“You couldn’t have.”
“Can I do something to help?”
Julia nodded. “Watch Alice for me, will you? I need to be alone for a while.”
Ellie nodded.
Julia tried not to make eye contact with Peanut or Cal. They stood near his desk, holding hands. Both of them were pale. Peanut’s bright pink cheeks were streaked with tears.
Julia walked down the steps and into the cold lavender night. At the sidewalk she turned left for no particular reason.
“Julia.”
She turned.
He stood in the shadow of the street, almost lost in the shade from a giant evergreen. “I bought the motorcycle when I worked near Watts. Sometimes a man needs to clear his head. Seventy-five miles an hour on a bike will do it.”
She should walk away, maybe even laugh, but she couldn’t do it. In all of Rain Valley, he was probably the only person who really understood how she felt right now. How she knew that, she couldn’t have said. It made no sense, but the notion stuck with her. “I think forty miles an hour would do it. I have a smaller head.”
Smiling, he handed her a helmet.
She put it on and climbed onto the bike behind him, circling him with her arms.
They drove down the cool, gray streets of town, past the pod of news vans and the parking lot full of school buses. Wind beat at her sleeves and tugged at her hair when they turned onto the highway. They drove and drove, through the night, along the narrow, bumpy highway. She clung to him.
When he turned off the highway and onto his gravel driveway, she didn’t care. In the back of her mind she’d known when she climbed onto this man’s motorcycle where they would end up. Tomorrow, she would question her judgment—or lack thereof—but for now it felt good to have her arms around him. It felt good not to be alone.
He parked the motorcycle in the garage.
Wordlessly, they went into the house. She took a seat on the sofa while Max brought her a glass of white wine, then built a fire in the imposing river-rock fireplace and turned on the stereo. The first song that came on was something soft and jazzy.
“You don’t need to go to all this trouble, Max. For God’s sake, don’t start lighting the candles.”
He sat down beside her. “And why is that?”
“I’m not going upstairs.”
“I don’t remember asking you to.”
She couldn’t help smiling at that. Leaning back in the soft cushions, she looked at him over the rim of her wineglass. In the firelight, he looked breathtakingly handsome. A thought flitted through her mind, seduced her. Why not? She could follow him upstairs, climb into his big bed, and let him make love to her. For a glorious while she could forget. Women did that kind of thing all the time.
“What are you thinking about?”
She was sure he could read her mind. A man like him knew every nuance of desire on a woman’s face. She felt her cheeks grow warm. “I was thinking about kissing you, actually.”
He leaned toward her. His breath smelled slightly of scotch. “And?”
“As my sister pointed out, I’m not your kind of woman.”
He drew back. “Believe me, Julia, your sister has no idea what kind of woman I want.”
She heard the edge in his voice and saw something in his eyes that surprised her. “I’ve been wrong about you,” she said, more to herself than to him.
“You certainly jumped to a lot of conclusions.”
She smiled at that. “Hazard of the trade. I tend to think I know people.”
“So you’re an expert on relationships, huh?”
She laughed ruefully. “Hardly.”
“Let me guess: you’re a one-man woman. A hearts and flowers romantic.”
“Now who’s jumping to conclusions?”
“Am I wrong?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know how romantic I am, but I only know one way to love.”
“How’s that?”
“All the way.”
A frown creased his forehead. “That’s dangerous.”
“Says the rock climber. When you climb, you risk your life. When I love, I risk my heart. All or nothing. I’m sure it sounds stupid to you.”
“It doesn’t sound stupid,” he said in a voice so soft it sent shivers down her spine. “You have that same passion for your work; I can tell.”
“Yes,” she said, surprised by the observation. “That’s why today was so hard.”
For a long moment they stared at each other. Max seemed to be looking for something in her eyes, or seeing something he didn’t understand. Finally he said, “When I worked in L.A., we used to get gang shootings almost every night. One bleeding, dying kid after another. The first few I stayed with long after my shift was over and then talked to their brothers and sisters, trying to make them understand how their lives would unfold if they didn’t change. By the end of the first year I quit giving them the speech and I quit standing by the bedsides all night. I couldn’t save them all.”