She drove a little farther on the forest road before turning around. She had lost the courage to see Annie today. She only slowed a fraction coming down the hill, turning to her left briefly to look at the house. She drove back through town, then on impulse, turned onto Nevada Street and stopped in front of the Rock House Cafe. What she really wanted was a cold beer.

There were only a handful of people in there this time of day. Only one table was occupied, the rest of the patrons sat at the bar. She walked to a corner booth, feeling the eyes of the locals on her. She didn't recognize any of them, but it had been a long time. She wondered if the man Jack used to call Tree still owned the bar. She had her answer when a giant of a man stepped from the kitchen and walked towards her.

"What can I get you, miss?" he asked. His gray hair was cut close in a military fashion and the sleeves of his flannel shirt were rolled to his elbows. He had a white bar towel slung over one large forearm and a pen stuck behind his right ear. She thought he looked every bit the bartender.

"I'll have a draft beer, please," she said.

"Budweiser or Coors?"

"Budweiser will do."

"Coming right up." He ambled away, catching an order for another pitcher without even looking at the table behind him.

"Hey, Tree, did you hear about them catching that man that did in those two boys this summer?"

Jessie looked up at the table where the two men were sitting. Judging by their uniforms, they were two of the many locals who worked in the casinos in Reno.

"No, I hadn't heard," he said as he expertly topped off a cold mug, then proceeded to fill a pitcher with the same.

"I just saw Roger on the street. They arrested some guy in San Francisco who had their wallets. Ends up being some big drug thing, Roger said. Seems Senator Jackson's boys got mixed up with the wrong crowd."

"Folks will forget about that come election time, Ray." Tree put down a napkin and set her mug on top of it. "Here you go, miss."

"Thank you."

"Run a tab?"

"Oh, no. This will be all." She took out a crumbled five-dollar bill from her jeans pocket. "How much?"

"Buck fifty," he said. He smiled at her and she noticed that his eyes were nearly the same color as his hair.

"In that case, I will have another and keep the change."

"Sure thing, miss."

She took a long swallow of the cold beer. She rarely drank beer in New York. Wine was her favored drink. She wondered why she felt inclined to drink it here. Even in August, she had enjoyed a cold beer after her afternoon hikes. She sat there quietly, playing with her napkin. When her beer was finished, she motioned for Tree to bring her the other one.

Just then the door opened and Tree stopped on his way to her booth.

"McKenna," he greeted.

"Tree. Seen Roger?"

Jessie heard the too familiar voice and she sat back against the seat, her pulse pounding. The last place she wanted to run into Chris was the local beer joint.

"Nah. He never comes in before four-thirty. Ray said he seen him out front earlier." Tree brought her new mug and set it down on a fresh napkin. "Here you go, miss."

"McKenna, he was heading out to the campgrounds," one of the men called to her.

"Okay, thanks."

Jessie heard the door close and breathed a sigh of relief. She knew she would have to see Chris sooner or later, but she hoped that meeting could be held in private. After all, the last time Jessie had seen her, they had been on the ledge, Chris wanting to make love to her, and she wanting... well, some sort of punishment.


Chapter Twenty-seven

Two mornings later, Sunday, Jessie was jogging on her way to Elk Meadow when Chris's Jeep passed her. Jessie thought she was going to keep going, but at last she stopped, her arm hanging out the unzipped window.

Jessie's heart pounded in her ears and she knew it wasn't from running. She was nervous. She walked the last few feet to the Jeep.

"Hello, McKenna."

"Jessie. Or are you Jennifer again?"

Well, she deserved that.

"I'm Jessie to you," she said quietly.

"Mary Ruth said you were back but I wasn't sure I believed her." She arched an eyebrow at her. "What are you doing here this time?"

Ah, she deserved that, too.

"I want to see Annie," Jessie said. "Did you tell her I was here?"

Chris shook her head. "No. I want no part of it."

Jessie ran a hand through her short hair, wondering how she could possibly begin to apologize to Chris. She knew it couldn't be done in the middle of the road.

"Can we get together and talk? I need to apologize and to... explain," she said.

Chris's blue eyes were cool as they met hers.

"No. I don't think so, Jessie. Like you said, you warned me. It just took me awhile to catch on."

Chris gave a humorless smile. And she deserved that, too.

"I can explain," she said quietly.

"I'm sure you can. But I don't want to play."

With that, Chris drove off. Apparently, she had not forgotten or forgiven her.


Chris drove to die Rock House, her hands gripping the steering wheel hard. She thought she had forgotten the hurt and humiliation, but she hadn't. It had been two months and she had tried to put Jessie Stone, the Jessie Stone that she knew, from her mind. But here Jessie was, as if no time had passed at all. She could explain? Sure she could. But Chris was torn. Something had happened that night. The Jessie that she was getting to know was not the Jessie that she found on the ledge. And yes, she wanted an explanation. She deserved an explanation.

She parked beside Roger's old truck, debating whether to tell Roger that Jessie was back. The cafe was crowded for Sunday breakfast and she joined Roger and Ellen at a booth.

"Morning, McKenna," Roger said over the top of his newspaper.

"Hi." She pushed the newspaper down. "Don't be rude, Roger. I have to look at that newspaper every day of the week. Can't you make an exception on Sunday?"

"Can't a man read the Sunday sports page without you women complaining?" But he folded the paper and put it beside him.

"How do you put up with him?" Chris asked Ellen.

"He has his quirks, but he has his good points, too," Ellen said.

Donna brought over coffee for Chris and refilled Roger's and Ellen's cups. "Everyone want the usual?"

"I'll need extra hash browns," Roger said. "You know how McKenna steals mine."

Chris ignored him, knowing it was true. She sipped from her coffee, then decided to confide.

"Guess who I ran into this morning?"

Roger shrugged with eyebrows raised.

"Jessie Stone."

"You're joking. She's back?"

"Apparently. I didn't hang around to talk, but she says she's here to see Annie."

"You should go warn her, McKenna."

"Me? Why me? Why not you?"

"Because you're the only one who's talked to Jessie Stone, McKenna. Remember, you became friends with her," he said.

"Is that what I called it?" She still felt a stab whenever she thought of that night on the ledge. She was still pissed off, she knew, but to think that the desire and passion she had felt had not been returned, that it had only been staged, had hit her where it hurt most. Her ego. She wanted to tell herself that the sexual attraction she felt for Jessie was simply a crush on a damn picture, but she knew it wasn't. She had gotten to know her, as much as Jessie would allow, anyway. And she liked her. And that night on the mountain, when they had gone camping, when they had kissed and touched each other in the moonlight, that was not the same Jessie that had used her that night on the ledge. That's the Jessie she wanted to get to know. That's the Jessie that sent her blood boiling. Not the stranger that she found on the ledge with an empty bottle of wine.

"I really wish I knew Annie Stone like you two," Ellen said. "She's just the 'hermit lady' to me."

"She's a wonderful woman, Ellen. She's got a spirit that I can only hope to have at her age. After everything that has happened to her, she's still not broken," Chris said.

"No," Roger agreed. "She's a tough old broad."

After their leisurely Sunday breakfast, Chris headed back to her cabin, hoping to sit on the back porch and read, maybe let Dillon chase chipmunks for awhile. She wanted to sit and relax and enjoy the sunshine while it lasted. It had been a hectic few weeks and she wanted to take advantage of the down time. On the drive, she noticed the storm clouds building in the west and remembered Roger's warning that they might get their first real snowfall of the season. Well, relaxing by a fire was just as appealing. And on that note, she was glad she had taken a day to drive to Yosemite to collect her winter clothes.

By the time she stopped in front of her cabin, the clouds had blocked out the sun and a cool breeze was blowing through the trees. She slammed the Jeep door and looked out at the sky, watching the clouds stream by overhead. The wind seemed to be picking up speed by the second and the pine trees swayed under its force. Firewood. She had not brought any up on the porch yet. The weather had just been too nice to worry about a fire. If it was a major storm, her neatly stacked pile would be buried by morning.


Jessie stood watching from the cover of the woods as Chris brought armloads of firewood to her porch. She moved with efficient grace and Jessie was drawn to her, like she had been that very first day when she'd looked into her sky-blue eyes. She wanted to remember that night up by the falls, when Chris had kissed her so passionately, so tenderly. That night when she had wanted to lie down on the forest floor and make love with this woman. Instead, the memory of their last night together came rushing at her and she tried to push it away, as she had been doing for the last eight weeks. Chris had been so gentle, so caring. Jessie had needed someone that night, yes. But she wanted to hurt. The feelings that Chris brought out had little to do with pain. Making love with Chris would have solved little in her quest to purge herself of her father and his hold over her. She wanted to feel pain and anguish. And she did. Only she had transferred that pain and hurt onto Chris and that was very unfair. Chris had offered her consolation that night and Jessie had taken it and run.