Mr. Imperfect(40)

Back in his bedroom Christian dressed quickly in jeans and an Italian  shirt, his spirits rising. Their lovemaking had removed any lingering  doubts he had that Kezia had stopped loving him. She was scared to  trust-hell, so was he-but if he held fast to his promises she'd see that  he meant to stand by her. And the idea of hiding the rat was inspired.  As he opened the old wardrobe he allowed himself a self-congratulatory  grin.

The shoebox was light. Too light. Christian saw the reason-a ragged hole  chewed in one side of the cardboard. "Sonavabitch, don't do this to  me." He opened the box anyway, saw food pellets, the lid of water, a few  droppings. No Roland.

The dirty rat had escaped.



HANDS-DOZENS OF HANDS-grasping and letting go. Marion falling, hitting  each step with a dull thud. John Jason, mouth open in terror, keening  beside his dead mother. Kezia woke with a shout, her heart pounding. His  scream had been so real. Sweat saturated her nightdress and she kicked  off the covers. Another nightmare, that's all, she told herself. Calm  down.

A hair-raising wail pierced the dark.

Heart rocketing into overdrive, Kezia leaped out of bed and grabbed for  the lock on her bedroom door. As her fingers closed over the metal, the  wail came again and she dropped the key. Swearing, she fell to her knees  and scrabbled around until she found it, jammed it back in the lock and  jerked the door open.

At the end of the hall a sliver of light escaped under the door of John  Jason's room. She heard the murmur of voices-one young and querulous,  the other deep and soothing-and her panic subsided. Christian was there.

She pushed open the door and he raised his head, sent her a reassuring  glance. He was sitting on the bed in a pair of jeans and the rotating  night-light dropped stars across his bare torso. John Jason lay cradled  in his arms, his face buried in Christian's chest. Every now and then  the little boy gave a deep shuddering gasp and tightened his hold on one  bicep.

"He's okay now," Christian said quietly, and John Jason lifted his tear-stained face.

Seeing Kezia, his eyes brimmed with tears again. "Don't let her lock me away," he sobbed, and clung tighter to Christian.

Kezia stumbled back. "I'll leave," she managed.

"No." Christian patted the bed, his eyes a compelling silver in the lamplight. "Come over here. Let's sort this out."

Torn, Kezia took a perch, then tentatively reached out a hand to stroke  the crying child's sturdy back, warm through his thin cotton pajamas.  John Jason squirmed away.

"I hated taking you away from your mummy," she began, and the stars  playing across their bodies made it easier to speak. "Can you remember I  cried, too, when I did it? But you were so upset and I was scared you  might try to touch her."                       
       
           



       

John Jason's sobs abated. He was trying to listen and Kezia took that as  encouragement. "When someone hurts their back, you're not supposed to  touch or move them. Only the ambulance people are allowed to do that. I  had to look after her first, honey, but I'm so sorry it's given you bad  dreams."

"Kezia has bad dreams about it, too," said Christian, and Kezia stared  at him. "I hear you. I'd come and wake you," he added dryly, "but for  some reason you lock your door."

John Jason lifted a cautious face. "What happens in your dream?"

"I try to stop your mummy from falling," she said carefully. "But I  never do." She sensed Christian watching her intently. "What happens in  yours?"

"She won't wake up."

Kezia risked another caress. This time the child let her push back his damp fringe. "She's not going to die, honey. I promise."

"That makes two promises," he reminded her. "Have you found Roland yet?"

She and Christian exchanged pained looks. "Not yet." She did have an  idea though, which meant sinking even lower than she had done already.  But desperate times …

"When you do," John Jason murmured, settling into Christian's warmth with a drowsy sigh, "we can be friends again."

The remnant of a last shuddering sob shook his small frame and Kezia  couldn't help herself. She bent and kissed him. "I love you, JJ."

"Hmm." He clutched her hand and fell asleep. Kezia sat up and her gaze collided with Christian's, mere inches away.

"That dream of yours," he said. "What didn't you say?"

"Nothing." She started to move away, but John Jason's hand tightened reflexively on hers.

"Secrets can be destructive."

"You should know." Kezia loosened John Jason's hold and stood.

Christian looked down at the sleeping child in his arms. "After my  mother died, the only time my father held me was to stop me running away  while he beat me." Abruptly, Kezia sat again. Slowly his gaze came up  to hers. "He blamed me for my mother's death."

Kezia's stomach knotted in fury. "She died of cancer. How could you possibly be responsible?"

"She wanted to live." Christian's irises were steel-bright. "From the  time she was diagnosed with cancer she fought to stay alive. Every hour,  every minute, was precious to her and I stole that time from all of  us."

"Did she know you were sick?"

Christian looked at her blankly for a moment. "Yes, she gave me one of her tonics."

Kezia struggled for the right tone. "The time she was fighting for was  to spend with you-her child," she said with calm conviction. "If she'd  waited for you to get better she would have lost a week or more with  you. She didn't know if she had that to spare, so of course she chose to  see you." When he shook his head, she insisted, "Any mother would." She  hesitated. "I visit her grave sometimes."

Christian's expression darkened. "Who the hell gave you permission?"

She ignored the smoke screen of righteous anger. "I planted flowers last  time. Purple pansies. Bernice May said they were her favorite."

Under the anger, she could see how much he wanted to believe her.

John Jason stirred in his arms. "Jump through the hoop," he commanded.

Kezia watched Christian tuck the child back into bed. It would be a  tragedy if he never let himself experience fatherhood because of Paul  Kelly.

"Let's get back to what you're not telling me," he suggested in a tone that said his subject was closed.

"Nothing," she said huskily, and headed for the door.

"I didn't tell you about my mother for pity." Kezia stopped. "I told you because one of us has to start trusting the other."

The temptation to lean on him was sudden and strong and frightening. For  five long seconds Kezia wavered. Then she thought about how many  troubles he'd already borne in his life and knew she couldn't burden him  with hers. "Good night."





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN




BREAKFAST WAS A minefield of things left unsaid, camouflaged in  civility. Exhausted from a restless night, Kezia toyed with her food and  noticed Christian did, too. Beside her, Batman wolfed down his  cornflakes, keen to start the next search-and-rescue mission.

"My business partners are arriving after dinner." Christian pushed his  plate away. "Some proposal that needs discussing. I suggested they stay  the night."                       
       
           



       

"All the bedrooms are finished, that shouldn't be a problem." In a mild  tone she added, "It'll be good to have some feedback before we start  taking paying guests." In truth she couldn't care less about the hotel  since the accident, though she feigned an interest for her staff.

The bar was next in line for renovation but improvements would happen  outside drinking hours to avoid a wholesale riot. As it was, Bob Harvey  still hadn't forgiven Christian for its temporary closure.

Peach bustled in with coffee and noticed their untouched plates. "What  sort of example are you setting the boy?" she scolded-then looked at  their faces. "Come with Peach, darling," she said, and took John Jason  away with her.

Watching him skip off, Kezia's heart sank. The odds of finding Roland were getting less by every hour.

"Well-" Christian got to his feet "-off on another fruitless day of trying to prove I'm good enough for you."

"It's not about that and you know it," she said sharply. "I'm not saying  yes to a proposal motivated by guilt." Because when that wears off,  you'll leave.

"If guilt's clouding anybody's logic, it's yours." His expression of  exasperation softened as he looked at her. "Sure you haven't got  anything you want to tell me?"

Her throat suddenly tight, Kezia shook her head. "No, but … thanks. I am grateful."