Purgatory Ridge

Or was it something else, something Jo would rather not have considered? He’d loved another woman once. Maybe he’d found someone to love again.

“Would you blame him?” she asked herself aloud. “Jo, Jo, what have you done?”

She wandered to the dock, thinking hopelessly, You let your sister raise your children. You’ve put yourself at odds with the whole town. You’ve driven your husband away. Again. But at least you’re one hell of a lawyer, kiddo. Yes, ma’am-you’ve certainly won everyone’s respect.

“Until they see that photograph,” she whispered to herself.

She sat down on the old boards of the dock, took off her loafers, and let her feet dangle. The cool water of Iron Lake felt good.

What was respect anyway? Something bright and shiny but cold to the touch. It didn’t keep her feet warm in bed at night. It didn’t rub her shoulders when she was tired. It didn’t listen-ever. It felt like a mantel trophy, stiff and lifeless and self-serving.

She looked back toward the dark windows of Sam’s Place. Where was Cork? She stood up, becoming afraid-not that she had driven him away but that maybe something had happened to him.

Headlights flashed on the road from Aurora. They came over the railroad tracks and fixed on her, so that she felt exposed. The vehicle pulled to a stop with the lights aimed directly at her. She shaded her eyes, in vain, because she could see nothing behind the glare. The headlights died, but her eyes were blind now in the sudden dark. She heard footsteps approaching.

“Rose told me you were here.”

Cork paused at the other end of the dock. She could see him now, standing in the moonlight.

“You went home?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“For the same reason you came out here, I hope. Jo, I’m sorry.”

“No, Cork, no. I’m the one who’s sorry.” And she was moving toward him, and against him, holding him so tightly the thump of his heart felt as if it were her own. “I’m so thoughtless sometimes. I didn’t mean to be so harsh.”

“And I didn’t mean to stomp out.” His arms about her made her breathless. “Jo, I don’t want you to be afraid that I’d ever leave you again.”

“I don’t ever want to give you reason. I love you, Cork.” She was crying now, with relief and with gratitude, and it felt so good and right, and although something was flowing out of her, it seemed to be filling her up at the same time. “If you want to run for sheriff, I’ll be right there beside you. Only…”

“Only what?”

“You might not want me there. Wait here, Cork.” She kissed him, then went to her car. When she came back, she held out her hand. “Hell Hanover paid me a visit this afternoon. He brought me this.” The moonlight was bright enough that she knew Cork could see the horror she offered him. He had seen it before, a long time ago. And then he’d left. She was afraid he might leave again, but he had to know.

Cork looked at it, his face grave. “He’s the worst kind of coward, Jo.”

“He says you have to step back from the investigation of the bombing and refrain from running for sheriff, ever, or he’ll make that photograph public.”

Cork tore the photo in half.

“He’ll have others,” Jo said.

He brushed her hair softly with his hand. “We’ll figure a way to deal with Hell Hanover.”

“If people see that photograph, they’ll think differently about me, Cork. And maybe about you.”

“They’ve thought a lot of different things about me over the years. I can live with it.”

She put her arms around him and her cheek against his chest. “You know what I’m concerned about most? The girls. What kind of example am I? What will they think of their mother?”

“They’ll see that I love her, and they’ll understand that’s what’s important.”

“You do love me, Cork?”

“What is it?” he asked, hearing her uncertainty.

She released him, just a little. “In your sleep sometimes, you say her name.”

“Oh, Jo. I’m sorry.”

“Do you still love her?”

She was afraid he would turn away, address the hard truth in a way that would spare them both the discomfort of having to look into one another’s eyes, but he didn’t. He spoke in a voice soft and graceful as the moonlight.

“When she was in my life, she was all I had. But she’s gone now, and now I’m here with you. And there’s nowhere else I’d rather be, and no one else I’d rather be with. I do love you, Jo.”

She kissed him with a yielding of herself that was frightening and wonderful.

“What I know about the goodness of men,” she said to him, “I know because of you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” She turned and leaned back into his embrace while she stared out across the dark water and the path across it the moon had paved. “Cork, I saw my mother alone, watched her give up little pieces of herself to men who didn’t care. I did that, too, once. It was the biggest mistake I ever made. The worst part of it was that I almost lost you.”

“But you didn’t. I’ll be here. Always.”

“That sounds like a wedding vow.”