The woman obviously read body language very well. Nick saw no sense in trying to explain, so he simply shrugged and said, “Thanks for bringing up my bags.”
She turned to go. “Nick?” she said over her shoulder.
He shook the sheet out. Holding it in midair, he waited for her to continue.
“Brittany says good night.”
His throat constricted and his eyes closed for a moment, the sheet falling to the bed. Crystal Galloway had a walk that could stop traffic, and probably had. She was unusual, to say the least. Instinct told him she would be a very loyal friend. He wasn’t surprised Brittany had chosen her. His wife had always had very good taste in friends. He couldn’t say the same for her taste in men.
“By the way,” Crystal added, “don’t be alarmed if you see a curtain flutter in the window across the street.”
Nick came to full attention. Crystal, however, didn’t appear to be the least bit concerned about being watched. Winking badly, she said, “Most of the old women in Jasper Gulch spend half the day on the phone and the other half spying on their neighbors. The eighty-one-year-old widow across the street is no exception. Mrs. Fergusson has a weak heart, so you’d better draw the shade. We wouldn’t want her to see more than she bargained for now, would we?”
His jaw dropped in mild amazement. “The old lady in the next room locks her door because she doesn’t trust me and the one across the street is a window peeper. It looks as if I’m going to have to be on my best behavior at every turn.”
Easing out the door an inch at a time, Crystal said, “Something tells me your best behavior could be very dangerous to a woman who isn’t immune. There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall. Don’t forget about your shade. Oh, and if it’ll make you feel any better to rattle Mertyl’s doorknob, be my guest.”
Nick stared at the closed door for a full five seconds after she’d gone. Picking up where he’d left off with the sheet, he had an uncustomary urge to grin.
“A watched pot never boils, Savannah,” Brittany whispered, turning on the tap at the kitchen sink.
Savannah held her position in the doorway where she had a clear view of the living room sofa. “I’m not watching a pot. I’m watching Daddy. He looks different when he’s sleeping.”
Brittany waited until the coffeepot was filled with water before allowing herself to turn around. Savannah always rose before the crack of dawn, and today was no exception. She was wearing her favorite flannel nightgown and the fluffy moose slippers that made her feet look huge. It was still dark outside, but the kitchen light stretched into the next room, falling across the sofa where Nick was sleeping.
Brittany supposed Savannah was right. Nick did look different while he was sleeping. He was lying on his back, his feet hanging over one end of the sofa, Mertyl’s cat sound asleep on his thighs. One of Nick’s hands rested on the floor, the other arm was flopped over his head. His eyes were closed, his chest moving up and down with his even breathing. He should have looked completely at ease, devoid of all worry and tension. Only Nick Colter could look intense even in repose.
In the early years of their marriage she’d loved to watch him sleep. In those days they’d had a one-bedroom apartment that did little to keep out the sounds of faulty mufflers and hissing brakes and honking horns on the street below. While Savannah slept in her crib in the corner, Brittany would memorize her new husband’s face. She used to smooth a fingertip over his brow, down the crease in one lean cheek and across the shallow cleft in his chin.
More often than not, he woke up. Finding her watching him, an entirely different intensity would enter his eyes.
She shook herself back to the present. Pouring the water into the coffee maker, she wondered when he’d crept down the stairs and crashed on her sofa. It must have been after she’d dropped off to sleep in the wee hours of the morning. Until then, she’d lain awake, thinking about the kiss he’d given her in the study and what had gone wrong in their marriage. She should have known by now that it was useless to try to pinpoint any one thing.
“When will he wake up?” Savannah asked.
“It’s hard to say Savannah-banana.”
The little girl giggled into her hand, a gesture she’d picked up from Haley Carson, one of the older girls she’d befriended at school. “That’s what Daddy calls me.”
When the coffee started dripping through the filter, Brittany set out a bowl, cup and spoon for Savannah’s breakfast. While Savannah ate, Brittany put the oatmeal on for Mertyl and made the juice. Savannah was a chatterbox, but this morning she chattered in whispers, so as not to wake her father. Brittany helped herself to a cup of coffee, answering in whispers of her own. Taking that first sip, she looked at her child over the rim. Savannah was happy. Crystal claimed the child glowed. Brittany knew she’d done the right thing by moving to Jasper Gulch, even though the realization always left her feeling sad for what might have been.
Today Savannah was a bubbly, happy little girl. But for a year and a half Brittany had been afraid that Savannah would never be happy again. Her child had always been a light sleeper. One night almost two years ago she’d awakened in the night and had run screaming into Brittany’s bed. Two burglars wearing ski masks had broken into their apartment. Nick had been on a stakeout, and for twenty terrifying minutes, Brittany hadn’t known whether she and Savannah would survive the night. The only thing that had kept her from falling to pieces had been fear for Savannah’s safety. The burglars finally left with eighty-three dollars in quarters Brittany had been saving, a radio and a ring that had belonged to her mother.
The marriage had been strained for a long time, but suddenly Savannah was afraid of her own shadow, and Nick blamed himself for not being there. As a cop, he’d always taken on the world’s troubles and had tried to protect Brittany and Savannah from all of it. Arguing was nothing new to them, but their arguments took on a new dimension. Accusations and recriminations were hurtled in anger and couldn’t be taken back. Savannah’s banshee screams became commonplace in the middle of the night. Nick had always been intense, but this was different. He looked at her with guilt, making her wonder if he’d ever really looked at her with love.
How many times had Brittany insisted that she could take care of herself? How many times had Nick shouted that she shouldn’t have to? They yelled about things that weren’t really the issue, and never once mentioned the one thing that was.
And then, one day while she’d been rocking Savannah back to sleep, she saw a magazine article about a little town in South Dakota that was steadily losing all its women to the lure of better job prospects in the cities. Brittany had scanned the portion of the article about men who were shy but willing, her eyes catching on a statement proclaiming that the biggest crimes in Jasper Gulch were gossip and jaywalking.
Such a place had sounded like heaven, and seemed like an answer to her prayers. She’d read the article over and over. A few days later she’d shown it to Nick. She would never forget the dull look in his eyes when she’d told him she wanted to take Savannah and go there. She’d expected him to rant and rave. She’d hoped he would beg her not to leave. Instead, he’d turned his back to her and sighed. To Brittany, it had sounded painfully like relief.
He’d uttered only one word. “When?”
Although she couldn’t answer, that was the moment she’d faced the fact that their marriage was finally over.
“Can I wake Daddy up?” Savannah asked, bringing Brittany back to the present.
Brittany looked into the shadows in the living room and slowly shook her head. “Let him sleep a little longer. If he hasn’t opened his eyes by the time you’re ready for church, you can wake him then.”
Nick didn’t know where he was. His neck was stiff, his back ached, and his legs were numb from the