right, though, in one sense,” Kim said, looking down and then back up. “I probably would have done just like he said and gone home and forgiven him.”
Wishing she could take the young woman into her arms and make her world all better, Jane quietly asked, “And do you regret not doing that?”
“No!” The strength with which Kim’s head shot up couldn’t be ignored. “My gosh, Jane, I thank God every single night for you. If not for you, I’d have gone home again and again until he killed me. And maybe Jason, too.”
“And now, if he comes within five hundred feet of you, he goes to jail,” Jane said. “You keep your cell phone with you at all times, and you call the police if you so much as fear that he’s close, right?”
“Right. I thank God for that phone and the protection order, too. Between those and you and Brad, I actually have hope of a life again. But I’m worried sick about you.”
“Don’t be,” Jane assured her. “People like Shawn are cowards. They pick on those who they think won’t hit back. And besides, we know how to keep ourselves safe and what to do if danger approaches. We don’t have to live our lives in fear.”
Jane had had all the self-defense classes right along with the victims at Durango. For cases just like this one. She might not be married to an abusive man, but she helped women who were.
Kim seemed bemused as she peered up at Jane. “You really aren’t scared, are you?”
“No.” Not of Shawn Maplewood at any rate.
“How do you do it?” Kim’s voice was filled with longing. “How have you recovered so completely?”
“Recovered?” Jane asked, unsure what Kim was referring to.
“From your own abuse.”
“What abuse?”
“Well…” Kim frowned. “I mean, I just…the girls and I assumed that since you were here, at Durango, you were, you know, a recovered victim….”
“No, I’m not,” Jane said, and then, something about the other woman’s expression drove her to continue, to talk about the period in her life that she’d kept private for more than five years. Until Saturday.
“I thought I was once,” she said. The admission was no easier the second time around and she wished she’d kept quiet two days before.
About so many things.
“I was married,” she explained anyway. “My ex-husband used to be on me all the time, telling me what a disappointment I was, that kind of thing. I always seemed to be screwing up around him.”
“Did you believe him?”
“Yes. Enough that I wanted to see a counselor. I wish now that I had.” Jane smiled, but without humor.
No humor in her at all these days. She’d had sex with Brad Manchester. She just couldn’t believe it. And couldn’t forgive herself, either.
She should have known better. She’d just screwed up a friendship that she really needed. But Kim didn’t need to hear about that.
“Instead I just tried harder to make it work,” Jane continued.
“You aren’t married now,” Kim said, her blue-eyed gaze serious. “What happened?”
“I caught James with another woman. I got out.”
“Well, I’m glad you did. And that you’re here,” Kim said.
“Me, too.” Jane smiled and reached for the hanger Kim had been switching from one hand to the other. “How about if I take that in for you?”
Kim gratefully released it. “Would you? Thanks. A double latte and a walk in the park before work just might be in order.”
Wishing the young woman well, Jane turned to put her key in the lock.
“Jane?”
Kim’s voice stopped her and she looked back.
“Yeah?”
“I owe you everything for saving my life. I’m worried about Shawn. Be careful. Okay?”
The tears that threatened prevented Jane from replying. She nodded instead.
“And for the record? I think that James guy should rot in hell for what he did to you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
HE SHOULD HAVE CALLED JANE. On Sunday, Brad had taken an impromptu forty-mile bike ride instead. If the bike path had been expanded to its proposed seventy-mile length, he’d probably have gone the distance.
He could do that on a bike, no problem.
Going the distance in his personal life was another issue.
Brad had been around enough to know that some people just didn’t have what it took to commit to a monogamous relationship. He wasn’t convinced he was one of them, but it wasn’t impossible.
He’d already broken one woman’s heart. He was not about to risk doing it again.
And he didn’t have sex with women except casually. For mutual recreational pleasure.
Now there was Jane.
It took Brad five minutes to drive from his home to the offices of Border, Manchester and Willow. Monday morning, while on that drive, Brad finally phoned his friend.
She didn’t pick up.
He didn’t blame her. They’d barely spoken on their hike down the hill on Saturday, other than to assure each other that what had happened would be forgotten. And he’d spent the two-hour trip back to town on the phone.
“Jane, hi, it’s Brad.” Great. He’d stopped identifying himself after a month of hanging out with her. “I was just calling to check on the time for Thursday’s flight. Call me.” He ad-libbed about as well as he’d greeted her.
He’d written down the time of her flight when he’d dropped her off Saturday evening. She was flying to Ohio to meet with Sheila Grant and he’d insisted on taking her to the airport.
He always took her to the airport. And picked her up, too.
Maybe by Thursday he would have forgotten Jane’s long, sexy legs wrapped around his waist—her body grabbing hold of him, welcoming him inside. Maybe.
If Thursday took a hundred years to get here.
JANE CALLED HIM BACK just as he was getting out of court. Brad’s first instinct was to let the call go to voice mail. Communicating through technology devices was probably just what the doctor would order were they to go see someone about the mess they’d gotten themselves into.
He seemed to be all about stupid choices this week.
