utah, though still bitey, especially with the winds blowing.

But that only took two minutes.

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.

She was going on a walk with her best friend, damn it. And she was going to tell him she loved him. And would go with him.

Anywhere.

Which would make him happy, since he loved her, too. There was not a single thing to be nervous about.

Except their entire relationship hung in the balance of the outcome of this particular walk.

She breathed in, breathed out.

It would be okay.

It would.

It had to be.

She hoped he would kiss her again.

Now there were excited tingles running up and down her spine instead of the damn nerves.

Much better. But still unnerving.

Melinda’s hands sprang with damp, the way they did when she wandered too close to the edge of a steep drop.

Hurrying back into the bathroom, she brushed her hair again, then freshened her lip gloss. Finished, she slapped on a warm hat, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and headed out the front door to meet him, expecting to still have a few minutes to wait.

Only he’d surprised her. Jacob was there already, faster than usual, maybe out of eagerness to see her.

But he wasn’t alone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Shock made Melinda draw up short, and her stomach seemed to bottom out.

Jacob stood, tall and oh-so-handsome, his car door still open behind him, squared off like a gunslinger at high noon with Mitchell Gaveston.

Shock stole Melinda’s voice. What was Mitch doing here?

“Mel,” Jacob said, moving to intercept her

She held up a hand, her eyes on Mitch, and Jacob stopped in his tracks.

“Melly,” Mitch said, speaking in that cajoling way he had, stepping toward her with a wide smile.

She used to find that tone playful. Now, combined with the use of the hated nickname only he ever called her—and she’d never been able to make him stop—it scraped like a serrated blade down the length of her spine.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, holding up her other hand to stop him from moving any closer.

“Melinda,” he corrected, and smiled his hangdog smile. The one that had seemed so self-effacing and endearing when they first met, and now struck her as calculated. “Sorry. It’s so good to—”

“What are you doing here, Mitch?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Melinda noted the still-as-stone watchfulness in Jacob’s stance. Others might mistake it for poised control, but she knew underneath that pseudo-calm exterior, his muscles coiled tight, ready to spring.

It bolstered her confidence, even as she determined to get Mitch out of here before he tested Jacob beyond his limits. She didn’t want the two of them coming to blows.

Not that she’d mind tossing her own right-hook Mitch’s way—he so deserved it, the bastard—but it would be better for everyone if they could end this like grown-ups.

As fast as possible.

Mitch shrugged, went for charming and innocent, his lips turning up at their corners. His sandy hair waved in the breeze as though he’d engineered it precisely that way.

“You didn’t return my calls,” he said. “I knew you were coming home yesterday, so—”

“So you took it upon yourself to force your presence—” Jacob interrupted.

“Jake,” Melinda said sharply, slicing her eyes his way, cutting him off. “I’ll handle this.”

Jacob crossed his arms over his chest and pokered up. Jerked his chin once to indicate his assent, though he clenched his jaw so tightly, it would be a wonder if he didn’t crack any teeth.

Shifting her gaze back to Mitch’s dark-brown eyes, Melinda said, “So you drove up here to, what, hear me tell you in person to get lost?”

“Now, Melly—Melinda,” Mitch quickly corrected himself, stepping forward again.

Jacob gave a low growl.

“Stay where you are,” Jacob said, his voice level enough, but tension in every line of his body. “And don’t touch her.”

Mitch, who’d been steadfastly ignoring Jacob up to this point, finally shifted his gaze from Melinda’s to scan his eyes disdainfully down Jacob’s much taller, leaner body.

“This doesn’t concern you, boy,” he said. “Why don’t you run along and—”

Jacob leaped, but Melinda did, too, landing in the middle of the two men, her outstretched hands slapped against both straining male chests, keeping them apart by sheer will.

“Stop it! Stop now,” she yelled. “Jacob, back. Mitch, get back.”

She knew they could get around her easily, but having her jump between them seemed to have brought them—at least temporarily—to their senses.

Both men snapped straight, their arms falling to their sides, and each stepped carefully back.

Jacob slid his left hand down her arm and twined their fingers together, pulling her to his side.

Mitch frowned now, noting the move.

“What’s really going on here?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

“What’s going on,” Melinda said evenly, disengaging her fingers from Jacob’s and moving a step away, giving him a subtle motion of her hand to keep him still and silent while she addressed her words to Mitch, “is I want you to leave. We have nothing to say to each other.”

“Melinda—”

“No.” Now she sliced her hand through the air. “You made your choice when you went back to Christina. If that was a mistake on your part, then I’m sorry it didn’t work out, but you can’t bounce back to me, or between us like a ping-pong ball. You made your choice. We’re done.”

Considering her, Mitch tilted his head, and his expression went ugly.

“It looks to me like you didn’t waste any time bouncing along, yourself,” he said nastily, a sneer on his face now. He waved a hand, indicating Jacob. “I always knew there was something going on with you two. You want to play the injured party? What a slut.”

“That’s it,” Jacob said, and charged, his fist already drawn back, but again, Melinda jumped between the two.

“Jacob, no!”

She faced him full on this time, her back to Mitch. Both hands splayed on Jacob’s chest, she pushed him backward one hard chest-slap at a time, and his expression was so surprised, he let her maneuver him all the way back to his car before he managed to protest.

“You heard what he called you,” Jacob spluttered, finally grabbing both her hands in one of his, holding them captive against his taut belly.

“Yes,” she said, very evenly, very deliberately. “I did. And I repeat. I. Will. Handle. It.” Melinda emphasized the last by jerking her hands free and poking Jacob in the sternum. “Stay. Here.”

His hand shot out, recaptured and tightened on hers.

“Melinda, let me stand for you,” he said, and the look in his eyes burned something pure and hot and wonderful right through her heart.

Gently now, pulling one hand loose, she placed it against his cheek. Looking deeply into his eyes, she said softly, “Stand
with
me, Jake.”

She held there, waited until his gaze softened. Finally, he nodded. Still sharp, still angry, but silently consenting to act as her second against their common opponent.

Satisfied, spinning on her heel, Melinda marched back to Mitch, never questioning that Jacob would listen to her. Of course he didn’t stay where she’d left him. She heard his equally angry steps stomping right behind hers, but he’d leave Mitch for her to deal with now, even if he didn’t like it.

“He’s not very well trained, is he?” Mitch asked, smirking over her shoulder at Jacob. “Down, boy.”

Mitch laughed, deliberately insulting. His eyes went wide and shocked when Melinda stepped right up into his face and slapped him for all she was worth.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Melinda overrode him, pushing him now, until he slammed into his car and had to lean backward over the hood to keep any space between him and her fury, her poking finger drilling into his chest.

“Look at me, Mitchell,” she said when Mitch’s eyes still wavered between her and Jacob. “At
me
.”

Slowly, insolently, Mitch met her gaze, the smirk still on his mouth despite the angry red mark of her palm print on his ruddy cheek.

“You have the nerve to come up here, whining and weaseling in my face, calling and texting me over my entire vacation, claiming to want me back. After what you did, you have the nerve to accuse
me
of being the slut when you cheated on me for months with that bitch, Christina?”

Surprise lit Mitch’s eyes, and he started to say, “How did you know—” before he caught himself and clamped his lips shut.

Melinda closed her eyes and straightened away from him.
Well
.
That settles that question.

“Look, Melinda,” Mitch said, seeming to see an opening now that she’d stopped for a second. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I never—”

“You’re a pig,” she interrupted, looking at him again, seeing him clearly for possibly the first time.

She searched her heart for hurt, for regret, and found only indifference.

What a relief.

“You didn’t hurt me,” she said, “or only for a minute. You opened my eyes. Everything we had together was a lie. I know that now, and it’s wiped away any feelings I thought I had for you, good or bad. Now I have truth, and it’s better than anything I could have imagined.”

Mitch reached toward her, but Melinda merely raised her eyebrows. He lowered his arm. She stepped back, straightened her sweater. Reached behind her for Jacob’s hand. And stood a little taller when his fingers wrapped instantly around hers, strong and sure and supportive.

“I don’t care what you do, or where you go, or who you go there with,” she said. “As long as it’s far from here. Goodbye, Mitch.”

Turning, she walked away, Jacob at her side, without a backward glance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once through the front gate, Melinda and Jacob jogged across the street and onto a narrow dirt path leading away from the road. The track snaked over open land toward the low bluffs above the Mojave riverbed.

They walked side by side, their destination a matter of long habit and mutual preference, taken by silent consent.

She heard Mitch’s car spin out when he sped through the gate and took off down the street that would lead him out of town, but she neither looked nor cared.

If she’d needed any reassurance, Mitch’s surprise visit had definitively proved she could move forward with a clear mind and a clear heart, with no shadows lurking in any darkened corners. Shadows couldn’t survive the pure light of joy that had flooded every nook and cranny of her soul along with her love for Jacob.

Mitch’s role in her life was truly over, the chapter closed.

Now it was time for not only a new chapter, but a whole new book, page one of her life with Jacob. She planned to savor every word.

Though those words wanted to pour from her lips in a rush, she held them back. Just a bit longer. She wanted the moment to be perfect.

Juniper and Joshua trees dotted the view, along with a few scattered houses in the distance, fragrant smoke curling from their chimneys. No one else seemed to be outside. The sun shone brightly in a pale blue sky, though the wind whipped cold air through their many layers and pinked their cheeks. Black birds wheeled overhead.

They walked in comfortable silence, their shoes crunching loudly on the small pebbles littering the ground, holding hands as they traveled along the well-worn trail. It pushed its way through mounds of brush and cacti and drought-dry dirt.

There was no need to hurry or to fill up the peaceful hush with small talk. It was like being the only two people on earth.

Finally, they reached the edge of the bluff above the Mojave River and followed the curve of the trail north toward the memorial garden.

A front entrance to the garden, easily accessible from the road, led to a small parking lot. There, a tall, decorative arch marked the beginning of the rocked-in walking trails through the park, but Melinda and Jacob liked to approach the spot the way they always had, long before it became an official location.

The arch had
Seth Mazer Memorial Garden
engraved across the top and the date of the garden’s establishment on a second line beneath the name. The garden itself was scattered with drought-resistant plantings, a few small shade trees with benches beneath, and a small gazebo in the very center, with a bronze statue of Seth in its own little circle in front.

Stepping over the low, decorative fencing that marked the outer boundary of the garden, they made their way to the statue first, where Melinda ran her hand over the bronze boy’s hair, as she always did, brushing away the latest layer of endless dust deposited by the desert winds.

Seth’s parents had commissioned the statue after his death and had donated it to the garden. It depicted him running, looking back over his shoulder at the kite flying just above his shoulder, his face lit with a happy grin. Melinda had supplied the photo the statue was based on, taken by her father on a long-ago summer’s day in Pasodoro’s downtown square when they were eight. She and Jacob had been in the shot, as well, flying kites of their own right behind Seth’s.

The land for the garden had been donated to the city by Seth’s great-grandparents, Asher and Evelyn Davis, the founders of Pasodoro and owners of the Pasodoro Inn and Resort, where her parents were staying that night.

Her parents had designed the garden and supplied all the plantings, and almost everyone in town had come out to help with the cleanup and landscaping at one point or another. Eddie’s parents had commissioned the arched entry. Jacob’s dad had designed and helped build the gazebo, along with everyone in their high-school graduating class.

The city had approved setting aside a small portion of their property taxes to help with maintenance and upkeep, but mostly the garden continued to be tended by volunteers, a labor of love.

Melinda and Jacob stood by the statue for a few moments, then Jacob gave her hand a tug, and they walked toward their favorite spot, a double-sided bench overlooking the riverbed on one side and facing the gazebo on the other, placed on the exact spot where she, Jacob, and Seth had often sat to contemplate life.