Molly took a deep breath as she pocketed the keys. Sara was practically bouncing out of her skin, seeing Jason filling the doorway. He was standing there like he owned the place, tall and uncompromising, and it made Molly immediately defensive. She should have known he'd have his own key, but it made her feel like she had when she'd realized that he was Kim's next of kin number. Now it seemed there was nowhere safe from him.
She approached him coolly. "Something I can do for you?"
He looked down at her, clearly confused. "Kim called me. Said you needed help with the fuse box or something."
All Molly's aloofness evaporated as a laugh snorted out of her nose and she shook her head. Kim wouldn't let up, would she? "And you believed her?"
"It does sound kind of lame now, doesn't it?"
His deep chuckle warmed her and she glanced up to find his face more relaxed. She resisted the urge to reach up and touch the rough jawline.
Sara ran on ahead and took off her boots and jacket, leaving them strewn on the floor. Molly bent to pick them up before taking off her own coat. "I wish Kim wouldn't interfere."
Jason stepped all the way inside and shut the door. It seemed so...proprietary. Briefly Molly felt like she was the visitor, even though this was Kim's house and she was the one staying here. Not to mention she now felt trapped in the tiny foyer with him.
"Interfere with what?" he asked, and she swallowed.
Her hands now empty of outerwear, she turned and let her gaze meet his. "She thinks we should talk."
"She would," Jason murmured with a tiny smile. "She'd expect us to sit down over a cup of tea and work it all out. That's her way."
From the sound of it, he heartily approved. Irritated, Molly couldn't stop the thought that Jason and Kim actually deserved each other... Mr. and Mrs. Paragons of Virtue.
But that wasn't fair—at least not to Kim.
"We tried that, remember? Only it was coffee and we ended up shouting at each other." And had upset Sara as well. Now at least her niece was around to run interference. Molly led the way to the living room, where Sara had already turned on the television and was watching a kid's program. The last thing she'd wanted after dredging up the past with Kim was rehashing it with Jason. She wished he'd just leave since he knew the emergency was bogus. She absently ruffled Sara's hair before speaking again.
"You know, it amazes me. She's nearly four, but she already knows every button on the remote control." She smiled, but it faded as she continued. "Anyway, I didn't tell Kim about the other night. I think it's better if we forget about it." Like they could.
He stood behind her, close enough she could feel his warmth through her sweater; she felt, rather than saw, his shape and knew she would never really forget.
"Forget about the argument? I agree. It doesn't change anything."
"Perhaps we should forget everything that's been said and done since you opened your door and found me there." She focused on Sara as her heart paused, waiting for what he'd say next.
"Are you saying we should let the past go and start over?" His voice was soft in her ear and she shivered.
How many times had he murmured endearments in her ear over the years? For over four years they'd been a couple; now there was hardly anywhere she could go without there being some sort of reminder of that time. Still, nothing affected her more than his voice, his touch. The thought of starting over was exhilarating and deathly frightening at the same time.
"Do you think that's even possible?"
He stepped back and the air around her felt suddenly cold, deprived of his presence. "No, I don't."
She turned, her heart heavy. What had been good between them had been really good, but all the things that had gone wrong were still there.
He looked down at her, his jaw set and his eyes cold.
"People always talk about a clean slate," he said, shoving his hands into his back pockets. "But you can erase a slate. They haven't found a way to erase memories yet. And we have too many of those."
They stared at each other a long time as the past warred with the present.
"Do the memories still haunt you, Jason?"
He turned away, avoiding her probing eyes. Perhaps she'd gone too far. She had said all along that she didn't want to get into this with him. But now, now they were together, she couldn't help it. She felt the odd urge to know exactly how badly he'd been hurt. If he'd suffered as much pain as she had.
She laid a hand gently on his shoulder and it stiffened beneath her touch.
He stared at her fingers on his shirt. "What do you want me to say, Molly? You broke my heart when you left. For four years you had been my world and then you were gone. You never said goodbye. You never called or wrote. It was easy for you."
Easy for her? Never. Molly glanced at Sara and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Is that what you think? That it didn't hurt me to leave you?"
"You didn't show it."
"How do you know? This is the first you've seen me since I left."
He turned back to her and she saw the pain in his eyes, along with resentment and perhaps even a little longing. "Did it?" He took his right hand out of his pocket and cupped her jaw. "Did it break your heart to leave me?"
She swallowed, closed her eyes to the touch of his fingers on her skin. Oh, it had. It had torn her to little pieces and she was coming to realize she'd never really put them back together. Nothing had changed. Jason was still her ideal, no matter how much she blamed him for their breakup. But he could never, never know that. She couldn't give him any ammunition, not and make it home in one piece.
"I survived," she whispered and exhaled as his hand disappeared from her face.
He cleared his throat gruffly. "I'd better get going, if there's no emergency," he murmured, and she let him go.
*
Molly sighed, took her fingers and began to work a kink out of her neck. Files were strewn all over the kitchen table, a cup of cold coffee sat forgotten beside the humming laptop. Sara had gone to her room to play tea party with her stuffed animals and Molly had grabbed the moment to get something—anything—accomplished. She'd planned on putting in a few hours every day while Sara napped. But that hadn't worked out, as at this age naps were the exception and not the rule. The briefcase sat unopened and she'd spent her time picking up toys, soothing hurts and doing laundry. Now she was trying to play catch-up on a Saturday.
She cocked an ear. Sara was being awfully quiet. Too quiet. Frowning, she wondered what sort of trouble the toddler could be into. She glanced at her watch, realizing with surprise that it had been over an hour since she'd opened her briefcase. Where had the time gone?
She headed for the stairs as a strange feeling of unease began to pulse through her. Perhaps Sara had grown tired and fallen asleep.
When she opened Sara's door, she knew immediately the girl was not there. It was silent, too quiet. There were animals scattered on the frilly pink spread and a handful arranged around the play table with cups and saucers before them, but there was no sign of any other occupation in the room. The unease grew to a frantic pounding of her heart as she opened the closet and checked under the bed, in case Sara was hiding. But she found nothing beyond a few missing Barbie clothes and an unmated sock.
"Sara?" she called out, but her voice echoed throughout the house. She felt, rather than knew, that something was not right. Still, she rationalized as she hurried out of the room. Sara was only three. She couldn't be far. She was probably just hiding, looking for some attention. It was Molly's fault for trying to focus on work.
She checked the other bedrooms—nothing. She ran down the stairs, checked the living room, the laundry room, even the pantry. No Sara.
"Sara, if you're hiding, come out. This isn't funny." Her voice cracked on the last word and she felt anger war with the fear running through her body. I should have watched Sara more closely, she berated herself. That was the whole reason she was here. She skidded to a halt in the entry. How could she explain to her sister that she lost her daughter? In her own home?
That was ridiculous, she rationalized. Sara had to be here somewhere. Molly took a deep calming breath, trying to think logically.
Her eye caught Sara's pink peg where she normally hung her jacket. The peg was empty and the boots that usually sat so precisely beneath it were gone too. One pink mitten lay orphaned on the floor. Her stomach hit her feet. In what seemed slow motion, she looked at the front door. The deadbolt was unlocked.
Disregarding her own coat, she threw open the door and called, "Sara? Sara, answer me!"
Nothing. The snowman they'd made earlier that week was leaning lonely to one side, one rock eyeball laying on the ground. The only sound was the soft shush of thick snowflakes fluttering to the ground.
Oh God. How could this have happened? The thought skidded through her brain as she pulled on her jacket and shoved her feet into Kim's winter boots, leaving them unlaced. Sara wasn't in the house. Her coat and boots were gone and she was somewhere in a snow flurry with only one mitten. What if she'd decided to try to see Kim herself?
Visions of Sara walking along the busy road by herself nearly stopped Molly's breath. Anything could happen. She could be hit by a car; no one would see her in this visibility. Or someone could stop and take her. She could get lost and be out in subzero temperatures before they found her. Tears of terror pricked Molly's eyes and burned the top of her nose. Sara was gone and it was all her fault.
Don't panic, she commanded herself and told herself to breathe. When she inhaled, then exhaled, she knew there was only one person she could call for help: Jason. Jason would know what to do.
She ran through the ankle deep snow to his house and pounded on the door. "Jason? Jason, open up! It's Molly!"
He threw open the door, looking harassed with his mouth set in a firm line and his eyebrows pulled together in the middle, making a crease in his forehead. "Keep your shirt on!" he ordered, frowning down at her.
At the sight of him, she started to cry without explanation. It didn't matter that she had vowed not to need his help. It didn't matter that they were still at odds over broken hearts and mixed messages. All that mattered was that Sara was missing. All she knew was that there was one person she could count on. Could always count on.
"Please," she begged, her voice thick with tears. "Sara's gone and I can't find her anywhere and her coat is missing and..."
Jason grabbed her upper arms. "Get a grip, Mol," he ordered. "She's here. She's asleep on the couch."
The flood of relief almost buckled her knees and was immediately followed by hot anger. Anger at Sara for disappearing without telling her. Anger at Jason for not calling to let her know. And most of all, anger at herself for losing it in front of him. Tears pricked again, relief and confusion and frustration all rolled together in one uncontrollable, blubbering mass.
"What in the blue blazes is she doing over here? And why didn't you call to tell me?" She wiped her cheeks furiously, leaving them tearless and blotchy.
His chin flattened. "Now it's my fault?"
"I thought she was in her room!"
He stood upright, indignant. "And I thought you had let her come over. That's what she said."
At that Molly's eyebrows soared sky-high. "I wouldn't let her come over alone! What sort of person do you think I am?"
He sighed, and his shoulders slumped a little. "The kind that would take great pains to avoid spending any time with me."
Silence dropped like a bomb. Standing back, he pushed open the door so she could enter.
She did and took off her coat, not knowing what to say. He was right after all, she had been avoiding him. She peeked inside the living room to the right. Sara was laying peacefully on the sofa, covered with a soft blanket with a gigantic golden retriever's face on it.
Watching the girl sleeping, Molly took several deep breaths to get under control. Tears smarted in her eyes at the supreme relief of knowing her niece was okay. Finally she faced him. With her voice clogged with unshed tears, she said quietly, "You still should have called me. You have no idea what went through my mind. I was terrified."
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "She said you'd said it was okay. I figured you'd dressed her up and made sure she got here. It's only across the lawn."
"I did not do any such thing. I was working in the kitchen and she was supposed to be upstairs in her room. I can't for the life of me figure out how she got out without me hearing."
"Well, she's safe, anyway," he said, and Molly felt the emotions draining from her slowly.
As the panic subsided, Molly caught herself staring up at him. She noticed for the first time what he was wearing, and her mouth watered despite the fear and anger still trickling through her veins. Bare feet and a pair of surgical scrub bottoms, paired with a white T-shirt. There was a day's growth on his face. He looked relaxed and cuddly and she wanted to grab the drawstring on the front of his green scrubs and untie it. Pull him closer to her and feel his warm, hard body against hers. Let what was left of the adrenaline drain away in the shelter of his arms.
"That's the main thing," she whispered in response. Her aroused gaze lifted from the string to his face and she saw colour creep into his cheeks. She'd embarrassed him, and the knowledge made one side of her mouth twitch.
Still, only four feet separated them, and the urge to touch was strong. Molly felt her jeans hugging her tightly, felt the tightness of her bra straps as she became aware of everything in their tiny sphere of existence. She saw Jason flex and unflex his right hand and she wanted to feel it cushioning her neck as he kissed her silly. She saw his chest rise and fall beneath his T-shirt and wanted to feel that chest against hers. The memory of it was so strong she could almost feel it now, warm and hard and smooth.
It took no longer than a heartbeat. Each took a step and a half and they were in each other's arms. As she'd imagined, Jason's right hand captured the back of her head as it had thousands of times before, while the other wrapped around her back and pulled her close against his hard chest. His mouth was firm and hot against hers and she pressed closer, losing herself in his taste and texture and confirming that nothing had changed. They were still a perfect fit.
Her hands lifted up and threaded through his dark hair, leaving trails in their wake as he stepped her backwards, pressing her against the foyer wall. His hips pinned her there while his tongue danced with hers. He made a soft sound in his throat and she felt a current run from her breasts to her core, and one thing only passed through her mind as his hand slid up her ribs. Sara is asleep.
At that moment, she felt something vibrate against her pelvis.
"Of all the rotten timing," Jason muttered, tearing his mouth away from hers. He reached down and lifted the pager from his pants, looking at the number.
Molly stared up at him, her eyes dazed as desire coursed through her body. Oh no. In another few minutes, he could have carried her to bed and she wouldn't have put up a fight. Not one ounce of opposition. The thought exhilarated and frightened her all at once. Would making love to him now be the same as it had been? Better? Would all their anger, the recriminations, fuel it to burn even hotter?
Yeah, until they were both completely obliterated by the flames.
She could not lose control with Jason. She could not. Things were already too messy. She was absolutely going back to Calgary when Kim was better. What had she done?
He scowled at the pager and she saw his lips were puffed from kissing, his hair untidy. She lifted her own fingers and touched her lips. They were still humming from the force of his mouth on hers. The rest of her was resonating like a plucked string.
"It's the answering service. I've got to call in."
She nodded jerkily. "I should wake Sara. She and I have to have a chat anyway."
He sent her a look that said he was sorry they'd stopped. It said this wasn't a good idea. It said things were growing complicated. It said I don't want it to end here. She felt his lingering touch in that moment, even though his hands were no where near her skin. It was tempting to say the hell with it all and simply launch herself back in his arms.
"Go," she whispered, and with one last complicated look, he disappeared. A second later, she heard his deep voice on the phone.
She went to the living room and stared at Sara's sleeping form for a few moments. It seemed no matter what steps she took to avoid Jason, someone, something was always there, pushing them together. It wasn't fair. She'd spent years building her own life away from him. He'd done the same. But now, in a few short weeks, she was right back there again. Wanting him more with every breath. Caring about him. Their lives entangled.
It had to stop. She'd built the life she wanted. She leaned over and shook the little girl's arm lightly.
Jason hung up the phone and headed to the living room. Stopping in the doorway, he grinned at the stern tone in Molly's voice as she sat on the edge of the sofa. She'd be so good with kids of her own, he thought, and his heart stopped for a moment before beginning to tick again. Molly didn't want kids. Or more precisely, she didn't want his kids.
He stepped inside the room and heard Molly say, "You can't do that. You are absolutely not allowed to leave without me with you, and especially not to go alone. I was worried sick!"
"I'm sorry, Aunt Molly." The girl lifted honest brown eyes to Molly's. "I wanted to see Uncle Jason and you'd say no." Her little voice was clogged with tears.
"Why would you say that?" Molly's voice was puzzled as she questioned Sara.
"You always fight. When Mommy's home, we visit all the time!"
Kids had a way of seeing things clearly, Jason realized. He approached and knelt beside the couch, speaking sternly. "Look, kiddo, you knew you were doing wrong, because you lied to me about it. You told me your Aunt Molly said it was okay."
"I'm sorry, Uncle Jason. I'll ask first next time."
"You'd better." He tapped his cheek. "Give me some sugar."
She placed a kiss on his cheek. He saw Molly try to hide a smile at his quick capitulation. He didn't care. He knew Sara a whole lot better than she did. Sara was a good kid who'd been through a lot and had made a bad decision. She was also the kind of kid who rarely needed tough discipline, a good talking-to was usually all that was required.
"I've got to go into the clinic," Jason told them. "I could use a hand. There's a hit-by-car coming in. The staff has already left for the day and I'd hate to call one of them back."
He wanted her to help at the clinic? "What about Sara?" Surely she should stay back and look after Sara. Molly thought about nursing a bloody animal and her stomach lurched.
"We can put her on the sofa in the compassion room. She'll be fine. She's right at home there, aren't you, muffin?"
Molly knew she wasn't going to get out of it, and she'd look like a queasy coward if she refused. The way his eyes were imploring her right now made it difficult to say no to anything.
"All right. Let's go, Sara."
*
A beige sedan was already parked out front when they arrived. As Jason unlocked the clinic door and disengaged the alarm system, Molly held the door for the distraught young couple carrying the limp animal.
Molly asked Sara to show her the clinic while Jason got started. Sara led her through an open area with counters and stools and a refrigerator, past a tiny washroom and down the stairs to a small room decorated in calming cream and blue, complete with a low sofa, a chair, a large coffee table and a small TV and dvd player. It was the perfect place for a little downtime for both staff and clients.
"Can I watch a movie, Aunt Molly?"
"Sure, pumpkin." Molly opened a small cabinet and perused a selection of kid's movies. She picked an old Disney favorite. "You okay here by yourself for a while?"
Sara nodded. "I play here when Uncle Jason's working. He has juice boxes."
Molly kissed Sara's head and smiled. Sometimes she could be so self-sufficient. It continually amazed Molly. "I'll check on you later, okay?" But Sara already had her eyes glued to the screen.
Jason was in an exam room when Molly came back to the work area. He was bent over a limp brown and muddy dog, whose claws scratched on the stainless steel table with every disoriented movement. "Grab a coat off the wall and a set of gloves," he commanded, and silently Molly slipped into a white coat, buttoned it up and pulled her hands into stretchy latex gloves.
"Hold, right here," he said, and she gripped the dog's leg as she was told, staring at the spot that he'd already shaved clean of hair.
Molly watched with fascination as the vein popped up beneath the v-shape of her hand and Jason inserted the needle, hooking in an IV.
He rubbed the dog's head affectionately and Molly got a glimpse into Jason's dedication and compassion. He'd been right to make this his profession. He wasn't just competent, he was caring. Far more understanding than he could show to people sometimes.
"There you go, Casper. That's a good boy." He ruffled the dog's ears lightly.
"What's next?"
He carried Casper to the x-ray room. Molly slipped the heavy iron apron he gave her over her clothes and helped position Casper on the table. The dog cried out as she moved his left hip. When Jason looked at the films, he showed her where the break in his leg was. He left momentarily to talk to the owners, explaining Casper's injuries and his course of treatment. Molly stayed in the exam room, patting Casper's head. She had a look around, impressed. Jason had been out of school for only a few years, but it was obvious he'd worked very hard at setting up his own clinic. It was clean, orderly, complete with state of the art equipment and yet with a comfortable, homey touch for his client's owner's.
He came back with the young couple behind him, their faces lined with worry. "He's a bit out of it," Jason explained, but smiled reassuringly. "But that's because we've made him a little more comfortable. He's going to be just fine. I promise."
They patted Casper and whispered endearing words to him as he lay quietly, groggy with pain medication, his tongue hanging limply out of his mouth.
"We'll set the bone and stitch up his lacerations," Jason explained warmly. "Why don't you call back on Monday, to check on his progress. We'll settle your bill when he's ready to go home."
They nodded, and the woman bent to kiss Casper's brown head. "Thank you, Dr. Elliot." She smiled at Molly who smiled back. "And thank you for coming in on a Saturday."
"It was no problem," he answered back, but his gaze cut to hers and she remembered very distinctly what the beeper message had interrupted.
"Molly will show you out," he suggested, asking her with his eyes if she'd mind. Without a word, Molly led the couple to the doors. After they were gone, she locked the deadbolt behind her and made a quick check on Sara. The movie was still running and Sara had helped herself to a cheese and cracker snack, her head on a needle-pointed cushion and she'd covered herself with the throw from the back of the couch.
When she returned to the exam room, Jason was finishing setting the bone. Casper's mouth was open and his tongue lolled out. "Boy, he's out of it," Molly remarked. "Does he feel anything?"
Jason smiled a little at her concern. "Not much."
"What will you do with him tonight?"
Jason pulled over a tray. "He'll be fine here, and tomorrow morning Jan comes in to walk and feed the animals. She'll make sure he's fine, eating and peeing and such."
"Oh."
"He's lucky he's not hurt worse," Jason continued. "This is nearly done. How's Sara?"
Molly took the clear plastic bottle he offered and irrigated the wound he indicated. She found gauze on the tray and dabbed it a bit while Jason prepared to suture the laceration.
"She's fine. She got a snack and covered herself up."
"She's a good kid."
"Mmm. Except when she takes off without asking."
Jason chuckled. "Yeah. Except then." Carefully he began stitching, and Molly marveled at his perfect sutures. His hands moved smoothly, almost poetic in their grace. Molly glanced up and saw the concentration on his features.
Oh dear.
She was getting hooked on him all over again, and that was too dangerous.
The whole afternoon they'd worked together in harmony. Molly had felt none of the resentment she had expected, nor the nausea. Instead, she'd followed his lead, and learned a lot without the strained atmosphere that seemed to surround them elsewhere. When Jason was here, doing his job, he was uncomplicated. Efficient and kind and competent, without ego. She looked down at his neat stitches, rinsing the wound again. Her coat had splatters of blood on it; she didn't care. She'd actually enjoyed this afternoon. There had been no arguments, only conversation. And enjoying Jason was simply not in the life plan. It became too easy to forget all the reasons why she'd left him in the first place.
"This is nice," he said quietly, mirroring her thoughts, and she stared at his hands making the stitches rather than look in his eyes, her stomach jumping.
"Yes, it is. I don't enjoy fighting with you."
"Sure you do." His fingers kept stitching evenly, but Molly knew if she looked up, he'd be wearing a half smile that popped his dimples.
"Well, maybe I do." She dabbed at the wound and smiled a little.
"You always did," he continued, his fingers squeaking slightly in the latex gloves. "We used to have some spectacular arguments. Remember the time we went camping at MountCarlton? You were determined to go for a swim in the lake after hiking. I told you that you'd be a mess of sticks and it wouldn't clean you up."
"I remember," she murmured, remembering all too well. They'd gone for the swim, she'd gone on and on about how refreshed she felt, and back in their tent, peeled off her suit to discover her entire body covered in little bits of sticks and grass. They'd collapsed laughing. He'd picked the sticks off her skin and made love to her in the day's waning light.
"I also remember us fighting over Elizabeth Lawrence." His voice held a note of teasing.
"Yeah, and it was me that was right that time. She was dead gone on you. You were so blind I thought I was going to have to hold her down and shave her head to get her to leave you alone."
"You would have, too."
"Damn right."
They laughed together, then it faded.
In those days, she would have fought for their love.
"Our arguments never lasted long, though."
His voice was strangely thick as he answered, "No."
Her hands paused—her first mistake—as the words make-up sex raced through her head. Quickly she grabbed the water bottle and applied it again. They had always made up, except for that one last time. And like that time camping, it usually involved both of them getting naked.
As Jason threaded his needle again, she knew instinctively he was remembering as vividly as she.
He cleared his throat. "We're almost done here. Why don't you round up Sara?"
"Are you sure?"
"I'm just going to make this guy comfortable," he said, rubbing the dog's ears. "I'll check on the rest of the crew in the back and we can go."
Molly was partway out the door when his voice stopped her. "Mol?"
She turned, finally meeting his gaze.
It was a mistake. The instant that their eyes met she knew he'd been remembering too.
"Thanks for your help today," he said quietly.
"You're welcome," she answered and spun from the room before she said something she'd regret.