Almost Like Love(69)

“Of course,” she said immediately. She’d never heard Ian sound like this before—scared, frantic, vulnerable. And when she thought about Jacob, wandering alone through the city, she was scared, too.

She threw on some clothes and went downstairs to wait. She was out on the sidewalk when Ian pulled up in his own car—a dark green Jaguar. She pulled open the passenger door and slid in beside him.

He’d changed out of his work clothes into jeans and a tee shirt. Every muscle in his body was tense, and his hands gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.

“Thank you” was all he said as he started to pull away from the curb.

“Wait,” she said, putting a hand on one of his. “Do you know where you’re going, or are you just driving around?”

“Just driving around,” he said, his voice miserable.

“Then let’s talk about this for a minute. Did something happen? Can you think of a reason Jacob would run away?”

Ian rubbed his face with his hands. “He was pretty mad at me about . . . about what happened with you. But I thought he’d forgiven me for that. He knows I apologized to you, and . . . he seemed okay last night and this morning.” His voice turned bitter. “Not that I’m the best judge.”

“That’s probably not it, then. Is there anything else? A problem at school, something he wanted to avoid?”

A sudden spasm of pain twisted his face. “There is one thing. But I don’t see why Jacob would run away because of it.”

“What is it?”

“His mother died a year ago. A year ago tomorrow.”

Her heart clenched in her chest. “Oh, Ian.” Then, suddenly, she remembered something. “Wait a minute. Did you read Jacob’s story? The comic book he wrote?”

Ian nodded.

“Do you remember the character of the teenage boy? Simon?”

“Yeah.”

“Simon lost both his parents in a car accident. Do you remember what he did before he went to the magician to get his power?”

Ian stared at her, his eyes widening. “He went to visit his parents’ graves.”

“Right.”

“Oh my God.” Ian took his hands from the steering wheel to cover his face. After a moment he dropped them and took a deep breath.

“Tina is buried in a cemetery in White Plains. And it’s not far from the train station. If he left from Grand Central, the trip would only take forty-five minutes.”

This time when he put the car into gear, she didn’t stop him.

They drove in silence for half an hour. Ian navigated the route with the intense focus of a race-car driver, and all Kate could do was grab the handle above the passenger door and hold on.

Once they got off the Cross-Westchester Expressway they slowed down a little, and it wasn’t long before they arrived at a sprawling cemetery.

Ian parked on the street, and he and Kate went through the iron gate and started to walk along the main path. Ian didn’t say anything. He moved fast, and Kate concentrated on keeping up.

The tension that rolled off him in waves was a sharp contrast with their surroundings. Everything was lush and green and peaceful. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves on the trees, and the path they walked on was a mosaic of sun and shadow.

After about five minutes, Ian stopped and Kate followed the direction of his gaze.

Jacob was twenty yards away, sitting on the grass in front of a marble gravestone. His back was to them. His arms were wrapped around his shins and his head was on his knees, and he looked small, forlorn, and very young.

Kate turned to look at Ian, and she was shocked to see that his face was wet with tears.

“He’s okay,” he said brokenly.

Kate put an arm around his waist and gave him a quick, hard hug. “I’ll wait for you back at the car.”

He jerked his head around to look at her. “You’re not coming with me?”

She shook her head. “The two of you need a chance to talk things over.”

His mouth twisted. “So I can make everything better?”

“Ian—”

He cut her off. “There’s not a relationship in my life I haven’t screwed up. You know that as well as anyone. I’m starting to think . . .” He paused. “Jacob’s grandparents offered to take him in after Tina died. But she named me guardian in her will, and I wanted . . . I was determined to justify her trust. Now I wish I’d taken them up on their offer.” He paused again. “But it’s not too late. It’s obvious I’m not a fit guardian. It’s time I turn the job over to someone who is.”

“Ian, look at me.”

He did. His eyes were tormented and his jaw was tight, and every line in his face told the story of the pain he was feeling.