Still Waters

There was no life, no vitality in Tiffany’s voice, and as Jake stepped closer, he realized the soft glow of health he’d admired the day before had been replaced by a sickly grayish hue. Lines of pain played around her eyes and she stumbled a bit as she moved toward him.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Just a headache.”

Just a headache, but Tiffany’s hands were shaking as she brushed a stray curl from her cheek. Jake’s concern grew, and he grasped her arm, leading her to the truck. “You need to get out of the heat. Get in the truck. I’ll drive you home.”

“I need to go to church. I promised I’d help serve refreshments at the volleyball game.”

“You need to go home. You’re sick.”

“I can’t go home. I promised. And Brian’s waiting for me.”

“Like he waited for you at the diner?” The minute the words were out, Jake wished he could take them back. Tiffany’s already drooping shoulders sagged even more and she shrugged away from his grasp, moving toward the truck with shuffling steps.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Tiffany didn’t respond. Her silence said more than words.

Watching her, Jake noted the deep shadows beneath her eyes and the perspiration beading her forehead. Tension pulled at the corners of her mouth and beat harshly in the hollow of her throat where her pulse pounded furiously. There was nothing Jake could say to ease Tiffany’s pain; instead he gently moved her fumbling hands from the door handle and opened the truck door. “Hop in. I’ll take you to the church. Grace Baptist?” Jake waited for Tiffany’s nod of affirmation. “I was on my way there anyway.”

Tiffany didn’t look at Jake. She couldn’t. For the second time in as many days, he’d come to her rescue and Tiffany’s humiliation at needing his help almost outweighed the pain in her head. Even worse had been his words, they’d been like a knife twisting in an open wound. Not because they’d been spoken harshly, but because they were true.

Forcing herself to concentrate on the task at hand, Tiffany tried to slide into the raised cab of the truck. What had been easy while wearing shorts proved more difficult in the long, flowing sundress she wore. As she tried to lift herself into the cab the fabric of her dress caught under pain-clumsy feet and Tiffany pitched forward, banging her head against the door of the truck. Even before the pain could register, strong hands gripped Tiffany’s shoulders and held her steady while she regained her balance. Then, as she reached to untangle her feet from the dress, Tiffany was lifted into the truck.

Flustered, she tucked the skirt of her dress neatly around her legs and tried not to look at Jake. The last time a man attempted to lift her, Tiffany had been eleven years old exploring an abandoned cabin with her first crush. Poor Danny Wilson. He’d been outweighed by twenty pounds, but had still made a valiant effort to boost her into a second-story window. They’d both ended up in a heap on the ground.

Thank goodness Jake had proven stronger than Danny. Tiffany had suffered enough embarrassment in the past two days without adding an attempt to crush the sheriff to the list. Blinking rapidly, she forced back the tears that threatened to spill onto her cheeks, then leaned forward to press a hand against the pulsing pain behind her eyes.

“Ready?” Jake slid into the driver’s seat and Tiffany could feel his concerned gaze.

“Yes.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to go home?”

She wasn’t, but she nodded anyway.

“All right. Why don’t you rest your eyes until we get there?”

Tiffany did as Jake suggested, keeping her hand pressed against her eyes and leaning her head against the window. When the truck engine roared to life, she winced at the sound, bracing herself against the jolting movement of the truck on rough pavement.

Light, sound, motion—they were too bright, too loud, too fast.

A gentle hand reached out and brushed aside curls that had fallen against Tiffany’s cheek. “You’re not up to a volleyball game. Why don’t I drive to the church, run in and tell Brian you need him? He can give you a ride home.”

The idea of spending time with Brian didn’t appeal to Tiffany, but she didn’t have the energy to think of an alternative. “That’s fine.”

The truck slowed as Jake turned into the church parking lot. Even through the closed window, Tiffany could hear people milling about, chatting and laughing as they made their way from parked cars. Usually she would have been eager to join the fellowship and fun but now the sounds were like lightning bolts, shooting pain into her skull.

As if sensing her discomfort, Jake spoke quietly, “I’ll park in the overflow lot. It’s quieter there.”

The voices faded to a soft murmur, the bustle of the main parking lot replaced by the stillness of the side lot. A warm breeze carried the sweet scent of honeysuckle into the truck as Jake opened the door. “Sit tight. I’ll be back in a minute.”

When the door closed with a gentle click, Tiffany unbuckled her seat belt and drew her knees up to her chest. Imagining Brian’s face when Jake asked for his help did little to comfort her. Tiffany had been dating Brian for almost a year, had imagined herself married with a house full of children, had even convinced herself that God wanted Brian to be her husband. Only now did she realize that in all her daydreams she had never pictured Brian in the Victorian monstrosity she owned. Nor could she see him with a crowd of boisterous children.

Her friends, her family, even the kids in the Sunday school class she taught thought Brian and Tiffany were a perfect match. Apparently the world was filled with fools. And Tiffany was the biggest one of all.

One tear escaped. Another joined it, sliding down Tiffany’s cheeks and dropping onto her dress. Would Brian come for her? Did he care enough to leave the game and take her home?

Tiffany wanted to believe he would. Wanted to believe that what she’d dreamed of and longed for was more than just a fantasy. Somehow though, she doubted it.

Chapter Five

Jake hurried toward the church, the sound of laughter and good-spirited competition drawing him around the corner of the building. A volleyball net had been set up and teams of teens were going after the ball with more enthusiasm than skill. It didn’t take long to locate the doctor. Everyone seemed to know him, and all were eager to point Jake in the right direction. Seated on a plastic lawn chair, his short, blond hair combed neatly to the side, Brian McMath held himself erect, surveying the net and players with a look of amused tolerance that set Jake’s teeth on edge. Even from a distance, Jake could see the fastidious crease in the doctor’s khaki pants and the neat, even column of numbers he’d written on the white board he held in his hand.

The doctor’s finicky appearance and staid expression were a direct foil to Tiffany’s vibrancy and spirit. How the two had ended up together was a mystery. Not that it was any of Jake’s business. He just hoped the good doctor didn’t try to fit Tiffany into a mold of his making. Jake had grown up watching a vibrant woman beaten down. He’d hate to see it happen to Tiffany.

“Dr. McMath?”

“Yes?” McMath looked up, his eyes wary.

“I’m Sheriff Jake Reed,” Jake offered his hand as Brian put down the white board and stood to face him.

“Sheriff Reed,” Brian’s handshake was firm, his expression curious, “Nice to meet you.”

“Thanks. Sorry to interrupt your scorekeeping but I gave Tiffany Anderson a lift from Old Farm Road. Her car ran out of gas on the way here.”

“Really? I wonder what she was doing traveling on that back road. I’ve told her a hundred times not to take that route.”

“I guess she didn’t listen.”

“Yeah, well, that’s pretty typical of Tiffany.”

Jake didn’t like Brian’s tone, or his words. “She’s an adult. I guess she’s capable of deciding what road to drive on.”

“If she were capable of that, she wouldn’t have needed a ride here. Where is she, anyway?”

Jake had to bite down on the urge to shove his fist into the doctor’s face. He’d met plenty of men like Brian McMath, and he hadn’t liked any of them. “She’s got a headache so she’s waiting in my truck.”

“A migraine?”

“She didn’t say, but it looks like she’s in a lot of pain.”

“She must have been out in the heat too long.” The crowd cheered and Brian’s gaze drifted from Jake to the game. Picking up the white board, he made a quick notation before turning his attention back to Jake. “I guess this means she won’t be helping with the refreshments.”

Jake’s jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists. “I guess not.”

“Well, thanks for letting me know. I’ll ask one of the girls to fill in.” Brian turned back to the game. “Tell Tiffany I hope she feels better.”