Page 4

No, Jake wasn't a demon. I mean, what kind of insanity was that? But, speaking of insanity, he was experiencing some kind of psychiatric issue. I was sure of it. I don't know if it was a type of PTSD or what a professional would label it, but I assumed it came from his extended near-death experience. Jake had almost died. For a long time. And now he was back to his old self. No recovery period, just blammo! Here's Jake! That had to influence the psyche. It was certainly affecting mine.

I stared at my handsome boyfriend as he gestured exuberantly, his eyes alight with zeal. First, he showed me pictures of Helena, Montana, on his phone. I eyed that phone with the careful interest of a hostage. Which was ridiculous. I wasn't a hostage. And why was I thinking about slipping the server a note to call the authorities? I guess it was because of that psychotic break I thought he was experiencing. But if I did manage to alert someone with enough power to take Jake back against his will, would they? Leaving a hospital without permission wasn't a crime. I knew that for a fact. They have no legal right to hold anyone in a hospital. You do not have to sign discharge papers to leave. So, what reason would they have to apprehend Jake? I could say that he took me against my will and I believed he was having a mental breakdown, but it would be my word against Jake's. And Jake wouldn't seem crazy to anyone who didn't know him. At best, they'd get me away from him. But then Jake would never forgive me. And I wouldn't be there to stop him from getting sucked into a cult.

So I kept my hands in my lap and smiled politely at the server.

At least I had my appetite back. I looked at the picture on Jake's phone of a classic cathedral, its red spires dusted with snow, and then down at my empty plate. When was the last time I'd eaten so much? Oh, yes. It was the dying boyfriend diet. Works like a charm. You have practically no appetite. The weight just falls off. Side effects are: random bouts of crying in public, hysteria, stomach cramps, dizziness, despair, nausea, and diarrhea.

“Anything else I can get you two?” the server asked as she cleared my plate.

I looked up at her. “What desserts do you have?”

Even though the meal was technically our breakfast, it was close to noon, so the request didn't seem odd. Not that it would have mattered to me if it were. I needed something sweet. It had been ages since I had enjoyed dessert.

“Well, we got a few different pastries, chocolate cake, and three types of pie today,” she said.

“I'll have the chocolate cake,” I said. “Can I get it with ice cream?”

“Sure thing, sweetie,” she said. Then she looked at Jake. “How about you?”

“Do you have cinnamon rolls, by any chance?” Jake asked.

The request made me smile. Cinnamon rolls were his favorite indulgence.

“Sure do! You want one?”

“I want two!” Jake declared. “We're celebrating.”

“Oh, yeah?” The server noted our orders on her pad and grinned. “What we celebrating?”

“His recovery,” I said. My throat closed up and my eyes watered as I added, “From cancer. We just got the news today that he's clear.”

“Oh, sweetie!” I thought she was speaking to Jake, but the server laid a hand on my shoulder. “You want a tissue?”

“Oh, God.” I swiped at my eyes. “Sorry.” I smiled at her. “No, I'm good. It just hit me that he's going to live.”

She looked from me to Jake. “Whoa. Must have been terrible.”

“I've been battling it for a year and a half, but these last few months, I've been hospitalized,” Jake said as he reached across the table and took my hand. “My girl stayed by my side the entire time. I was dying. It got real bad. And she still stayed. Then, suddenly, I recovered. It was a miracle. The doctors can't explain it.”

I sniffed and laugh-cried. “Damn it, Jake, you're gonna make me cry for real.”

“Oh, my goodness!” The server declared. “That's so romantic. And so moving.” She turned to address the whole restaurant. “Hey, everyone! We've got a cancer survivor here. Over a year of it, on the verge of dying, and he miraculously recovered! They just found out today.”

The diners cheered and applauded.

“And his lady stuck by him through it all!” the server added. “You hear that, men? That's a good woman, right there. That's what you want to be looking for.”

“You got a sister?” some guy shouted.

“Oh, pipe down, Jerry!” the server said and laughed. Then she noticed my red face. “Oh, sorry, sweetie. I shouldn't have made a spectacle of you. Desserts are on the house.”

“Oh, that's okay,” I said. “You don't have to do that.”

“Nonsense.” She patted my shoulder, then squeezed Jake's. “Congratulations to you both.” She leaned closer to Jake to say, “You'd better snatch this one up, honey.” Then she went off to get our food.

Jake grinned at me even as he half nodded at the people who were still calling over their congratulations. Friendly little town, wherever we were. Somewhere in Idaho. On the way to Montana. Oh, fuck me. I needed to focus, or I was going to wind up in fucking Montana. What the hell was in Montana? Mountains, going by the name. Cowboys, maybe? Did they have cowboys in Montana? Was it even safe for a black man to visit? As far as Washington went, the further inland you went, the more racist people got. I think the sea air helped to clear that shit out of a person.

Not that I had suffered any racial intolerance personally. I was as white as you could get. Hitler would have loved me. But I had experienced some racism when I was out with Jake. I offended racists. To them, I was a traitor. Being blonde and pretty somehow made it worse. Like their poster girl had switched sides.

Ugh, they made me sick. But that had been a rare occurrence in Spokane. Really rare. And when it happened, people around us jumped to our defense. Would Montana be like that? Maybe. The world was improving on that count, but I wasn't na?ve enough to believe it was happening everywhere. And I didn't want to find out if Montana was woke. I just wanted to go home. With Jake.

“Babe.” I squeezed his hand before he could draw it away. “I want to go home. Don't you want to see your family? They're going to be so excited.”

“They already know. Jackie brought Silas to me, remember? She's told them the good news.”

“Silas. Right. So, religion is more important than your grandma?”

Oh, that struck a nerve. Jake's expression rippled. For a moment, I was right back to wondering if Wes Craven was about to start directing my life. Jake didn't look like Jake.

“I'll call her,” Jake finally said, his expression settling into peace.

I swallowed past the dryness in my throat.

“Here you are!” the server declared as she set our treats down. “Enjoy, you two.”

“Thank you so much,” I said, sending her a quick grin. Then I looked back at Jake. “Come on, Jake. You know a phone call isn't enough. Your gran is gonna wanna see you. How can you run off like this? At least spend a few days with your family before—”

“Indie, he saved my life,” Jake interrupted me. “He. Healed. Me.” His grip tightened. “Like Jesus. But he's not Jesus. He's God. Here, on Earth. I need to be around him. Please. Just for a little while. He's God, Indie. God . The guy who made the whole fucking world! I know you don't believe it, but you will.” He let go of me. “That being said, I understand if you want to go home. I won't stop you. You can take the car. I'll get a bus or something. I'll be fine.”

I gaped at him. “You want me to leave?”

“No! Of course not. I want you to come with me. But I'm not going home, sweetheart. I can't. I need to see him again. Wouldn't you want to? If you had been healed by God and you had the chance to be around him, to live with him, wouldn't you go?”

I took a deep breath and let it out. He was right. I didn't believe this man was god, but if I were Jake, and I did believe, I'd want to go. And maybe it was best that I go with Jake. He needed someone with a level head beside him. Someone who could look at the situation rationally and talk him down if he climbed too high on the crazy tree. Jake needed me. Still.

I mentally grimaced. Jake was alive and well. It was a miracle. And yet, he still needed me. My life still wasn't my own. Which meant that I had to go. I had to see this through. The thought was steadying. It implied an end. And, dear God in Heaven—the real one—I needed an end. If for no other reason than to have a new beginning. Hopefully, that beginning would be with Jake. But to be completely honest, I had resigned myself to losing him months ago. If I lost Jake now, not to death but to a new life, I'd be content with that. My heart would recover. Funny how death made a difference.

“All right,” I said. “I'll go with you. I'll give it a week. If I'm not convinced by then, I'm going home.”

Jake beamed at me. “Thank you. You won't regret this.”

I winced. Those were words people said when they knew it would be the opposite. But I pushed aside my doubt, squeezed Jake's hand one last time, and took a bite of my cake.

Oh, yeah. Chocolate cake for breakfast. Nothing beats it.

A few bites in, when Jake was all grins, I reached for his phone and said, “Oh, I'd better call the office now. Before I forget.”

Miraculously, he let me. Why miraculously? Fuck if I know. I was back to feeling like a hostage. But if I was a hostage, I was suffering from Stockholm syndrome.