Silent Run - Barbara Freethy [94]
She let out a scream of terror. “Mommy, Daddy. Wake up.”
No one answered her. She started to cry. Why weren’t they waking up? Why weren’t they trying to get out of the car?
She had to get help. She reached for the door handle, but it wouldn’t open. The door was crushed in on the side. She tried the other door, but something heavy was behind it. She pushed and she pushed, sweating and straining, but the doors wouldn’t open. And she couldn’t see anything outside of the car. She was trapped.
Her breath came short and fast. She tried pushing on the car door again. Suddenly something gave way. The car began to rock. Then it started to slide. She was moving. She screamed again as the car picked up speed.
She tried to hold on to her seat, but the car flipped over and she felt her body fly through the air. Her head hit something hard. She couldn’t see at all anymore. Was she dead? Were her parents dead?
“Don’t leave me,” she cried. “Please don’t leave me.”
“Sarah, Sarah, snap out of it.” Jake gave her shoulders a shake. “Look at me. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
He’d pushed open the curtain behind her, allowing in enough light to soften the shadows.
“It’s just the storm. Listen to the rain. No one cut the power to lure us outside.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “You’re ice-cold. I can feel the chill through your sweater. Where were you just now?”
“I was in the car with my parents,” she said. “There was an accident. It was a really dark night. I tried to wake them up, to get out of the car, but it started to shake and slide and then it flipped over and over. When it finally stopped, I knew they were dead.” She gazed into Jake’s eyes. “And I was alone in the dark.”
His eyes filled with a protective tenderness. “Oh, God, Sarah! I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“We were there for hours. Nobody moved. Nobody talked. I couldn’t stand it.”
“You’re not alone now. I’m here. I’m not leaving.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him as tightly as she could. She knew she wasn’t being fair to him. He had walked away from her earlier. He had told her he wasn’t going to touch her again, but she needed him now. She needed his comfort, his warmth, his embrace. And as he’d promised, Jake didn’t move away. He let her cling to him. He gave her the support, the security that she craved.
Finally she eased her death grip on his neck and pulled back so she could look at him. “Thank you.”
“You never told me about your parents’ accident. I knew you didn’t like the dark, but you never said why. Did you remember anything else?”
She’d known the question was coming. In fact, she wondered how he’d had the restraint to wait so long in asking it.
She shook her head.
He let out a sigh. “Well, at least we have one more truth.”
“Do you think in the end that the truths will make up for the lies?”
“If you’re asking me if I could forgive you—”
“No, I’m not asking you that,” she said quickly. “Not now anyway.” But as she looked at him, she wondered if one day she’d have to let him answer
that question.
“Let’s sit down.” Jake led her over to the bed.
She perched on the edge.
“You might as well get comfortable. We might not have any lights for a while.”
She stretched out on top of the covers. Jake walked around to the other side of the bed and lay down next to her. There was a good foot between them, and Jake had his arms folded over his chest. He made no attempt to touch her. He simply stared at the ceiling. But she could tell by the stiffness of his pose that he wasn’t at all relaxed. The air between them grew thick and heavy and restless.
“Don’t,” Jake said abruptly. “We’re not going there again. I can’t let you back in.”
“Can we just hold each other?” she asked, rolling onto her side.
He shook his head. “No. No touching. Too dangerous.”
“I didn’t make love to you earlier to prove something to myself or to bring my memory