Summer of Fire - Linda Jacobs [131]
When they lay together, hearts pounding, he knew he’d been right to open that door. Like the spring crocus from the soil, reborn in a single night, he said hoarsely, “You make me feel alive, like I haven’t been for years.”
Steve’s words made Clare realize she’d had her life on autopilot since Jay had left.
Sure, there was plenty of Brownian motion like molecules vibrating in a science lab. She’d become a firefighter and helped others, gotten Devon through high school, but what had she done for herself?
“When you knocked I had my hand on the doorknob,” she confessed.
He chuckled, their bodies still joined. “After how childishly I acted about Deering, you were ready to do that for me?”
“For you . . . and for me.”
With his weight pressing her into the mattress, it was hard to remember her reservations. She reveled in sensation until he caught his breath and rolled off her.
Then she came back to earth. He’d had a Coke this evening while she and Garrett sipped at beers, but could he stay on the wagon?
It went deeper than that. Being in bed with him was no guarantee he was getting over Susan. Men and women thrown together during fire season met, coupled, and parted by the hundreds.
Neon light from the window was joined by the faintest graying of sky. “Oh, God,” Clare said. “Morning and still nothing from Devon.”
“I’ll help you,” Steve’s hand gripped hers. “Whatever happens, you don’t have to face it alone.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
September 8
Georgia Deering came out of the bathroom, wiping her face with a damp washrag. Feeling better after throwing up, she was almost hungry for bacon or sausage instead of her usual cereal and fruit.
“How long have you known?” her sister-in-law Anna asked from her place at the kitchen table. Her blue eyes were bright with what looked like merriment.
“Known what?”
Anna laughed and sipped the coffee she’d made, taking over Georgia’s kitchen the way she ruled the roost in her own house. “Aren’t you the one who’s wanted to get pregnant for years?”
Georgia lowered the rag to her side and stared at Anna. She felt a quietness inside as though the world had paused and she with it.
Then . . . of course.
Last night, she had awakened alone as she had since July. Outside the bedroom window, cottonwoods etched charcoal against the slate sky. In a few weeks, the shadowed moon would grow round. So many times she and Deering had lain and watched the trees transform from blackened lace to silver filigree. Moon by moon, they’d marked the years.
Now, with each passing moon she was no longer alone.
“How far along are you?” Anna persisted.
Georgia considered. With Deering gone, she had not even consulted her calendar. The last time he had been home was the second weekend in July. “Nearly two months. I’ve lost weight, not gained.”
“Of course you have,” Anna agreed. “I used to do that when I had morning sickness.”
Georgia groped for a kitchen chair and sat. “He called me yesterday, said he was coming home last night.” Speaking of it brought back the ache she’d felt, straining for a sound in the darkness. Waking and hoping she had missed the chopper’s landing and that any moment, his key would turn the latch.
“Where is he then?” Anna asked.
“I don’t know.” Her cheeks flushed. “I’m afraid I wasn’t very nice when he called.”
“You two are beginning to make me lose patience.”
Georgia tried to ignore Anna’s steely glare. It wasn’t as though Deering was innocent. “He admitted to chasing that woman. Clare, the paper said her name was.”
Anna did not relent. “Does he love her?
“He said he loves me.” The kind of tears that stung filled her eyes. “I want our lives back together.”
“Well then . . .” Anna prompted.
Georgia put a palm on her still-flat stomach and tried to imagine a baby in there. What would Deering say when he found out? Lately, they had given up even talking about it.
Anna went on. “It’s past time you came to your senses.