drew in a breath. “My father worked in mining, after he and my mother married,” he began. “It was hard work. Not what he’d planned for himself. He wanted to own a ranch. He thought if he worked hard and saved his money, he’d be able to buy land, build a house, start a herd of cattle. But it didn’t happen.” His eyes stared straight ahead as the windshield wipers slid rhythmically over the windshield, wiping away flurries of snow. “He was trapped. Mom got pregnant with me, and suddenly there were doctor bills and all the debt that comes with a baby. There was nothing left over every week. Mom couldn’t work, because there was nobody who could take care of me, and they couldn’t afford help.”
“There are government agencies,” she began.
He laughed shortly. “My father was a proud man,” he returned. “He refused to even speak of it. He tried to get my mother to contact her people and ask for a loan. She wouldn’t do it.” He glanced at her. “They disowned her when she married my father. They had deep prejudices.”
What he’d said, about the differences between his parents, suddenly made sense. “That was sad.”
“Prejudice doesn’t have a home,” he said simply. “So they soldiered on. Mom said he started drinking soon after I was born. Dreams die hard. He couldn’t bear the loss of his.” His big hand gripped the steering wheel hard. His free hand found hers and linked her fingers with his. It helped the pain. “She wanted to go to a meeting at the local school that I attended, for parents. I was ten and I was watching a movie on television. I didn’t want to go. She said I could stay home, it didn’t matter. My father complained because he didn’t want to go, but she pleaded. She got in the car with him. He’d been drinking all day.”
She tightened her fingers in his.
“He took a curve too fast and went off into the river. She drowned while he swam to shore.”
“Oh, gosh,” she ground out.
“I didn’t know until the local police came to the door. My father ran for his life. He’d have gone to jail without a doubt, under the circumstances. My mother was dead. Something inside me died with her. I haven’t seen my father or spoken to him since,” he added curtly. “I was placed in state custody until I was adopted by a kind older couple who didn’t have any kids of their own. They were well-to-do. I was spoiled. But it didn’t quite make up for what I’d lost. And I didn’t live with them long, just until the fire that took their lives.”
“What about your mother’s people?” she wondered.
“Dead,” he said icily. “I wouldn’t have known, but I turned out to be the only legal heir they had. I inherited their estate.” Which amounted to a few million dollars, but he didn’t say so.
“I’m really sorry,” she said softly. “I can only imagine how hard that would have been for you. But at least you had somebody who loved you, J.C. A lot of people don’t even have that.”
“I know.”
Her fingers tightened on his. “You’re still living in the past,” she said, her voice tender. “You can’t do that. Life doesn’t have a reset button.”
He laughed shortly. “Tell me about it.” He took a breath. “I lived in the Yukon Territory in Canada, but I was born in Montana. My folks were visiting a cousin who lived near Billings when Mom went into labor. So I have dual citizenship. When I was old enough, I joined the American Army,” he added, skipping over much that had happened to him in between. “I served overseas, in Special Forces, which is where I met Ren and your brother.”
“Were you in the Army a long time?” she asked.
“Somewhat.”
So there were still secrets. He didn’t trust her enough to tell her. But he’d told her things she was certain he hadn’t shared with any other woman. It was flattering.
“Then there was her,” he added coldly, and his fingers became bruising.
“Her?”
“Cecelia,” he said through his teeth. “I was just out of basic training. I’d never been to a town larger than Whitehorse, up in the Yukon. Just a few thousand people, an isolated community,” he added. “I wound up in New Jersey on liberty. I didn’t smoke or drink, so I always had pocket money, even before I inherited my grandparents’ estate. Cecelia knew one of the boys in my unit, and he said I was loaded. So she came looking for me.”
“Oh, dear,” she said, because she could guess where this was going.
“I didn’t know that, of course. I thought it was an accidental meeting, when one of my friends in basic introduced me to her. I didn’t know she’d arranged it.” He stared straight ahead. “She was beautiful. The most beautiful human creature I’d ever seen. She was poised, sophisticated, talented.” He grimaced. “I thought she was perfect. I fell head over heels in love the first night. She could turn me inside out. She was like a drug, an addiction. I’d never known so much pleasure.”
She was jealous, but she didn’t let on. She just listened.
He was lost in the past, drowning in misery. “We went around together for weeks. I took her to the opera, the theater, to symphony concerts. Even to a rock concert. I bought her designer clothing and diamonds. She really seemed to love me. I certainly loved her.”
His fingers were hurting, but she didn’t move, didn’t speak.
“It was her birthday. I’d bought her a sapphire necklace she’d admired at a high-end jewelry store and I went to her apartment to give it to her. The door was open. She was talking to a male friend who was with her. She was talking about me, about how stupid and gullible I was, about how she’d scammed me into buying her all sorts of expensive presents. She thought it was hilarious. I didn’t even have enough sophistication to realize that she was a call girl, that she sold her body for money.”
“What a miserable human being,” she said quietly.
He laughed. It had a hollow sound. “She was right. I was naive. But I grew up very suddenly. I opened the door and walked in. She was wearing a negligee, almost transparent, and her companion had on nothing except his underwear. I’ll never forget the look on her face when she saw me and realized what I’d overheard. I didn’t say a word. I turned around and walked out.”
“Did she try to call you?” she wondered.
“She asked one of my friends to tell me she was sorry and that she’d like to start over. I told him where she could go, and how fast. I never saw her again.”
“I really do live a sheltered life,” she remarked after a minute. “I didn’t know there were people like that in the world. I don’t really understand greed. I’ve never felt it.”
“I noticed that about you.”
She smiled. “I like simple things. Flower gardens. Kittens. Just walking in the woods. Stuff like that. I’ve never liked diamonds or fancy jewelry, or fancy clothes. It’s not me.”
He loosened the tight grip of his fingers. They became caressing. “You’re nothing like her.”
“Thanks.” She hesitated. “I think.”
He
