Page 26 of Jacob

“Through here,” Jacob said, with a hand to her back. They turned right and walked through an enormous living room, an enormous study and an enormous kitchen-dining area. There were two doors in a large corridor.

Jacob hooked a thumb to the right. “That’s my quarters.” To the left. “This is the guest bedroom suite.” And opened the left-hand door.

Unsurprisingly, it was huge, sparsely furnished with a big bed, a desk and chair, a couple of acres of hardwood flooring, and way on the other side, another door. Probably the bathroom.

“Guest bedroom suite.” Alex looked up at that dark, unsmiling face. “You have guests often?”

A wintry smile. “Never. You’re the first.” He indicated the desk, which had a laptop on it. “Catherine’s email is on a sheet of paper next to the laptop. Go wild with ordering. Send your orders to her and she’ll expedite everything. Include cold weather clothes. The bathroom has… stuff.”

“I’m assuming stuff includes soap and shampoo?”

He nodded. Clearly, he’d just used his quota of words for the hour.

Alex put her hand on the door. “Okay. I’ll see you in a little while.”

Jacob just stood there, looking down at her, until finally he nodded, turned on his heel and left.

Alex let out a breath. He was such an overwhelming presence. When he left it was like someone switched off a power source that held her in thrall. But, crazily, when he left, she also felt alone and just a little scared.

This was nuts. Alex had been on her own for a long, long time. She was used to it, liked her own company. But she stood still for a while, getting used to the feeling of Jacob not distorting reality with his strong force field. It was as if color leached from the world when he walked away.

She shook herself. There were things to do, and not much time to do them. She eyed the bed longingly. What she wouldn’t give to be able to just lie down for an hour? But she was sleep-deprived. If she lay down, she’d drop into a deep sleep. She’d barely slept for three nights, she’d flown across the country, and the bed called to her. She placed a hand on the mattress and groaned inwardly. Just as she thought. It was a perfect mattress, with a perfect dark blue comforter. Doubtless made of perfect Danish goose down. If she rested on that bed, she’d go out like a light.

With a sigh, she wrenched her gaze from the huge bed and went to the desk to order clothes. Luckily, she had a couple of go-to sites and knew exactly what to order. The main company specialized in high end sportswear made of natural fibers. Alex ordered elegant track suits in light and dark gray, light and dark blue, green, beige and black. A week’s worth and wearing the outfits for two days stretched it to two weeks. Lightweight silk undershirts if it turned cold, as Jacob said it might. Several thick cashmere sweaters. Underwear for two weeks, seven pairs of socks, three pairs of soft boots that she knew were comfortable, two pairs of sneakers. One leather, one canvas. At another site she was familiar with, she bought five sets of pajamas, two pairs of slippers and a knee-length down coat.

On the off chance that an official meeting might occur, she also bought a stylish wool pantsuit with a cream silk blouse.

Lastly, at a well-known drugstore site, she bought a good cleansing cream, day cream, night cream, foundation, eyeliner, lipstick, mascara, a toothbrush and toothpaste.

A Samsonite roll-on.

There. It had taken her fifteen minutes and she knew she could live for a while with what she had bought.

She used the credit card Jake—Jacob!—had given her. The Jake she’d known hadn’t had a dime to his name. Her parents, bless them, used to tuck some cash in his backpack—which he’d rescued from the dump—at Christmas and his birthday. But this Jake, Jacob, could certainly afford a couple of weeks’ worth of clothes for her. It was a rounding error for him.

She wiped that thought from her mind. Though she’d wanted to make a point of being able to pay her own way, it made sense that orders from a Black Inc. credit card would arrive faster. And she had other things to worry about. Like a possible threat that could wipe out civilization. Next to that, a tussle over who paid for what seemed pointless.

All the sites said to expect deliveries within the hour. But the first packages arrived almost immediately. The power of money.

The bathroom—she wasn’t surprised to see—was incredibly sumptuous without being ostentatious. Just acres of space, marble flooring and walls. A shower bigger than her first kitchen, with a billion spouts. She didn’t need them all. The overhead rain-forest spout was enough.

She put her head back and breathed in the steamy air. The water was lavender scented.

Of course it was.

She stood under the hot, scented stream for a long time, palms against the sandstone tiles. She needed this, this moment out of time. It felt like she’d been worried forever, couldn’t even remember a time when she wasn’t scared out of her mind, thoughts racing like lemmings to a dark edge.

And then—Jake! Jacob. The boy who’d filled her heart with sorrow and regret suddenly reappearing as a man before her. And what a man. She’d run through the scenarios over and over in her head these past years, and to her shame, in almost all of them, Jake was beaten down by life. How could she think otherwise?

He wasn’t thriving in school and had been held back twice. Already, there was hardly any college in the country that would accept him. Maybe some vocational schools. And everyone knew it was hard, almost impossible, to rise without some form of college education. He’d left Bend without even graduating high school.

He had a temper. She’d seen it on occasion, though never ever directed at her or her folks. If her mom and dad had seen him when he fought a bully, they’d probably have prohibited her from seeing him, he was that adept at violence. He turned cold and efficiently used his strength.

So, a man who hadn’t even graduated high school, without a dime to his name, with a temper… how would that man fare in life?

Not well. Or so she’d thought. She’d been so sad thinking of him. Imagining him down on his luck somewhere. Maybe sick. Maybe homeless. Maybe dead.

She was wrong, of course.

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